THE ODDS WERE ALWAYS IN OUR FAVOR ─── CLATO

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟔

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐕:

DAY ELEVEN

Dawn is breaking, meaning a day has passed since we lost Glimmer and Marina. Marvel is much quieter than usual. It's obvious he cared for her more than a friend.

In fact, we all are quieter. Without realizing it, Glimmer brought us all together— helped turn this into something better than it is. Without her, our alliance feels dull and lifeless.

We find our way back to the Cornucopia, and as expected, there are supplies left for us, most of them completely unnecessary anyway. I still pack them though.

With Cato and Marvel's help, I pile the several crates, boxes, and other backpacks of food in a huge mountain, easily over seven feet high. Some of the other tributes could've had the chance to steal more supplies over the past couple of days while we were roaming the woods, but this pyramid guarded so carefully by the three of us guarantees that they can't anymore.

We set it up as our base camp. The three of us split up and roam the grounds nearby for tributes, but to no avail. The afternoon comes hotter and it is far more sweltering than usual, so we make the decision to relax under our new tents.

I lean against a tent pole and close my eyes, feeling the breeze drift over me. It's quiet. Alarmingly quiet. The Games are currently inactive— tributes, including us, are laying low.

In such stillness, I can even hear the birds call. A mockingjay. They are common in the mountains of District Two. They repeat the songs they hear.

Suddenly, however, the birds stop chirping. At first, I don't take heed to it, but that's only until I hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps. They awaken me. Me and Marvel lock eyes.

We all stay put for just a few seconds, before we realize that this is not one tribute. There are two tributes here.

My mind is scavenging the possibilities of who the two tributes could be.

Not Katniss. She's not stupid enough to come back here again. Peeta is too injured and these footfalls are too heavy to be little Rue's.

In a blink of an eye, Marvel is charging out of our tent with a spear in hand. I barely have a moment to think when I grab my knives and head out after him. I can hear the rustle of Cato and the sharp sound of his sword just seconds away from me.

When I look up, I am surprised by who I see. A boy, with a dark bowl-shaped haircut springs out from our pile of goodies. I easily recognize him. He is the boy from Three.

His ally, the crippled boy from Ten, grabs one of our several backpacks and tries to make a run for the shelter of the woods. But his leg slows him down— a lot. He's an easy target because of his foolish plan to try and rob us of our supplies.

As I charge after him, I pull one of my knives from my vest out. I'm too busy tracking his movements to see which one it is. In one clean motion, I use all my strength and precision to aim for the small of his back.

Even from twenty feet away, I can hear the sickening, wet sound of the knife burying itself into his body. His cannon sounds just seconds after I harshly pull my knife out of him.

All my attention is now focused on the boy from Three. I see him fleeing from Marvel and Cato. He can run surprisingly fast— but I'm willing to bet a fortune that he won't get away.

The three of us dash towards him, brandishing our weapons. The boy looks horrified. I almost feel sorry for him. He picks up a quicker sprint, but I am smarter. I throw myself at him, knocking him to the ground. I straddle his struggling body and angle my blade so that it is against his bony cheek.