Cato:
I smiled at Clove, and only at her. She was the only person who I could smile to or with, she was my best friend. She stood over at least 100 feet away from a tree, which she threw her knives violently at, never missing her target. In a spilt second, her body jumped high in the air, doing a magnificent twirl just like a skater on ice, and a knife came flashing right in front of my face. I was too quick for it, and I grabbed the blade just as it was an inch away from my face. She had always been able to throw ever since I first met her when we were 6.
I remember that day like it was yesterday; the clouds in the sky were clumped together, and a massive storm was coming our way. It was my first day at Training Academy, the school where you train at before the games, and I rushed through the streets, the rain droplets splatting against my face, leaving me cold, and nearly blind in the weather conditions.
When I reached the academy, we were all told to line up with a partner, and practice our skills. I knew no one at that point, and I couldn't care less about other people until Clove, with her long black hair tied back in a streaming ponytail, and little freckles scattered around her face came up and said in her tiny little voice, "I'm Clove, and I can throw knives, so fast that they can shoot through your head and blast you to pieces." She snickered at me, and at that point, I was just a little intimidated, enough to make me want to beat her.
So, from this point she grabbed a few knives from the rack in the corner of the room and threw them all at my head. For the first few, I was able to dodge, but then she started throwing multiple amounts at a time, all going in different directions that whizzed past me, leaving me in shock. Adrenaline shot through my body as I grabbed the sword, and came at her with it, tucking and rolling, running and twisting just to get past those knives, and to her flesh, which I craved to slice in half. She stopped for a slight moment once, and nodded her head for me to come and try and get her, boy was I unaware, when I reached her side, she turned, and ran the knife through my arm, leaving a bloody gash open. I looked up, infuriated that she showed me up, and she leaped on my back and pushed me to the ground. She was now sitting on me, pinning me to the ground as she smiled down on me. That made me so angry that I pushed myself up in one movement. That movement took all my strength, but now I was up, and Clove was on the ground, her smiling face went blank as her mind quickly processed what had just happened. My body pinned her to the ground, and I stabbed the floor right next to her neck with my sword. It was me who was smiling now.
I went home every night, taking my older brother's swords and practicing with my father, who was old, but swift on his feet, not as fast as Clove, but close practice.
Every day I went to Academy, ready to show Clove who really would survive the games, and she tried to do the same with me. I taught her fighting combat skills, and she taught me how to throw knives, and swing off your target. We helped each other, and eventually we became more than partners, we were friends; we fed off each other, and learned new skills until eventually, we were best in class. New students were horrified by us, and the others who had trained their whole lives had jealous looks in their eyes as we practiced, Clove and I loved the attention, we lived for it, we lived for the games.