This story is about Clove and Cato, two characters from the book, The Hunger Games. It takes place during the 74th Hunger Games. Enjoy! :)407Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ20eTza4RpW
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They chose to hunt beneath the cloak of twilight, just as the wolves obscured in the trees among them, malevolence in their hearts and blood on their hands. Beneath the opaque sky, they anticipated the appearance of their prey, blades between fingers, eyes sealed with rage; they were bloody merciless killers, gladiators of their time, children turned sociopaths, faces depicted upon a screen, carefully overseen by thousands who prayed for the blood they spilled.
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Eighteen days and twenty-four tributes, most malled and mutilated by one of the numerous bloodstained knives claimed by the girl or the edge of the sword harbored by the boy. Together they were not to be tamed, two components of the same mystery; bound at the hip, the Bonnie and Clyde of their time, indivisible in their crimes, sharing the claims of their killings.
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Yanking on her wrist, pulling her behind the training center, he was an unknown creature, the embodiment of power and superiority, and she found it fascinating. He was something of a mystery, something she knew she shouldn't want, yet that deepened the enticement, made her do anything but oppose as he leaned in close, breath hot on her face, deep blue eyes so captivating, arousing something within in her heart, something she'd never before felt, as Cato whispered her name.
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"Clove..."
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The eery tranquility was terribly deceptive, giving the air of inconceivable stability not viable in the circus of death. Only four remained, them being half of the tally; it was easy to comprehend that the end was fast approaching.
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The wind whispered through the trees, an alarm of sorts, most likely, as the tandem lingered, hearts hindered in throats and weapons poised as the leaves crinkled and branches cracked.
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Through the thickly interwoven foliage, eyes so undomesticated, so familiar with their craving for blood and demise, it was unmistakable that what the girl identified in the beast was easily recognizable in herself.
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The world stood unmoving, holding its breath in the darkness as varmint met varmint, feral met feral, killer staring into the eyes of two of its kind, for only an instant before it seemed everything came slamming down. The beast, majestic in size and conduct, charged, teeth bared in malevolence, and eyes gleaming with almost humanlike wrath.
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He found her with a shot glass grasped in her fist, body humming with inebriety as she threw back the scalding liquid, constructing a fire within her chest amid the painfully frozen night. She virtually flung herself at him, hands clasping the cloth of his jacket and lips balanced in a laugh, her sanity relinquished to the intoxication. Though he was who he was, with his mile-wide prestige, he did the contrary to taking advantage of her state of reason, rather, ushering her out the door, to his house, where, of course, his parents were absent as always and tucked her trembling body beneath his duvet.
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He was there holding back her hair the next morning when the hangover assailed in waves of nausea.
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Howls resounding in the night, and teeth nipping at clothing, the wolf-like varmints, accumulating rather quickly into a humungous pack, bolted after the figures before them, resolved against all heck to capture their game.
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The girl stumbled upon a tree root, palms bracing against hard-packed earth and heart hammering against her ribcage, as she scrambled to her feet, seizing the hand of her colleague, who jerked her forward, almost sending her to the dirt once more. Branches and vines buffeted past their heads, thrashing at their skin and battering their clothing, though the culminated pain was absent among the heightened adrenaline.
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It wasn't long after (though it felt like a lifetime) when they burst out of the treeline, toppling into the open expanse of grass encircling the colossal cornucopia, immense and gleaming beneath the glare of the moon.
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Legs searing and muscles opposing against every movement, Cato sprinted in the direction of the enormous cornet, his velocity colliding him with the metal as he reached it. He yanked on the fingers of the girl behind him, hoisting her up as she skimmed her fingers against the metal, frantic to catch hold on the smooth shell.
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Her fingers caught on to the slimmest ridge and presented it as a prospect, one that she accepted because she was desperate and needing of a way out of this neverending torment.
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She managed to swiftly scale the monstrous wall and hurl herself over the border onto the surface, wheezing for breath to no avail and reaching out her hand to aid her counterpart, snagging his fingers in a strained clasp as he clambered to join her, ankles of his pants torn to shreds and beasts bounding as if in a dance of death at his feet.
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Toppling over the rim, the boy wheezed and gasped for air, observing as the girl beside him did the same, chest rising and declining rapidly and sweat dribbling down her neck. Breath still mislaid from lungs, the duo clambered to their feet, weapons yanked from belts and vests dizzily, and vigilant, still so ruthless eyes surveying the circumference for the due appearance of their rivals.
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It was the sight of the brown braid that hurled them into motion, sending the girl sprinting across the slick surface, knife balanced between fingers, as the boy heeded behind her, eager to depict his power yet again to the millions expecting his victory.
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His fingertips traced her skin, touch burning and intoxicating as he kissed her roughly, shutting down her sense of reason with his closeness. Fingers snarling in his hair, grazing his neck, rucking up his shirt; she couldn't get enough of him; she found herself blindly following, obeying his every command because he was just so damn persuasive.
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The girl sank to her knees, blades in hand as her greatest competitor dangled by her pale fingertips, face contorting in the cognizance that her bow was indeed slung over her shoulder, deemed unreachable, as the girl grinned maliciously, cocking her head in a taunting manner.
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"Now, did you really think you were rid of me?" Maniacal laughter burbling at her lips, Clove reached out a finger to trace tauntingly down the petrified face before her, carefully toying her knife with her other hand. "That's just sad, Katniss...you should've known better."
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She twirled the knife between her fingers, an insane spark in her eyes as she brought it to the girl's throat, heart still thrumming and adrenaline pumping as she awaited the perfect moment to take a life.
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"Please," A whisper barely even coherent fled the lips of the girl, exhausted and jaded, as she grasped onto the side with quavering fingers, clasping onto all she had left by her fingertips.
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Clove shook her head, the smile not once leaving her lips as she carefully, agonizingly slowly, slid the knife across her throat, watching as the girl choked on her own blood.
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Snaring the girl's fingers, dragging her close for a second as death came nearer for her, Clove tilted over and whispered, "good riddance, Girl on Fire."
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Letting go, she sent the corpse of what was once her adversary plunging to the ground, to be encompassed by the sea of beasts just waiting for their hunger to be gratified.
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She whipped around her head, satisfaction thrumming through her veins, to watch the scene behind her as Cato grappled Peeta, their only remaining contender, into a headlock, and, as quickly as he managed to do that, the snap of the neck was quicker. She respected the way he did it, the art of his killing, the rippling of his muscles, the brisk astute motion of his hands, and just like that, it was over.
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Kicking away the crippled body, Cato sent it gliding over the edge, to join the other in the tide of insatiable monsters, before turning to the girl, lips flaring into a grin.
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She slowly got to her feet, breath still reeling in her chest, and took a step forward, trying her absolute hardest to contain herself before flinging her body into his arms, unable to preserve the carefully restrained emotions she swore never to feel.
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Arms twining tight around torsos, faces concealed in hair, the duo stood in silence, the weight of their worlds heavy upon their still-young shoulders.
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"We did it," she breathed against his shoulder, eyes squeezing shut as she exhaled a breath of relief. "Oh, God, we did it..."
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"Attention tributes, attention," the moment concluded with the blaring echo of the voice. "The previous rule change regarding two victors has been...revoked...Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favor."
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Heart sinking into stomach and being filled with terror, Clove drew back, eyes vast and lips parted. However, before she could utter a word, Cato had drawn her back in, arms coiled taught, and breathing heavy.
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"I love you,"
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She felt his hand slip off her back and drop, and by the time she realized what he had done, it was too late; she couldn't stop him, the dagger was already plunged into his stomach.
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As he crumbled to his knees, his arms still around her, she found her heart falling with him.
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Fingers trembling, stroking at his cheek, eyes wide and disbelieving, filling with tears never permitted to drop, Clove pressed herself close to him, watching as his breath began to hitch in his throat.
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"No..." it fled her lips a faint, jerky whisper, voice stifled and strangled with tears.
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Cato lifted a quivering hand to her face, his fingers pressing against her cheek.
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"Go home, Clove," he murmured, eyes matching hers. "Please..."
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"No...I-I can't..." She sobbed, lips quivering. "I c-can't..."
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"Please...go home and be happy. Forget about me."
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She shook her head, fingers tangling in his hair.
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"Not without you...I c-can't..."
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"You can," his voice grew quiet and frail. "Please, baby...Go home."
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Head against chest, thrumming heart beneath her ear, she laid beside him, breathing slow and gentle. His hands caressed her hair, his intimacy overwhelming and beautiful, initiating a foreign feeling within her.
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"I love you," he whispered, making the heart she claimed against swell.
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"I love you," his voice was deadly quiet, his fingers slacking, his grasp on reality collapsing.
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"I love you too," she sobbed, tilting forward to press her lips gently against his, taking one last kiss, one last promise of what they were and what they always had been.
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She collapsed as his flawless blue eyes glazed over, his heart stopping as he keeled to the side, gone to the world.
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The wolf, so dark and stunning in danger, so lethal and insane, lost her fervency; her zeal gone, her defenses falling, as the predator became the prey.
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