A/N: Oh my gosh. I think that my fingers are about to fall off. 4 hours of typing. 4 freakin' hours of typing, guys. (When I was supposed to be doing HW.)
And...is it weird that I'm sort-of kind-of in love with Cato? ;D
Lots of you were sad that Rue died, so I'm sorry. I was sad too, but it had to be done.
...
You'd better like this chapter, or else...no, just kidding. But I really do hope that you enjoy it. 12 damn pages in Microsoft Word. GAHHHH!
Cato:
Morning comes. The smell of approaching rain is everywhere, mixing with the leafy scent that seems to be trapped in Katniss' clothes, her hair, every quiet breath that makes her chest rise and fall.
For some reason I am transfixed, my eyes running over her calm, sleeping face, the fine strands of brown hair that twist together to form her braid that rests on her slender neck.
It's almost strange to think about how many times we've fallen asleep like this. Ah…nevermind. That sounds incredibly wrong.
I carefully lift her up and place her and the sleeping bag onto the grass beside me. My legs and arm have fallen asleep, and I rise to get the blood flowing again. I raise my arms in a stretch and pause as a sudden surge of pain runs through my right arm.
I almost snicker to myself as I realize that I've done exactly what I aimed to: I got the blood flowing. Quite well, it seems. I can feel the warm substance seeping out of the cut and through the bandage. It's not an unfamiliar feeling. It turns out that even in District 2, there are some damn idiots with worse aim than Lover Boy. That, and Enobaria and the other training instructors weren't exactly the type to hold back their blows while sparring.
But still, damn. It took eight years to build up that arm, and now it's probably wasted. Unless a sponsor sends in something insanely high-tech to fix up the muscle. And I doubt that Enobaria would allow them to fund it, when she knows that I can easily heal on my own in a gym.
So I sit there, watching the storm clouds roll in too quickly to be natural, blood starting to drip down my arm.
When a peal of thunder shakes the sky, Katniss finally jerks awake. She stares at the cloudy sky, then fixes those grey eyes on the scarlet beads rolling towards my hand.
"You're bleeding again."
"No…this is just sweat." I roll my eyes as she untangles herself from the sleeping bag and straightens her clothes. Her hair is a mess, and she quickly re-braids it.
"Can you untie your bandage?" She yawns, walking over to my pack to get a new piece of cloth.
"Sure. I'll just untie this tight knot with my one non-dominant hand." I smirk. Katniss shoots me a look of annoyance and bends down to do it herself. In the end, even she cannot undo the knot, and I hand her a knife to cut it.
"Did you spend any time at all at the knot-tying station?" I ask.
"And you did?"
I do not answer, but instead watch her forehead crease as she studies the wound. I twist my head to take a look as well. Whenever I move my arm, I can see the muscles moving through the slit in the flesh. It seems like it hasn't improved much, if not at all.
"Well, that's disgusting." She says, wiping off the excess blood.
"Thank you, that's very reassuring." I reply sarcastically. She glowers at me and slaps the new bandage on with unneeded force.
"Watch it, Fire Girl."
"I was watching it." She retorts.
Katniss:
"So. Going for Peeta again, right?"
"No. We're heading back to the lake. Maybe we'll find Clove somewhere." Cato seems annoyingly sarcastic and overly smug today, and this might be the first sentence that he's uttered that isn't laced with sarcasm, although still accompanied with a smirk.
"I thought that you wanted to get him once and for all this time."
"It's not happening today. My arm is messed up, and you'd never be able to kill him on your own." Well…that's somewhat true. And although I believe that he can and will fight with his injured arm, the cut still looks pretty bad.
"Can't we just stay here and leave when your wound is better?" We're situated in a nice spot, and I don't want to leave the soft bed of clover.
"Nope."
Why is he so damn cocky today? I turn my back to him and his obnoxious smirk and pack up the bandages and sleeping bag.
Another roll of thunder sounds as I zip up the backpacks. I have to remind myself that it's not real. I wonder how the Game makers created the smell of rain in the arena. I imagine them sitting at their fancy desks, playing with the water-heavy clouds.
"Do you remember which way we came from?" Cato asks. I stare at his back as he surveys the area around us.
I find myself fantasizing.
It was just a dream, Katniss. It doesn't mean that he actually would do any of that.
"I think that we lost track when we found the trail." I reply. We had been so absorbed in searching for the next clue at that time, that we hadn't really paid attention to direction.
"It doesn't matter. Let's just go." He slings his backpack over his shoulders, wincing as the strap rubs against his bandage.
We trudge through the underbrush just as the first drops of rain begin to fall. The rain steadily increases in intensity, and after half an hour, we are both drenched, and the sound of water droplets hitting leaves above us fills the air.
"I just love getting water into a cut." Cato mutters. His shirt is plastered to his body, and I can see the outlines of his muscles.
"Where's your jacket?" He's just wearing a short-sleeved t-shirt. I vaguely remember how cold it was last night, and wonder how he coped with it.
"I don't know. I lost it somewhere." I have to strain to see him shrug through the ropes of rain coming down. It is still early morning, but the sky is so dark that it seems like night is approaching.
"Let's wait under a tree for the rain to ease up." Without waiting for an answer, he grabs my arm and drags me under a huge sycamore that stops about eighty percent of the rain. The chilly air bites at my wet skin. Apparently the jackets are not as waterproof as I thought they were.
We lean against the trunk, painfully close. Hazy, sunny images from last night's dream keep on coming back to me, and I shake my head to clear it out.
"So…" Cato says. His eyes glint mischievously, and a smirk is breaking out on his lips.
"How did you sleep last night?" He continues leisurely. I almost cringe. He can't know about what I dreamed, can he?
Somehow I maintain a straight face, and to my benefit, my voice almost sounds bored when I answer.
"Good. How about you?"
"It was cold. But I warmed up after a while." He smirks. I still think that he knows more than he's letting on.
"But you didn't have your jacket?"
"I have other ways of staying warm." He answers in a way that makes me want to slap him for being so elusive.
Suddenly he swings around and pushes me against the tree, an arm on either side of my body. I am trapped, yet I do not feel threatened. There's just this odd fluttering sensation inside of me.
A smile is playing on his lips, and I study his face while he studies mine. A strong jaw line, narrow nose, hair that sticks up in the front, and those eyes.
I remember how I'd looked away when I had first met those sapphire-blue eyes during the tribute parade. Now I force myself to hold his gaze. It seems like some of the coldness has melted in them.
"Dream of anyone special?" He breathes, eyes still flicking over my face mischievously. I am too aware of the fact that his nose is nearly touching mine to answer immediately. Then my brain processes what he's said, and I force myself not to stiffen.
"I…" He can't know about it. Unless I said something in my sleep. And I know for a fact that I don't talk in my sleep. Maybe he's just asking for the sake of it? "No."
"No one?" He arches an eyebrow and leans in bit closer, smiling faintly.
"No…" I whisper. He can't know.
Is that disappointment that flickers over his face? For a moment, Cato's eyes seem to lose some off their shine, and his shoulders sag a tiny bit. Then he is back to the smirking, confident person that he always is, as if nothing had ever happened.
"So you really did forget." He chuckles softly, a little bit of sadness mixed with amusement. What is he talking about?
Then Cato moves away from me, and the cold air hits me without his body being there to block it. He stares at the rain, which hasn't relented at all.
"What did I forget?" I ask.
"Nothing."
"You can't just bring that up and not tell me what you meant!" I say indignantly, scowling. He is still turned away from me, looking into the rain-laden greenery around us. I was right, the Game makers seem to have restored all of the burnt trees and grass. There is no sign that the fire ever had raged through the arena.
"I know that you're scowling. Don't. You look better with a smile." He murmurs, not looking at me.
"Like you care what I look like." I reply sarcastically. He's avoiding the question, which annoys me.
"Actually, you're not as bad-looking as I'd thought." Cato snickers.
"Thank you so much, Cato. I really don't know if I should take that as an insult or a compliment." I say, still scowling.
"It's a compliment."
"Is it? Well, you're not as good-looking as I had thought." You're better. But with his ego, he'll take it as an insult.
"So you thought that I was good-looking?" He asks. Or a compliment. I don't even know why I bother trying to guess what Cato will say next, he's completely unpredictable. Sometimes I get the expected response, sometimes I get something entirely different.
I give up and get right to the point.
"Are you going to tell me what I forgot?" I step towards Cato in my curiosity.
He turns around and catches my arm and pulls me towards him. I swear that he snickers when I try to struggle out of his grasp.
"Are you going to tell me what you dreamed about?" He mimics my tone, one hand still on my wrist. I glare at him, but he just smiles softly.
"Why do you care?" He definitely knows more than he's letting on.
.
"Because…" Cato suddenly wraps his arms around me from behind and rests his chin on my shoulder.
"Last night, you asked me if this-" He murmurs in my ear and tightens his grip a little. "-was a dream."
"Was it?" I whisper back, afraid of the answer. What if everything had really happened? What if in my half-asleep state, I had thought it to all be a dream?
"No. My legs were numb from you sitting on them this morning." He snorts. I can see his smirk from the corner of my eye.
"Oh. So that's all that happened?" I ask, mildly disappointed. He is still hugging me, and I can feel his wet skin rubbing against my supposedly waterproof jacket.
"Mhmm." I shiver involuntarily as he makes the soft sound of agreement. When he's not being sarcastic or obnoxious, Cato's voice is actually quite pleasant to listen to.
"What did you expect?" He laughs. I can feel his breath in my ear. I don't answer him, but stare down at his muscular arms. On his left arm is a faint scar that runs down the back of his hand.
"You must be cold, with all this rain." Cato lets go of me and pulls his wet shirt away from his chest. I am still staring at the scar, and notice another faint one on the wrist of his injured arm.
"What are you staring at?" He looks down. "Oh. These."
"Where'd you get all them?" I let my eyes travel up his arms, finding other fainter and fainter scars, barely noticeable, yet still there.
"Training."
"Were you that bad with weapons back then?" I arch an eyebrow.
"First of all, that's something that Clove would probably say. Second, none of them were from me." He snickers. I don't ask any more questions, because I have a feeling that the topic's drawn to a close, although I'm still curious about his past.
A gust of wind passes under the tree, and I cross my arms at an attempt to stay warm. But everything is wet, so there is really no point.
"Let's run. The rain's not going to stop anytime soon, and we have to find Clove. There's really no point in getting to the lake anymore." Cato says. He's acting like he never had hugged me, there seems to be nothing but determination in his eyes.
"Ok." I follow him out from under the tree into the drenching rain. It hasn't let up at all. Then again, this is an artificial storm, not a real one. It's not going to follow the patterns that other rainstorms follow.
The rumbling of thunder fills the sky, and we push through the falling water drops. I remember how I used to always hate it when it rained back in District 12. I would be stuck inside the house, unable to do anything.
It's funny how I don't mind the wetness all that much with Cato next to me.
Cato:
I was hoping that they would stop the rain after all that "romantic" stuff, but looks like they intend to rain us out.
The leaves underfoot are wet, making it increasingly hard to keep from slipping. I catch my footing more than once, narrowly avoiding the ultimate humiliation of messing up in front of all of Panem.
We've never been in this part of the forest before. I think that we're moving away from the lake, not towards it. Maybe Clove's in this section.
We run silently. Katniss is keeping up, which is good. She's very light on her feet, and she barely makes a sound when she runs.
Fifteen minutes pass, and I slow down as the ground slopes downwards. I remember falling on my face when I ran down a hill a few years ago. No one dared laugh, except for Clove. She stood at the top with all the other trainees, laughing her head off while I got up with as much dignity as I could muster. She was still laughing when I stomped home to clean up.
Just then, a scream pierces the air. It is not a scream of terror or of pain. It is a scream of rage, although I can detect obvious delight in it. It is Clove's scream.
"She's found him."
I push through the leaves of a tree and jump over a log, running towards the direction where the scream came from.
Katniss:
I don't need to ask who "she" is, I just blindly follow Cato's lead. By the sound of her scream, Clove is obviously angry at something.
When we finally stumble out of a clump of bushes, she is pacing back and forth, her face murderous.
"Who-" She suddenly spins around at our appearance, knife in hand, then relaxes. "Thank god, it's Cato."
I notice that there's a ravine behind Clove, it seems like we are at the edge of a cliff. On the other side of the bank, I can see more forest and grass. In between the two ledges is a huge, gushing river, swollen with a thousand tons of water. The excess amount of rain that we've been having today hasn't helped either, if anything, the storm has only made the current rush by faster and added to the amount of water.
"Yes, thank god that I'm here." Cato smirks. "What happened to District 3? You found him, right?"
"Of course I did." Clove snaps, raising her voice to be heard above the roar of the river. She is soaking wet, just like we are, and she doesn't have her backpack with her.
"I was chasing him, then one of my bag's straps got caught on a branch and he ran off somewhere. The damn weakling is around here though." She snarls. Clove opens her coat, which is lined with knives, and picks out half a dozen more to hold in her small hand.
"So you lost him." Cato snickers.
"He's somewhere around here!" Clove snarls. She punches Cato in the arm lightly, eyebrows furrowed and eyes dark.
"Ow…" Cato says, clutching at the place that she had hit. It's his injured arm.
"Wait, you're HURT?" Clove's voice is shrill with disbelief as she stares at the bandage. She growls under her breath.
Cato rolls his eyes. "Of course not, this is just a decorative bandage. They're quite popular in the Capitol, you know?" I have to hold back a smile.
"And it's your throwing arm too!" Clove yells. "How the hell are you supposed to help me now? Aghhh!" She makes a noise of agitation and glares at him.
"Shut up and start moving. Do you want to get District 3 or not?" Cato ignores her and takes the lead.
"You don't even know what direction he went in, let me go first." Clove snaps, pushing past him. She marches forward along the ledge. The rain is still pouring down like crazy, and I can hear the river beneath us pounding against the sides of the ledges.
"Is it really bad?" Clove asks, hurrying along the small strip of grass, not looking back at us. I am sandwiched between her and Cato.
"Torn muscle. Halfway through." He replies shortly, using one hand to wipe the water out of his eyes.
"That's going to take forever to heal up. Has Enobaria sent anything in for it?"
"No. It's fine. Stop worrying about me."
Clove half-snorts, half-snickers. "I'm not worried. It's just that I was hoping that you'd be able to throw a spear or something long-distance and make it easier for me."
"Wouldn't that kill him? District 3, I mean?" I ask loudly. The gushing sound of the river is really loud now.
"Cato can wound without killing." Clove replies simply, as if I should already know that. She turns her attention back to Cato and they talk about strategies and recount what happened while we were separated. Cato leaves out what happened last night, although I'm not entirely sure myself, and he also skips over what happened today under the sycamore tree.
"You took a knife for her? You should have just let Lover Boy kill her." Clove snarls, still moving forwards.
We are still running on the ledge, which is just a strip of grass about 5 feet across. To our right are trees and forest, to our left, the ravine and the river. The ground is wet underfoot, and the sky is strangely light as the rain falls. Thankfully, it has eased a little and is now just a light shower. Not like it matters anyways, we've already been soaked to the bone in the earlier hours of the storm.
"Lovely words, Clove." I mutter.
"Maybe the next time someone tries to kill you, I'll just stand and watch." He says sarcastically. I'm glad that he's sticking up for me.
Just then, I catch a glimpse of blue far ahead as something jumps out of the forest and starts running away from us.
"Yes! It's District 3!" Clove starts sprinting forwards, slowing closing in the gap between the figure running far ahead and herself.
I speed up as well, and I can hear Cato at my back, not quite touching me, but urging me to move faster. I force myself to sprint after Clove, shaking my head to get the water out of my eyes.
Suddenly in my haste, my foot hits something. A rock or a stick? I trip and then I am falling.
.
Falling off of the ledge. Falling towards the rushing river. Falling to my death.
I slam against the icy water, and everything goes black.
Cato:
"Clove, wait!" I yell, staring over the edge of the cliff. Katniss apparently tripped or slipped or something, and has fallen into the river.
"What?" She screams back. The retreating figure jumps back into the forest, and I see Clove bristle. Then she realizes that Katniss isn't with us, and her eyes widen.
"Find me when I wash up somewhere, 'kay?" I call.
She gives me a look of doubt, but then nods once.
I fling off my backpack and dive into the river.
…
I fight to stay afloat, kicking with my legs and sweeping the water aside with my arms. I'm not used to swimming with the extra weight, and the high waves of water that crash over my head aren't helping.
Katniss seems to have passed out. Her head was nearly underwater when I had grabbed her up a few minutes ago.
The water tosses us this way and that in its icy grip, like a boisterous child playing with toys. I fling Katniss over my shoulder and focus on staying afloat, paddling at the water with my arms. I don't even feel pain when my arm with the cut slams into a rock. The water is so cold that I feel numb.
The current is strong, and it carries us along quickly. I can only hope that there isn't a surprise waterfall at the end of the river, like there always is in books and such.
I hope that Clove is still looking out for me. I'll be pissed if she isn't waiting for us when we get to land.
Finally after a few more minutes of being slammed into rocks and trying to keep my head afloat as the waves roughly push us against floating pieces of wood and debris, I see a tree root reaching out from a low ledge. The rain is still pelting down into our faces, but I manage to reach out and grab hold of the root.
I can hardly feel any of my fingers, let alone the rest of my body, and I force my arm to work, to pull us up. When another wave of water surges towards us, I let it boost me up onto the small grassy bank that slopes up to connect with the forest.
I roll onto the grass and gasp for breath.
I lay Katniss down on her side, so that she won't choke if she starts spitting up water, and start coughing myself.
I feel like a damn water fountain, I honestly don't know how much I swallowed, but water keeps coming up. I am left breathing hard.
I lay there, exhausted and cold, staring up into the cloudy sky as I wait for Clove to come.
"You damn idiot! Why did you jump in?" Clove comes running out from the forest, my backpack on her tiny shoulders. Her face is red and angry.
"You are such a freakin' idiot!" She screams again, this time she's crying. Actually crying.
"I thought that you were dead!" She wails, throwing my bag at me.
"Stop bawling, Clove. All of Panem is watching you." I rasp, coughing again. Clove stops mid-wail and composes herself within seconds.
I drag myself up and groan. Stupid rocks. I'm probably going to feel all the bruises tomorrow morning.
"Cato? She's not breathing…" Clove says, serious for once.
"What?" I sit up suddenly and crawl towards Katniss. Her eyes are closed and Clove is right, I can't see Katniss' chest rise or fall.
"Does she still have a pulse?" I ask. Clove puts two fingers on Katniss' neck.
"Yes. It's still going." She replies solemnly. I stare at Katniss for a moment. I could just let her die like this. I could.
But…
"She's going to need mouth-to-mouth, isn't she?" I groan. I already know the answer.
The rain has once again slowed to a light drizzle, a dramatic change from the raging storm that it was minutes before.
"Don't look at me. I'm not doing it if you paid me a million dollars." Clove snaps, quickly moving away from the girl on the grass.
"That means that you…" Clove breaks off and starts grinning.
"Shut up." I have to make the choice fast, if she goes without air for too long, she'll die.
"Enobaria or Haymitch or whoever, can you send in a mask or something?" I yell up into the sky. I honestly don't want to do this.
Thank god, a silver parachute with a "12" on it starts floating down slowly. Katniss' mentor must be as against this whole affair as I am.
But as it nears the river bank, something dark and feathery flies out of some bushes near us. It's one of those disgusting birds that Katniss had shot down a few days ago.
It flies straight into the metal capsule, it's wing getting tangled up in the parachute.
Then, just like that, the bird flies up into the sky, parachute in toll. I watch in freakin' disbelief as both of them disappear into one of the clouds.
"Seriously? Seriously? Seriously!" I shout. Damn it…damn those Game makers. I doubt that their even allowed to do that. Damn.
Clove is laughing like crazy now, and I stare at Katniss again, well-aware of the crucial seconds. being wasted.
I need to get Clove out of here, she'll never stop laughing if she sees this.
...
"Clove! District 3 just ran by on the other bank!" I yell as convincingly as possible. She snaps into focus, standing up.
"Where?"
"On that side of the river! He's freakin' getting away!" I answer with urgency.
"Ugh…I really wanted to see this too." She mutters as she crashes back into the trees, running towards the non-existent tribute.
Ok. This is it.
I gingerly roll Katniss onto her back.
Pretend that it's your dog, Cato. Or a pillow or something. Not a human. Definitely not a girl. Definitely not the Fire Girl.
I close my eyes and slowly, slowly lower my head. I open them for a second, staring at her face. I close them again. It's a pillow. Just a pillow.
Then I place my lips on hers.
AND THERE'S YOUR FLUFF. C:
Sorry, just really happy that I got this chapter done. MY HANDS ARE GONNA FALL OFF. It was raining like heck today, so I got a first-hand experience at what the wet, wet, forest is like. And how was the fluff? I feel giddy and light-headed now. Too long sitting at a desk staring at a computer screen? Yes. The sad thing is that I've had absolutely no romantic experience. You know, being 13 years old, I don't know much about the world. Gah. I wanna be Katniss right now.
...
Please review if you liked this chapter! Even a little comment would be appreciated. I would love to know what you thought, sweethearts! I know that many of you just read and rarely talk to me/leave feedback, but please consider leaving just a small comment or something. I feel like it's always the usual loyal reviewers that I hear from. Where did everyone else go?
I might update sometime this weekend. Maybe sooner. I don't know. Until then...farewell, my lovelies! :D