Friendly Fire

**CATO'S POV.

Cato's head was bowed against the brutal wind and rain which had gathered over the night and in these early hours of the morning, attempted to blow him off course. Pulling his hood further over his head, he pushed his hands into his pockets. 

 

The harsh weather conditions were not dampening Cato's mood in any form at all. He felt like a child again, the boyish nervousness in which he had spoken to Clove. Though he didn't get the impression she minded, and the thought of her sweet smiling face appeared in his mind. 

 

Or was it in his mind? 

 

Up ahead, though the rain made it hard to see, Cato would've sworn against anybody that the small figure without a jacket, bent against the wind, clearly soaked through, was Clove Mortalen. He stopped in his tracks, hesitant for a moment. He watched her as she paused in an attempt to pull her sopping hair from her face.

Snapping to his new found gentlemanly senses, Cato ran up the wide path, unzipping his jacket. The freezing rain bit at him with every rain drop, but as he caught up with Clove and carefully placed it over her, the look of gratitude she failed to hide was worth it. 

 

"You looked a little cold," Cato remarked. 

 

"Oh, did I?" Clove said sarcastically, yet pulling Cato's jacket around her. She looked up, "Aren't you freezing?"

 

"Me? I don't freeze. I'm... well, me." He shrugged, believing his own arrogance. 

 

Clove tutted and muttered something inaudible. 

 

"So do you not own a jacket?" Cato said, trying to keep the conversation alive. 

 

Clove shot Cato a filthy look, "I left the house in a bit of a hurry. I don't exactly want to go back just for a jacket." 

 

Cato nodded seriously, "I agree. Hypothermia is a much better idea."

 

Cato began to shiver, and despite his manliness he so claimed, it was visible. For a few minutes he casually tried warming himself up but Clove, with her wicked eye, spotted his feeble attempts. 

 

"You know, we're early for training. Do you want to stop over there?" Clove pointed to the small man-made shelter under the trees. 

 

Cato weighed out his options, and decided that despite his joke about hypothermia earlier, he'd die a death in combat, not turning blue like an idiot in front of Clove. He nodded, and they walked through the damp grass. 

Cato stopped in front of the small shelter. He hadn't realised how small it was, he hardly saw how it would fit Clove comfortably. She sat down on a wooden log beneath the canopy of twigs, ignorant to Cato's doubts. She surveyed the roof for a while, whistling what Cato recognised as a sad tune. She stopped mid whistle, and scoffed at Cato, still standing in the downpour. 

 

"I agree," She said, a wicked smile playing on her lips, "Hypothermia is a much better idea." 

 

Cato shook his head and moved forwards to crouch under the shelter. It was so cramped that Clove's still wet hair tickled his arms. Cato was very conscious of the lack of space between them, but made no attempt to distance himself. 

 

"So, another secret hideout of yours?" 

 

"I'd hardly call this secret," Clove said matter-of-factly, "And just look at the ceiling! Some stupid kids have been in here and mucked it up." 

 

It amused Cato that Clove was so protective of this worn down shelter. And as for the ceiling, it was crumbling away anyway, Cato thought. 

 

"Smirk all you want." Clove said sharply, looking up at him. "We all know who's carrying weapons and who isn't right now." She hissed, raising her eyebrows.

 

"You're right," Cato said in mock terror, "It'd be kind of embarrassing to be killed by a girl your size." 

 

"Oh, don't worry, I'd make sure they all knew how you ended, pleading for mercy at my feet..." She smiled sadistically at him. "Nobody underestimates my strength in that training centre." 

 

Cato chucked, looking down at her. She looked away, and brought her knees up to her chin. It was remarkable how quickly she could change her persona like that. 

 

They sat in silence for a while, listening to the hammering of the rain on the 'roof' and the birds faint calls. Cato didn't mind, it was enough just sitting with her. After a while, it passed off, and the two of them crossed the grass back to the road and made the trip up to the towering training centre in silence. 

 

The building was almost entirely made of glass, which reflected the now weakly shining sun forcing it's way through the clouds. It was larger than most buildings in district 2, rising above everything and everyone else. It clearly labelled, "this is where we raise your children to fight and bring honour home!" 

 

Reaching the entrance, they both paused uneasily. 

 

"I... so, um..." Cato began, having no idea how to word it. He was rarely speechless. 

 

Clove took over, "It would ruin our trainee image to be seen together, I think." She said professionally. "I'll go in now, wait ten minutes, then you can go in. You got that?" 

 

Cato nodded, thankful she'd said it and not him. Clove pulled open the large glass doors and swiftly entered the reception without a backward glance. 

 

***

 

Cato's favourite part of the week had arrived. He got to pick an opponent to fight, as the reaping was looming ever nearer, Loson figured it good training to prepare them for combat with each other too. 

In his usual position in the middle of the hall, surrounded by some apprehensive and some fierce trainees, he scanned the crowd of amateurs. 

 

"I hate to hurry you, Cato, but you have to pick somebody, like now." Loson urged. 

 

Cato nodded, gathering all the fight he could muster, "Alright. I think..." He scanned the room once more and his eyes rested on his victim, who was wearing a menacing smile and staring directly at him. "You." 

 

He pointed at Clove, who bared her teeth at him, "Clover, is it?" 

 

Clove adopted a bored voice as she stepped around the other trainees, "It's Clove, actually." 

 

Cato noticed many of the trainees watch after Clove fearfully. He was sure she was not popular, but when it came to fight him, (he thought smugly) they all banded together. Clove however, seemed oblivious, and she walked slowly up to him, as if knowing this would irritate Cato. He rolled his head from side to side threateningly, not taking his eyes off of Clove. Was it a trick of the light, or did even Loson look afraid for Clove?

 

She stepped before him, and saw a flicker of a smile before returning to her solid "I'm going to get you" face. 

This fight banned any form of weapons, and so Loson, rather gravely, addressed them both the usual, "The first to be on the ground, loses. On three..." 

 

Cato cracked his knuckles. 

 

"Two." 

 

Clove delicately tucked the right side of her hair behind her ear. 

 

Heartbeats could be heard all around the room, everyone held their breath for tiny Clove. 

 

"One." 

 

It was instant. Cato made a lunge for Clove, who dodged and spun around to kick him squarely in the gut. Furious at the whistles emitting from trainees around the room, Cato picked her up by her waist in a fireman's lift and stood for a few seconds, enjoying her at his liberty. As he prepared to smack her down on the floor, she stretched her arms and dug her sharp nails into his ribs, pinches as hard as could. In a moment of shock, he loosens his grip so Clove lands neatly on her hands and flips back up, ready when Cato turns. 

Cato saw she was smiling openly, some trainees were daring to laugh. 

 

In a low whisper she said, "I thought you promised a fight?" 

 

In a second, she'd cartwheeled around him, her jet hair flying as she went. His reactions extremely slow, he didn't turn, and in the next moment she'd flown at his back and secured her legs around his hips and arms in a tight grip around his neck. Clove released one leg to dig into the back of the joint of his leg and his nerves reacted, causing Cato fall to his knees. Her feet now able to reach the ground, she tightened the grip around his neck, her ebony hair falling in a sheet around his face. Aware and livid he was losing, Cato wrestled to get free, but her arms were surprisingly strong. The sweet smell of breath filled his nose, and her lips touched the shell of his ear as she whispered into it, 

 

"I won't hold this against you... much." 

 

Clove heaved her weight onto Cato's back and forced him face down onto the ground. There was much applause as Clove sat on on his back, as he gathered, cross legged. Loson blew his whistle. 

Cato had imagined that losing would burn, but this wasn't so bad. He realised he'd look like an idiot smiling in his current state, but as Clove climbed off his back he let one slip in her direction. 

Cato watched Clove as she skipped smartly over to the Nila girl, and the two exited the hall, yet Clove turned back just in time to wink at him before laughing. And he noticed, it wasn't cruel, smug laughter, but genuine. It sent chills up his spine. Loson was watching him with a confused expression on his face, but Cato just shrugged and jogged out of the hall. 

In his strange elation, Cato barely noticed his parents marching smartly up the corridor, and the balloon of happiness in his stomach burst rapidly. He'd never seen them in the training centre since he'd been accepted into it. 

"What're you here for?" He said rudely, his good mood evaporated.

His mother was unabashed, "To give a good word to Loson of course! The reaping is in the coming months, and I thought we'd agreed that this was the year you'd volunteer? For pride?" 

Cato blinked. He looked at his father, there was something in his eyes. Was it regret? 

"Fine." Cato stormed away, needing some air. 

Now Cato remembered that his days with Clove were numbered, no more beating about the bush. 

This was it. 

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

Chapter 6!

Reviews

[MoriartyMesa]

I think i need to go back and read the other chapters, but I like it