Dedicated to RueEvergreen who requested that I write a Katniss/Cato story. Hopefully it turns out alright, I normally stick to oneshots and my last attempt at a multi-chapter story failed.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games trilogy, or any of its respective characters, in any way, shape, or form. They belong to Suzanne Collins. This piece of fiction is not in any way profitable and is merely written for the enjoyment of others.

~xXx~

Insanity is the Key

~xXx~

She had to be insane; there was no way she would be doing this if she wasn't insane. Challenging a black bear for a beehive filled with honey (gloriusdelicioushoney) was not something that perfectly sane people did.

Then again, was anyone who lived in Panem sane? The people in the Capitol sure weren't sane, sending children to their deaths every year for their entertainment (fortheirjoylaughterbettingre mindercruelty). The Peacekeepers, sure they weren't all that bad, but they were definitely lacking a few brain cells. Just the other day Darius decided how lovely an idea it would be to juggle their guns, and it ended with him shooting himself in the foot. The Districts, well the Districts could be called sane. They did what had to be done to survive and made sure not to draw to much attention to themselves to make sure that they didn't end up like District Thirteen.

Well there was District Two; they could only be called sane using the loosest definition. Every year dozens of children could be seen lunging forward to be a competitor in the Hunger Games. Always their eyes glittered with the prospect of bloodshed and they were always the favorites to win, and they nearly always did. No, Katniss wasn't entirely sure that District Two was sane.

Then again, who was she to judge anybody on their sanity? Every day she ventured into the woods, going farther and farther each time, getting bolder and bolder each kill. Everything she did though, she did for her family, and she did for Prim.

Stop lying to yourself. A voice whispered in the back of her head. You know that you're not doing this for your family; you're doing this for the thrill of the kill. For the adrenaline pumping through you as you run after your prey, for the pounding in your ears when you're silently stalking your next meal, for that feeling of triumph when you see that arrow sinking into their flesh. You live for it, you crave it.

So maybe that was true, maybe she did hunt for the thrill of it and that feeling of release when she was in the forest all on her own and she could let the bloodlust flow, not have to cage it in. The forest was the only place where she could truly be herself, the only place where she could lay her soul bare on the leafy floor and not have to worry about being judged.

After all, who were the animals to judge her after they had an arrow through their eye?

A small gasp of pain escaped her lips as the bear's claws grazed her stomach, ripping the fabric and staining it with blood at the same time. Immediately the world warped focus and everything became sharper, crystal clear. Noise faded from her hearing and was replaced by the sound of blood pounding in her ears. She shivered as her body pulsed and hummed in time with the blood flowing from her stomach, flashes of heat traveling along her body. A predatory gleam entered into her eyes and her lips upturned into bloodthirsty and vicious grin as she let the arrow fly straight and true from her bow.

The bear stumbled back before letting out a roar and Katniss responded with an unhinged laugh, head thrown back in abandon, and watched as the birds from the surrounding trees flew away startled.

Every District has a black sheep. She thought blithely to herself as she reloaded her bow.

~xXx~

Cato knew that he was insane.

In his defence, at least he admitted it instead of living in denial like so many of the people in his District. They went through the day self righteously giving him fearful gazes, whispering about how unstable he was, pulling their children closer to themselves as he walked down the streets.

Fine, he had killed a classmate, but the moron didn't deserve to be preparing to enter the Hunger Games if his guard was that sloppy. The instructors had told the class to fight as if they were going to kill their opponent, and that's what he did. He killed him, and since then the rest of the District had begun to avoid him and in whispers (thatweren'treallywhispers) talk about, "The boy Cato that went right 'round the bend."

Filthy hypocrites.

He didn't understand why they were all so defensive and appalled; they had done the exact same thing in their youth. Cato had searched up the records in the schools, and sure enough, beside the names of students there would be a deceased stamp listing the reason. More often than not, the reason was a "classroom accident".

The deaths were no accidents. They were cold, calculated, efficient, easy, and final. They were the act of an assassin in training (afuturevictor).

As he walked to the District Square where the reaping would take place he titled his chin up and held his head higher as he listened to the words that were being spoken around him.

"He's unstable; don't know why they don't put him down."

"Billy, stay away. Don't ever go near him. Do you hear me?"

"Heard that he's going to volunteer this year."

"Hope he gets in, hopefully he'll be killed."

"This District doesn't need another insane Victor; we have enough as it is."

"Monster."

As Cato took his place among the throng of boys (boyswantingsodesperatelytobe men) as he waited for the reaping, a sardonic smile fixated upon his face as he took in the terrified visages of those next to him. One of them was quaking in his boots, his entire frame shaking like a leaf as he hyperventilated, and the other keep shooting him glances and fidgeting; his posture saying how much he didn't want to be next to the District monster.

When the name for the boy tribute was reaped, Cato lunged forward, glaring at those who had their mouths open, their voices dying halfway through their attempt to volunteer. "I volunteer as tribute." He spoke in a powerful voice that left no room for contention.

He shook hands with Clove (ohwhatadeadlypairtheywouldma ke) gripping her hand hard until tear formed in her eyes. He let the bloodlust begin to shine in his eyes and the unhinged grin to fixate itself upon his face.

It was time to let loose.

~xXx~

Reminder that I'm accepting requests, there's a list on my profile for which fandoms I'm accepting requests from. As you can see, I do actually follow through with them. :)