Into The Wilderness: A Hunger Games Story

6: Not Someone I'll Be

It's day two of training. I go through the same process as yesterday, what with the hesitating and staying in bed an extra five minutes after Effie comes to wake me up.

I ease myself out of bed slowly, step in the bathroom for a quick shower, and afterwards, get dressed in the same tracksuit as yesterday. After braiding my hair, I rush down to breakfast.

Everyone's already seated, and when I glance at the clock, I see I'm late. I flush bright read and stammer an apology.

I'm so nervous thinking about that boy from two, that I only manage to choke down a glass of orange juice, half a scrambled egg, and a piece of bacon.

On the way down, I remind myself that I need to remain completely indifferent to the glares I'm preparing myself to receive. Because I watched him throw that sword yesterday, and I really don't want to be on the receiving end of that.

Once we arrive, I take a moment to take a deep breath to steel myself. I'm about to go and join Peeta inside, but the elevator next to me dings, and out steps the boy from District Two.

Cato's P.O.V.

Because I wake up before Clove, I am the first of the two of us to go down for training. She's still devouring her breakfast hungrily while I'm stepping onto the elevator. On the short ride down, I wonder if I'll frighten her today. Problem is, she looks like the type of girl that isn't easily scared. But who knows? Under that quiet, all-knowing demeanor could be any kind of person.

The elevator crawls to a stop, and I lift my eyes as the door slides open.

Look what we have here. District Twelve. Without her...partner, so to speak.

Alone.

Solitary.

How perfect is this. I feel a maniacal grin spread slowly across my face as I step toward the small girl.

Prim's P.O.V.

Okay, I'm officially screwed.

I find myself about to scream for Peeta, but then I realize that he'd figure out that my cool, calm, unshaken demeanor is all a front.

So, I try a different approach: cocky. Why not?

My heartbeat increases rapidly as I watch an evil grin open across his face like an ill-timed present.

He crosses his arms behind his back and takes slow, taunting strides towards me.

I swallow my fear, and decide to confront him directly. As he comes closer, I surprise the both of us by saying in a firm voice, "What do you want, Two?"

His mask cracks into shock for a split second, then he quickly recomposes himself and smirks before replying, "Cato."

I'm confused. "Cato?"

"My name," he says.

I bite my lip, hesitating. Then finally give in, saying, "Primrose. But call me Prim."

He smirks yet again. Something tells me he knew that already. 'Know thy enemy' and all that.

"Prim," he muses. "That's a nice name."

I'm sure they'll remember it enough once I'm dead.

Or maybe not.

It's not likely I'll be remembered. I won't be the one where men in a bar curse when I'm killed. That's not someone I'll be.

Not that I really want to.

And my reason is that I simply don't plan on dying.

Cato's P.O.V.

I somehow am tricked by none other than my own mind that maybe Primrose Everdeen isn't so bad. Traitor. I instantly shake the thought from my head. I need to change my train of thought from 'She's not so bad,' to 'She needs to go first.'

She is my biggest opponent, and it's not even glaringly obvious.

I have one mindset and one mindset only:

Primrose Everdeen has to die first.