Needing the Impossible (A Clato Fanfic)

Chapter 32

Chapter 32

Clove's POV

The rest of the day passes fairly uneventfully. We don't bother with lunch, having already lost several hours of valuable time. Immediately after I awoke, the going had been slow, as quick or jerky movements caused my head to throb with pain. The river had shown signs of life – or rather death. Blood could be found on numerous rocks and plants along its banks, but there was no sign of Peeta or any other tributes along its banks – and the blood was long dry anyway.

After carefully following the river for some time, we had broken off and plunged deeper into the woods, still in pursuit of the elusive red-head. It's nearing sunset, and we still haven't found anything. Cato's frustrating has been building in a gradual crescendo all afternoon, and he's going to explode any minute now.

“Maybe they'll start another fire,” I mutter as we pause at the top of another hill to examine the valley beneath us.

“We can find them,” Cato growls back, taking off down the steep slope. I let out a frustrated sigh and follow him down the bank. It's extremely steep, but I try my best to keep my movements steady and calculated. My head is still bothering me. “Can you move a little slower?” Cato complains, already at the bottom of the hill. I shoot him a quick glare and try my best to speed up. As soon as I do this, of course, I loose my footing. Slipping on a particularly slick patch of leaves, I fall to the ground and roll the rest of the way down the hill, causing a great deal of noise as I go.

“Dammit,” I mutter once I reach the bottom, clutching my freshly aggravated wrist. My head is spinning and throbbing violently again.

“Would you just watch where you're walking?” Cato shouts, the dam pinning back his frustration finally bursting wide open.

“Well if you hadn't rushed me-” I begin.

“If you'd been walking fast enough, I wouldn't-” he begins to cut me off.

“Which I would have been if I hadn't fallen-”

“And whose fault is that?” he counters.

“Yours!” I scream back in anger. “You sent me up into that damn tree!”

“Well you-” he falters, not knowing how to counter my attack. “You weren't being much help on the ground.”

I roll my eyes at this lame excuse. “Of course. I should have known I was hindering your genius.” I replay sarcastically.

“Just shut up and find a trail,” he orders with a shout, roughly shoving me forward with one strong hand.

“Of course, your majesty,” I mutter as I stalk off into the woods. He follows me without comment, but I hear him mutter something that sounds suspiciously like “bitch” under his breath. Resisting the urge to whirl around and start shouting at him again, I push forward into the woods, looking for any sign of a tribute.

It's completely fruitless though. There's no sign of Ginger. Or Katniss. Or Peeta. This pursuit is a complete dead end. As the sun sinks below the horizon, I can't contain my frustration anymore. This is all Cato's fault. If we had done what I wanted to do and went after Thresh, there would be another dead tribute by now. Where is he going to hide in a giant field? “This is all your fault,” I growl, pushing another tall plant out of my way.

“My fault?” he barks, immediately taking an aggressive tact.

“Yes, your fault,” I answer, releasing the fern early and letting it whack him in the face. “We should have gone after Thresh.”

I expect him to start shouting at me, but instead of his loud, bellowing voice, I hear the rapid crack of several branches. I'm just starting to turn to see what's going on when his hand grabs my shoulder violently. He jerks me around to face him with so much force that I nearly fall to the ground.