Innocent Interest

*CLOVE'S POV. Cato and Clove have not yet been reaped, and are living in District 2 before the 74th Annual Hunger Games, and Clove is starting to notice the brutal Cato more than before.

Clove had always had more alert senses than anybody else. She could smell blood a mile away and taste victory like no other. And just like now, Clove could sense a pair of eyes boring into her back. 

Her body stiffened, like it always did in the sign of a possible attack, and she stroked the long blade she'd chosen for today's training. She mentally mapped out her strategy of harm and gripped the knife.  

Slowly, she crooked her head to the side and looked carefully over her shoulder. Immediately she wished she hadn't. Her instinct was to snap her head back round and pretend like she hadn't noticed, but it was too late. 

The most brutal and vicious trainee in the whole of District 2. Cato Fort. Almost everybody here was afraid to take him on, although they wouldn't admit it. Of course, Clove wasn't, she'd just rather not receive any threat of injury before she had the chance to Volunteer for the Games. 

Cato was staring at Clove with such intensity, Clove had not had the sense to turn away. There was a brief encounter of a few seconds in which they both sized each other up, although it didn't look as though Cato was about to run at her with the long, curved sword in his hands. 

A light bulb turned on in Clove's head as she remembered just who's light blue eyes she was looking into, and her eyes flitted away from Cato Fort's. Curiosity was burning inside of her, why had Cato not given her the look that made the pathetic ones at the Training center quiver with fear? She didn't know what to make of the look in his eyes, only that it couldn't lead on to something good. 

By the time Clove dared to look around again, Cato was in furious combat with another trainee, and she almost convinced herself that the look in his eyes had been a trick of light disguising the violence within. 

"Boy, I am not jealous of the moron Cato Fort's close to dicing right now." The sudden voice so close to Clove made her jump and she spun around, her knife an inch from Nila's chest. "Clove! It's me, Nila! Don't stab me, you loony." Nila paused and looked at Clove. "Wow, are you okay? You look somewhat lost. And that's not comforting, you're always on your game, snap out of whatever this is right now!" 

Nila swiftly removed a knife from the set and walked away, twirling it in her fingers. 

Clove frowned. She knew the knot in her stomach that was making her feel sick had nothing to do with Nila. On the whole, Clove actually liked Nila, despite the fact she was extremely laid back and cool with everything and also she was, Clove hated to admit, a talented fighter. Nila was the closest thing Clove had to a friend in the Training center, or maybe the whole of 2. 

No, the horrible sensation in the pit of her stomach had nothing to do with Nila Riguez, but with the brutal boy who was in the middle of giving a fellow trainee permanent damage to his rib cage.

******

Clove hadn't seen Cato since the out-of-character stare in the Training Center and it had been making her undoubtedly nervous which was an awful and very new sensation to someone as deadly as Clove Mortalen. It was very early morning and she was sat weaving blades of grass together under her favourite oak tree. It was ideal for Clove as most of the time, she preferred to be a loner and nobody hardly ever came past this very edge of the District. 

She caught herself whistling when it happened. She was muttering to herself about merry faced, naive kids who had gotten stupid tunes into her head when she saw him. Cato Fort was walking, not even strutting with his usual swagger, just walking, right past Clove's oak. She watched him with narrowed eyes. Since when has anybody else ever ventured over here? Clove thought. She clutched the knife at her belt, in case Cato had followed her here and was getting ready to pounce any minute. Her long black hair formed a curtain around her face as she stuck her head round the side of the trunk so he didn't leave her eyesight. 

Clove was shaking her head, annoyed by his obvious arrogance and, something else she couldn't quite put her finger on, when he stopped walking so abruptly, Clove didn't have time to retract to behind the tree. Cato looked directly at her, and paused, as though thinking about it, then casually nodded his head at her before turning on his heel and disappearing into the town. Clove stared. Her jaw had dropped open. Realising, she lent her back against the tree and whistled the same tune she had been earlier, but this time with a scary edge of menace, and as she swung her knife out of her belt and hit the ugly pigeon 5 metres away square in the chest, she said loud and clearly to herself,

"Okay, mister brutal, deadly, nasty, ruthless Cato, you want to play? Let's play." 

 

Author's Note

I hope you like my first ever Chapter on WritersCafe.org! As you can tell, I'm a huge Clato shipper. Please review, or rate. Or both.
*Mortalen comes from the Italian word, 'mortale' which means deadly, and Fort comes from the Italian word 'forte' which means vicious. I thought they were quite fitting surnames!