𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐋 ❪ clove kentwell ❫

𝒙𝒙𝒊𝒗. wild flight

★★★

I DON'T KNOW MUCH ABOUT moose. I live in a district with virtually no animals; I've only ever seen them depicted in drawings or pictures, and only rarely. But I'm pretty sure they're not meant to run like this, charging like a bull at full speed, venom in their eyes. And the teeth.

Mutts. It's clear that this isn't natural.

My heart pounds in my ears as we crash through the woods, the trees blurring around me. A horrible, vicious keening sound starts up behind me, and it sends a thin tendril of terror up my spine. No, no, no, why?

Clove is ahead of me, and she looks back in alarm. "Come on!" She shouts, eyes wide. Then she swears, skids to a sudden stop and whips around fully, pulling out a knife. "Never mind. DUCK!"

The order barely registers, and I duck my head just as Clove releases the knife. I risk a glance behind to see one of the mutts drop to the ground, the knife sticking from its neck. The others continue charging forward without seeming to notice.

Almost immediately, I wish I hadn't looked. The mutts' eyes are completely black, and they gleam viciously in the pale morning light. The one in the front keens again, louder. They feel impossibly close and eerily far away at the same time.

I scramble up and keep running, deeper into the forest. My imagination goes wild, imagining birds that spit venom, bears with long claws, trees that come alive and snare us in their branches. Then there's a hiss right by my neck, and teeth pierce my shoulder. I fall with a choked gasp. "Clove!"

Blood that isn't mine sprays against my neck, and the weight disappears. Clove is suddenly beside me, taking her knife out of the dead mutt with an expert twist of her arm. "I got them all."

I gulp in air, my heart still hammering rapidly in my chest. "Are you okay?"

Clove looks down at me with a raised eyebrow, looking impressively cool for the situation. "Are you okay? You were bitten."

I vaguely register the pain on my shoulder, and then burning agony washes over me. "It hurts," I whisper.

"It'll be okay. Come on, darling." Clove sheathes her knives and helps me up, taking care not to touch my injured shoulder. She doesn't even seem winded. Looking around warily, she helps me past the tree line to a small outcropping of rocks by the stream. "Here, sit down."

Clove is calmer than I've ever seen her when she pulls out a container of salve and spreads it over my shoulder. It feels better almost immediately, unlike the burn cream and its awful stinging sensation; I let out a slow breath of relief, relaxing slightly.

After she's finished, Clove pulls back and regards me closely for a moment like she's done so many times in the past weeks. Her green eyes look almost black in the shadow of the rocks.

"Why do you do that?" I ask, breaking the silence.

"Do what?"

"You know. When you look at me like that." I avoid meeting her eye. Alarmed, I think I might be blushing. "What are you thinking about?"

She shrugs, looking away. "Just trying to figure you out, I guess."

I watch her curiously. "What do you mean?"

"Well..." Clove hesitates. "You're not... You're different from everyone else in Two. I don't know what to make of you."

"How so?"

She seems to struggle with getting the words out. "You actually care. In a lot of ways. I saw it in your eyes the first time you walked into the Training Center, like you wanted to make sense of everyone but didn't know how. I'm not used to seeing stuff like that."

I duck my head, suddenly feeling shy. Then a thought occurs to me. "Is that why you wanted to kill me so badly?"

Clove scoffs, and I think I catch a hint of a blush on her cheeks before it's gone. "You were just another obstacle on my way to victory. I felt weird about you and I wanted you gone."

"And now?"

She hesitates again, wavering. "Now..." There seems to be some kind of internal struggle going on in her head before she finally turns to look at me, the dark green depths of her eyes pulling me in. "I don't want you gone anymore."

That makes my heart flutter and drop like a stone all at once. I feel stupidly radiant at her words, but the knowledge that I'm not making it out of the arena feels like flames are licking at my wounds all over again.

"I don't want you gone either," I say softly, but the words feel empty. I know she's going to be the victor. But anything could happen. I don't want her to die at Cato's sword. Then we'd both be lost and forgotten. A wisp in everyone's memories.

We rest for a while, the day going from morning to afternoon. The sky is blue and cloudless as usual, the sun shining warmly, but there's a chill in the air. The end will be coming soon.

I clean the blood from my face and jacket. Might as well look nice for my death.

Clove is looking at me again, and she frowns. "Don't act like that."

I blink at her. "Like what?"

"Like you're about to go to your funeral." Clove motions at me to come closer, and I do. Unexpectedly, she takes my hand. "It's not over yet."

"But..." I look at the ground, trying to collect my thoughts. "It might as well be. It could end right now."

Clove shakes her head firmly. "I told you, I'm loyal to our alliance. I'm not going to leave you."

"What are you going to do when..."

"I'll figure that out when we get there." Clove grins at me, different from her usual smirk, and stretches up to kiss my cheek. Warmth spreads to my chest, and I try to downplay my smile. "For now, let's get ready. We need to be prepared."

My snares catch two fish, which we cook and eat. Clove says not to worry about the smoke from the fire. "Cato won't come to us. He'll want to fight on his own terms."

My apprehension only grows stronger with each passing hour. Clove busies herself practicing with her knives, face cold and hard as they all find their mark in trees or small animals. I fiddle with wire and twist my ribbon anxiously. It's the feeling of not knowing what's coming next that makes me feel alone and afraid.

But no, not alone. Clove looks all set to kill, eyes looking black again in the slowly dimming light. She's on my side. As what, an ally or a companion or a lover or something else, I don't know.

When it's almost dusk, Clove rearranges the knives inside her jacket and makes her way over to me, holding out a hand. "Ready?"

I remember what Marvel said. They want a show. The arena is the stage, and we are the players. The Capitol wants their show. They want their epic finale.

The sun seems to set quicker than normal, dropping out of sight below the horizon. The shadows rise and thicken, stretching higher. The temperature plunges by what feels like a thousand degrees. A howl sounds deep in the forest.

I take Clove's hand and get to my feet, making sure once again that everything is in order.

"It's starting," I say, little more than a whisper.

Clove nods and presses another kiss to my cheek. We set off for the Cornucopia.