𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐋 ❪ clove kentwell ❫

𝒙𝒗𝒊𝒊𝒊. the game-changer

★★★

THE NEXT DAY, PEETA MELLARK dies.

I find him lying by a copse of trees just fifteen minutes from me and Clove's cave, bleeding heavily from a wound in his stomach. Part of me says to just run away. His killer might still be around here. It's dangerous, whispers my brain.

"Hello?" I say, cautiously stepping through a gap between two trees. I inch up to him and kneel down, watching helplessly as he feebly holds a hand to his stomach, trying to keep his insides in.

Peeta's eyes seem to un-focus and refocus, fixing heavily on me. "You're..." He coughs, and I'm unnerved to see blood at the corner of his mouth. "The girl from Three?"

"Yeah." I try for a weak smile. "I'm Ivy."

"Peeta." He coughs again. "Why are you here?"

I shrug. "I don't know." I never know.

We don't say anything else, but by some unspoken agreement, his other hand comes up to grasp at my fingers, and I grip them tightly. I hold his hand while his eyes slowly flutter shut, and when his cannon sounds, I barely react.

I've seen more death in the past few days than in my whole life. Am I used to it now?

Letting go of his limp hand and getting up, I cast one final glance at Peeta Mellark's still body before heading back to the cave.

Clove, as expected, is still rearranging the knives inside her jacket when I make my way back in. She looks up, seeming remarkably bored. "Where were you?"

I shrug again. "Just... around."

Her eyes narrow suspiciously, but she doesn't say anything. I notice she doesn't even look tired, despite staying up the whole night. I'm pretty sure that's not what "first watch" means, which is what I told her before I went out. She just smirked and rolled her eyes.

"You probably shouldn't put too much pressure on your wrist," I say as I head to the back of the cave and peacefully start tinkering with some rope.

Clove lets out a frustrated growl, a sound she's made a lot since first getting caught in the trap. "I'm going to kill someone if I have to sit around and do nothing for a whole day, Three."

I'm pretty sure she's just joking. Or not. We are in the Hunger Games, after all. "I have a name, you know."

She scoffs at me. "We don't really do that."

Another thing I've noticed about the Careers. They tend to not call each other (or other tributes) by their actual names, using district numbers instead. "How come?"

It's Clove's turn to shrug, a flippant lift of her shoulder. "Dunno."

I'm pretty sure there's some other reason, but she's silent. It's probably just because of the Careers' warrior upbringing.