xvi. painted berries

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𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐱𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧

── painted berries


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          "ℌere." I look up, catching whatever Cato throws at me as we wander along beside the stream, looking for fish or some other critter to eat. In my hands are some berries. 

"You know what type of berries are which?" I almost laugh at the incredulity of it, splitting it open quickly just to make sure that it wasn't poisonous and Cato wasn't trying to kill me, "and you managed to get the non-poisonous ones."

Cato pulls a bag from his pocket, showing some dark berries, darker than the ones in my own hand.

"Nightlock, poisonous." Cato points, before looking down at the berries in my hand. "Blueberries, not poisonous."

"I'm impressed."

"I might not have done the survival skills, but I watched other people do them. Sometimes that's just as good as doing it yourself." Cato hums, before placing the Nightlock away and eating a few blueberries. Sometimes, I forget that Cato is actually remarkably smart, more so than he likes to let on.

"Who did you watch do it? Foxface?" I could recall that she was particularly good at the nature section of the survival skills, her memory skills being remarkably quick.

"You." Cato shrugged, throwing another blueberry in the air and catching it just as easily. He looked down at me, before grinning a childish grin that had me giggling.

"Me?" He nodded his head, shoving his hands into his cargo trousers pockets. "Why?"

"You intrigued me, so I kept an eye on you. I couldn't work out what weapon you fought with, or what your skill was. You never showed it." Cato's voice changed to a mumble, "and I thought you were very pretty."

I blushed, as Cato pulled more blueberries from his pocket to eat.

"For good reason." I snatched a blueberry from his hand, grinning as I ate it. "I had to keep you on your toes."

His laughter is soft, and a sort of blessing to my ears as we continue to meander along. There's peace, for a mere moment, as we think of what to do. Neither of us know what to do now, if we should be tracking the others down, or wait for them to come to us.

Finally, we manage to find a small clearing, surrounded by rocks and boulders, trees bordering that.

"We should make camp here," I suggest, looking around. "High rocks, good coverage, close to water and easy to set up snares."

"If you think it's best."

"I do." He nodded, before stabbing his sword into the ground. I set my spear down beside it, followed by my pack as I stretch. My back is aching from sleeping against a tree for one too many nights, and I am sure that it is still bruised from the bloodbath. 

Power Over Me ↦ Cato HadleyWhere stories live. Discover now