Author's Note: Thank you so much for all your reviews. You have no idea how happy reviews make me. They inspire me, they encourage me, and they correct me in some cases. What more could I ask for? I hope you enjoy the story. I'm feeling a little shaky on this chapter, so constructive criticism is widely encouraged. Thank you so much for reading, everyone!
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I jump out of my sleeping bag, almost forgetting about my ankle until that sharp pain shoots up through my body. In a blur of a second, Katniss falls from the tree and hazily limps away into the mist. I've got no time to wonder where she's headed before a swarm of tracker jackers pour out of the broken nest, their awful buzzing offering a rude awakening to the rest of the Careers. My heart is pounding... I know what these terrible mutts are capable of. A hallucination-inducing venom that targets the fear-housing part of the brain with each sting. An ear-splitting scream from Glimmer pierces the foggy air as Marvel and Clove sprint off in separate directions, barely alert. I can see a few stings already welling up on their arms. I tell myself to act fast and get up, but I'm literally paralyzed in shock, like my mind won't process that message to the rest of my body. Before I can even attempt to move, Cato slings me over his shoulder. He runs at an abnormally slow speed, which allows me to watch in horror as Glimmer is encompassed by the black, buzzing cloud. She's swatting them away, screaming and coughing violently. It's all I can see before she disappears in the thick mist. Luckily they're occupied with her, because Cato is hardly jogging. At this rate, we'll never get away in time.
"Cato..." I gasp as we make a sharp turn. I feel him lose his balance. Before I know it, I've been bucked onto the forest floor, which makes my leg ache even more. I look around. I can't see the tree, Glimmer or the nest, but I can still hear her chilling screams. We've landed in a remote grove, a wall of bushes surrounding us.
"Cato?" I crawl towards him. He's just laying on the ground, eyes open wide and dilated. A huge sting is flaring up on the back of his neck... I can't let him die.
"Oh shit..." he mumbles, his trembling hands covering his face. He might be hallucinating... And I have no idea what to do about it.
"I-It's alright." I say, reaching out my arm to touch his back, my voice shaking. I just wish I knew what to do for him. "I won't let you-"
"No!" he roars, batting away my hand. I'm taken aback by the eerie look in his eyes - his pupils are so big that the blue part is only a corona around them. "Don't you touch him, mom!" The volume of his voice must echo through out the entire arena, making us an easy target. I look around in all directions, making sure no other Tributes are preparing to attack. Not that it'd matter, because either way we're unarmed. The sound of a cannon explodes, probably for Glimmer.
"Don't fucking come near me!" he rolls on his back, kicking his legs. I step away. There's nothing I can really do. From just one sting, the tracker jacker venom must have triggered some horrifying memory from his past, the things he told me about in the observatory at the Capitol. They're all manifesting themselves in an illusion now. His screams... They're just so real. He's almost in tears, fighting off something I can't see, and there's nothing I can do to help him. Every sound that escapes his mouth is so daunting, just like the sounds that preceded of all the deaths I've seen here. My heart starts racing. I have to do something. Anything.
"Cato!" I shout, loud as possible. The booming sound of my own voice rattles my bones. I peer around once again, making sure the coast is clear of enemies. And I must have gotten somewhere, because he's opened his eyes, his screams fading into whimpers as I kneel down beside him.
"This... It's not real." I say, running my hands through my his hair. First instinct of comforting someone.
It all comes back to me. My dream. That wasn't real either, was it? I haven't had a spare second to think about it since he and I actually exchanged words, but it's enough to send chills up my spine. This boy,whimpering and muttering obscenities in front of me, is the same boy who confidently approached me and planted a kiss on my lips in the dream. I look down and survey his face, his body, his eyes, and I tense up. Now that I think about it, he really is a statuesque and beautiful person. His body is built to perfection, and I'm not so sure I'm just jealous anymore, but adoring. I look back at his face. His eyes are closed, his skin is fair and-
His eyes are closed.
"Cato!" I shout in his face, shaking his shoulders. He's unresponsive. I break into a cold sweat; I can't lose him like this. I press my ear to his chest and listen. Thump, thump, thump. I sigh in relief. He's still breathing, but he's passed out. At least he's not in agony at the moment. For some reason, I keep running my fingers through his hair. I haven't the slightest inkling what's going through his mind as I do it, but it's keeping me sane. I breathe in deeply, letting the scent of leaves and soil fill my lungs. There are so many thoughts racing through my head. I don't know what to contemplate first, so I just replay the events from this morning. I wonder where Katniss ran off to. I really hope she didn't get stung when the nest fell. But, come to think of it, wasn't she up in the tree that it fell from? I've seen beehives back home, and if tracker jacker nests are anything like those, they don't just adventitiously fall down. Something had to initiate it. Could she have been trying to kill us? It's definitely a possibility, and a hard thing to swallow. Facing the truth, I've really done nothing but hurt her since the Reaping. I never even intended to, but the circumstances have worked out that way. I've probably created problems in her relationship from my interview, and I can only hope she'll go home alive to face them. I also severed any alliance she might have wanted to form with me, Judas-kissing it away to people I don't really know. On top of it all, I tried to hide it from her up until yesterday. I shudder. She's probably trying to scope me out with her bow at this very moment. I have to be honest, my feelings for her have changed. Those little blossoms of admiration and trust I once felt have wilted into fear and shame. Of course, I can't love her anymore. That would be just another delinquency on my part to add to the list. Besides, I remember where we are - a violent, public arena. The crest of the Capitol's wave of entertainment. I guess the reality of this situation, the fact I'm going to die here, doesn't exactly mandate love. I'll bet everyone across the country is labeling me as a traitor. Because, resting his head on my lap, is the adversary. The vicious, bloodthirsty Career Tribute that an outlying District like me should be afraid of, avoiding at all costs. I know what the Capitol wants to see, and I don't have to hear anything from the sponsors or Gamemakers to know that they're dissatisfied. They want a bloody performance, not a sixteen-year old boy's relational melodrama. I also know they're in control, and they'll stop at nothing to fulfill their desires. The rest of the Tributes will die in the process. I'll be one of them. But what about Cato? His friendship - the fact he basically saved my life this morning, the promises not to kill me, and the way he'd opened up to me - it's the only thing that keeps me going these days. I really do owe him my life, but that isn't saying much. If my life was worthless before, now it's just plain pathetic. I don't even want to know what everyone back home in Twelve must be looking at me. Not only am I a traitor, but I told the entire country that I had a crush on a girl who's already been spoken for. Everyone at school is likely joking, gossiping me up like some kind of clown. And Delly's probably right there, laughing along with them. Even worse, here I am, sitting in a grove stroking another guy's hair. My father would have it out with me for sure if I were to come home now, just like the man whipped by the Peacekeepers for his preferences. He's always strongly voiced his oppositions toward that kind of thing, and here's his own son, defying it completely for all to see. I've made such a ridiculous fool of myself, I don't even want to come out as a victor. Not that it's a possibility, but even if it was, the Capitol's already fucked up my entire life. It'd be a much harsher fate than any death the Gamemakers could concoct for me. I take another deep breath and remember the promise I made to myself, back in my room at the Penthouse. That I'd stay strong for Katniss. That I'd do all I could to protect her. I guess it isn't so black and white anymore. The boy lying in my lap has definitely blurred the lines, urging me to decide who to stay faithful to.
Maybe it doesn't matter what I do anymore. There's no future for me. I run my fingers over his lips. So these are the culprit of my subconscious mind. Soft and supple, they've played with my senses. I'm honestly pretty confused, because I've never felt this emotion before. It's a mix of curiosity, shame and warmth. It all ties together to form a tender spot, much like what I formerly felt for Katniss. And I've never noticed it before last night. As much as I hate to admit it, some deranged part of me wants to lean down and feel it, for real. It might quench this feeling away, but I guess it really isn't practical. Besides,after what he's been through back home, the last thing he needs is a kiss without consent. And what if he rejected me too? That could have some pretty dire consequences, he'd take me out with his own two hands if he knew what was going through my mind right now.
I wish this was normal. I wish my whole life was normal again. Gosh, I'm going insane. One day I'm living in a bakery, going to school and showing off for a girl whose heart I thought I could win. A week later, I'm sitting in a disconsolate arena, waiting to die, torn away from everything familiar, and falling for a guy.
"Deep in the meadow, under the willow..." I begin, my voice choking and cracking quietly. I can't finish the rest. It's the song that made me first notice Katniss, way back in kindergarten. Our teacher asked who knew the "Valley Song", and Katniss raised her hand, and volunteered to sing it for the class. Her voice was so sweet, exactly the opposite of how she is now. Every voice fell silent to listen to hers. That was so long ago, before death was staring us right in the face. The mockingjays above me have somehow heard me, and they begin to sing the first few notes, over and over again. I feel trapped in a little nostalgic box, with nothing but my fears and memories to surround myself with. My legs are tingling furiously from Cato's weight on my lap. It feels like a thousand, tiny needles are poking in all directions into my skin, as if the pain from my snare wound wasn't enough. Trying not to wince, I lift up the back of his shoulders to gently set him on the ground. Pus from his sting drips onto my lap and hands, which allows a putrid smell to waft up to face. I feel last night's rabbit come up, burning my esophagus en route. I hobble over to a nearby bush to vomit, certainly not wanting to give Cato yet another rude awakening by dumping my dinner all over his face. Now I feel incredibly weak - my energy is completely drained. My throat burns and my body is slightly convulsing. I resist the urge to sleep and sit back down on the ground. As revolting as it is, I inspect the sting. On the back of his neck is a swollen, purplish lump, with a shining black stinger piercing the center. I take a deep breath, trying not to breathe through my nose as I pluck the stinger. More of the pus drains out of the wound. It's bewildering how something so repulsive can be secreted by someone with such an ideal body, but I guess he's human too.
"Ugh...damn." he quietly groans. He must have came to from the pain of the stinger being extracted. I'm grateful that he was only stung once, because more stings would bring on a prominent sickness. Rising to his knees, he groggily scratches his head.
"That was a pretty hard morning for you." I say. "Are you alright?"
"I guess." He stands up and rubs the back of his neck, retrieving a handful of pus. I don't know how his stomach is tolerating the vile substance, but he rubs it off onto on his pants, merely crinkling his face at the smell. "Those fucking wasps stung me, huh?"
"Only once," I say, standing up as well, but tripping slightly as pain shoots up from my injury."They killed Glimmer."
"Thank God." he scoffs. "She wasn't much help."
I shrug. "I guess not." Somehow, I can't just disregard her death. I don't miss her in the slightest, but I'm not apathetic to the fact a life was lost either. The poor girl barely had a chance to live, even if she was a lascivious pest. I'm sure District One is less than thrilled to lose one of their children.
"I'm just... glad you're safe." I tell him. Our eyes meet. Damn, he's beautiful. It's almost hard to talk to him face to face like this, because a part of me keeps placing myself in my dream again. How did I not notice him like this before?
"Thanks," he says, looking up at the treetops. The mockingjays have stopped singing. "What happened when I was out?"
"Well," I begin, trying not to make eye contact. "You started hallucinating."
He chuckles. "To say the least. That was some freaky shit."
"It sounded like it. You thought I was trying to kill you or something." I say, purposely evading the fact I know that he was envisioning his mom. But for some reason, I want to know more about what went on in his head.
He raises an eyebrow, staring me right in the face. "It wasn't you who was trying to kill me."
"Well, obviously not. I'm not going to kill you." My face must be burning brick red.
He smiles slyly. "I know that, Loverboy. That's not to say the bitch back home won't."
Well, I'm shocked by his boldness. I'm sure his mother is whirling in panic watching this, knowing her son could reveal anything about her at any given time. I know I would be if I were guilty of that kind of thing.
"I-I'm really sorry about that, Cato." I say, unsure of how to console him. I don't know what he wants to disclose or withhold from the public.
"It's cool."
All of a sudden, my stomach begins to growl embarrassingly loud. Quite a contrast from throwing up a few minutes ago. "I'm starving."
"Aren't we all?" he says, sarcastically. "It sucks, because I didn't grab any weapons this morning when I ran away."
"But you got me out of there." I say, kicking my injured foot around the dirt. "You should have taken your sword instead."
"No, Loverboy, I needed to get you out of there. It's not like you could run away on your own. How is your foot, anyway?"
"Well, it hurts like hell." I chuckle. "But I can still walk. That medicine helped a lot."
"Do you think the tracker jackers are gone?" he asks.
"Maybe, why?"
He hesitates for a moment. "We could go back and grab our weapons if they've calmed down. I'm sure we could see them from a distance and run like hell if they're still there."
It's definitely a risky approach, but since we're unarmed and starving, I can't really object. "Alright."
We retrace our steps, and begin walking back to the tree. It seems further away than I remember, but that's probably because we're not in much of a hurry to get there as we were to get out this morning.
"Did you stay up late enough to see who's still left?" I ask, randomly remembering that I'd missed the Capitol's projection last night.
"Yeah, all of us, Katniss, the girl from Five, both Tributes from Eleven, the guy from Three, and the guys from Six and Eight."
I count them. Only twelve Tributes left in the arena. Half the kids I saw waving and smiling in their chariots are dead now. I guess it scares me, but the thought of Cato or Katniss coming out victorious calms my nerves somehow. Both of them have so much to live for.
"I can't believe the guy from Three is still alive." he says. "He was so... weak."
"I guess I'd act weak if someone held me at knife point, too." I say, stiffly.
He shrugs. "I'd think he would expect it, you know, fighting in the Games."
"Maybe." I say. The fog has disappeared, leaving the sight of the tree open in view. I don't hear buzzing or see any wasps. Assuming it's safe, we stealthily walk towards the base of the trunk. The nest is a flaky, cracked mess. I could definitely understand how the tracker jackers would be a bit ornery, because they must have received just as unpleasant of a wake-up call as we have.
"Damnit!" Cato hisses, looking over our former camp site. The hovercraft has already taken Glimmer's body out of the arena, along with all of our supplies. "They took my fucking sword!"
Before I can feel totally hopeless, I catch sight of a silver gleam in the dirt. Sitting down, I dust off the soil that covers it. My knife. Packed in the dirt is my small knife, and perhaps our only hope. "Cato! Look!"
He snatches the knife out of my hand, attaching it safely to his belt. "I'm not going to lose this."
It's just the two of us now. No longer are we the callous, superior Career Tributes, but somewhat of an easy target. We don't have the plethora of weapons and supplies that we did when the Games began, but simply a small dagger. We need to use more of a defensive strategy instead of an offensive one.
I can't believe Glimmer is dead, either. She didn't belong here in the Games. I could tell by her extreme femininity and lack of tact that she wasn't ready to be here. Then again, neither was I. I'm just as lost and clueless as any of the smaller children that died in the bloodbath. But by some fleck of insane luck, I ended up with a strong ally. I smirk to myself, remembering Glimmer's one-sided lust for Cato. She made it so obvious. From touching him every chance she got, to flirting in the most inhumanly sugary tone I've ever heard, I found it to be somewhere between humorous and pitiful. I'm trying to keep my attraction to him under wraps, using her as an example of how not to behave. I would certainly never alter my voice or pointlessly grope anyone to convey an interest in them. It's just rude, and she didn't know of any of the things he's been through. It comes to me immediately why, back in the Training Center, Cato refrained from laughing while she and Marvel wrestled. He must have been petrified by all of the memories, because the sting of a painful thought might be triggered by anything relating to the matter. If I were him, having all of the experiences he's had, Glimmer's boldness towards men would have nauseated me. But a fierce, thunderous rumble breaks me out of my bubble of thought.
My stomach growls again, even louder and angrier than the first time.
"Apparently someone's hungry."
I'm a little embarrassed by showing my weakness, but now that I think of it, there's no one in this arena that I'd be more comfortable to show it to. "I'm famished, do you think anyone's stocked anything at the Cornucopia?"
"Maybe, but probably not. We're going to need to hunt something." he decides, inspecting the knife formerly belonging to me.
"Can we go there anyway, just to check?" I ask, in an almost childlike manner. He's so dominant, in both stature and his forceful character, I'm sure anyone would feel submissive at his mercy.
"Alright, Loverboy, you're going to learn how to hunt. Come on."
"Alright, thanks." I agree cordially. I don't particularly want to kill anything, but at this point I don't have much of a choice.
We walk warily through the arena, in the direction heading toward the Cornucopia. I really do hope the things we need are there. Surveying our surroundings, we stay completely silent, almost holding our breaths so as not to scare away any potential game. I'm crossing my fingers, hoping my stomach doesn't gurgle as shamelessly as it just did. I'm shocked at how quiet Cato's footsteps are, despite his large body. Mine are much louder, partly because I'm inexperienced, but mainly because it's difficult to do anything but limp around with my injured ankle. I can definitely feel an irritation of the skin. The arena's been cold, so other than applying my medication, I've kept my socks and shoes on. Sweat and blood have stiffened the cotton to a cast-like texture, chaffing against the scabbing skin. I try to ignore the pain, forcing my eyes to look scan the trees and bushes for any small animals. But unfortunately, they won't ignore the handsome blonde boy walking in front of me long enough to focus on anything else. Even the Tribute uniform of tawny pants, bulky shoes and a thin jacket makes him look appealing. I feel my face flush, knowing that if he were to ask me something at this very moment I would be almost completely oblivious and look very foolish. The only thing that slightly distorts the muscular perfection is that awful, red sting wound on the back of his neck. I can't help but feel pity for him, at the same time I'm counting my blessings that I didn't get stung. I wouldn't have been strong enough to face the illusions of fear that would have crossed my mind, nor stomach the smell of the stinger's excretion before profusely vomiting.
"Loverboy!" Cato whispers, pausing in his tracks. The idea of stopping doesn't register fast enough, so I stupidly walk right into him. I was definitely right a minute ago, about looking like an idiot.
"Shh!" he hisses.
We listen intently to the sounds of the forest. Mockingjays chime overhead, but the sound of faint voices in the distance makes my heart race. We're in no position to defend ourselves, using just a small knife.
"Quick!" Cato whispers loudly, pointing just over my shoulder. "Get in that bush!"
Without a thought, we dive into the green leaves, concealing ourselves from the sight of anything crossing the path of the general area. The thumping in my chest is so loud, I swear anyone passing by will hear it. We listen as the sound of footsteps become audible, and the voices become clearer.
"Did you see them anywhere?" a girl asks.
"No, I haven't seen them since this morning." a husky voice answers.
"Well, let's keep looking." she replies.
Something about these voices sound familiar, but I can't see anything past the green leaves of the bush. I'm not about to move a muscle to try, either. What if they're talking about us? Part of me begins to internally panic. Could this be... my final moment? I tremble, grasping the hair on my head tightly. Maybe I'm not so apathetic to the idea of death as I thought I was earlier. But it seemed so much further away at that point. A hand pats me gently on the back. As soundlessly as possible, I try to turn my head to look, but instead Cato's eyes meet mine. His arm is bent at an angle behind me, indicating the hand was his. He places his finger to his lips, reminding me to stay quiet. It's vital I obey, so I try my hardest to relax. The footsteps come closer. It rattles my efforts to calm down.
"Marvel, maybe they climbed up there." the girl says.
"I doubt it, Cato can't climb up a tree to save his life." Marvel replies.
"Well, we need them. We're still allies after all."
Cato snickers silently to himself. The voices belong to Clove and Marvel. The pace of my heart slows down, and I'm slightly relieved. I'm still not sure whether to trust them or not, but I'm definitely glad they weren't any of the other Tributes.
"Should we get out?" I mouth silently to Cato.
He nods, parting the leaves in front of us. "Maybe you should have looked in here." he says, sarcastically.
Clove and Marvel jump in shock, before smiling and chuckling. "Damnit, Cato," Marvel says quietly. "You scared the shit out of me."
"I can see that." Cato replies. He turns back toward the bush, motioning for me to join them. "Come on, Loverboy, it's safe."
I probably look so incompetent right now, fumbling my way out of the bush. Marvel and Cato discuss their previous whereabouts, but Clove stares apprehensively at the leaves I'd just crawled out of.
"You know that's poison ivy, right?" she says quietly.
Everyone falls silent, all but Marvel, who chuckles bitterly at our expense. Is that really necessary? If we're allies, we should at least look out for each other. But, then again, alliances are pretty half-hearted here.
"Are you fucking serious?" Cato angrily shouts, ravenously itching his arms.
I look back at the bush, surveying the leaves. How did I not notice? I can be so brazen sometimes. But now that I'm thinking of it, my neck begins to tingle with an itch. "Yeah, Cato, I think they were serious."
"There are some supplies at the Cornucopia, if that's where you guys were headed. The District Three guy stocked some, and we just ate." Marvel says.
"Well, that's exactly where we're headed. I'm starved." Cato grumbles.
"We'll go with you," Clove says. "I sure as hell don't want to get separated again."
My foot is throbbing in pain, but I continue to walk along with the rest of them, lagging behind. Looking weak is futile at this point, because I'm still hesitant to trust the other Careers.
"So I'm assuming Glimmer died?" Clove asks.
"Yep," Cato says. "the dumb ass deserved it, too."
"She just sat there shrieking until she actually got stung. That's all I saw." Clove says, coolly. "She was a real bitch."
Marvel laughs. "You guys don't even know. Back at One, we went to the same training academy. How she acted here is nothing."
"You knew her before the Games?" I ask.
"Yep. She was pretty superficial. Hitting on every decent looking guy in sight, scrutinizing other girls. The typical, popular whore. No one would ever know it if there was really something hiding under that."
For some reason, it doesn't surprise me. Glimmer did seem a little bit arrogant. But then again, all of the Career Tributes I've met are in their own way. They're the only ones who have actually trained for this. They have a huge advantage over us, even though it's technically illegal to prepare for the Games beforehand.
"She told me I was fat and incapable for the Games." Clove says quietly.
"You're skinny as hell." Marvel yells. "And you have skill. Glimmer didn't even do anything at the academy other than flirt with people. It's pretty evident that she wasn't ready."
"She was so annoying." Cato interjects. "She kept hitting on me last night, so I told her I had a girlfriend back home."
"Good move." Marvel says.
We walk in silence for a while. Whether they're taking a moment to remember Glimmer or simply taking a break from conversation, I'm not sure. But I'm definitely in thought. Cato told her that he had a girlfriend. It's so dishonest, it's funny. I chuckle to myself. I could never picture him succumbing to a woman.
Then, why does the thought actually bother me?