Glory & Gore

Part 1

The pale morning light seeps through my cracked window as I pull myself out of bed. the cool air nips at my skin and my bed beckons me back to it, but I resist the erg to return. I change quickly, noticing that the sun has already begun to rise over the mountains. when I pull my training bag out of my closet, my sister stirs slightly at the noise before settling back into her previous position. her dark hair covers part of her tear-stained face and she is curled up under the light blanket. she resembles a small child, helpless and pathetic. I sling my bag over my shoulder and open the door as quietly as possible. the wooden floor creaks under my feet as I head to the kitchen. I grab an apple off the counter before leaving the house.

The district is only beginning to wake this early and only a few of the windows I pass are lit. The sky glows a warm orange as I near the training center. The iron gate is closed and fastened with a rusting padlock, just as it always is at this time of morning. The large building is one of the nicest in the district, strong and sturdy. Though there is no sign hanging on the stone wall, everyone knows that this is training center. if anyone was to post a sign, the Capitol would be forced to acknowledge what happens here. Training for the Hunger Games is technically forbidden, but sending a few trained killers into the arena along with the others makes the games a bit more interesting. For the enjoyment of the Capitol citizens, they have turned a blind eye to what happens in the Career districts. I follow the chain link fence around the side of the building until I reach the hole in the fence. Cato and I discovered it at least 4 years ago when we had both fit through the gap easily, but Cato has grown considerably since then and has found alternative ways of entering the center's grounds. I smirk at the memory of that last time Cato came through the fence. I had insisted that he wouldn't fit, but he refused to listen. He got stuck and I had to find a rusty pair of pliers to free him, laughing the whole time. When our trainers eventually learned about our early morning training sessions they reprimanded us for trespassing. Although we both knew that they were impressed by our dedication, because the next week we were both promoted to level 5. I duck through the gap in the fence and jog towards the open door. He must already be here. Sure enough when I walk into the gymnasium, he is sitting on a bench across the room.

"You're late!" Cato calls to me from his bench. I don't answer, I only drop my bag on the floor and cross the room to one of the target stations. The hilt of the knife is familiar in my hand as i prepare myself to throw. When the knife leaves my hand it spins, end over end at rapid speed and buries itself into the center of target. I hardly glance at the target before sending another knife hurtling towards a second target. Another bulls-eye. The third knife sails through the air and lands slightly off center. Cato lets out a short laugh behind me and a turn to fix him with a sharp glare.

"You can do better than that." He smirks, his arms crossed over his chest. I stalk to the target to retrieve the knife before I hurl it at a dummy across the room. It strikes where the heart would be and knocks the dummy to the ground with an earsplitting crack. I turn to him, raising my eyebrows and Cato nods his approval before returning to the dummy he was tearing to shreds with his blunt sword. We continue out separate training for a while until Cato suggest that we duel. Although Cato is considerable larger than I (at least a foot taller and 100 pounds heaver) we are pretty evenly matched. We always had been.

When I first met Cato, he was a cocky twelve year old who enjoyed tormenting those smaller than himself. I can only guess that our trainers originally paired us together to keep his ego at bay. They seemed to cherish the expression on his face the day that I- a mere child who hadn't grown into her eyes yet- beat him in our first duel. He had hated me and I him. This mutual hatred lasted for quite a while until we realized that we would be better allies than enemies.

I cross the room to him, a dull sword in hand.

"Are you ready for this, Clover?" Cato asks.

"Only if you are, Pretty Boy." And with that, our duel begins. He lunges, I dodge. I slash, he defects with the side of his blade. We continue our brawl, swiping and stabbing, until we are both significantly out of breath.

"So you think I'm pretty?" Cato asks suddenly.

"What?" I just barley dodge the tip of his sword as it sweeps inches from my stomach.

"You called me pretty boy, do you think I'm pretty?"

"No." I answer breathlessly. "You think that you're pretty." Our duel continues until I my body aches, begging me to rest.

"It's nearly eight" I say, noticing the clock on the wall

"Is the great Clove Sevena giving up?" Cato questions. I drop my sword.

"The great Clove Sevena is going to class" i reply, trying to hide my smile. I hoist my bag on to my shoulder, give Cato a slight wave and push open the door.

"I am victorious!" Cato calls after me

"Bye Cato."