"We can go home Katniss. I'm going to get your medicine. You'll wake up and be fine, and we can win this thing. We can go home together. I can meet Prim and that stupid cat you hate. I'll bring you to meet my mother and Alice. It will be alright, you hear me? We're going to be alright."
He was whispering to her now. She was still unconscious, the poison still spreading. She would need the antidote today or she would be dead by dawn tomorrow. He could see the black veins travelling closer and closer to her heart. He would be in pieces on the floor now at the possibility of her death if it weren't for his renewed hope. He felt like he could finally breathe again. His impending death no longer following him around like a dark cloud.
"I will be back soon, I promise. You'll be alright beautiful. I love you." He placed one last soft kiss on her feverish forehead before standing. He had already strapped every weapon possible to himself. He had geared up to go to war, ensured he was hydrated, food for energy, made a splint for his broken arm, re-bandaged his wounds, made makeshift gloves out of his socks, took a small nap for power, sharpened the blade of his sword on the rocks. Now that he had changed Katniss' bandages and whispered his unheard goodbyes, he was ready for battle. He camouflaged the small mouth of the cave heavily, using every rock and stick he and Rue had gathered the other day. A small twinge of pain struck him in the chest at the absence of the small girl for only a moment.
You two take care of each other, okay? Her words echoed in his mind, his choked out promises to the dying girl. A tiny purple flower in her hair, as she was buried in them in death.
I promise Rue, I'm taking care of her. We will win, and we will remember you forever.
Cato began his trek through the woods. The night-vision goggles he had gathered at the cornucopia worked well. The air around him was frigid, and he was thankful for the gloves he created now as this was the coldest it had been in the arena since the games began.
The cave must insulate our heat somehow. There's barely even a chill in there.
Thankful that Katniss was in no danger of freezing to death, he continued on. He memorized where each weapon sat on his body. One small knife tucked into his boot, another holstered on the same belt that held his swords. One sword on each hip. Two collapsible spears in his right pocket. A deadly machete strapped in its sheath on his back. One small blade in the right pocket of his coat. His mind wandered as he continued to walk, the darkness still acting as a shield around him. The silence of the forest was unsettling now.
The image flashed in his mind. He remembered being in the training center, deep in the middle of the night, right before his first conversation with Haymitch. The images in his head as he swung the sword, culminating in an image of a small child. His and Katniss' features mixed into one, before he reprimanded himself and saw the features of Katniss and the boy from the reaping.
Who was he? She had never mentioned him, not that I remember…
He vowed to ask Katniss sometime. He was too distracted now by the possibilities that swarmed his mind. The hope of a future, something he had completely lost the moment he met Katniss. How he had sat and longed for a world where they could truly be together… now a possibility. Right at his fingertips, so close he could grab it. All he needed was her medicine, and then to find the remaining tributes.
Who's left? Me and Katniss. Clove, she will be an issue. For sure. I have been losing every single fight with her, I have apparently horribly underestimated that girl. Thresh, another problem. I do not want to go looking for him in that field. Lord only knows what's hiding in there… The girl from 5. I haven't seen her since the start of the games. She may not be easy to find. She is relatively smart. That just leaves Peeta. I have no idea where the kid is or how he is still living. How the hell am I going to kill him when he saved my life?
He was pulled from his reverie as the break in the trees became visible just ahead. The first bits of light were creeping in around him, those few minutes before dawn when the night sky turns an eerie shade of grey. The last few moments of calm before the war. The feeling in his chest reminded him of the morning before the games, wrapped in golden sunlight on the roof of the tribute center, Katniss nestled in his arms. The determination he had felt, small twinges of fear, a lot of that twist in his stomach at the knowledge of what awaited him.
He chose a spot behind a grove of trees, with a small bush that provided coverage. His eyes scanned the field in front of him as the light crept up faster now. He removed the night vision goggles and continued his initial scan. Debris from the explosion still littered the field, covering the blood-stained ground. A light morning mist made the scene look hazy as the golden cornucopia continued to gleam in the center of it all. The ground around the tribute plates was torn up, the dirt around it in small bumpy piles. Nobody was visible in the field, or in the tree line.
The first few echoes of the morning birds sound throughout the silent forest, and the arena is almost completely lightened now. Cato's body tightens with anticipation, unsheathing the machete on his back and gripping it in his hand. He is sure that the tightness of his muscles is causing his wounds to pool with blood, but his entire focus is still on scanning the field before him. Just as he started to worry that the feast was a hoax, another sick game invented by the game makers to conjure up false hope and incite more violence amongst the tributes, there was a deep rumbling sound that began. The first rays of sun glinted on the gold metal of the cornucopia and landed directly at the mouth of it, where the ground opened to reveal a table cloaked in a pristine white tablecloth.
His eyes scan the contents, the backpacks all lined in a row. Two marked for district 2, one for 5, one for 11, two for 12. All were different in size and color, each containing separate life-sustaining materials for each tribute. There were small markings below the larger numbers.
Names, to distinguish between the districts with both tributes left. To highlight the lack of alliances between district partners, how clever.
Cato adjusted himself into a running stance, preparing to sprint. Just as the table locked into place, a small figure darted out of the cornucopia. A flash of bright red hair as the figure snatched the bag marked as 5 and darted off towards the tree line.
The girl from 5 is smarter than I thought. Risky move, but wildly clever. She left the other packs alone, so nobody would be tempted to follow her. We're stuck here, and she's already gone. Genius.
The tension in the air circled around him as the birds continued their song. Cato knew that someone would have to be the first to make the move into the field. Himself, Clove, Thresh, maybe Peeta, all good competitors, locked in a standstill.
But the medicine, I need to get Katniss' medicine. She will die. She will die. She will die.
He darted out into the field, sprinting as fast as humanly possible towards the cornucopia. He locked his eyes on the backpacks from twelve. The closer he got, the more he could make out the smaller script spelling "Everdeen" directly below the large number. Cato felt the sense of danger before he ever heard the whiz of the knife. So, telltale now, the wretched noise had quickly become his worst nightmare in this arena. He ducked as the sound drew closer, continuing his run. His hand just grasped Katniss' pack, he had just thrown it onto his back and strapped it in place when he felt her coming up on his left.
Of course, she would choose my injured side. I'm so sick of this bitch.
In one swift motion, he dodged her tackle, sending Clove flying into the ground where he previously stood. He swung with the machete, just grazing her back. From where he stood, he could see the rips in her shirt revealed white bandaged on her skin. He drew up the memory of all of the places where his blade had caught her skin, where Katniss' arrows had imbedded themselves.
She's hurt too, use it to your advantage.
His mind echoed with instructions as he darted his hand out to grasp his pack. He slipped it on top of Katniss' as Clove regained her footing and turned to him. Both held their weapons out at each other, both panting, both wounded… locked in a deadly standstill against their opponent. He felt rage begin to bubble under the surface as he stared at the girl ahead of him. Their eyes met as one thought swam through Cato's mind.
They wanted more action, and fuck… are they about to get it.