[She dislikes gratitude. It is debt at its very core. She owes no one, and no one owes her. She will never barter hypothetical favors. Actions are exchanged immediately. Even with Cato.
She pulled the things from him, he made her food.
This birthday was the only slight hypothetical. When his came, she's reppay. Balance would be restored. No debt.
And what does she owe Twelve? Happiness. A blank memory, and Twelve had been beyond merciful. She could have told her everything, told her how little room for emotion and humanity she really had. But Twelve had let her be happy. Clover had been grateful for what help Katniss had offered; Clove was grateful for those moments of understanding peace.
A bowl of stew didn't settle that.
But she could pretend it did.
These woods are familiar by now, but Clove still looks up as she walks. She's never far from the Arena. Like checking for trackerjacker nests. And with Twelve, she's even closer. The pack used to pad through the forest, hunting. Someone at her back meant Clove was more careful than ever. That's why she continues to lead a path away from the camp. Because she trusts Twelve less than Mina but more than Glimmer.
A slight clearing makes Clove stop. Far enough away. She feels safe with this distance. They can talk without chancing Cato waking.
He won't worry. She likes to wander the woods, practice hunting or trapping or fishing. She has her knives, too. Her vest is only off when she sleeps. And she has her hunting knife at her hip. He won't worry; he'l just go home.]
action;
[She dislikes gratitude. It is debt at its very core. She owes no one, and no one owes her. She will never barter hypothetical favors. Actions are exchanged immediately. Even with Cato.
She pulled the things from him, he made her food.
This birthday was the only slight hypothetical. When his came, she's reppay. Balance would be restored. No debt.
And what does she owe Twelve? Happiness. A blank memory, and Twelve had been beyond merciful. She could have told her everything, told her how little room for emotion and humanity she really had. But Twelve had let her be happy. Clover had been grateful for what help Katniss had offered; Clove was grateful for those moments of understanding peace.
A bowl of stew didn't settle that.
But she could pretend it did.
These woods are familiar by now, but Clove still looks up as she walks. She's never far from the Arena. Like checking for trackerjacker nests. And with Twelve, she's even closer. The pack used to pad through the forest, hunting. Someone at her back meant Clove was more careful than ever. That's why she continues to lead a path away from the camp. Because she trusts Twelve less than Mina but more than Glimmer.
A slight clearing makes Clove stop. Far enough away. She feels safe with this distance. They can talk without chancing Cato waking.
He won't worry. She likes to wander the woods, practice hunting or trapping or fishing. She has her knives, too. Her vest is only off when she sleeps. And she has her hunting knife at her hip. He won't worry; he'l just go home.]
We're even now.