Bellamy was sitting on the hood of the Rover, marking his map. The rain above him didn't quite filter through the thick tree cover, but his hair was properly frizzy nonetheless. He didn't mind as long as the paper was dry. This new area he was mapping was particularly interesting; no sign of grounders anywhere, very few markers of former territory. A few road signs along the busted-up pavement were all that remained of the former area, and he had no clue if it had been a residential, market, or other public place. It was beautiful, and quiet, so he was content.
It hadn't taken long for Bellamy to gain this coveted mobile security and mapping position he'd wanted; he was trusted with the rover and other equipment, and came to the position with more terrain knowledge than any of the dwellers of the Ark. Lincoln might have been the obvious choice, but seemed to have no interest in matching up old world maps to new world ruins. While Bellamy took the duties seriously, he also spent a lot of time looking for signs of Clarke...so far, fruitless, but he was convinced it wasn't a waste of time. Whenever he got discouraged at the tediousness of finding and mapping landmarks, Bellamy reminded himself that it was highly preferable to supply runs to Mount Weather-a job for which he'd been strongly considered, but Bellamy had fought passionately against it.
He couldn't imagine going back up there, seeing the bodies. Or even the spots where the bodies had lain. Even now his thoughts drifted to it, the calm rain drops landing on the rover's hood tap-tap-tapping as if impatient with his pause in writing. Bellamy blinked, forcing himself to look away from the faded map and into the trees, when he caught movement. Startled, he watched as a large black bird flapped its wings, landing on a nearby overhead branch, and then croaked out a strange call.
He'd never seen anything like this yet. Bellamy considered using his rifle scope for a closer look, but the bird was only fifty or so feet away, and he was in awe of the moment. The bird seemed less impressed; it tilted its black head, cawing again at the intruder. The brunette gingerly placed the pen and map on the hood of the rover, but just as he shifted to stare, the bird was nervous enough about his movement that he flapped his black wings again, fluttering farther into the forest ahead.
Bellamy, as though transfixed, leapt from his metal seat and followed, jogging down a hill and watching the thick green treeline for the spot of black, the crow ducking around the bend and disappearing until Bellamy rounded it as well. He scanned upwards, the tall mossy area betraying no bird, until -there it was!- he watched it soar up to a tall window and then hop inside.
Bellamy was even more startled; what looked at first glance to be a very steep, slick rocky cliff above him was topped with a strange concrete structure, not unlike the bulky protruding exit door at Mount Weather. But it had a window, and now that he was surveying it, he could see a door as well. Just as he decided to investigate further, he heard a telltale rumble in the distance; possible thunderstorm, and he did not want to get stuck in the inevitable downpour and mud. With one last hard glance at the cliffside bunker, he jogged back to the rover, pausing only to inspect mossy ground near where the crow first squawked at him, and to take from that ground, one long slim iridescent black and green dropped feather.
"Bellamy," Lincoln said quietly, as the latter sat eating inside the Ark.
"Lincoln," the other replied through chewing his food; he glanced up and saw the usual broody expression on Lincoln's face. Lincoln actually sat beside him, pondering what to say, when Bellamy interjected, "What's up?"
"I was going over the notes for your scouting today," Lincoln said. "You wrote about a door and window on a cliff."
"Yeah, you know anything about it?"
Lincoln shook his head in a rather dismissive way. "You should take that out of your report." His voice was even lower than usual.
"Why?"
The other man hesitated. "We...the Grounders...we know about that place. It's best left alone by Skaikru."
"But what is it?"
Now Lincoln had already stood up, outstaying his own welcome, and he shook his head again as he walked away. Bellamy waited for an answer, sighed when the enigmatic man had left the room, and turned his attention back to dinner. While he sat in thought, Bellamy reached into his own coat pocket and withdrew the feather, turning it in his fingers.