Gladiators -- Clato

-Blood of a God-

Long chapter! I really like this backstory (:
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There's a saying in district two that Cato Hadley's blood runs blue. They say he's imbued with the blood of a god.

Yes, to the people there, he is more than just a golden son. He is an idol, an avenging angel. people worship the ground he walks on. Cato, District 2's savior.

I, however, know firsthand that Cato bleeds red just like the rest of us. He may be a young god on a marble throne, but not even his crown can protect him from a blade on his skin.

I learned this fact on a cold december day, where the sky was gray and heavy with y fallen snow. the mountains loomed above the cobblestone streets like giant teeth. the sounds of the quarry workers drilling away at stone echoed from the hills and filled the air with the familiar din.

I arrived at the door of the academy early. Of course, Cato was already there practicing. His trainer watched him intently, correcting him when he made a mistake and yelling harsh words at him, which only seemed to make him angrier.
Glancing at him through the corner of my eye, I make my way to the targets and unsheathe a knife from the variety of blades fastened to my hip.

As I prepare to throw my first knife, I hear Cato's condescending voice. "What are you gonna do with that little knife, Clove? Butter someone to death?"

I stiffen, gritting my teeth and ignoring him. It's not uncommon for Cato to poke fun at me. Frankly, at this point I've gotten used to it. I instead hurl my knife straight into the middle of the target and move onto the second one.

As I ready to throw my third knife, Cato whistles loudly. The sound catches me off guard and I throw clumsily, hissing as my knife lands in one of the outer rings of the target.

"Would you shut up?" I yell at Cato. At this point, more students have begun to filter into the training room, and they murmur as I turn to look at the lumbering boy.

He swings his sword around nonchalantly. "Temper, temper," He mutters. the other students snicker. Of course they do.

"What does the golden boy want with me?" I mock him, anger bubbling up in my chest. "You gonna stick me with that sword there?"

"Is that an invitation? I'd love to," he replies snidely.

The other students murmur in excitement. They know a fight is imminent. if there's one think we citizens of Distirct 2 crave, it's violence. The trainers converse from their corner. Brawls are commonplace here, and no one pretends to care about safety. To be a worthy tribute, you've gotta get a little blood on your hands.

I pull a wicked curved knife from my belt and get in my best fighting stance. I know it'll take a lot more than this for people to take me seriously. Although it's known i'm the best knife-thrower in my year, maybe even the whole academy, Cato is nothing less than a god to people. What's a short, skinny girl to him?

That's the thing. People always underestimate me. It's an advantage sometimes.

"Well, don't just stand there," I taunt. "scared to get your hands dirty?"

Cato grits his teeth. He's not used to being talked to this way, and it's obvious it infuriates him. I feel a twinge of satisfaction as i see the anger burn in his eyes.

"You talk a lot of shit for a girl of your size," he snarls. He circles me like a dog stalking it's prey. "Go on then. Live up to your big words, knife girl."

And so I make the first move. Cato obviously anticipates the throw, and ducks out of the way as the first knife sails past his left shoulder. The other students begin to cheer in excitement. Cried of "Cato!" and "Hadley" raze the air, boiling my blood. He flies at me, sword swinging powerfully, but I'm small and agile and dodge it with ease. I run up behind him, slicing toward his back with my blade. He whirls around too fast for me and socks me right in the jaw with an iron
fist.