They smirked at each other, both deep-set, and both holding a promise. I will end you. But they wouldn't do it then, not even soon. No, this was the reaping, the first step. They would save each other for the end and make a show of it. Their district would love that and the blood that would be shed would be gratifying.


Clove hadn't meant to develop feelings for the boy, it just happened. And now it was irrevocable, but that didn't mean she couldn't damn well hide it. The plan was still the same; one would kill the other, claim glory for their district. She would not let her feelings get in the way, she couldn't. That would not be her downfall.


Glimmer was dead. Not that Clove cared much. She had never liked the flirty little bitch. She had managed to convince herself it was only because she had never played well with others and not because of the searing jealousy that shot through her everytime she batted her pretty little fucking eyes at Cato. No, it wasn't because of that.


The food was gone. The food was fucking gone. Damn that little girl on fire. She was so aggrravating. Clove would kill her. She would. But, she couldn't think about that now. Cato was furious, he had snapped their guards neck and looked an inch from doing it to Marvel. She had to calm him down, she knew she was the only one that could. Don't ask her how.


They had killed the tree-scaler. Rue. Now Marvel was gone and it was just Clove and Cato. The girl from 12 had gotten over on them once more and worse yet, in Cato's opinion, the blow he had given to lover boy hadn't killed him and now, they had a viable chance of winning. Their game. Clove watched silently as he teared about their camp. All she could do was watched as he suffered.


She had volunteered. Of course she had. She had volunteerd to go to the feast. Cato was still much too explosive, and might go straight for the kill, losing what they needed.

She hadn't expected to be attacked. That was the one thing she hadn't counted on.

She also hadn't meant to scream his name, but she did anyway.

She heard the reply, the bellowed "Clove!" But it was too far away to do any good. She watched in horror as the burly boy from 11 brought down the rock hard, impacting with her head. She didn't even let out a shriek as she was thrown to the side. Injured, blurry eyed, and tired. Why did she feel tired? She hadn't a few moments ago...

She distantly heard 11 saying something to 12, then retreating back into his grassy hideout. She was too preoccupied in her memories to actually respond when Cato dropped to her side.

She eyed the boy careful, careful not to be noticed. It was her first day of training and she was being careful not to be noticed by anyone. She was strong willed, and smart. More cunning than most of the people here, but her 'deadly' smirk wouldn't indimidate any of the people here. That was the first time she realised she was a kid.

The blonde boy who wwas previously boasting to his friends turned twoard her, feeling the prickling on his skin of being watched. A deep blush set on her cheeks as she walked away, grabbing a knife. She was careful not to let him see that either.

"Clove! Clove, stay with me!"

She was dragged out of her reverie, albeit reluctantly, by a begging Cato. No, that couldn't be right. Cato didn't beg, he was Cato. Blood-thirsty Cato. Beautiful, enriching, strong Cato... Had she done this to him?

She felt her eyelids grow heavier and she fought to keep them open. Was that a tear on his cheek? No. She must be dead already. This couldn't be real.

She was dead before she heard the choked sentence.

"I'll never forget you, knife girl."

Cato marched with purpose through the tall grass lands of the arena. 11 would die. Painfully and slowly. Cato would make sure to put on a show for the viewers of panem. An epic and horrifing end for the man that had stolen his kill.

That was the only reason he was bothered by her death. She was supposed to be his to kill. He couldn't possibly be upset because he had fallen for the girl with the knives.

No, that most certainly was not the reason for the gaping and burning hole in his heart, freshly torn.