Destiny can't be earned or returned

by Knight_of_darkness

Summary:

“I’m being smart,” Clove replied, almost smiling. “It be easier to take him down together and then you than the other way around. If you prove useful, I probably even give you a fair chance.” She winked, waved a small knife like a farewell handkerchief to a departing lover.

“I could just put an arrow in your back while you’re walking away,” Katniss said quietly. “Wait out the others.”

Clove turned around, holding her arm close to her side as Katniss had instructed her to. Despite everything—the sling, the blood—she moved with a kind of savage elegance, like she hadn’t heard a word of the threat. She didn’t look back, like she wasn’t afraid of anything Katniss might do.

“I’m waiting,” she said, vanishing into the trees like she already knew Katniss would follow.

 

Or,

a chance meeting on the rooftop puts Katniss on the radar of a certain Career from District 2.

The night air neither crisp nor tinged with a hint of smoke so dissimilar to home was enough for her to swallow down the tightness in her throat. To close her eyes for a moment and breath. At least it’s her. Her and not Prim. Prim, who she imagined curled up between that ugly thing she claimed to be a cat and their mother. Alive.

Another breath. No people gawking, hovering, plucking at her, perfume cloying, all those unnatural colours and lights.

She took a step away from the elevator, eyes on the skyline, only to flinch. Reacting in time to stop the object from connecting with her eye. She blinked. Looking down at the smooth, dark oval stone. Slightly flattened, shimmering black.

“I’d like that back.”

Katniss found hidden in the shadows of the city lights a girl. Knees up, arms folded lazily on top while facing away from her down into the streets where there was still jeering and music. Shouting, revelry.

“Are you deaf? Or just dumb?”

Their eyes locked and Katniss recognized her then, District Two, the girl with the partner, who had been staring at them until Haymitch had steered them away. A Career.

A huff. “Wow, it’s no wonder the only winner of Twelve is a drunk.”

“It must be really hard winning the games after training for years for them against starving opponents who didn’t.” Katniss found her voice disregarding Haymitch’s advice to lie low. “Awe inspiring weapon.” She tossed the Career the stone before turning back to the elevator.

“Fleeing already? Don’t you want to see how years of training look like? Or are you waiting for a once a lifetime show in the arena, too?” The smirk in her voice was audible, but Katniss stepped into the elevator without another word.

*

Clove. While the other tributes of 1, 2 and 4 constantly remained close in the training centre, in the cafeteria, doing everything together, she stood at the periphery. Her District partner the only one she engaged with in between bouts of throwing her knives. Never missing, dead centre.

Katniss wasn’t sure what would be faster her arrow, or a knife thrown by the girl. Once, twice, their eyes met. The girl from Two simply tilted her head, teeth bared, holding eye contact while burying another knife into her target.

Their chance meeting enough to put Katniss on her radar. While she skimmed most stations, she spent scrutinizing the other reaped. Then she noted the eyes on her, not just the Careers or Peeta, but from District Eleven, the little girl. But first she had to avoid Peeta again. His constant presence set her on edge.

She created distance, which he closed again and again. Only for him to make himself into prey in front of the Career pack. Involuntarily she stepped in, helped him up and forced him to show off his strength. Only calming when the Careers wandered off. When he turned to her, she quickly stalked off.

“Still alive and already dead weight, but then I haven’t seen you do anything worthwhile but stare.” Katniss glanced to the side only then noting in the light of day and so close in line with each other how small the other girl was.

“And showing off is practical?” She didn’t wait for a reply as it was her turn on the obstacle course.

*

The city never slept, lights almost a constant buzz in the background, swallowing all stars from sight. Katniss found herself drawn again to the roof, unsure why. The air wasn’t cleaner up here but further away from everything. It was less Capitol, almost. The only place which didn’t reek of the Games.

Heralded by a steady click, click, click. There in the same spot. Same figure. Clove again. This time not sitting, but standing near the railing, flipping the stone across her knuckles. It clicked against her thumbnail with a rhythm Katniss found annoyingly calming.

“No rock to my face this time?”

Clove didn’t look surprised or bothered. “So you can cry to the Gamemakers that I tried to kill you?”

“The stone to the face would support that.”

“I don’t try to kill, I do. But you know you can try dying, I hear it’s peaceful.”

“You first.” Katniss hissed, reminded this was a Career she was talking to. Clove was the type to count the hours before the Game started so she could start hunting down other tributes with her friends like sport.

Clove faced her, a single brow arched, almost looking confused for a moment, then her face returned to a neutral expression. Silence stretched only disrupted by the continued click, click, click of the stone.

“Are you smuggling this thing into the arena as a hidden weapon, or is it something to throw at people for now?” Katniss asked, nodding toward the stone. Definitely not what she should be doing. She should go down to the room she had been assigned and try to sleep. Not do this. But Clove constant fiddling with it, drew her attention, and it seemed to matter.

Clove turned it over in her hand. “It’ll be my token from home.”

A non answer. Undoubtedly still could find a variety of uses. Not like the pin Madge had given her.

Clove glanced down at it, thumb dragging across the dark, gleaming surface. “Looks like obsidian. Could be. We cut out volcanic stone near the mountains. Blades so sharp they’ll slice you before you feel it.”

Katniss narrowed her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Clove shrugged, gaze turning out to the skyline. “Just saying. We train to win. You lot volunteer to die.”

Katniss stiffened. “You think it’s a game?”

Clove tilted her head. “Isn’t it?”

The words hung there, an answer Katniss couldn’t stomach. She turned toward the edge of the roof, away from the other girl.

Behind her:

Click.

Click.

But, “It’s still mining, though.”

Clove’s gaze flicked to her — quick, flat. “Not like yours.”

Katniss shrugged. “Underground or not, it’s still constant physical labour. Still dust in your lungs.”

“That’s the thing.” Clove held the stone between two fingers, held it up to the light. “Your kind of rock burns. Makes fire. Turns into smoke and disappears.” She let the silence hang. “Ours is made to endure. It crushes.”

Katniss met her eyes. “Sounds like a different kind of death, not a different kind of life.”

*

“I wouldn’t get attached.” Her smile dropped, and she whirled around, all of sudden face to face with Clove, who took a step back at her move. “She’s not going to last long.” She offered far too nonchalant, and Katniss’ fingers curled into fists.

“What.”

“Amusing antics, but in the arena? What chance does she have? She and the boy from Seven probably be the first to go.”

“Woah, Katniss, stop.” Katniss had pulled back her arm to swing when Peeta suddenly interrupted, tugging her away against her will, while she snarled.

Glaring at Clove, heart raging against her ribs. Blood rushing in her ears, her eyes flickered up to where Rue was still dangling in the ropes hidden. The dagger still in her hands, though no longer playing with it smiling with childlike glee, now eyes wide in fear, having obviously overheard the Career-

Just as she elbowed Peeta in the gut, freeing herself, Haymitch stepped into sight. Nose crinkling in disgust -she should have smelt him coming- she huffed, rolled her eyes as he rolled his neck, gaze lazily darting from her to Peeta back to the other tribute.

“You really know how to make friends, sweetheart.” He offered blithely before pushing her toward the elevator.

*

The air was colder up here, sharper. Like a slap that hadn’t quite landed. Katniss braced her palms on the railing and tried to stop shaking. Not from fear. Not from exhaustion. From rage.

Rue. Rue, who was the same age as Prim. With the same slight frame, which spoke of a life of hardship, of going to bed hungry. The girl could hide in the trees but with someone like Clove able to throw knives with precision-

“Didn’t think you’d come back after that performance.”

Katniss turned so fast she startled even herself.

Clove was already there, leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, like she’d been waiting. All too casually. “I’d ask if you want more strategy advice, especially in choosing your allies,” Clove went on, “but I guess it be wasted.”

Katniss was across the roof before she’d decided to move, pinning Clove to the wall with her arm at her neck.

“Say it again,” she snarled. “Go on.”

Clove’s smile was thin. “Touchy.”

“You think yourself above all that?” Katniss stepped in close. “You think picking on a child makes you strong?”

“She’s a tribute,” Clove snapped back. “Same as me. Same as you. There’s only one winner and I certainly won’t hesitate. You want to die for her, be my guest. I thought you understood that volunteering.”

“You volunteered for glory.” Katniss spit. “It’s you who doesn’t understand. I volunteered for my sister. You were right. Our districts are fundamentally different. You have never known hunger or hard work. Not only that, but you don’t know desperation or sacrifice. You Careers are emotional empty husks, the favourite pigs for slaughter for the Capitol, fattened up and too stupid to realize.”

“Oh, please,” Clove rolled her eyes. “We work our due for Panem as a whole if you did instead of living off the work of others and tesserae, perhaps you wouldn’t be starving.”

Katniss buffered, then shoved Clove firmly into the wall. “That’s what they tell you? You have no idea how it feels to count your sister’s ribs and still try to smile so she doesn’t cry, the things you do to keep the both of you alive-”

Clove blinked, just once. Not enough to count as shock. But it was something.

Then. “All of this to die for her?”

A long beat.

Katniss exhaled through her teeth. “Everything for her.”

Clove didn’t answer that. Just looked away, jaw tight.

The silence pressed.

Then, a dry voice: “All of this and you still didn’t hit me.”

Katniss didn’t smile. “Provoke me again.”

Clove’s gaze flicked to her, sharp and measuring — and then she stepped back, tossing something small in the air. The stone again. That stupid obsidian-looking thing. She caught it without looking, then slipped it back into her pocket.

“Guess I hit a nerve.”

She walked off the rooftop before Katniss could throw her off it.

*

Katniss didn’t look when the door opened. She already knew who it was by the weight of the silence that followed.

Clove’s footsteps were nearly soundless, but not quite. The way she moved said she wanted to be noticed. Eventually.

Katniss stared out across the lights.

“So,” Clove drawled behind her. “An eleven.”

Katniss said nothing.

Clove moved closer, a loose circle forming around her like a predator not quite ready to pounce. “Not even the boy got that high. Just you. The Fire Girl from Twelve.”

Katniss’ jaw ticked.

“No knife throwing. No swordplay. No hand-to-hand. You didn’t show a single thing all week. And still.” A pause. “Eleven.”

Katniss turned just enough to catch her in the corner of her eye. Clove was smirking, head cocked. Her posture was casual, but her fingers twitched like she was itching to hold something sharp.

“So what did you do, Twelve?” Clove asked, with a lazy smirk. “Smile just right? Or maybe,” Clove said more quietly, stepping closer, “they saw something in you that even you didn’t mean to show.”

That did it. Katniss turned fully now, brows raised, mouth tight.

Clove smiled like she’d won something.

“That look,” she murmured, tapping the side of her own face. “There it is. That anger.” Clove’s smile froze at the edges. Just for a beat. Then it returned, sharper. “You ever think about what that score means?” she asked, almost softly. “It paints a target. You’re their new favorite. And when we’re all in there, you think we’re not going to test how real that eleven is?”

Silence.

Then Katniss smiled. Just a twitch. Not amused — a warning.

Clove’s brows lifted a fraction. She straightened. “Cute. Real cute.”

She started toward the door, but paused halfway. Glanced back. “You know, when I first saw you, I figured: weak. Out of your depth. Dead in the first few moments.”

Her eyes flicked down and back up, slowly, like assessing a weapon she wasn’t sure how to dismantle. “Now I’m not so sure.” She turned to leave when Katniss finally spoke up.

“You ever throw something besides a knife?” Katniss asked over her shoulder. “See how far it goes when you’re not trying to kill something?”

Clove was quiet for a moment. Then:

“Why waste the throw?”

*

The wind whipped louder up here than it had the night before. Katniss leaned on the railing, arms folded, chin tucked into her jacket. The city glowed like a trap — a spiderweb strung in lights, stretching far below.

Behind her, the door creaked. She didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Didn’t expect to find you up her, not after lover boy’s little confession,” Clove said. She walked toward the edge, shoulder brushing against Katniss’ for a second too long before she pulled back, exhaling. “So what’s the deal with the boy?” she asked. “Capitol’s eating it up. He confesses his love, you look like you’re considering jumping. Oh, or better yet, throwing that boy from the roof.”

Katniss’ mouth twitched. “You’ve been watching?”

“It’s hard not to. It’s shown everywhere. His sad little face together with your fire twirl, together with the whole ‘I promised her I’d win’.” Clove shook her head, rolling her eyes. “Masterful. The audience was sobbing.”

Katniss turned slowly. “It wasn’t an act.”

Clove studied her, one brow arching. “What part? Not that it matters. The whole Capitol is buzzing about the star-crossed lovers from Twelve.”

“I’m not here to play some Capitol fairytale. I’m not Glimmer.”

“Please,” Clove scoffed. “Glimmer’s not playing. She’s actually into Cato, and he couldn’t care less. When it’s time, he’s going to snap her neck without hesitation.”

Katniss’ lip curled. “Lovely.”

Clove tilted her head, studying her. “Same as any of us. If lover boy is alone in this, why all the metaphorically hand holding? You obviously told him to throw weighs after Marvel and Cato were eyeing him. So if you’re not working an angle, why the whole thing with him?”

She bit her tongue. That early morning so long ago in the rain, cold to the bones, him and the bread-

“He’s my District partner.”

“Something else you hide. You act like a nobody, yet you are the first volunteer out of the poorest district there is and somehow get a training score of eleven when you haven’t even used any of the combat stations.” Clove’s voice was sharp, accusing. “What else don’t I know about you, District Twelve?”

Katniss didn’t bite. Instead, she asked, “Do you always do this before you kill someone? Get to know them?”

“I’m just wondering how the girl from the coal mines got a score like that,” Clove said, shrugging. “You don’t look strong. You don’t look dangerous.”

“You are still going on about that? You didn’t either,” Katniss let her eyes trail her form, “until I saw you throw a knife at a dummy’s eye and smile like it was funny.”

That made Clove laugh — a low, breathy sound that didn’t reach her eyes.

Silence hung between them, pulsing with the noise of the Capitol far below. The sky above was navy, cloudless. The Games would start in less than twelve hours.

Clove crossed her arms, matching her stance. “You’re supposed to be different.”

“What, afraid? Grateful?” Katniss offered coolly. “For the attention? For being paraded around in like an object seen as less than human before getting killed on live television?”

Clove looked at her long enough for it to feel like something was being calculated, measured. “No. I thought you’d be easier to pin down. Your outer districts are either easy prey or inexperienced killers. Fickle little sparks.”

Katniss let that hang. Then, with a glance sideways, she asked. “What am I in your mind?”

Clove huffed something between a breath and a laugh. “You’re not coal. Dark, brittle and collapsing in on itself. Nothing worth digging for. Rather like the quarries back home, sturdy, unforgiving, dangerous the deeper you go. I thought you crumble to dust like coal.”

“You thought wrong.” Katniss’ tone was clipped. Her arms stayed crossed. Her eyes went back to the skyline, distant again. Conversation over.

“The door behind them buzzed. A Capitol chime signalling curfew. Clove stepped back.

“Well. Goodnight, Twelve.”

She turned to go, already halfway to the door, but then she paused — just one beat.

Then she turned back, crossed the distance in three quick strides, and kissed her.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t romantic. She came back with purpose, sharp. A sudden intrusion in her space. Like a knife thrown, a quick pressure of lips against hers, noses brushing together, a hand on her cheek.

Katniss didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. She only blinked. By the time she registered it, Clove had already pulled away — face unreadable, expression blank.

“For luck,” Clove said, voice light. “Or to screw with your head.”

Katniss’ heart beat unevenly, eyes narrowing. “Is that how you say goodbye in Two?”

Clove gave a crooked smile. “Only to the ones we want to kill ourselves.”

She stepped back into the elevator, the door hissing shut behind her.

Katniss stood there for a long moment, hand curled tight around the cold metal railing, chest tight.

Her skin felt like it had been marked.

She turned her face back to all the artificial colors, all the lights of the Capitol while she remained in the shadows for a few moments longer.

*

Warm blood sprayed on her face. The boy’s grip on the backpack loosened as he fell forward. Knife in his back. Only one could have made that throw. There. Not ten meters away, Clove already clutching half a dozen knives in one hand, readying the next while looking directly at her.

She had told her not even twelve hours previously she wanted to kill Katniss herself. Adrenaline shot through her, the girl never had missed a single throw in training. Whirling around, the woods were the only safe place. The Careers wouldn’t follow yet. Not with the bloodbath going on, not when not all supplies had been scavenged.

There — the whistle of a blade. In time, she hitched up the pack to protect her head, why would the other girl aim for anything else, sadistic Capitol hound-

The blade lodged into the backpack. She disappears into the woods. Alive with supplies and a weapon.

*

The coppery tang of her own blood on her tongue made her nauseous. Biting the insides of her cheek to stifle her whimpers and groans of pain must have shredded them to pieces. The dull throbbing pain of her burn at least offered some relief. No longer the sharp clawing-

Katniss let herself rest back on the tree. Listening to the Careers moving beneath her. To Peeta. Traitor. Glancing down, seeing them laid out sleeping, seeing the silver bow and arrows next to the girl from One, drove her insane. Those were hers. Yet the involuntary urge to move, to pull her knees towards her, to climb down and take them, was stifled when the movement sent agony through her whole system, and she turned away from the camera.

Not wanting them to see. Not wanting Prim to see. Her throat burned forcing down the tears she would not shed. She pressed her lips together, evening out her breathing. Though her hands-clenched so tightly, knuckles white, they trembled–betraying her to those who would look closely.

Only to flinch when a knife hardly the length of her hand buried itself next to her head in the tree. In itself, it wouldn’t have mattered much. Another threat to her life.

Though speared through its blade weighed it down was a bar, a military ration as she had seen it from the Peacekeepers. For when they were in service to supplement meals. The Peacekeepers in Twelve often hated them, called them processed mush and often barter with them at the black market for something with more flavor. Real meat.

Katniss took the knife, the second one she had now, and the bar, leaning forward in her tree to see in the dimness of the disappearing day.

Clove. Lazily laying on her back, hands folded behind her head until she noted her appearance and offered a smirk and a wave. Looking the same as on the hovercraft which had brought them to the arena.

Back then she had had an excited grin on her face bringing out the apples of her cheeks, her leg bouncing with energy, brushing against hers as they were strapped in next to each other. Resting against hers as they got injected with the trackers.

She appeared unchanged, the same as when she had tried to throw a knife at her head. Unmarred. Relaxed, dark hair still in the same braid. Untouched by the Games.

Katniss considered for a moment throwing the knife at her, but the girl from Two was expecting it and with her reflexes she would simply catch it. So not to be outdone, sick of all the mind-games, Katniss ripped open the bar with her teeth began exaggeratedly chewing it.

Finished, she let the wrapper fall from the tree, then demonstratively showed Clove the first knife she still had, which she had tried to kill her with and now the second one then disappeared from view. Hoping for a bit of sleep and an idea to get out of this. Or at least when she had to die take the Careers out with her.

*

It wouldn’t take much now for the branch with the tracker jackers to come down. On the Careers. On Peeta. And on Clove. The latter she considered a moment longer. The food, the knives. Looking down at her sleeping form.

In a split decision, she did something foolish. Her throwing wasn’t bad, but not that accurate. At least in longer distances. Yet they were only separated by a tree, after all. With a flick of her wrist, the knife landed. Dark eyes shot open, almost immediately meeting hers and Katniss offered a wave, noted realization set in. Then she finished cutting the branch. Ignoring the sting of a few tracker jackers, the branch gave out. Nest falling to the ground.

Right on top of most of the Careers.

*

The snap of a twig had her reaching for her bow, even with Rue’s head still in her lap. The sound was nearly drowned by the ringing in her left ear, a persistent hollow buzz, but she was already too late.

“Thought it was you,” Clove said, appearing from behind a tree. She nudged the boy from District 1 with her boot, inspecting the arrow now jutting from his throat. “Nice shot.”

Katniss barely glanced at the corpse. Her focus was on Rue, smoothing down the girl’s dark, springy curls, tucking one behind her ear. She looked small again. Smaller than ever.

“Sing.” Katniss glanced back down at Rue, the other tribute forgotten. Smoothing down Rue’s dark, thick locks, she nodded.

Attempted to clear her throat.

“Oh.” It was a nearly silent gasp before Clove appeared in her periphery. Katniss shot her a look, hoping perhaps for a different verdict, some kind of wonder. Clove shifted on her feet. “You destroyed the supplies at the Cornucopia. That was smart. Your District should be proud. You honored them with that.”

Katniss eyes flickering with suspicion. But Clove’s expression didn’t match her usual smirk or sneer. Her tone wasn’t mocking — it was strange. Thoughtful. Maybe even sincere. But Katniss didn’t trust it. Couldn’t.

Rue blinked, eyes glassy, so Katniss gave a cough, to loosen the rasp of her voice. She swallowed past the knot in her throat. Her voice came out low and raspy. “Deep in the meadow, under the willow. A bed of grass, a soft green pillow…”

Clove stood a few steps behind her, arms crossed, eyes on Rue now. She didn’t interrupt. Just listened, jaw tight, as the melody hung low in the air.

Katniss felt the hand on her shoulder even through the numbness spreading inside her.

“We should clear out soon,” Clove said quietly. “They’ll want to collect the body.”

Katniss mechanically stood, ordering her limbs to cooperate. Watched Clove strip the boy from District 1 of his supplies, taking the backpack only to push it into her arms.

Though her eyes kept going back to Rue. Her blood clinging to her hands. If she had been faster. Past conversations buzzing through her mind. Gale raging at the unfairness of it all in the meadow uselessly, Peeta wishing to remain himself, to not let the Games change him. But all she could see is Rue, who should be sleeping peacefully, instead of being tangled up in netting, bleeding on the ground-

Her eyes flicker to the wildflowers surrounding the area, listening to the symphony of Mockingjays having picked up her song.

“Start picking flowers.” She doesn’t wait for Clove to answer or see if she does.

Beginning to pluck flowers, weave them into Rue’s hair, conceal her wound, surround her with them, noting the other girl following her lead. She couldn’t save her. She would avenge her, and she would not let the Capitol just forget her. The last flower rested just above Rue’s temple.

Katniss lingered there, fingers trembling against a curl of hair. She barely heard the distant Mockingjays echoing her tune — Rue’s signal that all was well — now distorted into a haunting lie.

She rose slowly, pressing three fingers to her lips, then held them out in silence to Rue.

Clove watched but said nothing, her expression unreadable. They stood together like that for a moment, neither looking at the other, the grave between them then cleared out. Katniss’ whole body coiled tightly together to keep from running back when she saw the hovercraft appear, collecting her little ally, her friend.

“She made it longer than I thought,” Clove said at last.

The words sank in like a stone in water. “What?” Katniss turned, voice ice.

Clove glanced at her. “I didn’t mean — Look, I meant it. She was brave. Braver than—” She cut herself off, jaw tightening. “I’m sure her District’s proud of her.”

It was a poor attempt at something — sympathy? Closure? — but all Katniss heard was dismissal. Rue’s name spoken in past tense. A footnote already.

Sparking her fury. “You think her family will care about her bravery?” she spat. “You should be happy, one less tribute between you and winning.”

“Yes, no!” Clove snapped, brows drawn. “That’s not— I mean-”

Katniss lunged without thinking. They crashed into the undergrowth, a mess of limbs, and snarled breath. Clove hit the ground with a grunt, but she didn’t strike back — not yet. Katniss straddled her, fist tightening on the collar of her shirt.

“She was twelve,” Katniss hissed the both of them nose to nose. “She trusted me.”

“I know that!” Clove attempted to shove her off, to flip them, but Katniss pinned her hands over her head with her own, using her height as leverage. Not reacting when Clove bucked upwards. “You think I wanted her dead?”

“You would have killed her just the same!”

“I-, I hope not. She shouldn’t have been here with us. It’s not fair.”

They froze. Clove stared up at her wide-eyed, before closing her mouth, tilting her chin up, expression shifting back to blank and Katniss softened her grip.

Both breathing hard. Dirt and sweat on their faces. The weight of Rue’s death hanging heavy.

Katniss’ left ear was still buzzing, a hole of sound. But she heard it: another branch snapping. Closer this time.

Then—

“Clove!”

Cato. He burst into the clearing with the two District 4 tributes at his heels, sword already drawn.

Katniss rolled off Clove to her feet, heart seizing. Eyes flickering between the Careers and the ground, trying to make out where her bow had fallen as Clove came to stand. Not moving to the others.

Cato stopped short. His eyes snapped to Clove. To Katniss. Then back to Clove.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” Clove offered, form tense hands on the daggers strapped to her waist.

Cato stared at her like he didn’t understand the words. “You called dibs on her, then finally be done with it, kill her so we can go search for the others.”

Clove didn’t blink. The District 4 boy took a step forward. “We heard the cannon—followed the river from the last fire yesterday.”

“I’m getting tired of this!” Cato interrupted, marching forward towards her, passing Clove without a glance, sword swinging upward, headed for her head-

Perhaps she should move.

Steel met steel with a screech. Clove catching the sword swing in a cross of her knives, pushing Cato back. “Have you gone mad, Clove? What are you doing?” Cato’s brows knitted together in genuine confusion.

But while he was waiting on Clove, District 4 was not. Predators circling prey. The girl from Four moved, blade raised as she charged, causing Clove to sidestep away. Her knife flashing as she left a cut on the girl’s front, falling on her knee to avoid getting brained by the axe of the boy from 4. Scrambling to the side, she slashed at his leg only to be caught by Cato.

Cato wrenched Clove’s arm back, causing her to cry out as she dropped one of her knives, with the other she cut him diagonally over the chest, enough for him to release her.

“Twelve!” Clove shouted and Katniss jump-started. Right. Her bow. In between a heartbeat and the next, the cannon went off. Clove sidestepping the crumbling tribute to hold off the other, one armed.

Cato, too close to comfort, swiftly cried out as she shot him in the shoulder just as he was swinging for Clove again, his flinch enough to save himself the other arrow only grazing his cheek. Wordlessly, he stumbled back into the woods, leaving the boy from District Four, who choked on his own blood, after Clove slit his throat with one graceful cut.

Clove dropped to one knee, gasping, sweat streaking through the blood on her brow.

Katniss stood motionless, arrow notched. An easy shot.

Neither said anything.

Then Katniss walked up to her, strapped the bow to her back and, after a long moment, offered her hand.

Clove stared at it.

Then took it.

*

Clove flinched under her sudden touch, her proximity, and Katniss noted the way she froze, held her breath before forcing herself to relax.

“What are you doing?”

Katniss didn’t answer right away, just pulled back Clove’s jacket from her right shoulder for better visibility. The tightening of her jaw, the hiss of her breath. The skin was red and swollen, and when she pressed gently along the joint, Clove sucked in a breath through her teeth and grabbed Katniss’ wrist, nails biting into her skin.

“The joint’s almost out,” Katniss muttered. “Keep your arm at your side. Tongue away from your teeth.”

“What are you—” Clove started to pull back, but Katniss tightened her grip.

“Don’t move. It just needs to shift back a little—so it doesn’t come loose completely.”

There was a jolt, a soft sound from Clove somewhere between a grunt and a growl, and then a faint give beneath Katniss’ fingers.

“There. It wasn’t a full dislocation.” Katniss let go slowly. “But you need to keep it still. We’ll make camp. You need a sling.”

“I thought you fixed it,” Clove said sharply, though her voice was tight with pain. She pushed away with her good arm, attempted to move the injured one—and froze, grimacing.

““I said rest it, not test it.,” Katniss warned. “You’ll just do more damage. With no medicine or a way to cool it, it’ll swell up by nightfall. We’d need something anti-inflammatory like willow bark, but I doubt there is any here.” Clove grumbled as she followed, the arm cradled awkwardly at her side. “Now you’re decisive. Where was this attitude before I had to fight off three tributes while you watched?”

“You seemed to have it handled. Don’t tell me you wanted help?”

“Fuck off.”

They settled beneath a mossy overhang, backs to the rock, obscured from view. The forest had quieted — even the Mockingjays seemed to sense the stillness. They ate in silence, chewing dried meat and swallowing gulps of canteen water.

Then a soft chime echoed through the trees.

Katniss jolted upright, instantly scanning the sky. A silver parachute drifted down between the branches, catching the last pink haze of dusk. She rose without thinking, tracking its slow descent until it landed just beyond the tree line. When she returned with it, she was still blinking in confusion.

“What is that?” Clove asked, wary.

Katniss knelt and showed her the inside of the the metal tin. Cushioned in linen paper, was a small loaf, dense, golden, faintly sweet-smelling.

“Cornbread."

Clove blinked. “Bread?”

“From District Eleven,” Katniss said, voice low. “It’s their bread.”

She looked down at it, unsure whether to laugh or cry. She had never expected this, not after Rue. Not with Clove sitting beside her.

Clove sat rigidly, like the tin might explode. “That’s for you,” she said, almost defensively. “I wasn’t—she wasn’t—I didn’t know her.”

Katniss paused, then carefully tore the loaf in half. She held one half out to her.

“They saw us together and still chose to send it. You helped me lay the flowers. That was enough.”

Clove looked at the bread like it was foreign currency. “We don’t… we don’t have this in Two,” she said finally. “We have wheat, oat. Crackers. Honey crackers.”

“This is cornmeal. Eleven grows it.”

Clove bit a corner slowly, cautiously — and swallowed. “It’s sweet.”

Katniss simply nodded. Searching, she caught sight of a camera and audible through the lump in her throat offered. “My thanks to the people of District Eleven.”

It wasn’t enough. This bread had been for Rue. Not a single sponsor gift had made it to her. While Twelve was the poorest District, Eleven didn’t have much more. Not from what Rue told her. Starving despite growing all that food in reach. So they must have saved everything to send a single gift, to send their little songbird something from home. Rue had been hungry despite what she had gathered when they had allied-

“If you told me earlier how well you shoot, we could’ve allied sooner.” Clove licked her lips clean.

“I don’t know,” Katniss replied. “You don’t seem that impressive.” And she would never have joined the Career pack. “And now with only one arm—”

“—I got injured defending you—”

Katniss smirked faintly. “Hm.”

“What.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re thinking something.”

“Princess, I know who you’ve been spending time with, but other people have something called thoughts, constantly.” She lifted a brow, amused by how startled Clove looked, then added. “C’mon, we should settle in a tree before we can’t see anything anymore.”

*

Not the sound of the cannon disrupted their hunting, nor Clove, luckily sure-footed and silent behind her as they hunted near the stream. No, Claudius Templesmith’s voice echoed down from overhead, congratulating the eight of us who remain. But he is not inviting us to a feast. He’s saying something very confusing. There’s been a rule change in the Games. A rule change! That in itself is mind-bending since we don’t really have any rules to speak of except don’t step off your circle for sixty seconds and the unspoken rule about not eating one another.

Under the new rule, two allied tributes will be declared winners if they are the last two alive. Claudius paused, as if he knows we’re not getting it, and repeated the change again.

Silence stretched between them like a taut wire. Katniss stared into the darkening trees, her jaw clenched.

Clove broke it first. “So, you off to find Lover Boy now?”

Katniss blinked. “Who?”

Clove gave her an incredulous look, one brow arching high. “Peeta. Unless you’ve got another one stashed somewhere.”

Katniss scoffed, but there was no humor in it. “Why would I?”

Clove tilted her head, gaze narrowing. “He is your District partner. Star-crossed lovers and all that.”

Katniss averted her eyes. “He betrayed me. Helped hunt me.” Lied. Spouting pretty empty words.

A beat. Then Clove offered as if thinking out loud, “Cato said he turned on him. Betrayed us. After the tracker jackers. He didn’t say more, but his picture hasn’t been in the sky.”

Katniss didn’t answer.

Clove shrugged one shoulder, the uninjured one. “Whatever. You could go. Take your chance while he’s still breathing.”

Katniss’ gaze snapped back to her. “Oh, right? And what about you? Cato’s your District partner. Are you running back to him?”

Clove’s expression tightened for half a second, then she rolled her eyes. “Cato’s injured. Sloppy. Slower. He’s not the sure bet he used to be.”

Katniss folded her arms. “So you’re hedging.”

“I’m being smart,” Clove replied, almost smiling. “It be easier to take him down together and then you than the other way around. If you prove useful, I probably even give you a fair chance.” She winked, waved a small knife like a farewell handkerchief to a departing lover.

“I could just put an arrow in your back while you’re walking away,” Katniss said quietly. “Wait out the others.”

Clove turned around, holding her arm close to her side as Katniss had instructed her to. Despite everything—the sling, the blood—she moved with a kind of savage elegance, like she hadn’t heard a word of the threat. She didn’t look back, like she wasn’t afraid of anything Katniss might do.

“I’m waiting,” she said, vanishing into the trees like she already knew Katniss would follow.

There was no handshaking. No talk about an alliance. Just Clove’s cocksure arrogance and Katniss' foolish procrastination of shooting her.

*

“Are you done staring at it? We should get settled before it’s too dark to see.”

Clove grumbled, doing a running start to jump to the first branch only to lose momentum with the use of only one arm, scrambling with her legs for purchase-

Katniss ran up after her, surprised at the squeak it earned her when she boosted her bottom. Pushing Clove upwards as long as they had momentum, then grasped her by the scruff of her shirt to pull her along. Attempting to keep them both from falling as Clove somewhat tried to support their endeavor while the entire tree shook dangerously. Finally, they somehow reached the fork she had chosen for them to sleep in.

Katniss fell back against the trunk of the tree. Closing her eyes for a moment. Reopening them to see Clove, frozen. Nails digging into the bark, thighs squeezing the branch tightly. Face pulled into a grimace competing with Buttercup for the ugliest face she knew.

She laughed when Clove just as that damn cat hissed and handled her just the same. With a husky chuckle on her lips, she manhandled her without remorse until they were settled. Tied to the tree tarp and sleeping back around them.

“Are you using me as a shield? Why am I on the outside?” Katniss stared at her until she realized in was a genuine question.

“If we switched sides, your arm would be squished between the tree and yourself. Also, you’re smaller than me, meaning my height and weight might anchor us better to the tree and keep us balanced on the branches than yours would, and I have both hands to react if something happened.”

Clove huffed, burying further into her side, her legs resting on top of Katniss’ who in the end had to lift her arm and curl it around Clove to keep them somewhat comfortably situated in the tree. “Probably only want to cope a feel while using me as a human shield.”

Katniss rolled her eyes, resting her head back on the tree. It wasn’t so different from sharing a tree with Rue or being next to Prim. Just keeping each other alive. She tensed when fingers danced over her leg, jerking violently enough for their branch to shake and Clove to hiss. “What are you doing?”

“What are you doing, trying to kill us?” Clove pressed against her more tightly, squinting down the tree before her hand disappeared between them again, digging around until-

“You still have it.” Katniss groaned especially when the familiar click, click, click sound disrupted the silence. “I swear, if we end up dead just because you are restless-“

“We are on a fucking tree. If you don’t manage to shoot someone before I throw my knife, they deserve the kill.”

“I could throw you off this tree.”

“After everything we’ve been through, harsh Twelve.”

Katniss concentrated on the repetitiveness of the noise, feeling the other girl’s warmth and breathing next to her, it was far too easy to fall asleep to-

“Do you throw your sister also just up trees, or is that a special privilege?”

“Prim doesn’t need me to help her up a tree. She’s been climbing trees with me since she could walk.”

“I thought Seven was the one with the trees.”

“They produce the lumber for the Capitol, they don't have a monopoly on trees or climbing them. District 12 isn’t just mines.”

“Our trees are certainly nothing to climb. Mountains and quarries. Perhaps in the smaller villages, away from the mountain range.”

“Better that way, I say.” Katniss snapped for breath as she got an elbow to her gut.

“So tree climbing, hunting, setting snares, some healing knowledge doesn’t seem you needed to volunteer for your sister.”

“Prim doesn’t hunt. She shot a rabbit, regretted it immediately, and tried to heal it. She wouldn’t stop crying. Furthermore, she doesn’t even like setting traps. She's better with identifying and collecting plants so I don't need her to come hunt with me.“

Clove faced her, eyes trailing over her face, searching for something. “Just like that, despite the scarcity of food? She really has you wrapped around her finger.”

“Don’t tell her that.” The other girl had been listening. Katniss considered. “She has a cat named Buttercup. Brought him home when he was a scrawny kitten, vermin ridden and sick. I thought it would be a mercy to drown him, especially because he would just be another mouth to feed after my father’s death. Prim begged to keep him, cried,”

“Let me guess, he sleeps in your bed?”

“Because Prim sleeps there. He hates me. Don’t think he ever forgot that I wanted to get rid of him. But he is a good mouser. You kinda remind me of him.”

“Because he’s a graceful killer?”

“He’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen. Half an ear missing, mushed-in nose, pelt a muddled yellow. With your hissing and the expression just now-”

Suddenly, there was a knife at her throat, skirting up to her ear. Her remaining functioning one. “I swear another word and you, and he’ll be matching.”

“Only missing the hiss.”

*

It was almost a mindless task. Stalking game. A rabbit. A squirrel. A wild turkey, groosling Rue had called them. Retrieving her arrows, she wiped the blood off them on the sleeve of her jacket before trailing back to the river where they had agreed to meet. Not far off. Katniss had kept close.

The sight of Clove sitting on her haunches, cleaning her hands and face with their filled water canteens next to her expected. A relief.

Not the boy sneaking up to her from behind. Clove hadn’t been caught completely unaware. Jumping up and back into the boy, causing him to stumble, giving her time to turn and reach for a knife. It was obvious how off center she was with her shoulder injury, not pressing her advantage against the taller boy. Hesitating.

Enough for a girl to appear out of the underbrush, something club like in hand and-

“Katniss!” Clove backed off, hoping for distance. Her voice barely had rung out before the boy fell down in front of her. Cannon going off.

Katniss stepped out of the tree line, arrow notched, the girl in her sight, District 8 it had to be them. Who had frozen, looking at her District partner. Her arm shook the longer she didn’t release the arrow.

“I can do it.” Clove offered, her face impassive as she came to stand next to Katniss, their shoulders brushing. Loud enough for the other tribute to snap out of her stupor.

Recklessly throwing the club at them. She didn’t even have to look. The heavy thud of a body hitting the ground enough for her to know her arrow had hit. The cannon again.

Katniss looked at the trees. The green, the smell of the woods, earthy almost the same as back home. Just her and the bow. Game strapped to her waist. She would come home and Prim would be there telling her about her day, about school. She would be able to feed them all today and no hunger pangs would keep Prim awake, no her breathing a steady lull next to her as the day slipped away-

“Here.” Katniss inhaled sharply, her thundering heart almost forced to calm under the almost black eyes on her. Steady as the hand, holding out her arrows. “We should leave.” Clove was attempting to shrug on her backpack, grimacing as it aggregated her shoulder.

She stepped in, carefully tucking the strap over the makeshift sling, then took the other backpack. “Food shouldn’t be a worry for now.”

Clove gave her a once-over gaze boring into her Katniss wasn’t sure what she was searching. Checking her for injuries? Vulnerable spots?

“Well, we got my hidden supplies. So now we just need to remain close to a water source and close enough to the Cornucopia so the Gamemakers won’t send anything after us to round us up.”

While the worst was over with her burn, it still smarted, the skin new and somewhat when she moved almost too tight, stinging slightly. She didn’t want to know what other sick inventions of the Gamemakers were waiting to be released.

So Katniss just nodded, alright for now to follow Clove’s lead. But she noted the slight grimace whenever she turned, the sweat on her brow. Her gait unsteady. Her shoulder needed attention. Medicine beyond what Katniss could do with their limited supplies.

*

The announcement broke their stalemate.

“Attention, tributes, attention! Commencing at sunrise, there will be a feast tomorrow at the Cornucopia. This will be no ordinary occasion. Each of you needs something—desperately—and we plan to be … generous hosts.”

Medicine. Probably why neither of them had received a sponsor gift to aid Clove’s injury yet. Or at least Clove, with her status as a Career, should have.

“We are not going,”

“We should head there early.”

The words crashed into the clearing, sharp and overlapping. For a second, both girls blinked at each other, surprised.

“That’s a second bloodbath,” Clove said tightly. “With only six of us left, probably the last one. The final draw-in—maybe even already the finale. It’s an obvious trap.”

“Obvious trap or not, they know we need something desperately.”

“There is nothing we need enough to risk it.” Clove’s voice cracked with more emotion than Katniss had ever heard from her. Her dark eyes sparked like flint. One hand sliced through the air in a gesture too wide to be stable. Even the hand in her sling trembled with the effort, and for all her defiance, her entire body betrayed her.

Strands of her braid had come loose, sticking to her damp temples. Her chest heaved with short, uneven breaths. A flush had crept up her neck, blooming in patches across her cheeks. Despite the chill in the air, sweat gleamed on her brow. Not even the clench of her jaw could stop the minute tremors, and yet when Katniss’ disbelief didn’t go unnoticed, she tilted her chin up like defiance alone would bend reality to her will.

With time and rest, perhaps her body could deal with the injury alone, both things they did not have. With a huff Katniss shoved her, listened to the dull thud as she hit the ground, to the following cursing and turned around toward the Cornucopia. She only took a step before her legs were swept out from beneath her. Catching herself on her hands before something, someone-

A braid smacked her in the eye. Clove.

The other girl had tackled her, grappling her with more fury than strength.

“You are not going—”

“Get off—”

Katniss twisted, shoving her shoulder into Clove’s side, rolling them over. A stifled gasp left the other tribute—her injury, no doubt—and then Katniss was on top, straddling her and pinning her to the ground. Grasped both her wrists in one hand to pin them above her.

Uncaring of Clove’s bucking legs, the flailing arms that quickly lost steam. Her fight drained too fast. If Clove hadn’t been injured, the fight would have been more far more equal. Not with a life of training.

“Are you done?” Katniss demanded. The back of her hand had brushed the hollow of Clove’s throat as she released her hands. The skin was hot, not just warm with exertion but feverish, slick with sweat.

Her brows furrowed.

Without thinking, she pushed back the sleeve of her jacket and laid the inside of her wrist against Clove’s forehead—a motion she’d done countless times for Prim. The contrast was stark. Clove was burning up.

A hand fisted in the front of her shirt. Katniss looked down and met Clove’s eyes.

They locked. Muscles flexed beneath Katniss’ knees, her heartbeat roaring in her ears. She tracked the slow bob of Clove’s throat as she swallowed, her braid tangled around her neck, pale skin flushed beneath it.

Then—

Fingers found purchase on the collar of her shirt. A sudden pull. Quick. Controlled.

Katniss was yanked down. Fingers brushed her jaw.

Their lips met.

It wasn’t like the rooftop kiss—mocking, taunting. It wasn’t like anything Katniss expected. Just a slow, lingering brush of mouths. Soft. Too warm. Too uncertain.

Her breath hitched against Clove’s feverish skin. Their lips clung together for one breath, two. The moment stretched between them—silent, breathless. Heat bleeding from Clove into her skin, her breath ghosting over her skin as they stayed close. Frozen, wide eyed.

This wasn’t the grinning killer from the training center. Not the bloodthirsty Career landing hit after hit with her knives on the target with no pause.

Not even the girl from the rooftop, with her arrogant edge and sharp, unsaid questions. There was something aching in Clove’s gaze. Making her look impossibly young.

And Katniss bolted. She pushed herself off, stumbling back, breath caught in her throat.

“You are not going,” Clove said flatly. Her voice had hardened again, but she didn’t move from the ground.

Katniss didn’t look at her.

“You should find a safe place. Maybe a tree. We’ll meet after.”

“You’re not leaving me behind,” Clove snapped, rising slowly to her feet. Her eyes locked onto Katniss’. “We’re allies.”

“You’re injured.” The words came softer than she expected. Clove’s expression flickered, and for a second, Katniss softened—then she shook it off. “You’re a liability. Wait for me.”

Clove took a step back. Her voice cooled. “If only your say goes, we’re not allies at all.”

Before Katniss could respond, a flash of silver caught her eye. A parachute drifted down, unhurried, swaying in the breeze. She caught it in her palm.

Twelve. Her sponsor. She opened the tin, confusion fluttering through her. Not medicine. Something to eat. Bricks of thin pastry smelling herbal, but also sweet.

“Honey Crackers?” Clove stared in confusion at the District 2 treat and Katniss remembered their recent conversation.

Clove had mentioned them once, offhandedly, after they had gotten the bread from eleven. Something she missed from home.

Katniss stared at the tin, confused at first. Without thinking, she held it out.

Clove blinked, then gave a small scoff that sounded more like a laugh. She sniffed one, tore it in half, and held the other piece out. “You have to try it.”

Katniss took it without thinking, her fingers brushing Clove’s.

Utterly confused. They had enough to eat for now. With the feast, sending medicine was out of the question. The Twelve on the tin was glaring at her. Haymitch. Her third sponsor gift.

Her first sponsor gift. The burn salve had come when she needed it to survive. He hadn’t sent water because she was close enough to find it herself. The second gift had been bread from District 11 after Rue. And now this. Not medicine. No supplies. A District 2 treat. A treat Clove had mentioned once on camera.

Was he siding with Clove, warning her not go to the feast? No, then he would have given her anything to help Clove with, to deal with her fever even if it wasn’t medicine. Clove would only grow worse. The feast was the only chance.

But it had to do with Clove and this moment. After all, he could have sent something earlier. They had allied themselves days ago.

A nudge. A message. Not a signal to run. A signal to stay. With Clove.

Katniss bit into the cracker. The sweetness mixed with some spices bloomed on her tongue.

“It’s good.”

“Told you.” Clove grinned mid-chew, cheeks puffed out like a squirrel, and Katniss couldn’t stop the grin that twitched at her lips in return. Clove caught it. Misread it. “We are still not going.”

*

“I can’t believe you happily lead us to slaughter.”

“Be quiet.” They had clear sight of the Cornucopia. On the laid out table. On the four bags with their District numbers embolized. “We are probably all waiting for someone to make the first move.”

“We could just wait it out.”

“And let Cato or someone take all the bags?”

“Which bag do we even need?”

Katniss considered it. Trusted Haymitch. “Twelve. Although Cato was also injured. For all we know, we are all in need of medicine.”

“Or in Two is the medicine and Twelve is whatever Lover boy needs after all you don’t need anything desperately.”

They needed the medicine. Katniss shook her thoughts. Twelve would have medicine. “Stay here.”

“What no-” A hand grasped her wrist-

Katniss shushed Clove, flattening her deeper into the undergrowth. “Don’t move. I’m running straight through, then sneak back here, alright?” She got onto her knees just as someone else broke through the trees. Red hair. Female. Foxface.

She hadn’t seen the other tribute since the day she had danced through the mines, stealing from the Careers’ food stash, and disappeared once more.

And now she was doing exactly as Katniss wanted. Disappearing with her bag into the woods as quickly as she came. Before she lost the chance, Katniss burst into the clearing. Going for speed, she hadn’t taken her bow off her back, hadn’t notched an arrow, running for her life, no Clove’s, clutching the bag with the Twelve tightly. Taking the corner on the Cornucopia, she dropped to her knees.

Sword swinging over her head, but a hand grasped her bow, throwing her off her feet. “Leaving already?”

Katniss scrambled backwards, but Cato stopped her. Almost lazily standing over her, sword pointed at her throat. He nudged up her chin with the tip of the blade as he leaned over her.

“I see Clove is not with you. Or your little shadow. Pathetic thing.“ He dared look disgusted and Katniss snarled, despite the blade on her throat spitting into his face. “For this, I’ll kill you extra slowly. Hope your sister is watching!” Cato sneered, then in a swift movement let the blade bite into her skin on the left side of her face.

Blood spilling immediately. Clouding her vision. While it burned, it was nothing but superficial. Cato was playing with her. “I don’t know how District trash like you got an eleven. It‘s laughable. Just like lover boy. He thought he could take me down, trick me, and I killed him. I thought you would protect him. Just as you tried to protect the girl from Eleven. She was so easy to kill. Defenceless. Like you.”

Katniss clutched the bag with the medicine tighter. perhaps she could throw it into the thicket of the woods, hope Cato would forget it and Clove find it, before he struck, the pressure of the sword against her throat deepened, she hoped Prim would forgive her-

“What did you say?” Cato was thrown off her. He was flailing, trying to stay upright, keeping himself from hitting the ground, but not without showing that he still was dealing with his injury.

Thresh. Gleaming in the sunlight. Powerful. Looking unmoved, unchanged since the Games had started. Cato hesitated while Thresh glared at him.

“He killed her?” Katniss nodded numbly. The boy from One did. But did it matter? Careers both. Cato would have. Had just gloated about it. “You were with her?” Another nod. He raised his sickle, pointed it at her and if somebody had to do it, if somebody had to be the victor, Thresh was a good choice.

“Just this one time. I let you go. For the little girl. You and me, we’re even then. No more owed. You understand?“ Katniss stared in disbelief. “Go!”

“No!” Cato attempted to reach her, the clash of steel-

She broke into the tree line, branches tearing at her, stumbling over bushes and roots. Her feet slower than her need to get as far as possible.

Only the coppery taste of her own blood brought clarity to her animal panic.

Clove.

Attempting to get her bearings, she tried to work out the direction she needed to circle back in. Knees shaking, her own panting so loud in the surrounding silence, she covered her mouth in fear of being discovered.

“Katniss!” She ran. Toward the shouting of her name. Uncaring if it was a trap. Not Cato again. Not-

Clove pinned to a tree, hand on her throat easily lifted her in the air as she was knocked back into the tree. Katniss jolted forward. Ramming with her shoulder into Thresh. Like running into a wall. The cannon went off.

No. “Clove!” She scrambled toward the fallen tribute. Relieved when coughing became audible, Clove sitting up-

“Katniss!”

She turned, arrow notched, and Thresh stopped in his tracks. “Don’t come closer!” He took another step and Katniss released the arrow.

A fine line, which started to sluggishly bleed, was left on his cheek. “For her?” The grip on his weapon tightened and while Katniss made herself bigger to cover Clove, who had gotten up behind her.

“Leave for Rue. Don’t make me do this.” They stared at each other, not moving a muscle. Thresh’s eyes were no longer on her.

Clove. Holding a knife by its blade, waiting for a single twitch. Katniss swallowed. Thresh’s intervention saved her life. Easing her bow down, she clasped Clove’s wrist, shaking her head at her disbelieving look.

It was enough. Silently, as if never there, Thresh disappeared into the woods. Katniss spared their surroundings a quick glance, sheathing her bow before turning to Clove. Wrapping her into her arms tightly. Heart hammering in her throat.

“Are you alright?” She cupped both her cheeks, checking her over.

The fever hadn’t gone down, her hands sticky, blood. Biting her lip, she touched the back of Clove’s head, finding the reason for the blood on her hands. “I told you to stay hidden.”

Clove covered the hand on her cheek, leaning into the touch. Swaying on her feet. “You were taking too long. I heard fighting.” She closed her eyes then suddenly pushed away, falling to her knees, heaving.

Throwing up. Katniss kneeled down beside her. Holding her until she was done. Concerned when Clove could barely stand. “Do you have any other wounds?”

“No, just shoved me into the tree. Choked me. Would have snapped my neck like a twig.”

Head wound. The blood. Before Clove hit the ground she slipped under her arm, supporting her weight. Even if it was awkward with their height difference.

Though with the undergrowth, the roots it got harder for them to walk, Clove more stumbling than taking steps, almost limp. With the feast and the other tributes so close Katniss wanted, no they needed to create as much distance as soon as possible. Hide until she had patched up Clove.

“Hold this.” Katniss gave Clove the bag they had risked their lives for then with one arm already around Clove’s shoulder she put the other underneath her knees lifting her off the ground.

While Clove was smaller than her she didn’t appear lighter, a life of eating normally and training forming her body into compact, lean muscle. Although luckily still appropriately to her height. Still, she wouldn’t be able to carry her for long, not even considering how defenseless it left them.

Clove curled into her with a drowsy hum, resting her forehead in the line of her jaw, her hair tickling her skin. When she didn’t protest being picked up or carried around Katniss’ concern only spiked.

Her proximity was overwhelming. The earthly scent of the forest, blood and her own scent clinging to her, the feverish heat she was giving off. The rabbit like beat of her heart reverberating where their bodies touched.

The only person she had ever held so close was Prim. From when her eyes were hazy blue to the sky blue had settled on. From crawling to walking. The weight of her in her arms familiar, a comfort. Even if it hurt how light Prim was in her arms, how it was possible for her to almost wrap herself around her more than once. Holding her to her chest, wishing she could keep her there forever, safe.

Prim out in the world, especially now with her so far away-

Katniss shook her head. Steeled herself. Grounded herself with the girl in her arms. Prim was watching. They had the medicine. They just needed to hunker down somewhere.

*

“Not really an upgrade from sleeping in a tree. Give me your jacket?” Katniss turned on her heels to look at Clove, holding the back of her head, sitting up in the open sleeping bag. A bit more awake after her nap against her shoulder.

“Stop touching it.” Katniss batted her hand away from the wound before stealing herself a glance, though with the darkness of Clove’s hair and her braid it wasn't of any use.

Therefore, she carefully began untangling Clove’s braid to see the wound, especially to determine its depth and whether it had clotted. Head injuries normally liked to bleed heavily, even the superficial ones. Shrugging off her jacket, she blinked in disbelief as Clove rolled it up, only to use it as a pillow, snuggling into the sleeping back with a sigh.

“The ground too hard for you princess?”

Clove squinted up at her. “Didn’t you want to check our bags?” She closed her eyes, snarling when Katniss nudged her with her foot.

“No sleeping.”

“What? I did first watch last night, piss off.”

“Charming.” Clove didn’t answer, eyes shut tightly and Katniss nudged her again, not surprised when in answer she got a snarled what. “You can’t sleep with a head injury. Not if you don’t want to never wake up again.”

“Are you kidding?” Clove sat back up, far too quickly because even sitting she swayed, her face suddenly ashen.

Katniss scrambled forward on her knees to steady her, feeling Clove’s shaky breath fanning over her cheek. “Resting but no sleeping.” She gently pushed her back down into the sleeping bag then handed Clove one of their water canteens.

Frowning as she observed Clove shivering. “Do you have any pain?”

“No, my shoulder is suddenly fine. That’s sarcasm, first my shoulder, now my head, you are a real good luck charm.”

“If you had stayed hidden like we agreed-”

“You mean listened to Cato throw you around before killing you?”

“He wasn’t throwing me around.”

“Please. Cato is many things, but in close combat, he is lethal, especially for you.”

“If we are lucky, he’ll try his luck with Thresh first and he will deal with him.”

“You should have shot him.”

“You weren’t there, but I was trying.”

“I mean the District Eleven boy.”

“Thresh saved me. While Cato nearly killed me, he stopped him. He could’ve killed me, but he didn’t. For Rue.”

“You had him.”

“He had you.” Katniss turned away, rummaging through their leftover supplies. “And he didn’t have to let me live.” It was already a slippery slope. The lines she already had crossed, the things she had done.

“And next time? He’s unpredictable. Massive. He even intimidates Cato. He’s been hiding in the fields for most of the Games. If it comes down to him and us, who says another perfect shot like today will line up? I mean, we can’t keep going forever. Long-term, our chances dwindle, and you seem opposed to killing anybody.”

“I apologize if you are bored because I’m not hollering around while hunting with you through the woods to kill some other tributes.”

No answer to that. Katniss’ got busy with their haul, finding first a small foil packet marked also with a Twelve. She’d already made Clove drink water, but the medicine—round, chalky, and uncomfortably warm from being pressed against her own body all this time—was another matter.

“Open your mouth.”

Clove’s nose crinkled, giving her a look like she was about to be force-fed poison. “What is it?”

“How would I know? Something to either relieve pain or break your fever, I would guess. Haymitch would have chosen gifts to help with your shoulder.”

“Or it knocks me out cold, and you leave me in a ditch. Perhaps he wants to rid you of any encumbrance.”

Katniss rolled her eyes, kneeling by the sleeping bag again. “If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn’t have carried you through the arena. And I doubt your sponsors or your mentor would allow that. Now open your mouth.”

Clove eventually did. She swallowed the pill dry and grimaced dramatically, lips pursed as if proving a point.

“You’re not done,” Katniss said, setting the water aside. “Undress.”

That got a visible reaction. “Excuse me?”

Katniss just stared her down, surprised to see a blush adorn Clove’s cheeks. Pulling her already striking face into stark focus, drawing attention to her high cheekbones, the shy flutter of her long dark lashes plus her open hair softening her features.

She shook off the thought instead, grabbing the tin with what she guessed to be a heal all salve, especially designed for the Games to be an expensive sponsor gift. Or a prize at a feast. Something chemical, scentless and, by the consistency, to place on an injury not ingest.

“I need to rub this in, and I can’t do that through half your clothes.”

Clove huffed and twisted, one-handed, to undo the zipper of her jacket. With Katniss' help, she peeled it off, then hissed as her injured arm caught on the hem of her shirt. Katniss tried not to look.

The sports-bra-like top Clove wore under the shirt was soaked through with sweat, sticking to her back. Tiny bruises littered her skin, and her entire shoulder area was bruised, almost black and swollen. Katniss dipped her fingers into the salve, careful not to look directly at her. “This’ll be cold.”

“I’m already cold,” Clove muttered, but still flinched when Katniss’ fingers met her skin.

She worked in silence, slow, deliberate circles over bruised muscle, until Clove exhaled sharply, closing her eyes and let out a deep groan. “You’re not terrible at this.”

“High praise.” Katniss snorted. “I’m putting your arm back in a sling, if you actually stop using it like an idiot, it might heal just fine.”

She tore a strip from the bottom of her own shirt and wrapped it tightly across Clove’s chest and shoulder. “Lean forward—”

“I can do it myself—”

“Lean. Forward.”

Eventually, Clove gave in, the lines of resistance in her shoulders softening under Katniss’ steady hands. The sling wasn’t perfect, but it held. Katniss tugged her own jacket around Clove’s shoulders, layering the warmth as best she could.

Before Katniss could sit back, Clove snatched the tin of salve with her uninjured hand. “Give me that.”

“What—”

Clove dabbed two fingers in, then reached up and brushed Katniss’ bangs aside. “You’ve got a gash almost the length of your face. Cato did a real number on you.”

Katniss stilled. “It’s fine.”

“It’s bleeding.”

“I said it’s fine.”

“Saying fine like four times doesn’t make the gash disappear or convince me, Twelve.” s

Clove leaned in, face pale, lips parted slightly from the strain. Her fingers found the cut, dabbing the salve with a trembling care that made Katniss go still. Perhaps she had poison hidden on her fingertips because her touch left her skin burning, her heart a war drum.

Though they trembled. Clove was shivering.

“Clove.”

“It’s fine,” Clove said, echoing her words mockingly. Then she blinked, her head tipping forward slightly. “Just dizzy.”

“Hey, stay with me.” Katniss grabbed her arms, easing her back down, panic clenching in her gut. “You’re probably just hungry. We haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

“Don’t even mention food,” Clove mumbled with a grimace, then her eyes fluttered shut.

Katniss quickly pressed their lips together, then rested her forehead against Clove’s. Their breaths mingled, warm and shallow. “Stay with me,” she whispered.

Expressive, deep brown eyes found hers. Katniss repeated, softer this time, “Stay.” She pulled back slightly and reached for their packs.

“Maybe a few strips of meat,” she enticed. “Better would be broth. Soup is always best for sickness. Did you try the lamb stew in the Capitol? The one with dried plums? I don’t think I’ve ever had meat that tender before. Or stew paired with something sweet. Do you even like soup? Clove—”

Chiming interrupted her. A silver parachute drifted down through the opening above, catching the flicker of moonlight. It was larger than anything they had received before. Inside was a covered silver dish, along with silverware and napkins.

Lifting the lid, the scent was immediately familiar.

Clove blinked. “I’m not eating.” Then she glanced sideways at Katniss. “Wait... was that the longest you’ve talked about something that didn’t involve your sister seriously about food?”

Katniss flushed lightly, still looking at the lamb stew with reverence. “Soup is good for a concussion. You are eating.”

Unsure what to do with Clove still shivering, Katniss placed the plate next to her, then slid in behind her, pulling Clove into a semi-sitting position so she could lean back against her.

To keep her steady, Katniss threw an arm around her waist with the other pulled the plate closer. The moment Clove opened her mouth to argue, Katniss fed her a spoonful.

The position was awkward, but manageable. Katniss rested her chin on Clove’s shoulder to watch what she was doing, ignoring Clove’s bulging cheeks and the glare she gave her.

“It’s good, right?”

“I’d rather have a drink if I have to keep enduring you.”

“I don’t hear you denying it.”

The corner of Clove’s mouth quirked up, sinking further into Katniss. “I’m not admitting anything.”

She managed a few more spoonfuls before letting her face nuzzle into Katniss’ throat and didn’t reappear despite encouragement.

“You haven’t eaten either,” she murmured.

“You still have to stay up a while longer,” Katniss reminded her, gently jiggling her shoulder to keep her awake while taking a few spoonfuls of stew herself.

“M’tired.”

“No.”

“Bossy.”

Katniss reached for her cheek again, brushing a damp strand of hair aside. Clove leaned into the touch, curling into her limbs tangling naturally.

“Clove.”

“Wish I had known you sooner.” Clove’s eyes were barely open.

Katniss swallowed. Her hand lingered on Clove’s cheek, thumb near her temple. “You can’t sleep yet. You know that.”

“Sing for me?”

“I don’t sing.”

“Let me guess. Only for Prim? I’m starting to think you see the world in Prim and Not-Prims. I really need to meet her, confirm for myself how special she is.”

Katniss blinked, then chuckled. “You might be on to something. You’ll get it when you get to know her.” With Clove hidden against her throat, she dared to ask, “What about you? Any family?”

“My father. A mason. He paid for school,” Clove said after a few moments. Nearly inaudible. “Couldn’t wait for me to volunteer once he heard how good I was with knives.”

The conversation on the rooftop came back to Katniss. Clove had volunteered for glory. For herself? Or for him? The idea of a parent encouraging their child to enter the Games—

It was incomprehensible. Just another reminder of the divide between the Career districts and her own.

“Do something,” Clove muttered, voice faint. “Before I pass out.”

Katniss moved the plate aside, then let herself sink back down with Clove still resting against her. She laughed quietly when Clove peeked up from her neck with a half-hearted glare at the interruption of her falling asleep.

Katniss leaned in again, giving her time to pull away.

The kiss was gentle. Nothing sharp or biting. Just the soft brush of lips—hesitant, but not uncertain. Warm. Close. Aching.

Clove made a soft noise against her mouth. Katniss pulled back just enough to rest their foreheads together.

“I let you sleep.”

Clove blinked slowly, a tired smirk on her lips. “That good?” She wore the same smug smile as when she landed a perfect hit in training. “Wait—what’s the catch?”

Katniss laughed. Her shoulders shook, and Clove’s head moved up and down in time with the motion. “I have to wake you regularly.”

Clove groaned, but didn’t argue further. Instead, she shushed her with a lazy hand when Katniss tried to talk. Anchored beneath her, Katniss started brushing back strands of hair from her face. Her fingers carding through her Clove’s dark hair, untangling any knots.

Katniss remained alert, her good ear turned toward the cave entrance. She hoped the other tributes were also resting, using their own feast spoils to recover. Her eyes drifted down to Clove’s sleeping face. The contrast of Clove’s pale skin against her own olive tone was stark, like so many of their differences.

And yet, it was hard to believe that the same girl, fierce and fast and feral in the arena, could look so calm—so young—without the tension that usually coiled beneath her skin.

*

“So it’s down to Cato, the girl from District 5, the boy from Eleven—”

“Thresh.”

“And us. Five left,” Clove said. “The interviews with our families have already aired. With no deaths since the Feast, the Gamemakers will get bored soon.” Clove walked ahead, then made a precise motion with her arm and threw her knife.

It hit a groosling cleanly.

“You shouldn’t be using that shoulder so much,” Katniss stepped up beside her to assess her shoulder, its range of motion while observing Clove’s face.

“Why not? It’s fine now. Otherwise, I’ll get rusty.”

Katniss rolled her eyes. “How about you let me handle the hunting and go refill our canteens instead?”

Clove hesitated.

Katniss squeezed her hand. “I’m staying close. Practically within shouting distance. Just don’t talk. Your knife throwing scared off half the wildlife already.”

Clove nodded and made her way toward the lake. Katniss watched her until she disappeared behind the trees, then turned around and notched an arrow to her bow. Followed some tracks.

Katniss crouched near a patch of bushes, spotting a small clutch of glossy, purple berries. Nightlock. Deadly. She reached for them with careful fingers, wrapping them in a spare bit of cloth from her pack. Maybe they’d come in handy—if Cato got desperate enough to scavenge from their supplies, it might be a quiet way to eliminate him. They couldn’t rely on brute force against him.

She stood, tucking the berries away.

Then the cannon fired.

She froze. Her first instinct wasn’t calculation, it was fear. Clove. She wasn’t in sight.

Katniss was already moving, crashing through the underbrush with little care for silence. Her heart thundered louder than the cannon’s echo.

“Katniss!”

The voice broke through the trees like a lifeline. Clove emerged from the edge of the stream, panting, soaked up to the knees. She still had the canteens in her hands.

“You’re okay?” Katniss called.

“You?” Clove’s eyes were wide. She jogged the remaining distance between them and shoved the canteens into Katniss’ arms. “Was that you?”

“No. I thought it was you.”

They stood in tense silence for a moment, both trying to calm the fear they didn’t want to admit to.

“Then who—?”

Foxface—her body still, her eyes wide open. A smear of purple stained her lips and chin. The berries scattered near her open hand. She must have been following Katniss.

Clove let out a breath. “She stole from our stash?”

“I think she must have watched me gather them, thought they were safe to eat,” Katniss said quietly. “I collected a few, they are nightlock berries-” She paused. “I thought maybe Cato could be tricked into eating them. If he tried to steal our food or scavenge our packs.”

Clove gave her a long look. “Ruthless.”

Katniss eyes lingering on Foxface’s too-still figure. They moved quickly after that, returning to their hollow under the slope. Katniss tucked the berries away, out of sight, while Clove stretched her arm, rotating her shoulder.

“He’s going to come,” Clove said after a while. “Cato. He’ll know it’s just us, Thresh, and him now.”

“And he’ll be hungry,” Katniss added. “Careers live off the food in the Cornucopia. That’s gone.”

Clove settled beside her. “I’d offer him the berries, but he’d make me taste them first.”

Four left.

Thresh. Cato. And them.

“Cato’s probably close,” Clove muttered. “He might have heard it, too.”

“Then we stay out of sight. Stay smart.”

Clove leaned her head against the stone wall, closing her eyes briefly. “He’ll come for me, you know. He’s not going to let this go.”

Katniss glanced at her, uncertain what to say. She didn’t know what Cato felt about Clove. Maybe he had cared. No, it must have been strategy.

“You’re not his anymore.”

Clove opened her eyes. “No? What, I’m yours now?”

Katniss’ breath caught in her chest. There was a flicker of something daring in Clove’s expression. Not just teasing—searching.

“Well, did you give your District Two goodbye to anyone else?” She didn’t give her time to answer, getting up to retrieve their packs.

*

The first growl came from behind them—low, guttural, and wrong. Animalistic but not natural.

Katniss didn’t hesitate. “Run.” Pushing Clove ahead of her before she finished speaking. “Run!”

Clove darted ahead, unsheathing two daggers, one in each hand. Katniss could see her ribs moving fast beneath her jacket, breath coming sharply, but she didn’t falter. They didn’t speak. No need to. The Cornucopia was ahead. Shimmering in the night like some monument to violence and victory. It was their only shot.

Behind them, the something gave chase. Many some things. She risked a glance over her shoulder.

Hulking, reeking brutes. Muscles bulging under coarse fur. Mutations. Mutts, monstrous—doglike in body, grotesquely human in their faces. Powerful, muscled limbs, glistening teeth, and eyes that made her stumble.

Brown. Intelligent. Rue’s eyes.

“No,” Katniss breathed, slowing for a heartbeat.

“What?” Clove asked, her voice sharp with panic.

“They used them,” she said hoarsely. “The mutts. They gave them the eyes of the tributes.” Or maybe more. Were they in there? Their souls? Did they have their memories?

Clove flinched, blindly reached out for her hand, clasping it to pull her along. “We can’t stop.”

They headed for the Cornucopia. One mutt lunged—Katniss turned and shot it through the eye, the Rue-eye, and almost choked.

They scrambled up the golden horn, feet slipping in dried blood, hands grasping at the grooves. A mutt lunged, catching Katniss’ boot—Clove kicked it in the face with a shout, knife flashing down into its snout. It yelped and fell back.

Together, they hauled themselves up.

Cato stood at the top of the Cornucopia like a statue—battered but towering, his armor streaked with dirt and drying blood. His sword hung at his side, heavy and waiting.

When he saw them together, his lip curled. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Clove stopped short. Katniss reached instinctively to steady her. Cato’s eyes locked on the gesture.

“You are still with her?” he barked a mirthless laugh. “When I didn’t see you at the Feast with her, I thought you came to your senses. Not that you would sully yourself with-”

“Shut up, Cato,” Clove snapped. Her voice was tight, but steady.

“You left me,” he spat. “I was your partner. And for what? It’s just us now. So let’s kill her and win this.”

Katniss saw the flicker in Clove’s expression. Not regret. Not quite. Just a quiet, deadly calm.

“There is no winning this Cato and I already have a partner.”

Cato let out a roar and charged.

They didn’t speak. Didn’t have to.

Clove went right, circling, knives raised, laying in wait. Katniss ducked left, losing an arrow that clipped Cato’s upper arm. He was too fast to hit cleanly. The sword came down in a brutal arc, which Clove redirected with her knife, breath hitching as her arm jolted.

Katniss fired again, this time it grazed his thigh. He lunged at her, furious, sword slashing wide. She dropped and rolled as Clove darted in, quick and brutal, knife slashing low. Slashing his tendon, but Cato caught her.

It was a shoulder-check—raw force—and it drove Clove to the edge. She stumbled back, almost slipped. Katniss shouted, arrow nocked, but Cato turned just in time to bat her aside. She fell hard onto the metal. Before he could end her a stone hit his eye, the way it shimmered Katniss recognized it as Clove’s token. The girl followed without hesitation launching herself at him with a leap, knife aimed high.

Cato caught her by the collar and snarled—“Traitor”—before Katniss rammed into him. He released Clove but with their momentum they hit the Cornucopia hard, slipping.

They went over together.

Katniss clung to the edge, hands slick with blood and sweat, her grasp slipping in between heaving breaths while Cato landed on the ground. His screams would haunt her.

“Katniss?” Clove leaned over the edge, grasping her arm, groaning as she hauled with the last of her strength Katniss back onto the Cornucopia. Still screaming. No cannon.

Clove was beside her now, quiet, shaking.

“He’s still alive,” Katniss whispered.

Clove nodded, jaw clenched. “It’s not right.”

No, it wasn’t. Katniss heaved herself up, crawled to the edge, raised her bow. In between all the mutts, she found Cato. Ripped apart. Yet chest still moving. Eyes meeting hers.

There was no rage now. No fight. Just pleading.

His mouth opened, only blood came out.

She let the arrow fly.

The cannon sounded.

She fell back on the Cornucopia, panting. Without the screaming, Clove's breathing was audible and she grabbed her hand as it brushed against hers.

Hoping it was finally over.

*

“Why is there no announcement? The cannon fired. The mutts are gone.”

“Maybe we’re too close to Cato. They need to collect him.”

“C’mon.” Katniss heaved herself up, swaying on her feet, then bullied Clove upright as well. Somehow, they slid down from the Cornucopia. Exhaustion settled into her bones, and they leaned on each other until they collapsed on their knees by the lake.

Clove didn’t care, shoveling water into her mouth with both hands. Then the Mockingjays trilled warningly—just as the hovercraft appeared to collect the body.

Katniss stood, waiting for the anthem. For the declaration that this was finally over. That’s when the announcement came.

“Greetings to the final contestants of the 74th Hunger Games. The earlier revision has been revoked. Closer examination of the rulebook has disclosed that only one winner may be allowed. Good luck—and may the odds be ever in your favour.”

The earlier revision. That the two of them could live.

A pearl of laughter startled her and she whirled around—only to find Clove already standing there, not the least bit amused, a dagger poised in her hand. And Katniss realized her bow was already loaded, arrow pointed straight at Clove’s heart.

“Should’ve known.” Clove laughed again mirthlessly.

They never intended to let them both live. Just more entertainment. More drama. She’d believed in it like a fool.

Their eyes met. She remembered her promise to Prim to try to win. To Rue, to win for them both. If Rue had been standing in front of her, she would’ve thrown the bow down already. It wouldn’t even be a choice.

Her muscles strained under the tension of the notched arrow. But she didn’t move. Her eyes fixed instead on Clove’s shoulder—the reinjured one, sagging visibly.

Clove didn’t make a single move. Her bow made the softest sound as it hit the ground.

“What are you doing?”

“You ask me that often, do you realize?” Katniss huffed, steadying her breathing. “Do it. Go home.”

“What? No.” As if burned, Clove let her knife fall. “What about your sister?”

“She’d understand.”

“You promised her.” Clove closed the distance, shoving her. Again and again. “Fight. You are not giving up. You’re so close to home.”

“So are you.” Katniss caught her wrists, looking down at her.

“There’s nothing to go home to.”

“If I do this, I’ll never leave the arena. I didn’t do all of this just to kill you in the end. You had me figured out. Volunteering to die. C’mon, you marked me for death from the beginning. You wanted this.”

“If I’d wanted this, you’d already be dead. You are going to do this—for your District, for your sister. That’s how it’s meant to be. There has to be a victor!”

There has to be a victor.

“My sister is the smartest and kindest person I know.” Her mind spun with an idea. A last attempt.

After Foxface’s death, she had saved some nightlock berries.

“Do you trust me?”

Clove raised a single brow, tilted her head yet, with no hesitation, nodded. Only to throw the pouch away the moment she recognized it.

“I’m going out with my dignity intact. In combat. With my weapon in hand. Not because of some berries.”

Katniss threw back her head and groaned. Even now, Clove was being impossibly difficult. “Fine. Together, then?”

Clove nodded, offering a smaller knife. Katniss positioned it at the most efficient place at Clove’s throat, waiting for her to mirror her.

Their arms were crossed over each other. And before Katniss could start counting, Clove rose onto her tiptoes—and kissed her.

“Is that how you say goodbye in District Two?”

Clove hummed, a grin spreading across her face. “It’s not a goodbye now is it? See you in a moment. One.”

Their blades hovered, each breath shared.

“Two.”

Their eyes never left each other.

“Three.” Pressure. Pearling blood.

“Stop! Stop! Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victors of the 74th Hunger Games, the tributes Clove Fuhrman of District Two and Katniss Everdeen of District Twelve!”

Simultaneously, they let go of the knives in their hands, uncaring as they clattered to the ground.

“It’s over,” Clove murmured, or maybe it was only Katniss.

The Mockingjays trilled. Then a hovercraft materialized above them. Katniss tightened her grip on Clove, unwilling to let go and, by the way the other girl burrowed deeper into her embrace, the feeling was mutual.

There was noise. Katniss barely lifted her head from Clove’s shoulder before her limbs froze. An electric current locked them in place. They were gathered, separated. The last thing she saw were Clove’s wide, dark eyes. She tried to move, to reach her, then: the prick of a needle in her neck, everything slipped away.

*

Katniss had to keep reminding herself they were both alive. Haymitch had told her Clove was getting ready—with her stylist and her mentor, Lyme. She was alive.

But after days—weeks, they hadn’t even told her how long it’s been- only eating, sleeping, and staring at nothing-

Madness was close at hand. Now with Cinna’s hints, the dress she was wearing, the fact that their reunion would be shown live-

When something touched her shoulder, she whirled around, swinging—startled when Haymitch caught her wrist. Luckily, he let go before her panic could set in. The rumble of the crowd was overwhelming after weeks of silence—now, with both ears functioning again.

“Let me look at you.” Haymitch circled her, then added, “Nervous? How about a hug for luck?”

Odd. But she had hugged him earlier, when they’d reunited. Wrapped in his arms, she froze when he didn’t let go. Instead, he swayed them side to side, speaking low into her ear.

“You’re in trouble. The both of you. Capitol’s furious about the stunt in the arena. The one thing they can’t stand is being laughed at—and right now, they’re the joke of Panem.”

She wasn’t thrilled with them either—after everything they’d had to endure. Still had to endure. What they’d done to Rue, first with her death, then with the mutations. “I’m not happy with them either.”

“Think about it. You’re not alone.” She swallowed the rage. She was out of the arena now—and not the only target anymore.

“What do I do?”

“You’re in love. That’s your only defence. You’re sixteen, and you were so madly in love you weren’t responsible for your actions.” She nodded as he pulled back. Then, thinking of Clove, she adjusted his tie.

“What about Clove? Did anyone tell her?”

“We victors stand together, Katniss. Even if you picked a Career. Lyme’s mighty smug about another addition to their growing collection. Now, time to take our places. This is your night, sweetheart. Enjoy it.”

He left her with a kiss on the forehead. Alone in the dark, her trepidation only worsened. Even now, with the Games won, she wasn’t safe. Neither was Prim, nor anyone she loved. Worse: this was an arena she had no skill in.

Sick to her stomach, time lost meaning. She barely registered Caesar Flickerman’s voice, the rising roar of the crowd with every introduction.

Only when the plate she stood on began to rise did she snap out of her stupor—to be overwhelmed by blinding lights and deafening applause.

Somehow, above it all, her name. There. Clove.

In a complementary creamy-white dress, her hair down as well, makeup minimal, innocent, sweet—Clove ran at her. Jumped into her arms.

The force of it nearly knocked her over. She caught Clove around the waist instinctively, stunned by the press of her body, her scent—something sharp and earthy beneath Capitol perfume. Clove’s arms wrapped tightly around her neck.

And then she kissed her. It wasn’t tentative. It wasn’t for the cameras. Was it?

No—it was desperation. Hungry. Like she’d been holding her breath since the arena, and only now dared to exhale.

Katniss’ fingers curled into the fabric of Clove’s dress. She kissed her like the world might end. Like they were still standing on that lakeshore, with nothing left but each other.

She barely noticed a tap on her shoulder. Ignored it—until Clove bit her lower lip, a growl vibrating from her chest into Katniss’.

“What?” Clove snapped at Haymitch, who raised both hands in surrender but gave them a shove, which the crowd adored.

Instead of releasing Clove, Katniss took the few steps to their plush red velvet couch. Lowering Clove into the cushions before dropping beside her.

Unsure what to do with herself. But Clove, as if it was a move done a thousand times, just removed her shoes and curled up sideways into Katniss’ lap. Her head came to rest against Katniss’ shoulder, breath tickling her skin. When she shivered, Clove lightly blew against her neck—on purpose.

“Stop that,” Katniss muttered, but mirrored Clove’s grin involuntarily.

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Right.”

Before she could say anything else, Clove surged up again—brushing their noses together, then kissed her.

“You two are utterly adorable. Aren’t they, folks?” Caesar Flickerman interrupted, and Katniss flushed. Clove visibly bit her tongue before offering.

“Surely you can understand wanting to celebrate the greatest gift the Capitol gave us—can’t you, Caesar?”

“And what would that be?”

Our lives—lives they never had any right to.

“Time,” Clove said. “After all, I get to keep her now.”

She glanced at Katniss as the entire audience cooed. Was it a Career thing, to so easily slip into a persona? The tightening in Clove’s jaw hinted at her reluctance, at her distaste as her gaze roamed over the audience, but she remained charismatic, performing.

How strange how much more open Clove had been in the arena, her flirting more honest. Sweeter. But Katniss was glad for it, to be able to bounce off of her or let her take over for them both. The Career far better suited for this than her. Flickerman too, before launching into his routine of jokes and banter, warming up the crowd for the three-hour-long recap show.

The 74th Hunger Games. The deaths of 22 tributes—condensed into a night of entertainment.

An icy hand found hers. Clove’s. Their fingers intertwined, squeezed.

It helped. Not being alone.

What Katniss didn’t expect was for the romance to become the focus of the entire Games. Her stomach turned as she watched the chariot ride, the interviews—Rue, and Peeta—

Peeta.

The grip on her hand tightened, steadying her. She clenched her teeth. On-screen, the Capitol spun a story of love—unrequited—between her and Peeta. The boy from Twelve who had joined the Careers in false pretenses. Who’d saved her from Cato, only to be mortally wounded. Who whispered her name at night, camouflaged and dying until he never woke again.

At the same time, Clove was shown throwing a knife at her at the Cornucopia, in the tree. Appearing as Rue slipped away, her voice echoing with the song. Although the flowers, the gift from District 11 was cut out. But they had kept every whispered ‘Katniss’ from Peeta’s dying lips. That was the story they wanted. And they’d keep telling it—true or not. For their entertainment while Clove and her found and protected each other again and again. Clove sneaking out of the undergrowth. Facing Thresh. Screaming her name—

It blurred together and in a nightmarish swirl. Katniss buried her face in Clove’s hair.

But Peeta remained in her mind. The boy who had given her bread. Confessed his love to make her desirable. Who tried to help her? Did help her. A debt she could never repay—

“So what’s next?”

“We go home. Move into the Victors’ Village—preferably in District Twelve. With all that unused space.”

Katniss turned to Clove, remembering her words about nothing waiting in Two. About her father.

“Don’t act so surprised. You promised to introduce me to your family. Show me your District.”

“So I don’t get a moment to myself anymore, huh?”

Clove smirked. “Like I’d let you get away from me.”

The anthem rang out. Clove pulled her to her feet as President Snow took the stage, followed by a little girl with a cushion bearing the crown.

President Snow twisted it in two. The first half fit smoothly around Clove’s brow. Her chin lifted. It suited her with her sharp cheekbones and regal bearing.

Snow smiled down at her before turning to Katniss. Offering the second half.

His smile never faltered—but his eyes were cold. Unforgiving. Hungry for blood.

Here stood the one person not applauding their love story. But for now, he presented them to the Capitol, to thunderous applause. Katniss smiled and waved.

Her hand never let go of Clove’s, holding on tightly. They were victors now and yet, it didn’t feel like they had won anything. But Clove was next to her, and they had survived one arena together, they would survive what came next.

Notes:

Hey guys,

like always, I hope you enjoyed reading! :)
If there is interest I also just might write a version of Catching Fire for this AU. I already have a fee ideas where I can play around with their relationship a bit more and also write Prim and Johanna who's just a blast.

If you are waiting for an update on one of my other stories, sorry and you didn't see this.

It's been a while since I posted anything and since English is not my first language, if you see any mistakes, I would appreciate it if you let me know! I stumbled thanks to SOTR back into my long forgotten THG fixation and reread after 12+ years the first book again and just rewatched the trilogy. That scene at the Feast with Clove straddling Katniss inspired all of this. Especially as Katniss' is an unreliable narrator, and we didn't get to know much about her Clove has a lot of lost potential. Things Katniss only learns later and with her focus elsewhere and her inherit hatred for the Careers not all can be taken face value. Clove was probably more than a sadistic blood hungry girl. Just a few thoughts I had. If you find this over twitter or tumblr feel free to message me about thg since the hyperfixation doesn't seem to go away.

Thank you for reading. I hope everyone is staying safe and has a great weekend and until next time! :)

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Hunger Games AU