Disclaimer: I do not own the 100.
I am aware that my story does not match up to an exact timeline, but that's part of the point of creating a fanfiction. Be aware some chapters will be shorter than others but I intend to keep on writing until the story comes to a satisfying end. Comments and reviews would do heaps to keep my motivation alive.
Chapter 1
A few months ago, the 100 had to relocate after the attack with the Grounders. Their 'village' that they'd made around the drop ship had been burnt to a crisp, along with hundreds of the Grounder soldiers. Somehow, they'd managed to find a better location that was closer to a clean water source and began immediately building cabins and a wall surrounding what would be there new village. Their new home. Bellamy was good at leading, he wasn't very good at healing people, but he did the best he could with Raven, Monty and Jasper at his side –the three brightest minds in camp.
The cabins began fitting as many people as possible into them and eventually it ended up to two per home, they had chimneys and doors. They skinned the animals for blankets. They came up with a million and one different ideas to create comfortable sleeping arrangements and they had more luxury by doing so than they ever had on the Ark.
They were still building, just in case embers fell from the home fires…they wanted to have more than they needed for the coming winter. "There's movement in the trees." Miller voiced over the radio to the others on sentry duty.
Bellamy was talking to his little sister, Octavia, at the time but ran to the front gate, joining Miller at his post. He was using the scope of his gun as binoculars to better see what the threat may be. There were four individuals, it appeared as though one was holding onto another, keeping that person upright. Their hands were raised, as if saying they were unarmed and meant no harm.
"Don't shoot!" Bellamy ordered through the radio before flying down from Miller's post. "Open the gate!" He commanded and was followed by Miller and Murphey. On an ordinary day, he would have ordered to shoot on sight, but there was something in his gut that prevented him from doing so. Something he'd never quite felt before but nonetheless, his instincts were usually right.
He ran to the small group, dropping his gun when he saw it was Clarke, Finn, Harper and Lincoln. They'd been missing and presumed dead since the battle with the Grounders at the dropship. Lincoln was half carrying her, he was the only thing keeping her from falling. "Clarke!" He called, louder than he needed to but sounding breathless.
"Bellamy." She gasped in a small cry, her legs growing further unstable.
"You need to get her inside." Lincoln said as Bellamy swooped her up into her arms. The moment her head hit his shoulder, her unconscious took over, her body finally getting the rest it very much needed.
"Is she hurt?" Bellamy asked. Miller held onto Harper and Murphey was walking as an extra.
"We all are but Clarke is the worst. I'm surprised she's made it this far." Finn grumbled.