****EDIT**** Okay I've made a few changes to this, taking your guys reviews into account. I also added some more Clove Inspiration down below ;) Thanks again for your reviews!
Hellooo everyone! Finally… finally final exams are over. So for the duration of the summer (and probably the story) you can expect to see chapters coming out pretty rapidly now. As usual thank you to all of you who review. I feel so grateful to have so many of you who have been sticking with the story for so long. And for those of you who just found this please do tell me what you think. Good, bad, I want to hear it all.
I've been working on editing some of the previous chapters. And there were so many mistakes. I am genuinely sorry for sucking so much, really.
I want to give a special shout-out all the way over to Deutschland to the sweetheart Lunatic9289 who was kind enough to offer to translate The Blood of the Beast into German! The links to both translations (ones here on FF and the other is on a German-based website) are: [ . c c / ] and [ : / / w w w . s / / 1 / ] Once again I can't say thank you enough! Seriously do you guys ever stop getting more and more awesome?
With all that being said everything belongs to the wonderful and ever so talented Suzanne Collins. And I tried to fulfill some of your requests by taking a step in Cato's head for some of this chapter. It's not my usual, so please do tell me what you think! Also this is my longest chapter yet! Over 8000 words. So hopefully that makes up for the time lapse.
WARNING: Theres gonna be some language folks.
"MISERY is manifold. The wretchedness of earth is multiform. Overreaching the wide horizon as the rainbow, its hues are as various as the hues of that arch, -as distinct too, yet as intimately blended."
- Berenice, Edgar Allan Poe
10.
Cato was sure to put distance between himself and them, the Capitol wouldn't want to see their beloved alliance entirely slaughtered on the very first day.
Oh, but he could do it. The idea was enough to send electricity through his limbs. His fingers clenched around the handle of his sword. He could turn around right now and kill them. All of them if he wanted to.
Lover Boy would be first, for sure, simply because he had just pissed him off. Then he would slice straight through Three. Cato had already forgotten the logic that kept him from splattering the weaklings blood across the trees. He deserved it, the pathetic little creature. Nothing that feeble had the right to live.
Just for the hell of it he could then kill District Four. Or Glimmer whose sweet neck called for his hands, but he wouldn't strangle her, no. Her cries would have to be heard throughout Panem. But then of course there was Marvel- Cato had been drawing out a glorious plan for him, one that seemed to change with every snide comment that would pass his pale lips, every sneer-
He couldn't take these thoughts anymore so he dropped the sword and pounded his fist hard into a tree, taking satisfaction in the crack of his bones and the pain that assaulted his knuckles and wrist.
If he hadn't done that, lust would have taken over and he would have turned back and satisfied these beautiful ideas. But that would have been such a waste. His alliance needed to be saved for the end- one last magnificent show for the Captiol and of course for himself seeing that these would be the last kills he could perfect without having to worry about meaningless repercussions.
The soft hum of their voices traveled to him now. And then he knew they saw him when their sounds fell silent. They feared him. Every last one of them feared him.
And he loved it.
They would try to hide it, try to hide their weakness, but he knew better. Glimmer was so sure her soft hands and the curve of her hip would keep him from breaking every bone in her beautiful face, because she didn't know he could see the caution she tried to hold behind her smiles. Marvel in all his God damned apathy could keep his chin tilted back but he would never try to openly defy him, no never that. Lover Boy would continue to check on him from time to time because he thought he wasn't looking, and for this he was a fool, because Cato was always looking.
He made sure that they feared them. He made sure every player on that field feared him. Though there was one exception. Just one little exception that now moved alone and silent into the dark trees ahead without regard toward any of them, without regard toward him, without any fucking regard toward anything.
The young, the beautiful, the deadly…
Oh but Caesar didn't even know. None of the Capitol did. Maybe they thought they could see it in the sharp curve of her jaw or the lethal curl of her lip but it went so much deeper than just ascetics. Not even during the bloodbath could they have seen just how deadly she could be. But Cato knew of her beautiful deadliness, and that was the only way it could be accurately described- beautiful. In quiet moments he could see her dreaming behind those black, black irises of all the ways she could kill him, and the corners of that mouth, that beautiful fucking mouth, would pull up in a sneer that could usher in his maddening fury and he could barely keep himself from tearing her to pieces. Once, her tongue had told him of her deadliness as it ran over the blood that flowed from the gash her teeth had made in his neck.
But nothing had showed it more than when she held his hand to her face and just breathed into it again and again and she hardly moved and she was just deadly, deadly, always so deadly.
They didn't know of these things, but they would see. And they would understand why he would save her for the very last.
How he couldn't wait to kill her.
Brutus had suggested the idea as if it had been original but he already had it decided the day of their Reaping. When they stood together in the rumbling cart of their train to the Capitol, his first words to her had been to tell her she was utterly forgettable, and as they passed beneath a tunnel the flickering orange lights illuminated her gnarled smile and she whispered so low, "Wait and see what I can make of you." Then the moment was gone, they were bathed in the sunlight streaming through the windows once more, the listlessness had made its way back to her dark eye and the smile was gone, but he had seen it, God he had seen it.
And from that moment he had drowned in her name.
Clove.
He would make her death something special. It would be the grandest of all. It would be gorgeous and vicious, so vicious, just like her. And the Capitol would love it. But it wouldn't be for them. Hers wouldn't be like the others; it wouldn't be for the pride of his District, it wouldn't be for the Games, it wouldn't be for the satisfaction of his rage or ego which both could be considered entities all their own.
No, it would be only for him.
If he could, he would kill her somewhere where the camera lenses couldn't reach because he wanted it to be between them and no one else. He wanted to be the only one who would hear the painfully sharp snap as he began by breaking her delicate, delicate collar bone- how many nights had he laid awake thinking again and again of that one particular part of her? He wanted to be the only one who would see the trembling of her lower lip or the crinkle in the corner of her eye as she fought back the unbearable pain he inflicted upon her.
But it was okay he would have to share these sights and sounds with the masses, because it would still be he alone who did these things to her.
No one else would leave bruises across her skin. No one else would slowly, very slowly break each of her bones. She wouldn't shriek anyone else's name. No one else would feel her blood, the blood he had longed to see. No, no one else would do her death justice like he would. And he would let no one else kill her. She would be his.
His young, beautiful, deadly Clove.
"Did we miss any more action?"
Glimmer had gaited beside him and stood with hands on her hips, taking in his now swollen fist covered with streams of blood. Action, she questioned? Yes, you missed the action. Had you been here for it, your pretty skull would now be in pieces on the ground.
"I don't think it was anything you wanted to be there for, my dear," he sneered.
There it was again. Her smile. She really thought she was so good at hiding it, didn't she? Her finger tips trailed against his arm and she said with her lips brushing against his ear, "But anywhere you are is where I want to be."
He saw her perfect nose twitch, the whiteness of her teeth gleam for just a moment. She truly was a magnificent creature; as gorgeous as every commentator and designer back in the Capitol had said. But Cato had perfected the art of destroying beautiful things.
She broke their eye contact quickly and then her golden hair was swishing across her back as she trotted in her usual way down the slope to join the rest of them in what she was sure was a sexy display of swaying her hips but Cato knew was a hasty retreat. Because she knew he couldn't wait to break her.
Left alone, he tried to assess the decision he had made to keep Three now that his fire had passed. But Cato was never very good with evaluations and the only thing he could manage to think clearly was how he would literally carve Lover Boy's heart from his chest once they found the girl. Panem would appreciate that.
His annoyance with Lover Boy only increased when he approached the group of them at the Cornucopia, all surrounding the boy from Three who still physically shook, his knobby knees nearly making a clacking sound as they bounced together. Cato hated him. He was weak. He was so, so incredibly weak and he didn't even try to hide it. It was pathetic.
The boy was nothing more than an insect that needed to be squashed. Cato had just about made the decision to slice him in half (hold him in front of Lover Boy, first, so he could be doused in the blood he had so boldly thought he saved) when the child's bulging eyes stopped him. It was incredible, how loud they were. He never knew eyes could scream like that. He could feel his lips nearly roll across his wet teeth as they pulled into an involuntary smile.
If you keep him alive you can see this more than just once, said the voice of something dark.
Cato agreed. He thoroughly enjoyed the boy's screaming eyes.
He raised one finger and pointed to the nearest podium. "Get digging," he commanded.
When the boy scrambled off, Cato decided that Insect was a good name for him. It had a nice ring to it.
As the Insect began to tear into the earth with his bare hands, he noticed Clove's distant figure bobbing beside the tree trunks that guarded the lake far across the field. She hadn't stopped near the Cornucopia with the rest of them. Cato decided he desired to see the tightening of her jaw and her lips as they pressed together in annoyance. So he jerked his chin to Marvel in a silent order to watch the Insect and followed the path he had watched her take.
When he found her, she had her back to him and was completely still as she sat in the sands with her hands in the water. He was sure to be as quiet as he approached her while he decided in what way he could piss her off. Maybe lift her from the ground and throw her into the water. Her face would harden to stone from her anger, just as it did when he had plucked her from the Insect and tossed her aside before she had the chance to cut him. He reveled in the mental image he had captured of her features as she lifted her head from the ground to glare at him. It had been enough to make him laugh, at the time-
Suddenly the splashing of water disrupted the silence and before he had time to lift his sword, or even duck for that matter, one of her knives was zipping past him through the air, just barely slicing into the side of his neck. It landed with a heavy thunk into the wood of the tree at his back.
For a moment he was wild in his confusion. He raised the sword stupidly only to realize that it would do nothing against Clove who could throw a dozen knives into his body before he could even cross the four yards that stood between them. This wasn't the same girl who he had been able to hold at his mercy back in the Capitol- this girl had her weapons now. A single word taunted as she moved toward him with nothing more than an indifferent stare that was enough to make his blood boil.
Dangerous.
He was hardly able to think as she used one small but powerful hand to lower his sword. Then a wisp of her breath touched his lips and the metal of her knife moved past his skin as she thrust it from where it had lodged deep into the tree. Her chin was raised but her eyelids partially concealed her dark orbs as she eyed his neck and used her sleeve to tenderly wipe away a surprising amount of blood that seeped from the fresh cut her weapon had dug.
"The next time you get in my way and take what's rightfully mine," she said very simply, then lifted her eyes. "I won't miss."
Those eyes, those eyes. They simmered like burning tar and charred every inch of his body. He wanted to tear them from their sockets. The cameras had caught everything and all of Panem just got to witness his weakness at her hands. He could hear them from all the way back in District Two as they howled like dogs at the sight of the Cato they all feared; the Cato who parted crowds in the street as he passed- at the mercy of the short, freckled, smirking Clove. If only they could have seen her last night when those same hands that now brushed against his jaw had fluttered uselessly as her ribs threatened to break. Or maybe the blood that rushed to her face as she screamed. But instead they got to watch her hold him against a tree and plant a knife gingerly at the hollow beneath his chin.
So he tried to keep himself satisfied by imagining her body being ripped apart, starting with those lips that now curled at the corners, because she knew he was angry that she had him. His vision tinted red as she rose to her toes and the fingers of her free hand gripped the fabric of his shirt. The blood of the tribute he had killed was now smeared across her cheek and beads of pink water dripped from her sharp chin. Her lips pressed into the corners of his mouth, successfully further humiliating him. Just as he was about to throw her off, she whispered, "You're so predictable, Cato."
Instantly his arms flew to trap her so he could cause her body such unbearable pain she would want nothing more than to eat those fucking words three times over. But she was fast and with ease she avoided his hands as they tried to grab her by her hair. Before he had time to steady himself, her back was turned to him again and she was walking away with her head thrown back, laughing. He had never heard her laughter before.
He decided he hated it.
It was too high, too piercing, too twisted. His teeth gritted at the sound and in that moment he reminded himself, In the end I'll have you. I'll fucking have you.
They had decided they were going to wait to go hunt the other tributes. It was early after all, the games had just begun. For now they could relax until sundown and wait until they could see the fires so they wouldn't have to blindly comb through the woods, lest they exert too much energy all at once.
The cruel irony of it all cut deep into Peeta as he watched the boy from Three who dug so frantically into the earth that dirt flew in the air around him. He could hear his pants and see the sweat that pooled in the creases of his now filthy forehead despite the distance between them. Blood stained his pant leg purple and Peeta could tell that the thin bandage they had so graciously provided him had done nothing to stop the bleeding of his wound. His heavy breaths were interrupted from time to time by a poorly stifled sob.
Meanwhile Marvel lounged in the shade of the Cornucopia on a bin of apples and Glimmer complained about the heat and food selection.
Peeta had been watching Three work for almost two hours now; digging, pulling out the explosive, rewiring it, moving on, digging. As he tinkered with the first bomb there were moments when he would flinch away with his hands over his ears. But then after he made sure he was still alive he would hesitantly continue. Peeta was thankful the others had not noticed this- especially Cato.
He didn't dare look at the horrific District Two tribute now. With eyes like a dragon he had been watching over Peeta, waiting for him to break. In less than a day the boy had managed to broaden the scope of how much hostility and brutality Peeta thought was possible in human beings, despite the fact that he had watched sixteen Hunger Games, heard the tales of fifty-nine, and lived in a society that forced children to fight to the death for the entertainment of a nation. But Peeta managed to keep the terror at bay by reminding himself of Katniss. He had to keep a straight face at all times if he wanted to save her. He would have to be one of the Careers, maybe even until the moment he died.
Though, when the boy from Three almost fell into a hole as he struggled to pull up another explosive, Peeta couldn't just sit by any longer. Thinking quick he sighed loud enough in exasperation for the party to hear, "this is never going to get done," and hobbled over-still barely able to walk properly after fighting in the blood bath and silently praying a spear wouldn't suddenly impale his chest.
Nothing came. So he risked nothing more by looking back.
The boy's shoulders flinched when Peeta's shadow engulfed him in its darkness. He was wincing as he snapped around to face him, only on his knees. Shaking. Dirt coated his arms and in the creases of his mouth. He was drenched in sweat. Worst of all his eyes were rimmed with tears. Peeta was instantly sickened.
"I'm sorry," he choked out. "I'll go faster, I swear-"
"You're fine," Peeta said as quietly as he could. "Move aside, I'll lift it."
The boy didn't move and continued to wince as if he had already been struck. Peeta was reminded of Clove's legs as they slipped away from the mouth of the Cornucopia- she crouched like a cat on its cylindrical roof, and right now her eyes were probably glued to both of them. In a voice even more inaudible than before he said beneath his teeth, "Please, you have to be brave right now or they'll kill us both."
A pair of thin lids slid down the boys wide eyes and Peeta watched the rise and fall of his chest as he took a deep breath. When they lifted to reveal his brown orbs again, Peeta was relieved to see that he had stopped shaking. As Peeta reached down into the hole to raise the explosive, the boy spoke in a steady voice. "Make sure you only touch the red and yellow sides of the rim. Do you see it?"
"Yeah," Peeta said. Pain shot through his legs as he kneeled down but with little difficulty he used two hands to pluck the device from the ground as if it had been nothing more than an over-grown turnip. He felt blood pulse through the open wound on his arm and soak the surrounding bandage. Even though he was injured, he still had his upper body strength. This triggered a voice to ring through his ears.
What about you? I've seen you in the market. You can lift hundred-pound bags of flour.
He replayed it a few more times to take himself away from the arena for a moment. Even though he was here, she was here hiding amongst the trees, somewhere; even though the memory was from when they had sat with Haymitch in the Capitol discussing strategy, her voice took him back home to District Twelve. It took him to his days at school when he would watch her from a distance in the courtyard while she wasn't looking and the wind would play with the light flyaways of her braid in the sun.
Bags of flour, bags of flour.
He fought hard to keep back a smile.
Three worked diligently. His nimble fingers could have been creating artwork as they rearranged brightly colored wires into what seemed to be elaborate patterns while they sparked and hissed at one another in protest. Peeta himself felt like flinching away as he watched him but after some trial and error Three must have become very confident in his work. The boy truly was brilliant, though not brilliant enough to put distance between himself and the Cornucopia. Peeta wondered why he stayed back.
This went on for another round; the boy dug, Peeta lifted, the boy worked. As he focused on delicately pulling a red wire from a pale green, Peeta leaned in close to him as if he was overwhelmed with curiosity and asked in a low voice, "What is your name?"
He was sure to keep his eyes away from Three's so the others wouldn't become suspicious if they weren't already. Three knew to do the same.
"Circuit," he whisphered.
Had they been under different circumstances, Peeta would have cracked a smile. Circuit? It was certainly different from common names given back in District Twelve, but he liked Circuit. It was a nice, suiting name for the boy.
"You're Peeta, right?" Circuit asked, keeping his focus on his work. "The baker?"
Careful, careful, Peeta thought suddenly tensing up. Circuits voice had not been loud but Peeta was still paranoid. He didn't dare look directly at the Careers but rather he stood up and cracked his back from side to side, glancing in their direction absently. Clove, he saw, had jumped from her perch and was land bound once more, pacing. Cato was still watching them both, smiling in the strangest way. The others seemed didn't seem to be paying attention.
Seeing that the coast was clear and their meaningful exchange wasn't being monitored, entirely, he couldn't help but feel a little surprised that the boy had recalled not only his name but his premise. He knew small bits of information about Circuit, of course- enough that he was able to convince Cato to spare him, but that was because Peeta paid attention to detail. He knew most weren't like that, he just really liked people. He had remembered nearly every tribute from their interviews with Caesar; like that girl from Seven who Clove had cut up really loved animals, or the boy Cato had hacked in half who was able to replicate the exact chirp of a cricket and drip of a raindrop.
"Yes," Peeta finally responded. "You remembered that?"
"Yeah," Circuit said, the corners of his lips working hard to feign indifference. "I liked that joke you made about the bread from your district- how the special ingredient was coal. It made me laugh."
Peeta's heart sank. Wouldn't he have loved to make poor Circuit laugh again? But he couldn't here. So to keep the potential moment of happiness at bay, they succumbed to silence once more and continued with their robotic tasks. Circuit continued to rewire and dig alone. Peeta continued to act as though he was keeping an awfully close eye on him and lifted explosives from the ground once they were unearthed.
Sometime later as the falling sun cast a pink light onto Circuits cheek while he worked on his fourth explosive, he kept his eyes cast down as he said, "Thanks for saving my life."
Peeta only gave a curt nod in return because he couldn't risk saying anything more.
But if he could have responded, he would have told Circuit that he wished he never had to.
Clove bit down hard into the meat of an apple and after only a few chews decided she didn't want it anymore. She had paced, climbed the Cornucopia again, made her rounds near the lake, across the field and in the surrounding woods a dozen times, but still she was restless. She wanted to go, she wanted to hunt. They had been waiting around all day without making any real moves to look for the other tributes. It had been a solid few hours now, they were all well rested, and they had camping gear and night glasses so why were they still sitting around this God damn Cornucopia?
When she snarled the question at Marvel who seemed to be gazing at his own reflection in the head of his spear, he said without really looking at her, "You don't want to miss the show, do you?"
He was referring to the death toll of the day. The sun was setting over the black trees in the distance. Night would fall soon. But she could care less to see it. She knew who she killed. She could give a damn about the others. Besides they had heard no cannons since initial battle. No one new died today.
Probably because we were all on our asses.
Her nose twitched.
"I'm going out again," she said to no one in particular.
"Can't you give it a rest, Clove?" Marina sighed. She was leaning against the wall of the Cornucopia beside Marvel, weaving nets out of cords of wire they had been provided. "It isn't like they're going anywhere. Besides I don't think anyone else would be stupid enough to stay within a miles radius of this place."
Clove tilted her head. My, my, my how gutsy the sea slug has become since she got her hands on those heavy weapons of hers. Too heavy, if you asked Clove. Too slow.
She was right though, Clove had combed through the surrounding woods three times now and she had not found anything. The Capitol must be getting bored. Perhaps she should throw in a surprise twist by killing the sea slug. She was just pulling out a knife she particularly favored- one with an almost curled tip and a light handle, when Cato stepped in front of her.
"I'm coming," he said.
"No one invited you," Clove snapped at him.
"I don't need an invitation," Cato sneered.
She was sure to stay still long enough to glare at him before turning on her heel and stomping her feet a good amount as she tried to stay as far away from him as she could. She could hear him telling the others to get their gear set up so they could leave when he got back and to keep an eye on Three. So he was only coming to entertain her? She went faster.
She reached the woods before he did. The now black canopy created a kaleidoscope of colors down through its branches- pinks, purples, oranges. It bathed the floor in similar patterns of black and bright color. With careful feet she moved down the large slope of a valley, noticing she had yet to travel into this part of the woods and just itching to kill someone since Cato had pulled her off Three. Though she had gotten sufficient payback on him, if she did say so herself. A smile crept to her face at the thought of his teeth as they bore at her after she had dodged his blows. Where was the big idiot now? She didn't hear his loud, clumsy footsteps anymore.
When she turned she saw he wasn't behind her. Good, she didn't want his company anyway. He had pissed her off enough for one day. The first day, let alone.
She had hardly taken two steps when suddenly someone was behind her, tackling her to the ground. Instantly she panicked- they had her arms behind her back so she could do nothing with her weapons. A hand was forcing her head into the ground and dirt flooded into her nose as she foolishly inhaled. She couldn't even see her attacker though she was sure from the size it was a male. A large male. Suddenly the horror occurred to her.
What if this was-?
"Cato!" she bellowed. He was close maybe he could hear her. "Cato!"
And then she heard his laughter. It took her a good minute to sort out her confusion and realize that her attacker was Cato. Damn him! She cursed herself for being such an idiot. Not only had she automatically assumed the worst but she had called out his name. Why hadn't she predicted this? Because he isn't that predictable, said a voice. She hushed it.
"You piece of shit!" she snarled, thrashing her arms which were still in his grasp. Anger immediately flared in her abdomen and flowed uncontrollably into the rest of her. He had made her look so weak.
He lowered his mouth to her ear and spoke between clenched teeth. "Make me look like a fool again, and the arms come off," he said.
She stopped moving so he would let off her. Once he did, she would cut him. Nowhere fatal just yet. But just enough to draw an amount of blood sufficient enough for revenge.
In the silence they were able to hear something in the distance. The cracking of tree branches. It could have been an animal, perhaps they would have just brushed it off as such if they hadn't heard the faint cry that accompanied it.
Instantly Cato was off her. The both shot to their feet, standing still for a moment, continuing to listen. Clove looked at him and in the fading sunlight she saw agreement in his eyes. Yes, let's go.
They moved silently but rapidly to the source of the noise. It had not been that far from where they stood and yet they saw no one anywhere. The voice had sounded like a girl. So where was she? They froze when they heard another ruffle of branches. Unsure, Clove looked to the canopy of trees.
If she had blinked she would have missed it. But she didn't. So she saw the faint outline of a human body jumping from the trees and disappearing in the leaves. She questioned herself for a moment- could that have been a mutation? The game makers were known to throw mutts into the arena, but usually they weren't pointless, they would attack.
And then she remembered. She thought of the day they had tried to recruit Thresh- when the boy laid down his axe as he was summoned by a smiling little girl…
Yes, Clove could just barely make her out now. She could see the brown of her skin through the leaves. Cato must have realized that there was something in the trees as well, but he wasn't looking in the right spot. The girl was watching them. Clove smiled but didn't make any moves toward her right away.
Cato was at her back now, seeing what she saw. The light was fading, they wouldn't have much time.
As fast as a bird taking flight, the girl moved to the next tree- Clove only knew this from the way the branches shook. She and Cato took off after her as she moved from tree to tree faster and faster. Clove saw a large gap in the canopy and hoped that the girl would fall to the ground. But instead she watched her tiny body soar through the air. She quickened her run until the trees branches stopped shaking.
They were right beneath her, Clove was sure. She had not seen any of the surrounding branches quiver from the girl's slight body. But where was she? Clove tilted her head and felt the now chilled air against her teeth as she grinned.
"Why don't you come down to play?" she called out. "We won't bite."
There was still no movement. The sky was now periwinkle, the sun was setting rapidly. Clove continued to scan the branches.
"It's getting awfully chilly. Aren't you cold up there? We have lots of jackets and blankets, you know," she said. "We could keep you warm." She barely realized her voice was bordering a growl. But she didn't care. She wanted that little girl.
Cato who was craning his neck beside her suddenly whispered, "There you are."
Clove now saw her too, just a pair of wide eyes almost glowing white in the dimming day light. A pair of dark fingers parted the leaves. If only the girl was a bit lower, Clove could get her. But she was too high up for her knives to reach. Because she was frustrated, she tried anyway and the weapon lodged itself in high in the trunk but nowhere close to the girl.
After a moment the leaves rustled and she was hoping away again.
Clove stepped to move after her but Cato grabbed onto her arm. "We'll get her soon enough," he said with a wicked smile as he stared into the trees where the little girl had disappeared.
We. Clove considered this word. She had already made the decision that she would save Cato for the end- his death deserved effort and time. It would be a slow but she would make it spectacular, wonderful. She would take him down with a few knives and then carve into him until there wasn't an ounce of smooth skin left, starting with that pretty face of his. Particularly his eyes.
But then what about until then? He was her district partner. And while she could hardly say she trusted him, she trusted him a lot more than the others. Perhaps trust wasn't the right word. But what was? We. The word repeated itself again. We. It seemed to relate somehow to the smile he wore now, because he was thinking of the little girls blood, just as she would be doing if she wasn't trying to understand We.
The blue light of the sky was succumbing to purple, but even in the dark his eyes stayed pale. She stared into them and tried to understand the meaning the behind that single word that she just couldn't explain. But it was useless. The only things she could tell herself were that they clearly understood each other better than the rest and Cato had already seemed to decide that they were a 'we.' So for now, she saw no reason to disagree with that.
She had hardly realized that those pale eyes were staring right back at her.
Suddenly the anthem was blaring and replaced the chirps of bugs and the rustling of leaves. The faces of the dead began to flash in the night sky- their dead. The first to show was the girl from Three who peered through the branches of the trees at them. Then, Fish Head came next with his wide set brown eyes and flat turf of dark hair, smiling stupidly. Once again she was reminded of Panem who now watched. At this moment, they would be recapping each of the deaths, perhaps adding further commentary.
The girl from Seven appeared, only her face was still smooth and unscratched. Her district would be watching Clove dig her knife into the skin beneath the girl's eyes and across her forehead again at this moment. Clove smiled for them.
When the boy from Eight appeared, Cato moved his hand to Clove's cheek and grazed his thumb beneath her eye. She was unsure why, for a moment, and then saw that the face in the sky belonged to the head she had watched roll from the neck of the boy who had doused her in his blood. Blood that she hadn't completely washed from her face.
She saw the others, the boy from Nine, the girl from Ten, their eyes seemingly fixed on her. They were dead because they were weak enough to allow her to kill them. And now they got to see her stand erect and very alive. At her feet she saw their white hands reach from beneath the earth. They grabbed at her ankles, they clawed at her legs, but they could do nothing. They're ghosts were enraged as they raised from the earth to glare at her. They wanted her dead. What shall you do to me spirits? she taunted.
She heard a wild laughter as the anthem ended and recognized that it was her own. She was alive and they were dead, dead, dead. And there was nothing they could do about it. Will you haunt me? she asked them, hoping they would. She wanted to taunt them for the rest of her life. Her laughter had become uncontrollable.
For Cato she gave a little twirl and for the surrounding trees she curtseyed. "My sincerest apologizes to Districts Seven, Nine and Ten!" she called out, saluting them in typical District Two fashion. "Blessed be you all who must recover from your losses."
Then Cato's roar of laughter followed. They were both hysterical, stomping their feet on the ground, tears rolling from their eyes. Cato clutched his stomach. Clove had to take harsh ragged breaths as she fought to inhale with each wave of unbearable laughter.
I'm alive and you are dead.
Clove was unsure how long they stayed out there for. It could have been seconds. It could have been hours.
When she couldn't stand to laugh anymore, she reached out to touch his neck. He touched the blood on her cheek and rubbed hard to smear it across her lip, which she licked as he did.
It could have been eternities.
Clove approached the fire the others had started near the Cornucopia, her shoulder only brushing against Cato's arm as they walked. Instantly Marvel was moving toward them, the fire casting dark shadows in the hallows of his cheeks and annoyance showing in the furrow of his blonde brow.
"Where the hell have you two been?" he said, his deep blue eyes narrowed slits. "We've been waiting here for only God knows how long."
Cato's lip curled over his teeth as he strode hard into the boy, checking his shoulder with his own and stopping for just a moment to say in a hushed voice, "I think it's me who's supposed to be asking the questions around here."
Fury flushed red in Marvel's cheeks and his slighter but still muscular arms flexed when he tilted his chin toward Cato. Clove could have walked by but she wanted to soak up the rare display of anger steaming from the usually indifferent luxury tribute.
"Getting a little testy already, are we Marvel?" she asked. His nostril twitched.
"Surely not. We're all allies. Aren't we, you sweet little goblin?" he said under his breath, loud enough for her to hear but quiet enough so all of Panem could not.
She simply smiled and said nothing more. For now, she thought. For now.
The others were readying themselves. Glimmer had a sheath of arrows and her bow strung to her back. Lover Boy was tucking knives into his belt and had a pack slung over his shoulder. Marina had one arm full with coils of nets as she lit a torch in their fire.
Cato thrust a spear into the arms of the boy from Three who now sat completely spent in a chair near the fire. "You stay and guard this place till morning. Then get back to work on those bombs. Half of them better be done by the time I get back."
Then he turned to Glimmer and ordered, "Put out the fire, we don't need anything attracting the other tributes here."
Clove tucked an array of knifes into slits in her jacket. It weighed her down a bit, but it was worth it. She was sure they were tucked securely enough that if she should have to chase anyone down they wouldn't fall out.
Then they all were off into the night. Cato had tossed Clove a pair of the night vision glasses, making everything completely visible in the dark. It might as well have been daylight. She was sure to check in the treetops every now and again.
As they moved along, she noticed Marina setting up nets in various spots. "Some are made out of wire," she said grimly. "So they'll hurt if they catch someone. Hopefully we'll be able to hear their screams before they figure out how to get out.
For most of the night, their search had been fruitless. They followed noises one of them would think they heard, and find nothing. Several times it went like this and at some point Lover Boy predicted they had traveled four miles.
They decided to take a break. Marina flopped onto the soft earth, not seeming to care about the dirt that got caught in her tangles of hair. Glimmer eyed her as if she were a bug. Marvel leaned against a tree with his arms crossed, analyzing the sky. Lover boy looked interestingly nervous, which sparked suspicion in Clove.
There was something she didn't trust about him.
Lover boy was a suiting name for him – his round eyes, softened facial features, and curls of golden hair gave him the appearance of a desperate romantic. Or they were the perfect cover to a dangerously smooth talker. He spoke in a way that turned his suggestions into commands and was able to easily manipulate those around him. The others, even Cato, had all fallen victim to it. Clove was sure to not let herself.
"This is ridiculous," Glimmer moaned. "The arena is too big, what are the chances one of them is just going to pop up out here?"
"We saw the little girl," Clove said.
"And you didn't kill her?" Marvel asked with a bemused smile on his lips.
"We couldn't," Cato snapped. "She was jumping around in the trees like a fucking squirrel."
"It's too bad I wasn't there," Glimmer said, flicking the line of her bow.
To this, Marina scoffed from the rock she had relocated to. "Please," she laughed. "You would have ended up shooting one of them, let alone the girl."
Marvel snorted at her words.
Had that been Clove, she would have instantly tackled the sea slug to the ground. But instead Glimmer stayed frozen like a statue in the shadows, coming to life only as she stepped into the moonlight. Her lips which now lost their red color were smirking and her dusty gold eyebrows were arched as she crept like a cat over to the girl who still sat perched on her rock, laughing. Clove tensed, thinking that Glimmer was going to strike her, or stab her. Marina suddenly did the same.
But instead Glimmer tenderly tucked a curl behind the girl's ear. "Oh, you're cute," she almost cooed. Marina seemed rather confused if not stunned all at once. Glimmer then used one finger to lift the girls chin so their noses were nearly touching as she said, "But under estimating me would be a very stupid decision on your part."
Clove was reminded again of the roles they all played. Cato, the leader, Marvel, the negotiator, Twelve, the Lover Boy, or perhaps the liar- she realized what Glimmer would be. Originally she just assumed it was beauty and this would have been fitting, because beneath unearthly silver light, she was one of the most gorgeous people Clove could ever remember seeing. But no, Glimmer's role was something more. It was the way she smiled and made little subtle remarks to anger whoever her target at the time may have been- she had done it to Clove and she had even seen her do it do Marvel before. Often in the training center there would be times she would strut past him, trailing a finger across his chest, and smiling wildly to herself because she knew she was pissing him off.
Then she would wait for their muscles to tense or their faces to turn red and she would hop away. That was her strategy, Clove now understood. To make those around her lose their heads. She watched this exact thing happen to Marina as she tightened her mouth and narrowed her eyes while Glimmer of course, flounced off.
This was the game Glimmer played. The Instigator.
She was sure to elbow Marvel in the hard chest as she passed him. "And don't you laugh too hard, or I might just have to show you," she said.
Marvel kept his face entirely unfazed. "Please, my dear, don't tempt me," he said.
As she watched Glimmer sneer at him, Clove wondered what her own role was.
Then Cato was up in a flash and pointing to the sky. Clove tried to see what he was pointing at, and it took leaning her head this way and that to find it. But when she did she smiled just as Cato did while he said, "Fire."
It took them a long while to follow the plume of smoke. When it had become larger and less distant, the sky was beginning to brighten, signaling the coming of dawn. Then they saw her.
It was a girl, sitting beside her fire, fast asleep.
They broke out into a run, all trying to get to her first.
The girl woke up seconds too late. She was madly screaming as Cato hauled her up by the collar of her shirt. "Please!" she begged. Clove smiled, hearing a different voice, frantically crying the same word.
Cato took the girls arms and pinned them at her back so harshly Clove heard the girl's bones crack. Fat tears instantly spilled on to her pudgy cheeks. "Please," she said again, only now her voice was bordering a shriek. Distress widened her eyes and caused her head to flick to each of their faces. "Please! Don't kill me. Please, please."
"Who's is she?" Glimmer asked, ignoring her. Cato just looked at Clove a with a wicked grin. "I owe you one," he said to her.
And then, as all their heads turned and they parted for her, making a clear pathway to where Cato held the girl; and as the girl at the sight of Clove selecting a knife and wiping it on her shirt began to sob hysterically, Clove went back to her previous question of who she was in this game they played. It had been so obvious; she didn't know how she couldn't see it in the beginning.
The Killer.
Clove strode to the girl and dug both her feet harshly into her toes, which caused her to let out a yelp. Her face was almost purple as she opened her mouth wide and sobbed. "Please!" she begged again, frantically. "Please, please just don't kill me. I want to live, I want to live."
Clove smiled and whipped a trail of snot from the girl's nose. "Why shouldn't I kill you?" she whispered.
"I don't want to die," she screamed. "I'm too young. Please-"
Her sobs were too ragged now. Clove looked playfully up to Cato, who still stood behind the girl, sandwiching her between them. "Oh Cato," she breathed. "She doesn't want us to kill her."
Cato's eyes only burned with anticipation. Clove turned her focus back to the girl. She had seen her in the training center before- she was from District Eight. She was the sad one, the one always crying. It shouldn't have come as a surprise that she would die crying too.
"Please! I don't want to die!" Eight repeated, her voice hoarse.
"Well that's too bad for you," Clove said. "Because I don't want you to live."
With that she shoved her knife hard into the girl's belly, deciding not to do anything too fun with this one. Her shrieks saved her from torture- they were getting too unpleasant, even for Clove who had found that she loved screaming victims. But she didn't mind this. The girl's flesh was soft, and in the quiet of the air she could hear the faint squish of her organs. She decided to cut up instead of down, and found a bit of bone.
Then she pulled the now deep red blade out and backed away. Cato did the same.
The girl slipped to the ground, her blood spilling onto the earth and coloring it purple.
Wohoo! Okay so there were parts of that I hated, parts of that I liked, and parts I just loved to write. So please tell me what you think! I especially want to hear what your thoughts on this chapter because I deviated so far from Clove's usual POV.
Also, one last side note: recently I had a discussion (with Lunatic actually) on what I thought these characters looked like. Truthfully, as I write I don't really have an exact mental image. Of course we all know Isabelle and Leven (- legit girl-crush on her) were both absolute perfection for the roles of Clove and Glimmer, but when I write I like to hybrid how I envision these characters. Everyone is different though of course and I want you all to picture them in your own ways. But for fun I thought I'd include some of my Clove-'spiration: *( : / / . / / o m g - l), ( : / / . / 5), a little Marina-'spiration ( : / / . / 5), some Glimmer-'spiration ( : / / . / 7) and but of course a little Marvel too ;) ( : / / . / 2) – I know wayyyy different from Jack. But when I try to picture his high cheekbones, that's what I use. Do note the 'inspiration' and also note that this is by no means me implying that this is my illustration of what these guys look like- I want you all to create that on your own. Rather I just thought including these would be fun and I happened to come across them all once. Besides who doesn't like visuals? And yes, that is my blog. So for any of you who have a tumblr or care for any of my personal nonsense you can find me at: : / / . . c o m.
Anyway I hope you guys liked that! My next update should be coming soon.