Gladiators -- Clato

-Rule Change-

 We see no one in the sky that night. Only Noah and Poncho, the boy from District 10 I had killed. When a face fails to appear in the clouds, Cato grinds his teeth. I know who he thinks did it. I think I believe him.

Fire Girl. She just never knows when to stop. First, she upstages us in the pre-games activities. Then, she drops the tracker jacker nest on us, and finally, blows up our supplies. We want her death to be slow and painful.

The next morning, we are ready to hunt. We arm ourselves to the teeth with weapons, knives, and some dried fruit our sponsors had sent down for us earlier. However, all three of us can clearly see that what food we have is running dangerously low, and without the pyramid, it's even more dire.

"If you catch sight of any animals, or berries, or whatever, grab them," Cato commands. He doesn't look at either me or Marvel, though. He swings his sword around angrily, practicing the motions of killing.

"Got it. We'll find her, Cato." I reassure. "She can't run forever. Whatever she's using to keep herself alive, it won't work when we find her."

"I hope you're right," He grimaces. "Clove, can you search the east forest?"

I nod.

"Marvel, I want you to search directly in front of us. I'll go west."

"Ok," Marvel says. "When should we meet back here?"

"If any of us hear a cannon." I raise my voice before either of the boys can speak. "It means someone has died either way. Even if it's someone else, I think we should still regroup and discuss before continuing."

"Good plan." Cato's words of approval make my heart swell, and I look away quickly.

"Are we ready?" Marvel asks. "Let's set out before the sun hits mid-noon."

"I'll be going," I say, and tip my head to both of them. "I'll see you all soon. Good luck."

And then I'm jogging towards the eastern forest. It's a patch of trees, similar in every way to the other sides of the clearing. I think to myself glumly how the east part of the Cornucopia is the least likely place for anyone to be.

I grumble unhappily as I trudge through the undergrowth. I want Katniss's blood on my hands, and I want it soon. She may be playing the same game as us, but she's pulling some low moves. At least we careers have some integrity.

I manage to snag a rabbit and unearth a handful of yam-like tubers from the ground. I bite into one, and it has a strange, earthy, taste about it, although it's not unpleasant.

The sun reaches mid-noon as I continue my hunt. I've seen no sign of any other tributes yet, and the heat is beginning to beat down on me through the canopy. 

I hear a rustle coming from maybe a hundred feet in front of me, and I crouch immediately, concealing myself among the ferns and brushes that grow from the ground.

And then I see a wisp of ginger hair moving about the trees. Two fox-ear buns poking off the head of the small, sly redheaded girl from the Power District.

Finch was her name. She seems not to notice me currently from where she sits. I inspect her condition. She definitely is thinner than how I remembered her, her knucklebones poking out the tops of her hands. But she's survived this far, I'll give her that. Probably through stealing.

I realize that I've forgotten about her until this point. Apparently, this girl is as sly a memory as she is a tribute. I study her further, and feel the weight of the knife in my hand, ready to throw right into her temple, between those light, inquisitive amber eyes. 

But just as her gaze flutters over the bush I stand in, the cannon sounds. Finch's face grows taught and she scrambles to her feet, running away quickly into the forest with her backpack over her shoulders. I'm tempted to follow her, but the sound of the cannon strikes a strange bad feeling into my heart.

It's when the second cannon sounds that I break into a full run. Two cannons, directly after one another. I feel my heart pounding, and suddenly the horrible thought occurs to me that it may have been Cato.

No, I think. It couldn't possibly be. Or if it was, would I be grateful? Grateful that the games took him away before I had to do it myself?

I banish the thoughts as I burst into the Cornucopia clearing. Cato is nowhere to be found.

"Cato!" I scream, frantically searching the area for any sight of him. I know I must look crazed right now, but my only thought is of finding Cato and reuniting with him. Making sure he is safe.

It's then that he bursts through the forest with the same dazed expression on his face. He sees me, and I swear I see the blood drain from his face. "Clove!" He shouts, and drops his sword.

Within moments the distance between us has closed and I'm safe in Cato's arms. We break away quickly, both of us realizing the mistake we've made.

"God, Clove, that scared the shit out of me," He breathes, and dares to take one of my hands in his.

"I was scared too," I say, hoping the viewers don't hear my voice tremble. "I thought-"

"I know what you thought," He soothes. "It's ok." The look on his face is strained, like he wants to come closer, and hold me in his arms again.

"Where's Marvel?" I ask, realizing the boy's absence. "Cato, where is he?"

"I-"

"He's dead, isn't he," I blanch. "He would have been back by now."

"Who the hell killed him, then?" Cato roars. "Who-"

"Cato, it doesn't matter," I say quickly. I grab his arm, and he doesn't resist as I pull him back to camp. "He's gone."

"We have to find who killed him!" He shouts, but his yell is shadowed by the sound of the hovercraft descending to pick up the bodies. Both of us look to the arm of the craft, and watch as the first body is pulled up. It's Marvel, sure enough, and my stomach turns at the sight of him, blood all over his face and neck.

The second body is what catches us off guard. It's a small, child's body. There's only one person who that could be.

The little girl from eleven, Rue. Both of us realize what this means. There's no way that child killed Marvel with her bare hands. The only way this could have happened is if someone was with her.

"It's her," Cato says.

"How do you know?" I wonder. "It could be Thresh-"

"It's her," He growls firmly. "I have no doubt. It's that skank from Twelve." 

Marvel's loss hangs heavy over me for the rest of the evening, even as the sun sets and Cato and I huddle beside a fire. There is some reassurance that comes with it, though. I had grown fond of Marvel as the games went on, although that's a little hard for me to admit. I'm glad, in a way, that I don't have to finish him off myself. 

Cato is looking dejectedly down at the fire, where my rabbit is roasting on a makeshift spit. I study him, and make the risky decision to move closer to him and lay my head on his shoulder.

He tenses up at first, but then wraps an arm around me, and strokes my hair. I close my eyes, feeling the warmth from the fire and from his body around me. 

"Clove..." 

He's cut off as soon as my name leaves his mouth, and we hear the mechanical sound of the Arena's loudspeakers being turned on. 

What comes next is so surreal the speaker has to repeat it twice for us to understand. 

There's been a rule change.