Though the air was warm, a gentle breeze tugged at the trees and made the leaves sway gently back and forth. The sky had long since grown dark over the arena.

Had the occasion been any other, Cato would have described the night as quite peaceful. The situation being as it was, however, it was far from it. His eyes warily scanned the distance below him, his legs dangled over the edge of the cornucopia just out of the reach of the ever pursuant muttations. He pulled his eyes off of the blackness below and examined his legs.

Had he been a normal teenager and the sight alone would have made him shudder, not to mention the considerable pain. The left leg was badly mangled; strips of flesh hung down from it in ragged lines, exposing the slashed muscles beneath.

"Fuck! Damn, that was close." Cato muttered to no one in particular. The right was not much better. He caught his breath and forced himself to scoot backward to rest his back against the metal plate of the cornucopia. The movement smeared a trail of blood behind him, and he thought, not for the first time that day, that he might be far worse than he even suspected.

He pushed thoughts of his own mortality from his mind, for now; at least his lungs and heart still functioned. He forced himself to focus on the sound of his beating heart, the blood rushing in and out. He stilled his breathing, consciously feeling the air rush into his lungs cooling him, and then slowly expelled it out.

Better, he thought.

"I didn't hear you complaining, earlier." Cato raised his eyes, warily taking in his dark haired companion. Even though her form stood up at a couple feet above him, Clove's dark hair and softly flickering eyes lent her an appearance of gentleness, one which was quickly dismissed away when he took notice of her current actions.

She was weighing the handle of her knife at present. The similarities between them struck his mind... Both were petite, yet precision built for killing. Both had been fine tuned for one purpose and one purpose only... killing.

He smiled inwardly as she frowned. The knife though well weighted, did not in fact, impress her.

"What's wrong now?" her mock-gentle tone seemed almost endearing to which Cato raised one eyebrow, but refused to lift his head.

In a half hearted attempt at pretending to ignore it, Cato fiddled with the blunt edge of his blade, drawing it out with the tip of a finger.

"I didn't complain—it doesn't really matter." The fact that she'd managed to touch his emotions at such a time greatly annoyed him and he quickly added, "Just shut up." He busied himself watching as a shadow moved from under the hood of the cornucopia. He wasn't sure how they hadn't managed to climb up the structure yet, but for now, he – they are safe.

With her knife resting idly on her chest, her eyes danced in the night glow.

He was considering heavily whether he should trust her with the weapon or not when she retorted half sarcastically, half tauntingly. "Why? Am I annoying, almightily, bloodthirsty Cato? Aww, come on Cato. You know I would never do that." Equal parts sarcasm and mirth intermingled in her tone.

He seethed not only at the jest made at his expense, but also at the sound of her voice. Yes, soon she would learn to keep that pretty little mouth closed, he thought.

His body protested and creaked as he turned his stiff form. He moved a pace away from her and stretched his previously crouched form, he turned away from the brunette career as he replied. "What can I say—" his jaw clenched, teeth gritting together. "You always read me just so well." Acid sarcasm coated his words and Clove didn't bother replying.

They both knew it was pointless, but the semi-considerate gesture still surprised her. She studied his tense form as he scanned the darkness watching for any sign of the advance of the muttations.

Though he was badly injured, practically slumping down on a pool of his own blood, he was taught with nervous energy, the kind that could only be the result of a sincere fear for one's own life. Despite the fact that no danger was currently posed to them, he still gripped his sword in his right hand. After he had satisfied himself that there was no change in the position of their pursuers below, he looked back at his companion, he was unnerved to see her looking at him as well.

He did not appreciate the hungry, haughty, almost mocking light he saw dancing in her eyes when they locked. In an attempt to assert his dominance despite his injury he waved a hand toward her dismissively and angrily ordered her to move over.

"Whatever you say, Cato," replied Clove snidely. However, she remained in her place for just long enough to subtly assert the fact that she would move wherever she damn well wanted, whenever she damn well wanted. He was NOT in charge of her. To further emphasize her point she turned on her heels, just about sloshing through his blood with her every step and went back to where she'd been resting.

As if to dismiss him entirely, she never even bothered to look back, though she was almost certain he was watching her every move. Exactly as she wanted it, she smiled inwardly. She sat watching over the arena and bided her time making sure that the many blades sticking out of her belt and coat were as razor sharp, as usual.

Probably. Cato wasn't paying close enough attention to tell for sure.

Cato turned his thoughts over inwardly. There was no thankfulness in admitting that she didn't seem to be in such bad condition, battered and bruised, probably broken, though clearly in far better condition than his current state. Cato dismissed her from his mind as quickly as the thought had entered it, as he pulled his legs closer to his body to inspect them.

Several deep gashes made their way up and down his flesh, slashes crossed down the meaty side of his thigh, which gushed red at every movement, and he was sure they would have stung like a bitch if he were actually able to feel any pain. Luckily for him, Cato was in a state of near mindlessness and although he knew he ought to be in agony, he simply wasn't.

He didn't wince at every tiny movement or even flinch when he realized with almost surity that he could see his femur bone under all the jagged flesh and heavy bleeding. Although, it was not a good sign, there was nothing he could do at the moment. Instead, Cato leaned back, pressing one elbow behind him against the metal plates, he forced himself to ignore how his ears rung against the back of his skull.

He again stopped his movement and forced himself to focus on his breathing once more. Still, he did not catch himself quickly enough to hide the grimace the movement brought to his face.

"What now?" Clove hissed again, breaking the relatively fresh silence with her disdain.

He had not noticed that Clove had finished sharpening her knives, and chided himself inwardly at giving her the satisfaction of having seen him wince. He closed his eyes briefly to still his voice, but he hoped that it came across as an attempt at muffling his annoyance with her. When he looked up, he began to take in her state more closely for the first time that evening.

One of her arms swung lifelessly by her side and he was relatively sure the bone had either shattered, or that the muscle itself was badly shredded. It was impossible to discern what further injuries the waterproof coat she wore might be hiding. He was certain that the truth of the extent of her injuries was far more than she'd ever let on. Not that he sincerely cared, or wanted to know, not with his own physical state as it was, and the fact that there were far more pressing matters to consider.

Thus far there had been no further announcement by the Game makers, which there certainly should have been by now... or that he could still hear the rustle of the beasts not far below.

"Figured they would have done something sooner," he ventured idly. Not so much for sincere interest, he should have questioned this before, but more for the sake of an attempt at taking both their minds off of their current state. Though he was far too tired, bruised and drained from loss of blood and lack of sleep, to sincerely make an effort at conversation.

They had spent nearly a week running and hunting across the arena for other tributes, so the extra time waiting didn't actually pain him, it was just one more in a long and rapidly growing list of annoyances.

She merely nodded absent mindedly in reply as she curled her legs under her and rested her back against the wall behind her.

"So now we wait..." he continued, whilst also pulling his legs closer towards him, suppressing another grimace with a thin guise of frustration. She didn't even nod, and he was too far beyond exhausted to even care.

They were the two last survivors of the Hunger Games as per the recent rule change. He'd been quite ready to push his sword on Clove's chest after both Firegirl and Loverboy died. They had been the ones for which the rules had been bent and well, Cato was starting to feel like being pretty damn sure that they should have been announced victors already was stupid of him. He had never considered himself to be gullible, but the thought of having this last victorious moment snatched right from under his hands did not even cross his mind.

There was silence, neither of them willing to speak up, until a canon-like sound boomed overhead, and Cato briefly glanced towards Clove, watching her expression shift as the Game makers finally announced their latest rule change.

"Greetings to our current victors! After careful consideration we have decided to rescind our previous rule change. As per the original rules, there may now only be one victor for the 74th Hunger Games. May the odds be ever in your favour and good luck!"

The air left his lungs in a rush, and the only thought that came to mind despite his confusion was, "What?" He shook himself back to clarity and found himself already upright; all of his muscles tense, called to attention from a lifetime of training no longer required his conscious order to call them to action. Surely, he had given them no such conscious order... yet here he stood.

His sword poised uneasily atop his shoulder, he stared Clove in the eyes. Cato considered that he should have seen this coming all along, and, although his mind could only scream that changing the rules of the games this often was practically, if not completely unheard of, he pushed these thoughts from his mind for once and for all.

She watched Cato warily as she too, was at full attention ... though he could not read the expression in her eyes he caught the glint of light that danced off of one of her knives which had found its way into her able grip. Even the air which had previously been keeping up a slight but welcome breeze had become still... tense... waiting...

A/N: And that's it... I am joking. I have the next chapter quite ready, but would like to know if anyone is interested in reading onward. =) Please review if possible! Any and all comments will be loved dearly!