The change was immediate. Whatever color and humor had been in Clove's face vanished at once. Her eyes widened, and her breathing became shallow. Every muscle tensed, her eyes flicked to his gun, and her fingers touched the hilt of the hunting knife at her side.
She saw it again, somewhere past him. The arrow grazing her face, felt the blood run down it. Registered the threat and lunged, taking Twelve down with her. They'd fought, brutal and hard, in the dirt and the leaves. And then, for an impossible moment, they'd both gone still, and Twelve was under her. Then a stab. Two. Three. On and on even after the girl was dead. Because it was her or Twelve. Because if she stopped or hesitated or spoke, Thresh would be there to grab her, to kill her.
Clove took a slow step back. To break into a run now might make that gun fire, and she didn't trust her chances. But, oh, she was ready to run. There was nothing in those eyes but fear. Because someone knew. Someone who wasn't bound by their truce, who was a friend of Katniss. Someone who wouldn't care if she lived or died.
"Katniss."
It didn't manage to be empty. Mostly, she was afraid. But there was a bit of anger and even a bit of hurt. Had she trusted Katniss? She realized now, staring at this man who knew, that she had. That she'd trusted it to be their secret. Even Cato didn't know. But someone knew now.
Well. She tried to steel herself. If he was going to kill her... she'd meet it like a tribute. She wouldn't scream, she wouldn't cry, she wouldn't surrender. She'd fight.
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The change was immediate. Whatever color and humor had been in Clove's face vanished at once. Her eyes widened, and her breathing became shallow. Every muscle tensed, her eyes flicked to his gun, and her fingers touched the hilt of the hunting knife at her side.
She saw it again, somewhere past him. The arrow grazing her face, felt the blood run down it. Registered the threat and lunged, taking Twelve down with her. They'd fought, brutal and hard, in the dirt and the leaves. And then, for an impossible moment, they'd both gone still, and Twelve was under her. Then a stab. Two. Three. On and on even after the girl was dead. Because it was her or Twelve. Because if she stopped or hesitated or spoke, Thresh would be there to grab her, to kill her.
Clove took a slow step back. To break into a run now might make that gun fire, and she didn't trust her chances. But, oh, she was ready to run. There was nothing in those eyes but fear. Because someone knew. Someone who wasn't bound by their truce, who was a friend of Katniss. Someone who wouldn't care if she lived or died.
"Katniss."
It didn't manage to be empty. Mostly, she was afraid. But there was a bit of anger and even a bit of hurt. Had she trusted Katniss? She realized now, staring at this man who knew, that she had. That she'd trusted it to be their secret. Even Cato didn't know. But someone knew now.
Well. She tried to steel herself. If he was going to kill her... she'd meet it like a tribute. She wouldn't scream, she wouldn't cry, she wouldn't surrender. She'd fight.