I. AM. SO. SORRY. I know it's been forever and a day since I updated and I am truly sorry! School started last week and I've been dealing with a lot of stuff so I haven't had barely any time to write! My little brother started Catching Fire! :) He loves it so far! So this chapter is a little longer than usual, for reference it is during the cave scene in the original book. I hope you all like it! By the way, reviews are greatly appreciated. They're the only thing that keeps me going, without them I would've stopped writing a long time ago! So pretty please with a cherry on top click the pretty little review button on the bottom of the page when you've finished reading! Thanks to everyone who has been reviewing and following this story or added it to their favorites, you all are the best! Here is chapter 16! :)
Cato's POV
I bolt up from my restless slumber at the sound of rustling grass. My sword goes up, prepared to fend off any attacker. The late morning sun is covered by thick gauze of clouds, heavy with rain yet to fall. The panic of being attacked subsides when I realize the sound was made by none other than Clove, still lying unconscious next to me. Her fists are clenched weakly, while her head rolls around slowly. This is the first sign of life she's shown since before the Feast yesterday. My heart leaps with joy at her movements. I kneel down next to her; maybe she can hear me in her seduced state.
"Clove? Can you hear me?" I whisper, taking her hand in mine. Her head rolls to face me, her hand tightening on mine ever so slightly. I tried to stay awake all night to keep an eye on her, but I must've fallen asleep. My hand flies to Clove's forehead, there's no fever thank goodness. Clove's eyes flutter open for just a moment, then sink back down heavily with a quiet groan. She is alive. My Clove is alive, and I couldn't be happier.
Clove's POV
I can hear his voice, feel his warm body next to mine. I've been wandering around in the gray maze in my mind all night, trying to find the exit that will hopefully lead me to consciousness. Cato's hand encloses mine and I feel myself getting closer to reality. He continues to say my name, I grasp in the direction of his gentle voice. My eyes open for just a moment. The vision is blurry, but I can just make out Cato's blue eyes. The darkness pull me back under and I have to start all over again, clawing my way to the lights in the distance. With one last effort, my eyes open and exhaustion fills me. I look around, where am I? Then it all comes back to me, the Feast, Katniss, Thresh and his rock…
"Clove? Clove!" Cato rejoices, gently stroking my cheek with his thumb. His eyes look me up and down, the biggest grin I've ever seen sporting on his freckled face. Tears roll down his eyes, mixing with the silent drizzle beginning to fall from the sky. I open my mouth to speak, but an excruciating savage pain burst in my head and floods through my entire body. My eyes shut tightly, fighting back the stabs in my skull and cries escaping my chapped lips. The agony in my upper body dulls a bit, excluding my head, but my legs continue to throb miserably. Red clouds my vision, the anguish muffling Cato's worried remarks. I feel something on my lips, cool and soft, trying to force its way into my mouth. Water. I take a few sips and the torture in my cranium subsides ever so slightly. I gulp more liquid, hoping to extinguish the misery. After I empty a canteen, I am left with only a small headache in the back of my head.
My eyes open, the red receding from the picture. Cato is above me, panic showing in every part of his face. His cheeks have hollowed since the reaping and his shirt now hangs looser than it used to. Frown lines have now appeared on his angelic face, making him look older than he truly is. But in my eyes, he is still my handsome husband. His voice fills my ears, soothing the knot in my stomach. My hand reaches up to his face, stroking the dirt away along with his tears.
"I'm alright, Cato," I croak. My voice comes slowly and stutters, the thoughts taking their time to form into words. My body heaves with exhaustion, my eyes drooping heavily against my will. I sputter out one last sentence before sleep overcomes me. "I love you."
Cato's POV
The anxiety that occupied me from Clove's spasms of pain retreats at her voice. Her face looks peaceful in her sleep, her chest slowly rising and falling. She is alive, we can still go home together.
I refill the canteen of water she drained, she hasn't had anything to drink all night. The falling rain worries me; the last thing we need is for Clove to catch pneumonia. I stuff our two canteens and sleeping bag into our backpack from the Feast. I still haven't looked in it to see what our need apparently is, but I will once I find shelter. Clove's last two knives fit in my belt. As the rain begins to beat down harder, I tenderly lift her from the ground and begin to walk towards the cover of the woods. We would be easy targets in the Cornucopia if someone decided to attack, so I need to find somewhere well hidden.
The water falling from the sky is now coming down in torrents, falling so hard it almost hurts like hail. I stumble for about two hours, desperately looking for anything not drenched. Clove is soaked to the bone, shivering and teeth chattering. My body has begun to shake as well, trembling with cold. My clothes cling to my body but offer no warmth in their wet state. I need to find shelter and fast.
We come across a thicket of willow trees, their branches so intertwined that no rain is falling through to the ground. A dry sanctuary in this world of wetness. Their soft green vines cascading and brushing along the ground. A low moan of relief escapes through my chattering teeth when I carry Clove through the wall of leaves. Inside the tiny cove, spring grass covers the soft ground and a musty dampness hangs in the air. The temperature is considerably warmer than outside, which I gladly welcome. I almost collapse while trying to set Clove down with her head on our backpack whose contents still remain a mystery. The thought hits me that neither of us has eaten in three days. Suddenly a rumble echoes through my stomach and I succumb to the weakness I've been fighting. My hands and knees hold be up next to Clove's motionless body. I fight back my urge to go find food; first I have to get my wife out of her wet clothes.
She is shivering terribly, her skin an unhealthy blue pallor. I slowly remove her boots, even the thick leather couldn't keep out the rain. As I start to take off her jacket, I blush at the thought that I've never seen her without clothes on before. And after thinking about it, I'm positive she wouldn't be too happy if the whole nation of Panem saw it with me. So I take out our sleeping bag, somewhat damp but better than nothing, and zip her tightly into it. Without looking myself, I try to undress her under the bag as gently as possible. My concentration slips a few times, wavering from thoughts of food, but eventually I have her sopping jacket, shirt, and pants hanging from a low branch to dry. Under the bag I could feel all of her ribs and know I need to find us food. Now is as good a time as any, being that I'm already in wet clothes and Clove is in a safe place.
Just as I step out into the rain once again, I see a large silver shape floating from the sky. A parachute with a silver basket attached. My legs rush forward and greedily swipe the miracle out of the air and race back into the canopy. When I look up from the gift from the sky, I see Clove's brown eyes open wide and looking around wildly. When she sees me, a reassured grin spreads across her face to match the one I'm wearing.
"I see Sleeping Beauty is awake," I comment. "Are you feeling alright? I tried to keep you as dry as possible, but it was kind of hard with all the water."
"I'm fine." She nods. Her eyes drift up and down about me, stopping abruptly at my clothing. "Cato you're soaked! You're going to freeze to death with those clothes on!" I open my mouth to reassure her that I'm fine, but a hacking cough escapes my lungs instead. The coughs scratch up my throat even when there is no air left to force out of my chest. The fit leaves me light headed, and I drop the parachute to the ground. Clove is on her knees next to me now, the sleeping bag tied around her chest.
"Cato, you have two seconds to get out of those wet clothes or I'll kill you before the pneumonia does," Clove scolds. In somewhat of a haze, I obey and take off my jacket and shirt. My boots are filled with water when they come off along with my socks. I'm not about to take my pants off in front of Clove. I know we are married, but I don't want every Capitol citizen watching right now to see anything not meant for them.
"Oh my gosh! Cato did you look in the parachute yet?" Clove rejoices. When I turn around, I see her laying out a tablecloth with a heap of bread rolls and two rotisserie chickens on little silver plates. The sponsors even included napkins and silverware. It's seems as if this night is just full of miracles. Finding shelter, Clove is alright, and food. As I sit down next to my wife, a joy spreads through me that could never be replaced.
Clove's POV
As we enjoy our dinner, rationing it out to last a few days, Cato's eyes continue to go in and out of focus. I know he must be catching something from being that wet; I hope the warm food helps. The second we finish eating, I make him turn around while I put my now dry clothes back on. When I order Cato into the sleeping bag, he makes no protest. Just to make sure of his warmth I tuck the tablecloth from the sponsors around him as well.
Before I can even kiss him goodnight, he is fast asleep and shivering. I grab the small silver backpack to use as a pillow, then wonder if Cato has examined its contents. I carefully undo the opening and stare bewildered at what lies inside. We used them all the time at the Academy when doing rough training, so the thin mesh body armor suits are a familiar sight. They're lightweight and actually quite comfortable. The light bulb clicks in my head- this is how we will kill Thresh.
I nestle our salvation back into the pack, then slide it under my head for the night. I snuggle next to my husband, shivering violently under the two layers of make shift bedding. My arms wrap around him, I try to muster every ounce of heat I have and hope it gets through to him. Dreams of Cato and I's past moments whir through my head as my eyes droop to the sound of pounding rain.