Needing the Impossible (A Clato Fanfic)

Chapter 29

Chapter 29

Clove's POV

I watch as the murky water splashes up onto the sandy bank. A cool breeze has been blowing steadily since I woke up this morning. It's cool tendrils are snatching whips of my hair up and pulling them across my face. I ignore them, allowing my hair to blow freely in the wind, as I gaze out at the calm water. Cato left camp a while ago to try his hand at hunting. He's going to be gone for a while; he's never done this before. So I've let my hair down and am taking this time to sort things out inside my head.

There's still two major threats inside the arena: Katniss and Thresh. I have no idea how Katniss earned her eleven, but she's small enough, so Cato and I could easily overpower her. Thresh is another matter completely. First of all, he's as large as Cato and equally strong. He's also in unfamiliar territory. On the first day of the Games, we saw him disappear into the large field on the other side of the cornucopia. The idea of pursing him hasn't appealed to any of us, but now we may be forced to go find him. As far as we can tell, he hasn't left his domain and doesn't plan on it any time soon. If I'm lucky, Cato would become fatally injured in the struggle with Thresh and I could just leave him to die. But there's no doubt in my mind that he's banking on the same thing with me. What if neither one of us are particularly damaged from the struggle? Multiple scenarios run through my head, and none of them are any more pleasant than the others. I turn my attention to other problems.

Peeta is one of the main ones. He hasn't bled out yet, which almost surely means he has sponsors aiding him. He should have died of blood loss or infection by now – it's been nearly a week since Cato stabbed him. He's not an immediate threat, but he's strong enough to protect himself. If he really wanted to, he could probably ambush Cato and-

No, that's just wishful thinking. Peeta's far too loud to ambush anyone. How could I have forgotten? There were so many moments in those first few days when I practically begged Cato to let me slit Peeta's throat to stop the noise. He was just so loud! The idea of Peeta eliminating Cato for me is the result of desperation. I need to pull it together. If someone else doesn't do it for me, I'll have to kill him myself. But how? He's so much bigger than me; I don't really stand a chance. Do I?

Then, of course, there's the issue of food. Neither of us like the idea of dead time, especially now that there's only six of us and the other tributes will be hard to locate anyway. But we have to hunt. There's no other way for us to get food now. Neither of us know how to make snares – that was Marvel's thing. So our only option is to actively hunt. Cato is currently out with his spears, but unless he finds a deer, those are going to utterly destroy whatever meat is on any animal he manages to kill.

I sigh dishearteningly, wishing for the millionth time that I hadn't let Three plant those mines. We should have just killed him while we had the chance. But I had wanted so badly to impress Cato. And what for? I was already his favorite Career, his only real ally. Why had I been seeking his approval? I clasp my hands behind my neck and pull my head down between my knees. As I stare blankly at the sand beneath me, I try to clear my mind of all thought. I know why I wanted to impress him, and it makes me sick. There's no room for that. There never was, of course, but especially not now that we're inside the arena.

No matter how hard I try though, Cato won't get out of my head. I start having flashbacks, reliving all the memories that stand out in my mind: the day I met him, the time we almost killed each other, the night he took me night hunting for the first time, the day he'd almost killed Fabrizio while defending me, the times he'd held me as I began to fall apart, the times he'd carried me half way across our part of District 2. All these memories are filled with Cato's being, his essence, his smell, the strength of his arms and his rock-hard chest, the feel of his warm body pressed against me as he tried to help me hold it together.