Chapter Fourteen, Saved

❝ all my love for you ❞

❝ cuts me like barbed wire ❞

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MY EYES SLOWLY OPEN, the frigidness of the ground I was currently sleeping on shocking my core and sending tingles throughout my spine. The realisation of now knowing where I was dawns directly onto me. 

I quickly lift myself up, scanning my surroundings. I was in a gloomy, dark cave and my pulse speeds at the fact that someone else's supplies are positioned next to me. Turning around, I notice that my head had been laying on a person's bag, that clearly wasn't mine.

The absence of pain lingers in my thoughts as I recall the excruciating suffering my head caused me when it slammed against the sharp rock. The healing of my fall is what surprises me most. 

Most people never actually fully recovered from such damage, and there I was, alive and functioning as completely normal person. I even remember that I had been slipping in and out of consciousness, unable to move, and had absolutely no idea for how long I had been out in this unknown territory.

My heart beats terribly faster, fear spreading in my body at the mystery of the identity of the tribute who had saved me, or who was preparing to do much worse to me. Thankfully, my knives appear to be there, scattered onto the floor. 

Without hesitation, I squeeze my hand around the hilt of one of the blades, ready to fight. I know I could collect my things and exit this place, but my instinct orders me to stay.

My eyes land on the small entrance, where light seems to shine into the cave, the only source of brightness. I press my back onto the wall, waiting for someone to appear, someone that was stupid enough to let my live, and put my precious knives in my easy access. Only a tribute with immense skill or an ego dangerously big would ever leave me this way.

After I make this conclusion on the identity of my supposed saviour, I realise the name of the person who perfectly describes these specific points. Cato Hadley.

I frown and my eyebrows furrow. It couldn't be. And even if it was him, this would be his second time sparring my life, for no concise reason. Did he have no brain cells at all? Or, was this all part of his horrible plan and he was getting ready to torture? And then kill me?

It could also potentially be Peeta, but that made no sense after his first actions in the arena...  betraying me to the Careers.

The heavy rumbling of my stomach distracts my speculations temporarily, and I give up my position to sprint towards the supplies. I hurriedly open the bags, stuffing my hands into it, hunger guiding my movements.

I beam at the feeling of my fingers get ahold of a chunk of cooked rabbit, and devour it at an unbeatable pace. I groan in pleasure as the grease and the meat collide with my lips, flavour my tongue and glide down my throat.

I lick the tip of my fingers, not leaving a mere left over. I empty the water bottles, finally content, my thirst and hunger overcome.

I press my hand onto the skin of my forehead, feeling the presence of a few bloody bruises, but none causing me serious trouble. I sit there, on the ground, for that seems like an eternity until the sound of near footsteps bounces through the cave. 

I smile curiously, dangerously excited to see which tribute had made the stupid decision to not kill me immediately.

I grab a knife, and whip my body around as the loud footsteps arrive at the shallow space. I leap at the figure, kicking the person in the stomach as forcefully as I can, sending him to the ground. I straddle the imposing body, placing my sharp knife at the crook of his neck, my other hand flat on the floor, so I'm looming over the tribute's face.

When my eyes set onto the familiar blue gaze of none other than Cato's, I unconsciously weaken the grip on my knife and a glimpse of relief travels in my bones.

To my surprise, a smirk spreads on his lips and I roll my eyes, my mouth suddenly feeling dry.

"That's not a very warm welcome, considering I just saved your life." he chuckles. I press my knife with more strength, disturbed and, slightly amused by his unwavering confidence.

"Maybe I'll thank you by slicing that grin off your face... You know my aim's perfect." I smile, matching his careless attitude.

"Doubt you'll do that to me sweetheart." he replies, still smugly smiling. Chills run down my spine as he puts his hand onto my right knee.

"Don't underestimate me." I breathe, pressing my blade further into the skin of his neck until a droplet of blood oozes out of a slight cut. I look down at his rosy, cracked lips for a second, but I know he's noticed it. I smile as he looses his arrogant front for an instant.

"Who said I was? I know what you're capable of. So would Glimmer, or Marvel." he comments. At that, I'm unable to match his sly smile and get up from my uncomfortable position.

"Shut up, asshole" I strike back, a scowl stretching on my face. I wasn't proud of my actions, but I knew what I had to do to survive. Bringing them up just made unwanted emotions resurface. Emotions I had tried so terribly hard to push down, to erase.

"I'm not blaming you for it 12," Cato says, ruffling a hand through his dirty, blond hair. His grin fades a little, his lips only haunted by the ghost of a smile. 

"You've got good sponsors too" he adds, pointing to a small bottle of pills I hadn't noticed before. They were placed at the corner of the cave, along with my bag.

I quickly make the assumption he's talking about my head injury, but what worries me the most is how much of the medicine has already been used, the bottle only containing one last pill.

"Oh my god, how long have I been out?" I ask, my eyes wide in horror.

"Only four days. Nothing happened in the meantime." Cato shrugs, grunting as he sits again, his back against the rocky, obsidian wall. Impulsively, I walk over and position myself next to him, curious as to why he had wasted his time keeping me safe in this cave when he could have ended my life, his victory a step closer.

"Why'd you do it?" I ask, and I can tell by the way he raises his eyebrows he knows exactly what I'm talking about. During the first days in the game, when he saw me perched onto the tree. And now.

"If you're going to die, it should at least be with a fair fight" he replies, falsely smirking, staring down at his hands, and I know there are some layers of truth as to what he's saying. In a way, I understood. Yet, I could sense something he was thinking didn't leave his lips.

"Are you getting soft on me Cato?" I joke, staring at his amused expression, our arms slightly touching.

"Please, as if I could get soft. I'm the murderous boy from 2, remember?" he answers in a grave tone, narrowing his eyes at me.

I'm able to pick out the glint of sadness in his voice, and I know he's putting up a 'strong' act. I don't recognise the revolting enthusiasm that lingered in his demeanour during the first days of the game.

My heart beats at a quick pace, and I know I can't stay in this close space with Cato for too long. After all, only one of us was going to make it out alive.

"I should go hunt, get more food, considering you ate it all" he smirks, as if reading my clouded thoughts.

"I'm coming with you" I immediately reply, dreading the solitude I would face alone in this narrow cave, wanting to escape the absorbing darkness.

"No you're not. You just recovered from your head injury." he answers, shaking his head, picking up his sword. However, I quickly yank out of his hand, standing closer to him, trying to seem as confident as possible despite his significant towering over me.

"I'm going, wether you like it or not" I say, still gripping onto his heavy weapon.

"Fine. But I won't be there if you smash your head into another rock" he laughs, crouching down and taking my knives while I glare at him. I gulp down as I realise that we had exchanged weapons, the only thing we had in common being the rhythm of the clinking blades we orchestrated.

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There we were, walking through the forest, and I was taking liking to swinging his sword, amused by his desperate look in his iris', silently pleading me to give it back.

"Stop that, you'll end up cutting my legs off." he remarks. Yet, he doesn't try to take it back, watching me play with it.

"Maybe that's exactly what I want to do. Besides, I'll give it back if you give me back my pretty knives." I reply, staring at my stolen weapons residing in his scared hands.

"Not after you tried slicing my throat." he playfully chides.

"You could have stopped me." I shrug, sarcastically sending a smile in his direction.

"Maybe I liked it?" he taunts, and I roll my eyes, scoffing.

"Remind me to actually cut you next time." I grin.

When the familiar sound of soft footsteps running through the ground make their way to my ears, I know dinner has presented itself. 

By the way Cato raises his eyebrows and scans our surroundings, I realise how inexperienced he is in the art of hunting. Before he can stop, I pull my knife out of his relaxed grip, letting his sword fall out of my hand. 

The sound of the metal reverberating alerts the frozen animal, and I barely have time to thrust my knife into the air. It lands into the stomach of the rabbit, that had been preparing its missed escape.

I grin and quickly advance towards the dead animal, pulling out my blade, soaked of red liquid. Cato appears next to me, his sword in hand, as he stares at what my knife just pierced.

"What? Have you never actually hunted anything before?" I ask, gripping the rabbit by its stiff tail. He just shakes his head and I have to press my lips into a thin line to stop myself from giggling.

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We cook the few rabbits I hunted during the day, and I can tell his upbringing had led him to ignore how to actually survive in desperate situations. I tried teaching him how to kill a squirrel, but that didn't even work. I didn't push him too much, his bruised ego only causing my continuous giggling.

Cato clearly hasn't been used to hunting any sort of real animal considering his astonished expression through out the whole trip.

"How were you planning to hunt without any skills?" I ask, handing him a leg of rabbit. He reaches for it, and says:

"I'm actually incredibly skilled at hunting. Just didn't want to hurt your feelings." as he takes a large bite into the meat.

"You like it?" I whisper, watching him as he smiles at the food progressively filling his hunger.

"Beats the dried fruits and nuts from the supplies you blew up." he says smoothly, watching my surprised reaction as he had connected the dots.

"Guess this is my way of apologising for that" I wink, handing him another piece of rabbit. HIs fingers stay on mine for a second, but it's enough to send my heart plummeting. To my surprise, I had come to thoroughly enjoy the boy's company, and he had made me forget about the atrocity of our situation. He made me feel alive, and I had come to enjoy the fictive tension that excited me.

Yet, I had to remind myself that I shouldn't, couldn't attach myself to anyone in the arena. Not after Rue.

There was a certain weight in our conversation: as if we both knew that this might just be the last time we see each other's animated faces.

"Peeta didn't want to betray you." Cato suddenly blurts out, halfway through his second leg.

"What?"

"He loves you. I could tell. For some reason, that,... angered me a bit." he continues, focused onto his food. The mention of my district partner and his supposed affection for me triggers something, and I know that during the time we were together, I had grown to love him too. Yet, I had tried to forget him, forget his painful betrayal.

The way I saw him was different to the way I saw the boy from 2. Peeta was calm, kind, supportive. Cato was fire, hope, excitement. Peeta had probably been my best friend before entering the arena.

"Do you know where he is?" I ask, my voice cracking, wanting to see him, at least once before anything happened.

The blond male nodded, "I have an idea of where he could be. I'll show you tomorrow, it's starting to get too dark to look."

I manage to smile,  relieved at the new prospect of seeing my friend.

Before going to sleep, I sigh, patting my bag that I plan to use as a form of pillow. 

However, my neck aches at the uncomfortable contact, distracting me from my long awaited somber. 

I keep a knife at close distance, just in case someone finds me, or Cato has a sudden change of heart. My eyes close, and it's the first time during the games no tribute's murdered face haunts my dreams.