A day late again! But I have a legit excuse: my sister's internet was being a douche last night and wouldn't work. My sister is BrittBrat03, attack her for this not being posted yesterday. Just kidding. And I got home late from trick and treating anyway so. It was so cold and zombie school girl and the cold don't mix! I coped though and didn't whine. Which is shocking cause I whine a lot. And now I'm rambling, oh lord. You guys coulda saved time by skipping this lol.
34 reviews and 22 followers and only seven chapters in!? I love you guys so much! You make me swell with pride over my work, seriously. Thank you. Oh, Happy belated Halloween, by the way. And I need to get this off my chest: One of my idol's birthday is tomorrow! PARTY! Kendall Schmidt, in case any of you are interested haha. So excited for my baby. OKAY, again, wasting your time.
SakuraDrops141: I like your hate for Katniss. It amuses me haha! Thank you for your review and reading. And yeah, I just felt like the Careers would have tried way harder to knock Katniss from the tree instead of spending the night under it. I love Suzanne Collins but, what the fuck, is this a slumber party or something? Katniss can tweet, 'Slumber party under a tree with the Careers! About to wake these mothers up with a tracker jacket nest! Rue, thanks for telling me! BFFs 5ever!' And this is what happens when I have a lack of sleep and a Red bull in me. Oh, and those things don't give you wiiings, pfft. Okay, moving on.
Through Dark And Light: Uh, no, in your face! What? Anyway, thank you! I like all the Careers... expect Glimmer too. Something about her annoyed me in the book and movie. And then her and Cato in the movie... no. I love Peeto but Clato is another favorite of mine and they showed Glimmer and Cato together in the movie. GARY ROSS WHY WHY DO YOU DO THIS TO ME? I'm done. Thank you again!
Abysslullaby: Oh my god, I love that. Can I quote that? XD Thank you for reading and reviewing!
mmleach: No, that doesn't make you a bad person... I would consider the same thing. Thank you for reading and reviewing!
MangoMagic: Thank you so much! I'm excited for you readers to see what happens next! Thank you again!
writer with no words: I have a question... how can you be a writer with no words? Haha, I'm slow. Thank you so much! I wanted to try and make their love realistic, not rushed or anything. I mean, Cato isn't the most sane person, I'm sure he doesn't fall in-love at the drop of a hat. (That reminds me of when Josh Hutcherson was interviewed and he said he falls in-love at the drop of a hat... I must meet him and drop a hat. I must.)
JHutchGirl: Thank you! Again, love your username, I fangirl over it each time. I'm retarded, you don't have to tell me that. Anyway, thank you for reading and reviewing!
BrittBrat03: I think Peeta isn't taking into consideration the angry townspeople if he does kill Katniss. Oh god, angry mob with pitch forks and torches and junk... imagine it. All they have to do is, like, tear bread up and stab it and stuff in front of Peeta. That would be torture enough for him. Ahaha, I'm so funny... not really. But moving on, hey, man, hey, gotta make stuff real... Real or not real? Oh god, I made myself fangirl. REAL! Okay, I'm done. Blame yourself for my behavior, you did buy me the Red bull and made me get up early.
ENJOY THE CHAPTER GUYS LOVE YOU.
Chapter Seven.
All he can hear is screams. Glimmer's shrieking screams as the tracker jackers - he knows because the stings are painful and are already bloating into giant bumps - take her over, Clove's and Marvel's screaming as they try and get away from the insects and Cato's scream of the lake, the lake, and Peeta's feet are going on their own accord. He didn't know he had such a good sense of direction, or maybe he was already running that way, and he didn't know the lake had been so close, but suddenly, he's waddling into water. He takes a deep breath, feeling another painful sting on the back of his neck, and dives under. He isn't exactly sure how to swim and so he stays in the shallow part, on his stomach, staying under until he needs air. He can feel the water rippling, the water splashing, and he knows the others have made it. Glimmer's probably the only one who didn't. He can hear the muffled sound of a cannon and it's confirmed: Glimmer's dead. The nest had fallen on her head, no way she had survived through that. Peeta feels his lungs burning by the time he surfaces, sucking in deep breaths and tensing, waiting for more stings. Thankfully, there are none.
Cato surfaces a few feet from him, breathing just as heavily as him. His face is still bright red and Peeta can see a bump raising just below his eye, another on his neck. He doesn't see any other visible ones. Clove and Marvel surface a few feet from Cato and they all get out of the water, their clothes sticking uncomfortably to their bodies. From where he is, it looks like Clove and Marvel had only one, if any, sting each. They must have been running the instant they saw the nest smash Glimmer in the head. Peeta feels a sting throbbing on the back of his neck and one on his left arm. Thankfully, the lack of stings and the size of the Careers and himself, they won't be as badly affected.
"Get the stingers out," he tells them, lifting his arm up and wincing as he yanks the stringer out. The bump is huge, nearly a size of a orange. He feels the back of his neck, gritting his teeth in pain, and pulls the stringer out of that one too. The others listen without complaining, pulling out the their own stingers. Clove has a sting on the back of her arm and Marvel has one has his side but that's it for them. Cato only has the two.
"C'mon!" Cato snaps, heading back towards the trees.
"What are you doing?" Clove asks but follows into step with him. Even if he gave her that small cut, Peeta's realizing the Careers stick together, until it's only them. He even catches a little bit of sadness on Marvel's face but when he catches his eyes, it's gone and he's following Clove and Cato. Peeta falls into step behind them, a light fog in his mind, but it just reminds him of when he tried some of the amber liquid Haymitch had. He had one glass and the fog was very familiar, making his mind swim a little, but he was able to think right and walk straight. He wonders if the others feel this way.
"To see if the Girl on Fire is around," Cato says like it's the most obvious thing in the world.
Peeta has a feeling it's also to see if Glimmer's really gone. But he won't say anything as they pick up their pace. The meaning of Cato's words finally sink in. If Katniss is still around, Cato would kill her without a second thought. Peeta wonders if he would let it happen. He wonders if he would save her life. He guesses when the moment comes, if it comes, he'll find out. As they reach the spot where Glimmer's body is suppose to be, it's gone. And so are the bow and arrows. This is the first thing Cato notices.
"She's armed." he says, an undertone of anger in his voice. He turns on them, clenching his jaw. "She's armed with something she knows how to use, unlike Glimmer."
"Don't talk about her," Marvel snaps, on instant defensive for the dead girl.
"I can say what the hell I want," Cato suddenly yells, frustration clearly on his face. He was so close to having the Girl on Fire, so close, and then she manages to slip from their fingers. Peeta feels something bubbling in him and he realizes it's anger. Why does Cato want Katniss so badly? What's so special that makes her stand out? Because she's brave? Because she got an eleven? Who cares! Cato shouldn't be stressing himself out over this stupid, stupid Girl on Fire. Wait, why does Peeta care what Cato stresses himself out on? He shouldn't. Doesn't. He shakes these thoughts from his head and as they leave, so does the anger. He doesn't care. The more stressed Cato is, the more likely he'll do something stupid or he won't be paying attention. The perfect moment for Peeta to strike will come soon. He ignores the feeling of hurt raising as he thinks of killing Cato. It'll have to be done. And even, he shouldn't feel anything other than detest and annoyance at the Career. Even if Cato still gives him those warm feelings, those stupid tingles in his stomach.
"Let's go back to camp," Peeta says, three pairs of angry eyes turning on him. "We need to take care of our stings."
"And how do we do that, Mr. Wilderness?" Clove says, sarcasm thick in her tone.
Peeta glares at her, fed up. The fog in his mind, the lack of sleep. He could feel it begin to wear down, grinding down his nerves. "You'll find out if we get back to camp!" he snaps and he realizes he's the stressed out one, the frustrated one. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves, but he feels ready to fall down and pass out. He blames the venom coursing through him on that.
Before Clove can snap back and they get into a fight because Peeta wasn't taking it, he was ready to prove himself and kill somebody else at this point right now, Cato speaks. "Lover boy's right. We need to go back. We need to recover."
"Are you admitting defeat?" Clove turns on Cato, anger all over her face. "We can go after her, we can-"
"You're the only one who said anything about defeat! I'm not giving up, we just need rest! The more tired and messed up we are, the easier targets we become so let's GO!" he shoves past Clove and stomps into the trees. "After all, aren't you the one who wanted to sleep?" he snaps over his shoulder as Peeta isn't far behind on his heels but he shudders at the look Clove gives him.
If he does die, he'll know it'll be Clove to deliver the last blow. As they made it back to the camp, the venom was taking its toll. Clove was the first to fall into one of the containers and pass out from it, being smaller than the others. Peeta was feeling pretty faint and slid to the ground near the containers, cradling his head. Marvel fell down by the tent, his eyes drooping as Cato took a seat next to Peeta, his breathing getting heavier as his eyes drooped. Three doesn't know what to do so he sits and watches, wondering if they all were going to die. He was hoping for it. Cato twists his head to the side to look at Peeta as he slides to the ground next to him.
Peeta's eyes are drifting close and before Peeta passes out, he swears he hears a faint, rough voice say, "Don't you die on me, 12."
...
Peeta jerks awake, his back arching off the ground and a strangled gasp coming from his lips. He had a horrible nightmare and it was bouncing around in his head as he lays there, staring up at the dark sky. Cato, blood, his blood, everywhere, it was so real. He realizes then it's night, the fake stars winking down at him. He blinks a couple times, trying to clear his head. Everything is slowly coming back to him and he realizes it must of been the tracker jacker venom finally getting to them. He lifts his head and gazes around the camp. Clove is sprawled out on one of the containers, Marvel is by the tent, and Cato is beside him. He's assuming Three was in the tent, hiding from them, maybe hoping they would die but no cannons had sounded so Three's probably disappointed. He pushes himself up on his elbows, wondering if it's a good thing he awoke before them.
It would be so easy, to steal one of Clove's knife and slip them into the jugular. To silt their throats as they sleep. The thought is so tempting, he's getting to his feet, planning on going through with it. If he acted fast, he'll have all three of them down before one cannon sounds. Cato first. He'll be the hardest one to fight off. He sways slightly once on his feet, realizing how badly his stings were throbbing in pain. But he ignores it, as he takes a shaky step towards Clove. With how she fell upon the container, part of her jacket was hanging off the side. It would be so easy to just lift it up and slip a knife out. To slip it out and dig it into each Career's neck. The thought fueled Peeta to take a few more shaky steps but suddenly, a hand latched onto his ankle. He jumped, looking down, blue clashing with blue. Cato slowly leans up, strong fingers still wrapped around his ankle.
"What're you doing, 12?" he mutters, his voice rough from just getting up.
Peeta freezes, staring down at Cato. He can hear it now, in the same tone, same voice. "Don't you die on me, 12." Had Cato really said that? Or was it the tracker jacker venom inside of him, coursing through his veins? Cato couldn't have possibly... but as Cato stares up at him, the blue in his eyes are almost soft. So close that Peeta finds his thoughts drifting from the knives in reach, drifting from the thought of their blood coating his hands, like he wants it too. Slowly, he sinks to his knees beside Cato, shaking his head. "Nothing," he whispers, wondering what was making the sudden change in him. Cato releases his ankle and looks up at the sky, closing his eyes. That's it. It's Cato.
His blue eyes, his blonde hair, his strong muscles. He's been stopping Peeta this whole time, stopping him from killing the Careers, stopping his thoughts, his plotting. He feels a scowl coming onto his lips. That should give him more reason to kill Cato. Cato's making him weak. But he finds his thoughts drifting to other things, far from killing the Career. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He needs to get his thoughts back on track, on killing the Careers and taking out the toughest tributes in the Games. He shouldn't be having thoughts like these, especially about Cato. "Hey, 12?" Cato whispers and Peeta's eyes pop open, to clash with blue. Cato's eyes are a light blue and they seem to shine in the moonlight.
"What?" Peeta finds himself whispering too. They had no reason to whisper but Cato had done it and so Peeta found himself doing it as well.
"You think too much. You always get this... distant look on your face," Cato cracks a smile. An actual smile. And Peeta knows, in that moment, getting his thoughts back on track is going to much harder than he originally thought. No, this is how Cato is pulling him in, gaining his trust. With his looks because, damn, he has them. "It's going to get you killed," he deadpans then, the smile dropping. Peeta wants to see the smile again. Because it fills him with warmth and it also makes him more angry and he wants to cut it off. He's realizing he needs to figure out which part inside him to side with and soon, or else he'll keep having these torn feelings. Or maybe it's just one part that'll always be confused.
"How are you feeling?" Peeta asks, overlooking what Cato just said. He doesn't want to think about the fact that Cato cared enough to actually tell him something he does could get him killed. He especially doesn't want to dwell on the fact he was so close to just slipping a knife into his jugular. He was slightly disgusted with himself at how easily he was going to do it but he knew he could have. He could do anything at this point in his life.
"Crappy," Cato says, pushing himself up onto his elbows. He looks it; now that Peeta wasn't so entranced by those blue eyes, he sees the sting under his eye is the size of a grape, the one on his neck a little bigger. He assumes none of the Careers spent much time at the incest or plant stations.
"Mint leaves," he suddenly says, the thought randomly coming into his cleared head.
"What leaves?" Cato looks at him, his brows furrowing in confusion. The confused look was cute on Cato. If Cato knew Peeta just had that thought, he probably would stab him in the eye without a second thought.
"Mint leaves. They're supposed to help with the pain and sucking out the pus in the sting, making it deflate." Peeta looks at the sting on his arm.
Cato falls back, closing his eyes. "Then go find some mint leaves."
Peeta frowns. "I don't even know where to start-"
"Your start is by going into the woods." Cato opens his eyes and their eyes clash.
Peeta's glaring at him, annoyance growing at him. Maybe his thoughts are getting back on track faster than he thought. "It's pitch dark." he deadpans, sitting down on his butt and spreading his legs out.
Cato huffs, leaning up. "Hold on," he grumbles, crawling over and opening his backpack. When had he taken that thing off? Had he woken up before Peeta and passed back out? Now that Peeta thinks about it, his backpack is gone. He looks around and spots it leaning against the container beside him. Had Cato taken off his backpack? He would ask but even if Cato had, he would deny it. He pulls out a pair of sunglasses and crawls back over, shoving them in Peeta's hands. Peeta stares down at them, confusion on his face. He looks back up at Cato's face and frowns.
"This isn't funny." he says, tired of Cato's weird jokes. He's just ready to stop the pain from his stings.
"Put them on." Cato says, leaning against a container and looking at the lack of a fire.
"Cato, it's-"
"Peeta, just put them on." there's his name again. This time, Cato isn't being sly, he isn't being teasing, and he isn't being deadly. He's being... normal, dare Peeta think it. And Peeta knows he's never heard his name said so nicely. Warmth shoots through him and he feels a stirring in his pants. He looks down at the sunglasses, trying to ignore it. Slowly, he slips them on. He doesn't need to argue, Cato was serious. When he puts them on, his jaw drops a little. Everything is lit up, like it was day instead of night. He lifts the sunglasses up and everything grows darker, lit by the moon's gleam, and then he lets them drop back in place. It's day through the sunglasses. "What-"
"Capitol," Cato cuts him off and looks at him. A sly grin comes to his lips. "You look cute, 12," he says teasingly.
Peeta scowls at him. "Shut up," he says, standing up and looking around. These glasses are kind of freaking him out; it was amazing, how well he could see.
"I expected a thank you, not a shut up." Cato deadpans, staring up at him.
Peeta looks down at him, the sting on the back of his neck throbbing worse. "Shut-"
"Up?" Cato finishes, that sly grin coming back to his lips.
Peeta feels a flash of anger but also a bit of amusement. He admits, that was funny but it also pissed him off. "Screw you, Cato." he says, grabbing up the rocks and beginning to start a fire.
"You want too, Lover boy." Cato all but purrs, sending a shudder through Peeta's body. As the fire sparks to life, he doesn't need it; he's already warm enough.
"Only you think that, 2." Peeta snaps, getting to his feet. He glares at Cato through the glasses, who suddenly looks serious. He stares at Peeta with those piercing blue eyes.
"I doubt that, 12, I doubt that," he says, his eyes slowly running down his body and back up.
Peeta tenses, his eyes widening behind the lab-made lens. What was Cato playing? A sick game where he would try to drag Peeta in by acting attracted to him? He feels a smile coming onto his lips and he sees the brief confusion in Cato's eyes before he hides it. "Believe what you want," Peeta snatches up his spear and heads towards the wood. "It takes two to play games, Cato." he whispers as he enters the trees, in search of mint leaves.
...
"About time, 12!" by the time Peeta comes back, Clove is sitting up on the container and Marvel is sitting on the ground beside it, both looking like they had just gotten up. Of course, despite the pain, Cato is alert and rude as always.
Three is still hiding in the tent. He drops the pile of mint leaves on one of the containers and looks at Cato. He frowns as he slips off the glasses. The fire looks strange through them, not like it does in daylight. Brighter, almost hurting his eyes. He picks up a couple of leaves. They're a lovely mint-green color with specks of white, the texture rough. He knows it won't taste rough; probably very strong though. "You need to chew on these leaves and spit them out onto the sting," he says and pops two into mouth, beginning to chew. It's strong and not as rough as it looked. Clove gets up and walks over, snatching up two leaves. Up this close, Peeta can see the bags under her eyes. She glares at him, obviously not liking the fact she knows what to do and she had to follow his word.
"I'm going to the tent," she says and heads that way, popping the leaves in her mouth. Marvel gets to his feet, walking over and getting two leaves. Peeta can see the wear on him; he lost his District partner, a fellow Career, and he looks tired. He still manages a look of annoyance, just for Peeta. "Me too," he says, following after Clove, popping the leaves in his mouth.
How does he and Cato always get left alone? He frowns as Cato sits there, staring at him, that grin still on his face. "What?" Peeta says around the mouthful of leaves. He picks up the small pile and walks over, sitting beside him. He sets the leaves between them and glances at Cato. His eyes gleam in the firelight, making them look more like a icy blue than the light sky blue they are.
"Just waiting for you to chew mine up." he says like Peeta should have known that.
Peeta looks at him, his eyebrows nearly disappearing into his blonde hairline. He spits the mint-green and spit mash onto the sting on his arm. The pain instantly goes away and he has to choke back a sigh of relief. He makes a slight face of disgust as spit and ooze dribbles down his arm. He looks at Cato and shakes his head, picking up two more leaves. "You can do your own," he says. "Not like you want my spit on you." he adds at the look of annoyance building on Cato's face.
It disappears and Cato's grin grows into a crooked, sexy one that has a stirring happening in Peeta's pants. He tries to ignore it, as well as the bubbling warmth. "Lover boy, I want a lot more than just spit from you on me." he says, the firelight practically dancing in his blue eyes.
Peeta's breath catches and his eyes grow comically wide. Did Cato really just say that? Did he mean it? The stirring in his pants grow as his heart begins to pound. He hates the feelings but he can't stop them. And he can't stop the disappointment when Cato laughs. He was joking. Of course he was. Cato wasn't gay; he was just messing with him. The Games. Cato was playing his own and Peeta was a pawn in it. So Peeta had to make Cato his pawn. "Your face was priceless," Cato says and picks up two leaves, stuffing them in his mouth. He makes a slight face at the strong taste but keeps chewing. Peeta's a little relieved he won't have to spit on Cato but there's still that disappointment there. Disappointment in what, exactly, he isn't sure.
"It's too late to be acting stupid, Cato," Peeta shoots back and spits the mash into his palm. He rubs it onto the sting on the back of his neck and holds it there, feeling his spit and the ooze from it wiggle its way between his fingers. He tries to keep the disgust off his face.
"Say that to yourself, 12," Cato picks up his sword and places it in his lap, pointing the tip at Peeta. Peeta glares at him as he spits the mash into his hand and rubs it on the sting under his eye. He sees the relief in his eyes and then notices the bags under his eyes today. He expects he doesn't look any better. After they do this, they should be going to bed. There is, after all, an open sleeping bag.
"No, no. It needed to be said to you." Peeta counters, wanting to piss Cato off. He isn't sure why but he wants to see the anger in Cato, the madness, the blood lust. And then he knows why. When Cato is like that, it's easier to hate him, to want to kill him. But when Cato's grinning at him, with an amused glint in his eyes, it's much, much harder.
The amused glint is slowly dimming. "Trying to push my buttons, Lover boy?" he asks, pushing the sword closer to Peeta. The tip of it nudges Peeta in the leg and he looks into Cato's eyes. Cato's eyes are daring him to say something.
With a grin he's swear he's obtaining from being around Cato too much, he says, "It's easy too."
Instead of the reaction he wanted, Cato pulls his sword back and the amused glint grows. "Yeah, it's easy to push your buttons too. Guess we aren't that different, 12."
"Oh, we're different." Peeta refuses to let Cato put him in the same boat as him. But weren't all tributes in the same boat? A boat that's actually an arena and on that boat, they can kill each other.
"Nah, think about it," Cato says around the mouthful of leaves in his mouth. He spits it out after a moment, as Peeta thinks about it, and places it on the sting at his neck. When Peeta remains quiet, not quite sure where Cato was going with this, he decides to continue. "We're all the same," he's whispering now, his tone softer. Peeta stares at him, his brows furrowing. Was this part of his game? Act soft and he thinks it'll gain Peeta's trust, more so than Peeta lets him think he has? "Forced to compete in these things. Forced to change."
"But you were born for this so it doesn't really affect you," Peeta counters and he sees the brief flash of hurt on his face. Peeta wishes he can take back his words but at the same time, he doesn't.
"You think you know me. Got me figured out." Cato shakes his head and looks at Peeta. Their eyes clash and Peeta finds himself wanting to hear more of what Cato was getting at. "You think I want to be this?" he finally whispers, eyes locked with Peeta's. Peeta tries to concentrates on what Cato is saying but his mind keeps drifting off to why the hell Cato is talking about it. Does he trust Peeta already or is he leading Peeta to believe that? He allows himself to space out a few more minutes as Cato wipes the mash from his face. The bump was gone and all that remained was a small, red circle. He removes the mash from his neck and Peeta follows suit, removing the mash from the back of his neck and his arm. His arm is a just a small, red circle and so he expects his neck looks the same. He wipes his arm and hands on his pants and the back of his neck with his jacket. He realizes Cato is doing the same, his eyes looking into the fire. "Guess you aren't going to give me an answer."
He wants an answer? Well, hell. What can Peeta say to that? He decides to be honest because he needs to seem like he trusts Cato back. "I think nobody wants to be anything the Capitol molds them into," he whispers, their eyes locking again. That warmth is flowing through his body, making him feel more relaxed than he should, and his heart is a little heavier than before. He never noticed how beautiful Cato's eyes really were... did he really just have that thought? Cato's eyes were anything but beautiful. They were eyes that belonged to a killer, somebody Peeta certainly shouldn't feel such a strong attraction too. He's barely getting use to the warmth and the tingles but it doesn't matter. He shouldn't feel them from the beginning.
Cato cracks a small smile and returns his eyes back to the fire. "As we go through these damn Games... I keep asking myself why. Back in my District... they make it out to be something great. Amazing. And winning is such an award to them. An honor. Bringing pride to my District is all I've been raised on. But, the more... I see everything, the more I ask myself why." he returns his eyes to Peeta's unwavering gaze. "Why do I have to kill? Why was I raised on it? Why do we have to do these Games? But that's not the most important question..." he drops his gaze for one second and Peeta knows he'll never see Cato this sheepish or shy again. He savours it. If Cato was like this the whole time, maybe he wouldn't be so bothered with being attracted to him. But he wasn't and Peeta remains himself this is Cato's game. To try and relate to the District 12 Lover boy. "Who am I?"
The question catches Peeta off guard. His eyebrows upturn as confusion breaks across his face. Who is Cato. He was expecting a why question, not a who. He stares into Cato's eyes, not sure what to say. What can he say to that? He doesn't know who Cato is either, especially in this tense moment. He isn't sure if he should break eye contact or say something or even get up and walk off but Cato does something that he wasn't expecting. He lets out a humorless laugh and looks back into the fire. "You don't know, why am I asking you?" he whispers and Peeta watches as the mask comes back over his face. His eyes harden, his jaw clenches, and he gives Peeta a harsh look. "Listen, 12, if you tell anybody about this-"
"I won't," Peeta cuts him off. Of course he won't. He wasn't even sure if it was real. It could be part of Cato's game but his eyes... they were full of such emotion. "I just want you to know one thing," he whispers and Cato looks back into his eyes. "I'm not really sure who I am either." he admits and as relief and worry fills Cato's eyes before he covers it, he decides, Cato wasn't playing a game but that doesn't mean he'll stop playing his.
...
DUNDUNDUN. I bet you guys hate me. "Where's the Peeto lovin'!?" It'll get here... great things take time, after all. I really, really like this chapter. Because of the character development and stuff. Yeah. Review please? I MIGHT share Josh Hutcherson if you do. QUESTION OF THE CHAPTER IS...
If you were in Three's shoes, would you risk trying to kill them while they were passed out from the stings? Or would you be too scared that one of them would wake up from a canon going off and just hide like he did?
Until next time, my lovelies. Much love, LW.