𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐄 ▸ HUNGER GAMES [ 1 ]

TWENTY FIVE

TWENTY FIVE - 

Stay with me.

Stay with me, Clove.

You're gonna be okay.

There is a mattress of dead leaves beneath me when I wake. My fingers reach out, skeletal grey-green foliage crumbling under their touch. My head hurts, the skin of my brow tight. When I try to open my left eye, a sharp pain flashes above it, prickling my forehead. I smell blood.

I'm sprawled across the forest floor, staring up at the canopy with my one good eye. Light is slowly fading, creeping towards dusk. For a moment, I'm completely disorientated. Then a blurry stream of pictures seeps into my head. The feast. Katniss and I battling on the grass. I almost had her. Almost. Until Thresh had me. The sound of his cannon echoes in my ears, his body slumped at my feet with the spear lodged into his chest.

Cato killed him. He saved my life.

I struggle to sit up, dislodging the second jacket draped over me like a blanket. It's the same burgundy red as my own, made up of enough fabric that I could probably wear it as a dress. I prop myself up against the tree beside me and take my surroundings. Cato must have set up camp here whilst I was out – there's a new fire pit, smoking faintly, the spear still flecked with Thresh's dried blood discarded next to it. Our packs are open and spewing their meagre contents across the dirt. But there's no sign of him.

"Cato?" I call out tentatively, wincing at the raspy sound of my voice working its way from my throat. I sound like a worker who's been smoking cigars and breathing in quarry dust for the past twenty years. The hacking coughs that follow bring my District partner hurtling into the clearing, sword swinging at his hip.

"Clove!" He collapses to his knees beside me, pulling me close and burying his face in my hair. "You scared the hell out of me." I sink into his arms, relief flooding through my bones. He's been near water, shirt clinging to his skin where it's splashed him, and as soon as he disentangles himself from my hold he thrusts a canteen into my hands. I raise the bottle to my lips, drinking steadily until the parched, desert feeling clears my throat.

"I'm okay, I'm alive." I mumble, and though my voice sounds much better my left eye is still squinted against the pain across my forehead. Though Thresh never managed to carry out his true intention, the rock still must have glanced off my brow as he went down. I reach up gingerly towards the wound, but Cato grabs my hand between his own, frowning at me.

"Don't touch it, you'll make it worse." He scolds. He reaches into the pocket of his trousers and pulls out a small tin. On unscrewing the lid, I notice that it's some kind of ointment or cream, pale sickly green in colour. "Sidonia sent us this for it and it seems to be working. You're probably due another dose soon anyway." Cato glares up at the fast oncoming darkness as if it might indicate a time, but the sun's rise and fall seems to have been all over the place during the last couple of days in the Games. I'm not sure what constitutes a day anymore. I can't even figure out how long we've been in the arena.

"So, how long was I out this time?" I mutter darkly, but Cato just squeezes my hand, brushing his thumb repeatedly across my skin. Somehow, it must neutralise my expression.

He gives me a small smile. "The feast was this morning so less than a day, but you still had me worried. I wasn't sure how bad the damage was going to be." He fixes me with a solemn gaze. "I thought I was too late. When you blacked out I wasn't sure whether you were ever going to wake up again. I carried you back here to check up on you, and as soon as I was sure you were still breathing okay the parachute showed up." He holds up the small container.