Chapter Twenty-Two, Survivors

 ❝ kiss me hard before you go, ❞

 ❝ summer time sadness. ❞

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I CAN TELL BY THE TENSE SILENCE THAT Cato and I's moods have shifted to serious, the possible outcomes of the next hours dawning miserably on us, plaguing our minds.

The armor tightens my frame uncomfortably, hugging my upper body. It's hard to breathe in, leaving a divergent and irregular pattern of breaths to escape my mouth. The glide of sweat against the feel of the protection adds an uncomfortable dimension to it.

Although the warm and tingling rays tickle onto my skin and envelop my body into a state of comfort, I don't let myself get distracted.

Cato tightens his grip around his new sword, walking a few inches ahead of me, as if to protect me from any incoming danger.

Yet, I catch up to the boy, despising the be the one standing behind. Especially despising that someone could sneak up from behind and kill me.

"Wait for me!" I insist, now walking along side the boy.

"Just trying to protect you, sweetheart." he trails off, scanning the surroundings.

"Thanks, but I don't need protecting." I mumble, planting my hands onto my hips.

"If you say so." Cato grins, amusedly staring at me.

"Who knows, maybe I'll be the one protecting you." I taunt.

"That's not likely, Everdeen," he scoffs. "But I'd like to see you try." I roll my eyes at this, though the blush creeping onto my cheeks translate a whole other emotion than annoyance.

Anyways, it's lucky that Tresh has an imposing figure, his steps and moves most likely going noticed most of the time. The trees have a habit at bouncing off sounds, echoing them into my ears, helping me.

My knives rattle in my belt, not having a complete set of them, and my machete slips between my bare stomach and my belt. Its silver metal shocks my skin, goosebumps contouring the weapon.

"Tresh will be hunting for us." Cato says, peering down at me again, his tone of voice shifting.

"He must have guessed we teamed up, after the rule change and Clove's death." I mutter slowly, attempting to camouflage my voice with a bird's sudden chirp.

I lift my head up, my irises catching the presence of a navy mockingjay, peacefully sitting on a branch, in blissful ignorance at where they are. He stays perched on the tree, its gaze narrow and winds flapping. He opens his small mouth to let a tragic melody occupy the air.

"So he knows, that chances are, he dies." Cato shrugs.

"Meaning he'll try his best to defeat us." I finish, various scenarios imprinting themselves in my mind.

We arrive at the stream, and eagerly get out out bottles, replenishing our water. I gulp down amounts of water, it satisfyingly cascading down my throat. I let droplets of the liquid intertwine with my hair, and I scowl at how dirty it feels against my fingers.

The stream holds a series of memories from the games. When I made when of my first kills. The times I spent with Rue. My blood stains the undulation of the water's flow, painful souvenirs inking my mind.

"Let's move on." I suggest, not developing a liking's to the surge of emotions the place trigger.

Cato nods in agreement, possibly being equally submerged by unwanted thoughts.

Given our late start to the day, when we reach the plane, it's already evening. There's not a single sign of Tresh, the suspense of the day irrevocably heightening.

Cato and I circle the golden Cornucopia, just in case Tresh had the plan of staying hidden there. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

"We don't want to fight him after dark." Cato complains, kicking angrily at an empty bag.

"Let's give him half an hour. Then we'll go." I counter, since it's impossible to ignore the panging feeling that this would be it. Today would be the day.

Plus, I also want it to be over. Now.

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We sit by the lake, in full sight. There's no point in hiding now.

I can tell by the repetitive bouncing off Cato's right leg that his nerves are very real at the moment. I place my hand softly against his knee, attempting to distract myself as well.

In the trees at the end of the plain, I notice the mockingjays fitting about. Reverberating a similar melody that I recognise from earlier. The tune the bird's trill appeases my body entirely, reassuring me.

The music swells, reminding me of Rue and her great smile, her pure kindness. The notes overlap, complimenting one another, forming an unearthly harmony. For a while, I shut my eyes, reminiscing in the beauty and innocence of the song.

Suddenly, something violently disrupts the melody, reeling me back in. Runs cut off in jagged, imperfect lines. Dissonant notes intersperse with the melody. The mockingjays' voices rise up in a shrieking cry of alarm.

Cato and I rise in unison, our weapons jammed in our hands. Tresh smashes through the trees and bears down on us. He has no sort of weapon at hand, but continues to head in our direction.

Good thing I'm ready.

I yank one my knives out my belt and don't hesitate to throw it towards his mobile figure. It lands onto his left shoulder, failing to implant itself in his heart.

This causes for him to slow down, nonetheless, it's not enough to send him falling to the floor.

I grunt in annoyance, but choose to not waste another one of my knives on him. Who knows what the Capitol will grace us with after?

"Do you trust me?" Cato breathes, holding his sword firmly.

"I trust your anger." I whisper, panting, unable to shrug off the ambition brewing in his eyes.

Following my words, Cato leaps and runs towards him suddenly, leaving me behind.

"No!" I yell, following the boy in his sprint.

I know this is some sort of tactic to protect me from the large tribute from eleven, but I want to be a part of this fight. I'm not something to be underestimated. It's time people get that.

Given the few seconds he has ahead of me, he's the first to get to Tresh.

He braces himself, threatening the boy with his golden sword. My eyes widen in horror as Tresh himself reveals the presence of a previously dissimulated behind his back.

Cato halts suddenly, and I lunge forward, nothing but pure and dangerous adrenaline pumping vigorously through my veins. I'm not quick enough.

Tresh's sword slashes against Cato's stomach, his momentary distraction and surprise utilised by the boy from 11. The blond winces in pain and I scream in frustration. 

In frustration at Tresh's unexpected wit, and at Cato's pain, caused by his surprise, that yet lasted the fraction of a second.

I notice blood gaping out of Tresh's early wound my knife triggered, and I smile in contempt as a quick plan forms in my head.

He lifts his sword upwards, and I kick my leg towards the end of it forcefully. It jumps out of his grasp, bouncing loudly off the earth.

Tresh's eyes brew with determination, and even if he is now weaponless, his level of strength couldn't compare to mine.

I raise my machete rapidly so he doesn't have time to predict my move and plunge it against his open cut. He groans in pain, knees connecting with the ground and teeth audibly ginding against each other.

He latches his hands around the sharp blade of my weapon, his power being enough to drag it out of his body and rise up again, ready. So am I.

He attempts to lunge at me, but I dodge him stealthily by jumping to the right. In a second, I decide to use this to my own advantage. I drive my sword through his stomach, his mouth contorting into a scowl and a grunt seeping out of his lips.

He raises his fist when I peer down at the mortal wound my weapon is creating and a loud bang echoes in the air.

A red flower blossoms onto the right side of my forehead as he punches me, sending me to the ground under the forceful impact. A consuming abyss replaces my vision for a second, the colours draining out and my mind a mess.

I shake my head, the suffering causing for my machete to slip out of grasp. Immediately, my hands scurry for the feel of one my knives sitting at my belt. I manage to pull one out, and slice whatever is front of me.

Finally recovering from the previous blow, my eyes find the presence of another cut on Tresh's thigh. Yet, the boy has also managed to take my machete, and I roll my body to the left when he attempts to cut right at my face.

In an instant, I let my hands pull me up and duck my upper body down when Tresh attempts another jab. It's a mystery to me how the boy from eleven can still function and fight with three gaping injuries.

My eyes flicker over to Cato's body, crouched down, his hand slick with blood, holding on desperately onto his wide cut Tresh's sword caused. I can tell by his frustrated groans that he's trying to resume the fight, to come to my help, in vain.

Tresh takes a second to let out a shaky pant, obviously affected by the various scars painted onto his frame.

Now.

My whole body shifts into action and I withdraw another blade from my belt and throw it in a second in the air, their parkour guided by Tresh's beating heart. It's as if my move goes in slow-motion, the knife whizzing through the air.

My adversary's eyes widen I. terror when he catches my weapon's approaching his own self, and he knows it's too late, he knows it's the end.

It lands in the centre of his heart and I try not to let the knowledge and tragedy that's scribbled onto his gaze affect me. It was me or him. I chose myself, and I will continue to.

As his body thuds onto the ground and a cannon goes loose I try not to let Rue's expression pang onto my mind for too long, considering I ended her partner. I also recall onto her slurred words, in her last moments, directed to me. "You need to win."

I hurry over to Cato in a second, his miserable state causing for a surge of worry to erupt inside of me. Yet, it's also clear that we won...

He could get all the help he needs with Capitolian medicine, and his wound would be healed within an hour.

"We did it," I whisper, almost in awe, as I cup his cheeks. "Told you I'd be the one to protect you."

"What, like it's a competition?" he asks, chuckling, though I notice how rapidly the colour is draining out of his face.

"You made it one." I grin, hoping that the hovercraft would come soon, to save the suffering boy.

"Get out of here, Everdeen -" he chokes out suddenly, his stare settling onto something behind me.

"What?" I whip my head around, and the sight of a creature leaping onto the plain catches my eyes. As I'm turning away, I notice other similar monsters follow the leader's trail. Capitol mutts.

Cato and I have won, what's the point of threatening our victory with deadly, mechanic dogs? I rapidly help Cato stand up, against his will, and I'm running blindly with no thought but to save us.

We make a beeline for the Cornucopia, Cato agreeing to ignore the pain his whole body is causing and attempts to fight back, to survive. We are so close.

He's about fifteen yards behind me, hobbling as fast as he can, clutching in onto his wound. I let my knife implant itself onto the nearest mutt, sending him plummeting loudly to the ground.

"Go, Jade! Go!" he yells.

He's right, I can't protect either of us on the ground. I start climbing, scaling the Cornucopia on my hands and feet. 

The pure gold surface has been designed to resemble the woven horn that we fill at harvest, so there are little ridges and seams to get a decent hold on. But after a day in the arena sun, the metal feels hot enough to blister my hands.

I gag over the edge, preparing to end another mutt as it makes it way towards Cato. My blades kill about three of the creatures in an instant, and the boy from two manages to make his way safely over to the Cornucopia.

"Quick! Climb!" I order immediately.

His blood stains the metal as he travels slowly onto the platform.

I can't help but wonder why exactly the Game makers would do this. It's as if they wanted one of us to die in the last moments of the game.

Luckily, the muttations are unable to climb the wall and I let out a shaky sigh of relief at this. We're safe, for now at least.

Cato lies onto the floor, and I can't imagine what he must be feeling. All of this should be over, why weren't we being crowned as victors right this second?

"What the fuck are they waiting for?" Cato groans weakly.

"I don't know." I complain. Whatever the hold up is, I can't watch Cato loose any more blood, or he will inevitably die.

As I stand, Claudius Templesmith's voice booms into the arena. 

"Greetings to the final contestants of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games. The earlier revision has been revoked. Closer examination of the rule book has disclosed that only one winner may be allowed," he announces. 

"Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favor."

I gulp as the truth sinks in, and I realise this had all been orchestrated by the Game makers, to present the most dramatic showdown in history. Like a fool, like a puppet, I bought into it.

Driven by my unwavering instinct, one my hands meets one of my knives. Yet, my heart tells me not to budge. For some reason, I know that inflicting pain on Cato purposefully, leaving this arena without him, would destroy me. I don't know why, but it would.

Before I can move or do anything, Cato engulfs me into a tight embrace, his maroon blood staining my clothes. A light smile quirks my lips and I sigh in defeat. I'm numb, and I don't have the strength to fight.

I nuzzle into his neck, lacing my arms around it and let a salty tear trickle down my face. I'm too tired, too exhausted to come to action, to try anything.

"Thank you for showing me who I am." Cato whispers, almost as if he's preparing to die.

I shake my head firmly, placing my hands into my pockets in desperation. My eyebrows furrow as my fingers come in contact with soft, round berries. It's as if a light switches in my mind, and I have a plan in my head quickly enough.

I pull them out, and when Cato sees it, he clamps his hand over my wrist. "No, I won't let you." he says firmly.

"Trust me?" I say quietly, looking into his ocean eyes.

"I trust your anger." he echoes, and a smirk graces my features. I put a spoonful of berries into both our hands, and I kiss him softly, one last time.

It's like he can tell what I'm thinking, revealing how convenient of a pair we are. We had manipulated a whole nation, we could do it again.

"The count of three." he says.

"Hold them out. I want everyone to see." I add, rolling the fruit around the palm of my hand.

I spread out my fingers, and the dark berries glisten in the sun. I give Cato's hand one last squeeze as a signal, as a good-bye, and we begin counting. 

"One." Maybe I'm wrong. 

"Two." Maybe they don't care if we both die. 

"Three!" It's too late to change my mind. I lift my hand to my mouth, taking one last look at the world.

The berries have just passed my lips when the trumpets begin to blare. The frantic voice of Claudius Templesmith shouts above them. 

"Stop! Stop! Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victors of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games, Jade Everdeen and Cato Hadley! I give you — the tributes of District Twelve and Two!"

I tricked them. I won the games. I did it.

Instinctively, I raise both Cato and I's intertwined hands in the air, a grin placing onto my lips. I seem strong, confident, raw and wild.

𝖆𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗'𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊

GUYS THIS IS NOT THE END ! There will be one or two chapters after this, so stay tuned ! :) Cato and Jade mean so much to me, and EVERY vote, or comment make my whole day fr. I'm so thankful for the people reading this, thank you !

Also, I wanted to ask, when I make small changes in chapters do you guys get a notif? Like sometimes I'll randomly update one chapter because of an error I made or something T-T.