I hate hiking. Hiking. It was one of those ancient, foreign words they forced down schoolchildren's throats back on the Ark, just like weather, or democracy, in some sick bid to pretend the Earth wasn't a desolate wasteland. Which, apparently, it wasn't.
It means a long walk through the woods. It was one of the many words I never once imagined I'd have a chance to hate, just like rain, or mud, or Grounder.
I suppose I should be more grateful, everything considered. Just trust me when I say you don't know the half of it. It's not all pretty sunsets and fresh air.
It was a mile from the drop ship to the nearest source of fresh water. Two miles to water Clarke cleared for bathing in— something about not drinking ass-water, but seems pretentious for a bunch of kids living in the forest — five miles out to the berry fields, ten miles to any decent game, and almost twenty to the Grounders.
On bad days, I sometimes wonders how many things I've tasted for the last time. There wasn't much variety with the Ark's algae-based derivative mush, but at least it wasn't stringy panther meat, or hallucinogenic acorns, or berries that taste like pulp and dirt.
Mud eternally cake my boots and pants, and the thin, winding trail through the woods squelches with every step. The mud drags at every step, and the constant patter of rain has soaked my hair and jacket.
"It's been raining for three days straight," I said.
There was a grumble of consensus behind me.
"Enjoy it while you can," said Jaha. "There's a lot less rain where we're headed."
So yes, I hate hiking. I hate being surrounded by eighteen-or-younger males who haven't showered in three months, I hate living on five hundred calories a day, I hate the Ark council survivors who think they can crash-land a camp and take over the Earth, I hate all the nuts and berries and the inevitable diarrhea that follows, I hate feeling grateful for being accepted back among humanity instead of having my fingernails torn out by Grounders, and I hate hiking eight hours a day through mud and rain.
And yet here I am, marching my dumb ass through the forest with a madman on the longest, dumbest hike in existence.
I am not a monster, but I have done monstrous things. I am exactly who the Ark made me to be.
