Clove's POV
Early the next morning, we get up and start packing our things and gathering fresh water. We go around the lake, where we find a line of hill, completely made of dirt and concealed with greenery. It looks like an ordinary elevation of earth. But we find a small opening, and inside there is a dirt room, going back about seven feet from the entrance and maybe four feet the other way, not even five feet high. The Gamemakers created this, I can tell. What disturbs me is how I don't know if anyone else has found our hideaway. What dead tributes have slept in this hole?
We claim this place, it's perfect. It's confined and concealed and the lake is within walking distance. But Cato and I can't stand being stuck inside. We stay outside, though it may be stupid.
I practice throwing knives at a tree to keep up my technique.
"I never have been good at that."
I gasp like I did when he snuck up behind me in the Training Center. I walk over to the tree and pull the knives out.
I take a deep breath, "Come here. I'll show you. Get in position... you're standing wrong. And you're holding your wrist incorrectly." I took up a stance, "Legs like this."
He studied me for a moment, then positioned his legs similarly.
"Bend slightly at the knee. Shoulders back; loosen your wrist. Throw when you exhale." I demonstrate for him, and the dagger finds its mark.
"Show me again," Cato said appreciatively.
I did so, and struck the tree. I looked back at him. Something has been nagging me inside since the night we cornered Katniss in the tree.
"I saw you with Glimmer."
He looks surprised at the change of subject. He says, "So? You said you didn't like me in that way."
I did say that. How could I have been so stupid? "Maybe I lied," I blurt out before I can stop myself.
He takes a breath, "And maybe I was just trying to make you jealous."
It takes me a moment to realize what this means. I look back up at him, smiling. We both smile. But we both know that it doesn't matter. One of us will die.
I kiss him anyway. It's overwhelming, and incredible, and I can tell that it has been in the works for months now, maybe even years. His hands are on my back and he's pulling me against him like he's been waiting for this forever and he's not going to let me get away again.
We get cut off by a voice.
An intercom seemingly coming from all directions. It's the voice of Caesar Flickerman's dull cohost, Claudius Templesmith.
"Attention, tributes, attention. The regulations requiring a single victor have been...suspended. From now on, two victors may be crowned if both originate from the same district. This will be the only announcement."
It takes me a few seconds to register what he just said: two victors in one year for a regular Hunger Games? I might believe it for a Quarter Quell, where they put a twist on the rules anyway, but even then it seems incredible. Cato and I can both win. We can both win.
I say something I haven't uttered since I was nine years old, "Together or not at all?
A huge smile grows on his face as he laughs a real, joyful laugh, not one because of someone's death, but one out of pure happiness. He takes my hand. "Together or not at all."
