𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 ｡• - ᴄʟᴀᴛᴏ ✓

𝙨𝙞𝙭

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𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞
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She stares at the boy standing in front of her. "Can we do this after dinner?"

He shrugs. "Sure."

"Good." Clove closes the door and locks it behind her. She takes out her hair and it falls back down to her waist. She struggles to unzip her dress, but after a few tries gets it down. She changes into plaid pants and a oversized black shirt. Finally, she scrubs the makeup off her face.

Clove leaves her room and joins the others for dinner. Brutus starts going over the events happening tomorrow. "The actual Games don't start until two o'clock, but we'll need you guys up by ten. You'll be taken to the hovercraft and then given a tracker. Once you have arrived at the launch room, your going to wait there until called into the launch tube. All clear?"

The two nod. Clove stares at the ring on her finger, twisting it. Suddenly she didn't feel so hungry anymore. Still, she forces herself to finish her plate. Finally, they are both dismissed.

Cato follows Clove into her room. He takes a seat on her bed, but she remains standing, arms crossed above her chest. "Make it quick."

"Listen Clove. We're going to be stuck in an arena together for seven weeks. We need to try to get along, tolerate eachother." He says nervously. Clove has never seen him get nervous before.

"That's the thing." She says in an exasperated tone. "I barely can tolerate you. If I could be here with anyone else but you I would."

"My point is that you aren't here with someone else, so you have no other choice. Otherwise you're out of the Careers." He snaps.

She stares at him. "You can't be serious."

Cato scoffs. "Oh but I am. Your choice."

"Fuck you." She says angrily. "You know what. I don't want to be in your ridiculous alliance anyway."

He shrugs. "Fine by me."

"Okay. Now get out." Clove yanks the door open. He gets up and leaves. She makes sure to slam the door behind him.

Clove lays down in her bed. New worries start to seep inside her thoughts. Without the Career alliance, she is already dead. Instead of sleeping, she slowly forms a plan in her head. Slowly, Clove starts to drift off into sleep.

The next morning Clove doesn't utter a single word to Cato. After a short breakfast, and one last goodbye to Brutus and Enobaria, she is taken on the short ride to the hovercraft. She takes a seat, and a woman comes with a needle. She sticks into Clove's arm and pushes down on the plunger, releasing a tracker.

The ride to the arena isn't too long. When they land, Clove is escorted by four Peacekeepers into her launch room. Inside, Jaha awaits her.

"Hello Clove!" He greets her. He takes a jacket hanging from the rack behind him. "Put this on, tell me if anythings wrong."

She does as he says and zips it up. "It's comfortable."

"Good. The fabric is designed to keep in body heat, so expect some cool nights." Jaha tells her.

Clove nods. "Alright."

She takes a seat on a nearby chair and waits, absentmindedly gnawing away at her nails. Moments later, the Tributes are called into their launch tubes.

"Good luck Clove." Jaha says.

"Thank you." She steps into the cylinder shaped object, and the mechanical door slides shut. Knots of anxiety tie themselves in her stomach. The thought of being flat out dead in moments terrifies her. She twists the ring on her finger, like she usually does when nervous.

Slowly, the metal plate underneath Clove rises up. After a few seconds of pitch-blackness, a light shines upon her face. She makes it to the top and adjusts her vision to the brightness. She darts her eyes around and takes it all in. To her left, trees stretched as far as the naked eye could see, dotting up a mountain. On her right, a massive lake glistens in the sunlight. And directly in front of her stands the golden Cornucopia, stashed with food, weapons, and other survival objects.

The sixty-second timer starts. Clove observes the Cornucopia. Now that she is officially out of the Career alliance, she will have to grab whatever she can without getting killed. Thirty seconds. She spots a vest filled with every sized throwing knife you could need. Near it, stood a large pack that she assumes is filled with food. Not too far from the pack was a small first aid kit. Ten seconds. She shuffles her feet into postion.

Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

"Let the Seventy-Fourth Annual Hunger Games begin!"

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