Needing the Impossible (A Clato Fanfic)

Chapter 31

Chapter 31

Clove's POV

I shiver slightly in the crisp morning air and pull my blanket up tightly around my chin. But I've already had a good night's rest, and so the hard ground keeps me from falling back to sleep. So I just lay here, blocking out the world, trying to focus on the lethargic waves of sleep that are so quickly slipping away from me. As I lay here, it occurs to me that I don't remember fetching my blanket last night. Cato and I had stayed up late into the night talking, and sleep had gradually pulled me under. I had never left the fire ring. Cato must have spread the soft throw over me after I fell asleep. That was thoughtful.

Through my closed eyelids, I can see the light of the dawn brightening the world around me. My ears pick up the chirping of birds in the trees and the woods beginning to hum with life in the distance. I smell the fresh, clean scent of dew on the ground and can feel a cool whisper of a wind brush against my face. Without opening my eyes, I would guess it's a little after sunrise.

When I do open my eyes, I'm greeted by the site of Cato, already awake and alert. He's lying less than three feet away, propped up on one elbow so that he's facing me. His hands are occupied, absentmindedly playing with a clump of grass as he frowns down at it thoughtfully. He must hear me stirring because his eyes drift lazily up to my face until his gaze locks in on mine. I stare back into his cold, blue eyes as he smiles. “Morning sunshine,” he teases, remembering the day I rudely awakened him with the water I used to put out our fire.

I roll my eyes in acknowledgment of the joke. “Morning,” I reply, my voice rough from my long sleep. “How long have you been up?” I ask when he doesn't respond.

“Half an hour, maybe,” he answers, ripping the last bit of grass out of the ground but maintaining eye contact with me the whole time. I nod slowly, glancing around camp, trying to wake up. I don't want to be conscious yet. I could do with several extra hours of sleep. But the ground here is rough, and there's a sharp rock poking my back. So I prop myself up on my left elbow, mocking his position.

“You should wear your hair down more.” Cato surprises me by grabbing a stray strand of hair and tucking it behind my ear. I'm somewhat taken aback by this, not really knowing what to make of the physical contact. I turn my attention fully on him, looking into his piercing blue eyes. They're calculating, waiting for me to react to his words, his actions.

“So I've heard,” I say once I get over the initial shock of the gesture. He smirks appreciatively, remembering our conversation last night.

He then rolls over and reaches for something behind him. “Breakfast?” he asks, unceremoniously tossing me a leather pouch filled with berries. I bolt up from my casual position in an effort to catch the parcel, but I don't put enough force behind my movement. I fall clumsily back onto my side with a soft thud and the parcel lands at my side. “Smooth,” Cato mocks, snatching the berries that tumbled out of the pouch and tossing them in his mouth. I aggressively grab the food and clutch it to my chest.

“Don't,” I command harshly. He rolls his eyes and begins to chew loudly, opening his mouth and smacking obnoxiously.

“Too late,” he retorts after he swallows. I shoot him a glare and begin to eat my berries. This only makes him laugh, and I roll my eyes at his carefree attitude. We haven't won this thing yet. There's still four more tributes to eliminate.

“So,” I say between mouthfuls. “Who goes today?”

“Ginger,” he answers definitively.

“We'll never find her,” I counter practically.

“No?” he challenges, raising his eyebrows at the idea of me questioning his authority. Again.

“No,” I reply firmly. “We have no idea how she's surviving, but she's stealthy. I didn't see her during the bloodbath, which means she ran off without supplies. If she's survived this long without them, we know she's smart. Not to mention I haven't seen a sign of her since. She could be anywhere.” I'm surprised by how talkative I am. I normally don't say more than one or two sentences, if I can avoid it. Since we got the deer though, I've been talking almost as much as Cato. Almost.