THE ODDS WERE ALWAYS IN OUR FAVOR ─── CLATO

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟖

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐕

DAY FIFTEEN

We wake and dress in silence. I feel better rested than ever, considering I've slept for over eleven hours. It is still dark, but streaks of gold are beginning to illuminate the sky. Dawn is on its way; soon.

Cato is worried. I can see the small tremble of his hands— but I pretend I don't. I don't blame him. I am just as scared as he is, but I make sure to not show it. The audience in the Capitol will call us weak, if we show even the slightest bit of worry or fear.

Our faces are bright and smiling, but we are both taken away by worry. You can see it in our eyes. You just have to look carefully.

We walk hand in hand to the Cornucopia. According to the plan we have devised, I will be the one to go in for the pack. We have no idea what it may hold, but Claudius Templesmith's warning was enough to convince us we had to get our hands on it. Cato obviously didn't like the idea of me going in but I was able to convince him that my knives are more useful in this case, compared to his sword.

Katniss Everdeen is a talented archer, and no matter how strong Cato may be with his sword, there's no way for us to kill Katniss because of the close proximity it requires. With my knives, on the other hand, I'll be able to strike from a similar distance to her. While I grapple for our bag at the Cornucopia, Cato will make it his mission to ambush anybody who tries to make a run for our pack— or who may be unlucky enough to accidentally cross his path.

It dawns on me that if all goes well today, we could be leaving the arena in a span of a few days. We can go home. The thought makes me lightheaded and woozy with excitement.

We make our way to the edge of the clearing, consolidating every plan as we go. A single flaw could have grave consequences. We've approached the Cornucopia. We stay put, shivering slightly in the frigid air, our hot breath leaving small, white clouds in the air.

He looks down at his feet, then at me. His hand squeezes mine tight. "I won't let anything happen to you," he says. "I promise. I'll have your back. No matter what."

A rebuke is already forming on my tongue, but the moment he leans down to kiss me I'm stunned into silence. All my thoughts seem to fade into pure nothingness. My hopes of talking to him— saying one last word, dies on my lips as a loud mechanical sound alerts both of us. We peer towards the trees, only to see the ground of the Cornucopia sliding open, releasing a table. On the table sit four packs, two large black ones with the numbers 2 and 11, a medium-sized green one with the number 5, and a tiny orange one labeled 12. The table clicks into place.

A figure darts out of the Cornucopia. In a flash, the tribute has seized the green pack and is now running off. Foxface! Leave it to her to come up with such a clever yet risky plan! The rest of us are still poised across the plain, sizing up the situation, and she's got hers. She's got us trapped, too, because none of us want to chase her down, not when their own pack lays so vulnerably on the table. Foxface must have left the other packs alone, knowing that stealing one without her number would definitely bring on a pursuer. Lucky for us, though, there are two of us.

By the time I've worked through the emotions of anger, surprise, admiration, jealousy, and frustration, I'm watching her mane of red hair disappear through the foliage. She is well out of throwing range. I'm always dreading the others, but sometimes I wonder if Foxface is the real opponent here.

"Don't worry," Cato says. "I'll go after her." He brushes his lips over mine and darts off.

I am all alone.