Needing the Impossible (A Clato Fanfic)

Chapter 37

Chapter 37

I awake from another restless night full of haunting dreams to find that my back is already damp with sweat. The morning has dawned bright and hot, a vivid contrast to last night's freezing temperatures. Rising into a sitting position, I dump the remains of my scarce food supply onto the ground. There's barely enough for a meal here, and so I finish it off in less than five minutes. If I don't find Twelve today, I'm going to be at a distinct disadvantage.

Sheathing my sword, which I kept in my hand all night, and slinging my pack over my shoulders, I begin to make my way deeper into the forest. Blocking out all the images from last night that threaten to turn me into an emotional idiot, I focus all my energy on finding Katniss and Lover Boy.

Using a slightly more methodical tactic than before, I begin to make my way towards the river. They have to get water somewhere, and there's no way they've been using the lake. Even if they aren't camped out along the river, there should be some sign of life down there. Not to mention that I could use some more water, and I don't really want to hike all the way back to the lake to get it. It would cost me too much time.

Going at a faster pace than yesterday, but still keeping an alert eye out for any signs of movement, I quickly make my way down to the main water source in the forest.

I arrive there in less than an hour, having already been fairly deep in the woods. I'm greeted by the sight of a dried up river bed. In a state of temporary shock, I stand completely motionless for a good thirty seconds, not entirely sure what to make of it. It's not just that the river is down, it's gone. Completely. Examining the ground a little closer tells me that not only is the water gone, but the earth where the river used to be is completely dry as well – as if a river dried up weeks ago.

Once I get over my initial shock, I begin to examine what would have been the bank of the water supply. I search both sides for footprints or any sign of travel. I search for over a hundred yards before I find anything remotely interesting. And when I do find it, I'm incredibly frustrated.

In front of me, crossing the dried up river bed, are two sets of footprints. One is small and steady – someone who is used to moving across obscure terrain. The other is heavy and inconsistent, frequently smudging from where he slipped on what must have previously been slick mud. Lover Boy and Katniss left here early this morning, possibly before I even awoke.

My first instinct is to follow the trail right away, but immediately after noticing the tracks, I spy where they came from – and this is what has so infuriated me. A small cave, with an opening no bigger than four feet across, lies on the opposite side of the river, in plain view. I have no doubt that for the past several days, Twelve has been using it as a hide-out while Lover Boy recovered. An angry snarl twists itself onto my lips and I cross the dried river bed to gather more information from the cave. If only I had bothered to come this way twenty-four hours ago, they would both be dead. But I hadn't been thinking straight then, as I haven't been doing since Clove died.

This realization hits me harder than I would have thought possible, since I was already that I've been acting rashly. I suppose it's the thought of Clove that's upsetting me. But I ignore the knots in my stomach and crouch down to enter the cave. It's not very deep; the farthest part of the wall is only five or six yards away from the entrance. But there's plenty of room for two people trying to avoid being found by a hunter – by me.

There isn't any evidence of a fire, which isn't surprising. Even if they had decided it was safe enough to start one, Katniss doesn't strike me as stupid enough to start a fire in such an enclosed space. Though Lover Boy might have started one without giving it a second thought.