Cato and Clove - The hunger games ON HOLD

Chapter 3

Cato's P.O.V

My heart stopped. No, not Clove. The chances were so small. Not Clove.

I quickly scanned the crowd for her face. She bravely made her way up onto the podium , without even glancing at me. No not Clove.

Please let this be a dream.

It couldn't be Clove.

No.

This can't be happening.

My head is spinning I don't know what to do. I can't think, move, speak.

Not Clove.

"Any volunteers".

I glanced around hoping someone would take her place. But the only sound I heard was gentle breeze in the air and the hum of the microphone.

She looks so brave at that moment, challenging the crowd to volunteer. Her hair moving gently in the wind.

The district claps polietly for her. Anyone who has seen her throw knives would now be thinking that district 2 may have another winner. She is unstopable. Always hits her target.

Always.

Maybe she will win and come home.

But there is so many other people in the ring.

And district 1 and 3 are just as well practised and ruthless as us.

The chances of her winning are just so small.

But then again the chances of her being chosen as tribute was small aswell.

I missed the name of the boy triibute, but I do the only thing I think of.

"I volunteer!"

Clove's P.O.V

Well, being chosen for girl tribute was not exactly what I was expecting, I thought to myself, as I walked up onto the podium.

One foot infront of the other.

Look brave.

Look fierce.

Make people see you as ruthless.

Don't look sad, don't look at the crowd.

I am proud to be chosen for tribute on the outside, but on the inside I want to find Cato, for him to tell me that it's just a dream, the wedding's still on.

Oh Cato.

I'm not going to win, the chances are so small.

I sneek a glance at Cato in the crowd.

He looks scared.

Cato.

I mentally slap myself, I need a postive attitude. I will win this and come home and see my Cato.

They read out the boy's name "Pol Green". I saw him a couple of times at training. He's good. Incredibly talented with a sword. But not as good as my Cato.

Don't think about him, I tell myself. Be strong.

Then infront of me I hear the recognisable voice, the one which I hear everyday, at school, at lunch, with my training. Everywhere. Cato's.

And he shouts loudly and clearly:

"I volunteer!"

sorry for the chapters being so short. I wanted to end this one here. Please vote, comment, fan :) xxx