A Whole New Game: A Hunger Games Story

Chapter 7: Promises

Eleanor

Rrrrrrooorrrrr.

My eyes open, unable to ignore the sound of my whining stomach any longer. I find myself curled into Cato's arms, his rattling snores shaking the forest. After my grateful kiss yesterday, we had cozied up rather nicely, and had both seemed to have forgotten we were in a fight to the death. This and several other makeout sessions had helped me to quickly gain his trust. In the meantime we had failed to find the others, although we were in no particular rush.

Rrrrrrooorrrrr.

Another rumble of my stomach sends me up and carefully squirming from Cato's grip. In the hopes of squandering some food, I dig through both packs, unable to find anything more than a few matches and a small arrangement of knives, probably a few left over of Clove's. Uhg. Even the thought of her makes me sick. I had hoped the cannon had been hers, but I was not complaining about getting Glimmer out of the way. Not complaining at all.

Rrrrrrooooorrr.

Okay, okay. I get it. You need food.

I spy the small pond from yesterday and decide upon a fishing excursion. Eh.

    I had never really learned how to fish. Although originating from a district reliant on its fishing industry, being high in political and economic status had come with advantages, such as not having to catch our own food. But how hard could it be? Fish are brainless animals.

Perhaps that is why, even after an hour, I have none.

"I thought people from District 4 were supposed to be good at this," chimes a groggy voice. I turn to find Cato, sitting crossed-leg, laughing at me from the spot we were sleeping.

"I don't see you catching anything now do I, mister?" I run over, placing myself in his lap and planting a long kiss on him. "Now start a fire or you can't have any."

Within half an hour or so I have managed to snag a measly trout or two, and Cato has a measly flame sparking. I cook our little lunch, or what I presume to be cooking. I wouldn't have a clue if I was doing this right or not. The outer skin is black and charred, but Cato and I eat or pathetic meal as though it will be our last.

"Who all's still out there?" I ask, my mouth dry with the taste of burnt scales.

He thinks a moment. "Both from 12, both from 11, the boy from 10, the girl from 5, the boy from 3, Marvel, and Clove."

His voice catches on her name.

Ugh.

I don't get what he sees in her anyway. She's probably out fooling around with Neanderthal and Romeo, the little slut. Not to mention she's always nagging, she's a smartass, and just overall unbearable. And it's not like she's hot or anything. So why bother? He could do so much better. Hm. He is doing so much better.

Snap!

We both turn toward the noise, my hand already on my dagger. I grin wickedly at the small pitter patter of footsteps.

This is it.

"Cato, watch the supplies."

He looks to me with slight confusion. "Eleanor, maybe we ought to check it out togeth-"

"Thanks!" I give him a quick kiss on the cheek, taking him by surprise, before rushing off.

"Eleanor!" he calls after, but I'm too far ahead to stop.