"Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing."
Helen Keller
The Game with no Rules – Earth Skills
I was beginning to feel the first clash of hunger pains coiling through my stomach, and the hydration of water was not helping at all. And to top it all off, the air in the forestry was humidly feverish after the antecedent night of pouring rain.
I had even pried off the top half of my jumpsuit, which had been sticking to my skin with a thin layer of sweat. My dark blue tank top was covered in substances that I wasn't sure of yet, but I didn't ponder on the subject too thoroughly. Before dawn, I had distinguished myself to the rooftop of the drop ship, a bundle of wires wrapped around my wrist and my makeshift knife shoved into my right pocket.
I propped myself in a cross-legged position on one of the unbroken panels, focusing on one of the damaged portions with all of my focused concentration. I knew that I would regret later having to do this, but I unhooked the top-half of my jumpsuit and tore the dry inside of my jacket out, wrapping thin strips around my fingertips. It wasn't one hundred percent dry cotton, but it would pass as protection from electrical burns for now.
As morning and noon swiftly approached, the other prisoners made quiet the racket of sounds. A headache loomed around my temples as a group of boys constantly played some type of tag-and-catch game, running over and nearly knocking over anyone in their path. It was annoying as hell.
After yelping a dozen times from a spark igniting against my palm or index fingers, I finally decided a break was in order. I climbed down the ladder, hearting a commotion from the front of the shuttle. My concern instantly swept out to Wells, who I was aware had had his wristband forced off as well sometime during the night by Bellamy and his little henchmen groupies.
But I was going down too fast, and the bars were still coated in perspiration from last night's weather. Without so much as a warning, a shout ripped from my mouth as my foot slipped through one of the hungs, and my whole body tipped backward from momentum. I instinctively tried to grab anything that could stabilize my weight, but I came up empty-handed.
When my back slammed against the outer wall of the shuttle, bright red colors flashed in my vision, followed by a pain blossoming through my lungs and midsection. The oxygen escaped my lungs and I felt my now bruised ankle slip through the ladder, my body now plummeting to the earth like lead.
I was so stupid, why hadn't I been slower?
Retrieving all of the energy I had preserved, my arms outstretched and I blindly tried to clasp one of the hungs as I free-fell to my death. My whole body jerked with agony as I caught myself once before I descended about ten feet, landing on my feet before impacting on some roots with my back.
And I just laid there, because it was all I could really do. Head spinning with dizziness, I propped myself up on my elbows and breathed in and out with soothing relief. Note to self: allow only one close call with Death a day. No need to make it a regular visitation.
"Marcel!" A voice called out, searching, and I smiled as Clarke came sprinting around the drop ship. She glimpsed down once at my bare wrist, and grimaced visibly. "You too? Wait – what are you doing?" She examined me, prone on the ground.
"Hm? This? Oh, y'know," I hoisted myself to my feet, fighting the urge to wince at the pain radiating through my upper-body. "I'm just, um, hanging around." The pun was so ironic that I almost burst into loud hysterical laughter. I must have hit my head far harder than I had originally thought.
She smiled airily, "Do that a lot lately?"
"Should have heard Bellamy with that girl last night. I was about to hang something."
"Oh," she laughed lightly, her musical chuckles chiming through the cricket chirping air. "That's gross, Marcel!" She swatted my arm, and I restrained a yelp of pain as she tapped at the tender muscle. Clarke's blue eyes suddenly clouded with troubling thoughts. "You need to know, remember how we were going to go to Mount Weathers?"
"Of course." How could I forget the source of my survival on earth?
"We didn't get there. Jasper got caught – h-hit, he was hit." She halted our advances back to camp, a hand on my shoulder as she gazed seriously into my eyes. "We're not alone here, Marcel."
I furrowed my eyebrows, not comprehending that statement. "You mean – you mean not alone by –"
"There's others here. Grounders."
I felt like I should have previously stayed lying on the ground. The impact of the situation struck me hard, and I placed the heel of my hand against my sweaty forehead, standing rigid. "That – does not sound good. At all." I steeled my gaze on hers, seeing the determination lingering in her azure blue eyes. "Count me in. When are we going to get Jasper?"
She smiled softly at my rush to join the rescue team, her hand coming to grasp my arm gently. "Right now."
When Bellamy Blake came into view of my peripheral vision, I almost tipped over in pure shock of his appearance. He had stripped off his guard jacket as well, leaving him in black pants and a dark blue tee-shirt, similar to the shade of my top. Just like when we were sixteen, his hair was wild and unkempt across his head, not combed back neatly. He was leaned over Octavia, who was whimpering under the touch of the wet wash cloth he pressed against her injured leg. Clarke had gave me the rundown of the events prior, and I had to say that the girl was lucky to not have lost her leg.
"You could've been killed," Bellamy explained to his sister sternly, tying a piece of clothing around her thigh.
"She would have been if Jasper hadn't of jumped in and pulled her out." Clarke's voice cutting in shocked me, and I halted just short of crashing into her smaller form. I steadied a hand on her shoulder, squeezing in confusion to why she was even starting a civil conversation with Bellamy. It was less than he deserved.
Octavia looked up, hopeful. Her gaze caught mine briefly, and she frowned in contempt. "Are you guys leaving? I'm coming." She tightened the cloth around her thigh, mentally preparing herself to stand up and do another trek through the forest.
Bellamy agilely pulled himself to his feet, hand clamping around her arm. "No. No way. Not again."
"He's right," Clarke informed. "You're leg's just going to slow us down." She shifted her body so she was angling more towards Bellamy, and dread seeped into my core as she spoke those next words I silently knew were coming: "I'm here for you."
"What?" I gritted my teeth and ran my fingers through my knotty black hair, my stress levels already rising rapidly.
"Clarke? What are you doing?" Wells seem to read my exact thoughts.
"I hear you have a gun," she said, staring intently as Bellamy tilted his head to the side to narrow his gaze on her.
"What?" I hissed, the word becoming very familiar. "You have a gun?"
He lifted a part of his shirt, revealing sun-kissed skin and a black gun shoved into the waistband. "What, Marcy? Angry because I'm one step ahead?"
"Jackass," I scoffed aloud, taking a step forward despite Clarke maneuvering herself to be between the two of us. Octavia sprung up to defend her brother, but he calmly placed a hand on her shoulder again, wordlessly allowing his pride as a male to step forward.
Clarke smiled, oblivious to the tension or she was just ignoring the thick silence. "Good. Follow me." She stepped around him, but I remained still, my back as stiff as a board.
"And why would I do that?" Bellamy questioned, annoyed.
"Because you want them to follow you," she indicate her head toward the lounging prisoners, "and right now, they're thinking only one of us is scared." She gave him a half-smirk, seeing the resolve harden his expression.
I connected my eyes to his, and our glares clashed. I sighed internally. My life just got so much more complicated and I hadn't even done anything except slipped off the side of the drop ship.
He snorted in disgust, slinging his jacket on. "Murphy. Come with me."
I took notice of the boy I had lunged at last night, and had attempted lacerate with my hands. He was heavily beaten, splotches of bruises littering his face – at least someone finally put the asshole in his place. I made a snorting sound, marching forward so I could escape the eyes of the duo. I reached Clarke's back and practically yelled in her ear. "What. Are. You. Thinking?"
"They aren't just bullies Clarke, they're dangerous criminals." Wells tried to reprimand her decision, but her face remained neutral.
"I'm counting on it," she stated.
I fell back from their quick pace, my thoughts fluctuating wildly. This was not exactly what I had signed up for, walking miles deeper into the woods with the person that perhaps wished to harm me was not exactly protocol on the keep-out-of-danger scale. Biting my thumb nail, I inclined my head to the side to see Murphy and Bellamy walk around the bend of one of the parachutes, his gaze settled on Clarke from the distance.
Oh, just wonderful – now I had to watch blondies back. She made an enemy that she more than likely did not realize would actually enforce enemy tendencies. Which generally meant mental suffering and paranoia – or perhaps that was just me.
"Since when are we in the rescuing business, huh?" Murphy growled out, his faint words becoming boomingly loud in my ears as he stomped behind his leader.
"The Ark think the prince is dead, if they think the princess is too, they'll never come down." Bellamy stated, hiking forward. I hunched forward and shoved my hands into my pockets, looking down so I didn't trip over a random root. "I'm getting that wristband. Even if I haft to cut off her hand to do it."
This time, I did glance back at them purposely. After the encounter last night, Bellamy had enforced his power to me, but that did not mean I would not do the same to him. We always seemed to have a silent communication through our eyes, and this was nonetheless one of those moments. My olive green eyes burned with warning, and by the smirk curling his upper-lip, he had intentionally allowed me to hear those words.
"Keep up, boys," I said, as if speaking to children. "We wouldn't want to leave you two to get lost and stranded, now would we?" My voice clearly betrayed otherwise.
Bellamy returned my expression, his eyes still coy underneath the shadowy silhouette the trees casted against the forest floor. He formed a chuckle underneath his breath, as if he was sharing an insider joke with himself about me, and stalked forward ahead. "Hey, hold up," he called to Wells and Clarke, Murphy close on his heels as the two passed me. I just comprehended he had his gun in his hand, which made me oddly nervous. "What's the rush?" He asked casually, waving the weapon as if showing off a prize. "You don't survive a spear through the heart."
Wells scowled, "Put the gun away, Bellamy."
Murphy launched forward and shoved his shoulder, hostility radiating from his aura. "Well, why don't you do something about it," he snarled.
Clarke intervened, voice placidly calm. "Jasper screamed when they moved him. If the spear had struck his heart he would have died instantly." She angled herself to continue walking in the direction Jasper had been captured. "It doesn't mean we have time to waste –"She was cut off by Bellamy lunging forward and gripping her wrist, her arm hurtling forward from the pressure of his grasp.
Alert and apprehension soared through my senses, and I swiftly clasped his shoulder, ready to rip him away from Clarke if that was what it took. "As soon as you take this wristband off," he said bitterly, "we can go."
She jerked back, lips pursed into a thin line. "The only way the Ark is going to think I'm dead, is if I'm dead." Clarke had got into Bellamy's face, so I gave her ten points for not cowering and having the balls to stand up for herself – it didn't make it any less stupid, though. "Got it?" She snapped, eyes shining with defiance.
I quickly retracted my hand as Bellamy shifted on his feet, licking his lips and that twisted smile coiling his mouth. "Brave princess," he tilted his head mockingly. He peered down at her with hidden contempt and frustration, because I could see right through him with his emotions (albeit not so much with his actions) – and perhaps that was why he hated me so much.
Hearing a twig snap behind me, I whirled around just in time to see Finn walking toward us, his stride confident. He was wearing a short-sleeved shirt with a blue vest, his long hair brushed back from his naturally handsome face. "How about you find your own nickname?" He called out, voice bemused. "Call this a rescue party? Gotta split up, cover more ground. Clarke, come with me."
As the two marched away, already whispering in hushed voices, heads ducked low, I swiftly considered my options. "Wells, you're with me –"
"Yeah, I don't think so." Before I could step forward to join the Chancellor's son, Bellamy's fingers curled around my bicep, keeping me in step beside him as he began marching perpendicular to Finn and Clarke's direction. "I need to have a word with you."
"Ooh-kay," I was not excited for this. He had completed the action in a split second so I couldn't really deny and retreat to Wells like a dog with it's between its legs. When my eyes averted to glance in his direction after a full minute of silence, I shuddered to see him scrutinizing the black markings along my right shoulder, disappearing along the shoulder trim of my tank top. The ebony swirls were elaborate, spiky and Victorian.
"I remember when you got that," he said, almost nostalgically. As if realizing what he had just said, a frown plastered on Bellamy's face as he halted in walking, the sound of birds chirping and flying animatedly directly above us. "Right," he reminded himself. His autumn-colored eyes locked on mine. "You need to stop trying to give the drop ship electricity."
I furrowed my eyebrows at his words, my face contorting with perplex. "Wait. You want me to stop –"
"Yes."
"- trying to give us light in the dark, which would be pretty damn useful, as well as the communications system back up and running?"
"That's the exact reason why."
I blanched, still in disbelief. I crossed my arms underneath my chest, the wind whipping my hair forward and into my face. "Unbelievable," I scoffed. "What did you do, Blake?"
"What makes you –"
"I know you."
"Well, I know you."
"Then you know I won't stop until you answer the damn question."
A muscle clenched in his jaw as frustration seeped into his expression. He spoke darkly, "I don't have to answer any of your questions." Bellamy took a step forward – a step too close – and I followed by leaning backwards a few inches. "And you don't have the privilege of asking."
"I assume it was for you to get on the drop ship."
"You can assume all you want."
The conversation was trailing off into a direction I was not willing to go. I observed as Bellamy whirled on his heel, intent on walking away from me –
"Bellamy, no, please – you know I didn't –"My hand fisted the back of his shirt, my face pressed into one of his shoulder blade as tears soaked through the fabric. Why was he doing this? He should know, he should know I would have never disconnected that line. It had been a technical problem all on its own – I didn't – I couldn't kill my own brother!
"You killed him," he didn't turn and his voice was like ice.
He didn't force my hands away from his person, because he knew as he walked away, I would not follow. Nor would I call out for him after I felt as if I had been stabbed through the chest with a dull knife.
I lost my hold and my knees buckled beneath me.
I just watched him walk away.
And he didn't look back.
"Blake," my quiet, softer tone had his back straightening in interest. I ran my right hand through my inky black waves with anxiety, a nervous habit I had inherited annoyingly. I didn't know what to say – Bellamy had the ability to say a sentence and you'd be so thrown off your reply would be gibberish or something that would embarrass you to near tears. I used to think that I was the only person that could ever deal with him in a conversation like this – but I was dreadfully wrong.
But I knew Bellamy was selfish, and I knew that despite his own needs, he put the people he loved in front of him first, Octavia being a prime example. That was what counted, in my eyes, despite our many alternating differences. "Give me a solid reason to go by, and I'll stop," the words were spoken underneath my breath.
I could see the hesitation and secrets swimming in his eyes. "Do you – really want the rest to come down here? The very counsel that threw you into solitary all those years?"
"I killed a man –"
"He attacked you, Marcel. In cold blood. Just because he was buddy-buddy with Jace –"Bellamy's face twisted painfully. "The trial was not justified correctly – they were wrong and foolish –"He breathed heavily, face coloring red. He swiftly gained control, though, and calmly began, "Jaha knew what he was saying when he ordered you as a Delinquent and to be floated. You're twenty for Christ's sake! They literally made you think every day that you were going to die for two years!"
I shook my head, the ground becoming very fascinating as he continued to rant. I had never realized how strongly he had felt on this topic (and it was a topic I really did not want to linger on). I had never knew the reason to why they had waited so long – why had they not just floated me on my eighteenth birthday?
"They planned this ahead. They sent us here to die, Marcy. Do you really –"
"I have nothing to lose." I quickly interceded. "But people on the Ark do, Bellamy. There's innocent people there."
"If they come down here, Marcel," his eyes implored mine, "your fate will be absolute as the one you held at the Ark. Don't go on about second chances and wiped slates, that's shit and you know it." Bellamy inhaled sharply, as if he was pained to be giving me such a long-lasting speech.
It was almost amusing, because he looked as if he had just given me a love sonnet he had been writing for the past two years – but he had actually shoved into my face the fact that I could die if the Ark came down. "Just think on it," he murmured lowly, trudging past me and through the tree line that lead back toward Murphy and Wells.
My position was numb and cowed by his haunting words. What if he was right, though? I wasn't stupid, Bellamy was attempting to win me over for his own bidding – I understood that fact, but it did not make his words any less the truth.
I had killed the guard, and it had been Jaha's best friend, Clarke's dad's best friend as well. I had murdered him in cold blood once I had found out his true intentions of confronting me about Ace, how could I not though? When someone commands your death for you 'supposedly' taking the life of your only family aboard the Ark? I had been furious and blinded by rage.
I had been locked away into solitary confinement for four years.
Do you know what that does to a person? Could I chance going back into those boxes with the only sound of voice being a guard who grunted a "you're welcome" after I thanked them for my daily meal? Could I?
I knew the answer to that question, but I was disinclined still.
Still detached, I continued trekking back toward the boys. My mind was in overdrive with possibilities and my worst fears. I missed the me that wanted the Ark to not think I was dead, but now Bellamy had practically forced my insecurities and nightmares right down my throat.
After of what felt like walking for hours upon hours, I stepped past a treeline that revealed to me a creek. It was glorious yet simple, water cascading down slipper moss-covered rocks. The water appeared fresh and clear, and I was not afraid to even once douse myself into the water for a few minutes. Standing knee-deep, I washed my face and took in bountiful mouthfuls, which caused me to not ignore the raging hunger in the pit of my empty stomach.
"Oh, Marcel!" I darted my eyes upward, toward the opposite side of the creek, and spotted Wells, his seatbelt-makeshift pack's buckle shining directly in my eyes. "We're down here! Finn and Clarke found some stuff to lead us to Jasper!"
I smiled at the good news, the only good thing I had heard all day. "Okay, go ahead – I'll catch up in just a sec!" He seemed reluctant at the thought of leaving me, but he followed my wishes with a short nod of his head.
I strolled over the rocks and onto the other side of the bank, strolling casually back toward the group. My eyes drifted closed as I walked, and I wondered when the last time I had gotten sleep was. I couldn't remember – and Bellamy's speech did not have me thinking clearly. God, what if I made a lonely based decision based on sleep deprivation?
"You wanna keep it down or should I paint a target on your back?" Finn's annoyed voice approached me as I finally reached the others. I hung back, not caring at this point if they hadn't noticed my presence. He examined a broken twig from a bush intently, and I almost rolled my eyes on how ridiculous it looked. Tracking things was not in my expertise area, at all. I think I'll stick with machinery.
When I visualized the drops of blood on the ground, I felt like throwing up. What pain had Jasper experienced?
"See?" I heard Bellamy's snide, mocking voice. "You're invisible." He was speaking to Wells, the mocha-colored skinned boy frowning with distaste toward him. I had not a clue what they were speaking of until I saw Wells gaze at Clarke, something in his expression had me wondrous.
Abruptly, I went rigid when a moan filled the air, it was almost like a devastated cry. Not a scream, though, which made the whole sound ten times more fucking frightening. "What the hell?" I conceded in a hushed tone, my eyes locking with Clarke's concerned blue ones.
"What the hell was that?" Murphy asked, looking toward the general direction of the sound.
Clarke stood back up from examining the blood, her gaze washing over all of us before landing on Bellamy. "Now would be a good time to take out that gun."
I followed directly behind her as we marched up a small hill, ignoring the bushes and twigs snagging at the long locks of my hair. I had thought about cutting it shorter, like I used to, but then I began thinking: what would Bellamy think? Which was utterly ridiculous to even consider his opinion, but it wasn't as much as his opinion other than his judgment. I had my hair cut to the tops of my shoulders when we were sixteen, when we were friends, how would he take that? Good? Bad? Hatred? The latter was more than likely.
When we located the noise, I didn't know which was scarier. The weirdly-shaped tree that Jasper was hanging from, or the blood that caked his midsection. Either way, the whole situation was blown into proportion.
"Jasper," Clarke gasped in horror, his moans effecting her in the worse possible way. "Oh my God," she whispered. "Jasper!" Clarke began racing forward, her determination to save him undeterred by anything – which, generally, meant that someone was going to get hurt.
Bellamy was directly in front of me, a hair's breath away, scoffing: "What the hell is this –" I didn't see anything clearly, but the next thing I knew, Clarke had cried out and Bellamy was lunging forward and gripping the blonde's wrist in order to keep her ascended from the spikes that laid beneath.
She had fallen into a trap.
Yelping with urgency, I circled my right arm around Bellamy's middle, to keep him up right and to not allow momentum to force him into the pit of spikes as well. Another pair of hands assisted me in dragging him backwards, with Wells and Finn jumping forward to drag Clarke out.
"You okay?" Finn asked her with care, her breathy indication of yes shaky.
I released Bellamy, and observed as he tilted his head to meet my gaze. "I saw that," I growled at him, hushed, so the others could not dare hear me. He had hesitated after clutching onto Clarke's wrist, as if he was considering allowing her to fall to her death.
He narrowed his eyes. "I have no idea what you're talking about. She's safe."
That she was. I had no choice but to let the situation fleet, because I knew bashing him would do no good and would neither effect nor cause him harm. I turned and tugged Clarke into a hug, occurring to me that she could have just died, if Bellamy's reflexes hadn't of been swift enough. She returned the embrace, pressing her forehead into my shoulder for a quick second.
"We need to get him down," Clarke said, voice strained with pants.
Finn volunteered first, "I'll climb up there and cut the vines."
Wells made move to follow, "I'll go with you."
"No – stay with Clarke." Finn's eyes landed distrustfully on Bellamy. "And watch him. You, with me." Murphy rolled his eyes with contempt, following Finn after a moment of hesitation.
"There's a pulses on his wound." Clarke announced uncertainty, gazing at Jasper.
"Like medicine?" Wells asked, sticking close to her side.
I scowled, "That's their game? They shoot first and heal later? What kind of sadistic assholes are we dealing with?"
Wells agreed, "Why would they save his life just to string him up as live bait?"
"Maybe whatever they like to catch they like it to still be breathing." Bellamy said in his matter-of-factly voice, which grated on my nerves at that moment.
Murphy and Finn had paused at the base of the tree, right below Jasper. Finn swiveled toward us with a note in his voice, "Maybe what they're trying to catch is us."
My eyelids fluttered closed at those words, and I almost swayed on my feet. We did not know what these grounders were capable of, but they obviously knew their way around these forests, and they had been here far longer than we have, which gave them more advantageous gains. There was no other away to put it but we were far outclassed, even if we weren't for sure of it yet.
After the dizziness hit me in the head like a whirlwind, I forced myself to sit on the ground. I saw Clarke give me a look like 'what-the-hell-stand-up-this-is-serious face, but I was just way too exhausted. I was so useless, I probably should not have come if I knew this would be the outcome of my recent sleeping habits.
So I forced myself to inspect Murphy and Finn as they cut into the binds that would free Jasper from his position. My eyes fully snapped open, though, when a bush near the group on the ground rustled dangerously. "Oh hell," I froze when I glanced over and saw glowing amber eyes, the animal's malicious leer aimed right at us.
"The hell was that?" Murphy questioned, pausing in cutting.
Bellamy was looking at me as I scrambled to my feet. "Grounders?" He knew I had seen it.
The animal circled the treeline it had between us, and I stopped breathing. It was graceful, the color of the night sky, its orange-colored eyes aflame with the hunt. I was the closest, and it ran right for me. I'd been having a lot of moments where I was too shocked or surprised to do anything, and not to mention that I would have been too sluggish and slow to jump out of the way.
Just as I heard Clarke yell, "Bellamy, gun!" I was hit with what felt like a concrete wall running straight into me, knocking me flat on my back into the tall weeds that disclosed my vision of the rest of the group. My scream of agony was noticeable though, when the animal's left paw dug straight into my shoulder, its claws sinking their way in as far as they managed.
Fortunately, adrenaline saved me. Despite my tiredness and weary movements, fear overpowered my strength. I had to brace my forearms on the thing's neck to keep its teeth from snapping into my face. "Get it off!" I roared with a hoarse voice, just as three shots of a gun rang through the air, like an object breaking through a sheet of glass in my ears. The beast lowered its weight on me, knocking the oxygen from my lungs as I shoved the thing off of my body.
"Fuck," I hissed. Heat radiated from my shoulder, and my arm felt as if it weighed a ton. The lacerations were distinguishable on my tattoo, and it was highly obvious that my shoulder and collarbone felt as if it was on fire by my twisted expression.
"Oh my god, Marcy!" Clarke dropped down next to me on her knees, tears shimmering in her eyes. "Are you okay? Are you hurt –"She saw my shoulder and breathed in sharply. "Okay. Okay, this isn't so bad."
I gave her a chuckle. "Are you convincing me or yourself? Because, if so, you suck."
"You're going to be fine," she said earnestly, assisting me in standing up to my feet. I wobbled over for a moment, but a hand steadied my other shoulder in a firm grip. I glimpsed over at Bellamy, and was surprised to see genuine worry flashing in his expression. Clarke ripped a bottom ring of my tank top off without my consent, the skin of my stomach felt blissful as it was exposed to the drifting air. I bit my tongue as she tied the fabric tightly around my shoulder, mostly to keep from crying out.
"Oh, your gentle hands sure help me feel fine," I cleared my throat, rasping. "After this, you owe me your first unborn child."
Clarke almost burst into laughter, holding her mouth at my random, shrewd comment about her foreseeable children. "Marcy! That's not funny! Goodness, where is your pain tolerance?" She was still smiling as she departed to assist Wells and Finn to carry Jasper, checking his vitals that she could help with.
I breathed in the fresh air, but only smelled the hissing breath of the animal, my blood, and the potent smell of tearing grass. I almost gagged.
Damn it, I need to sleep.
That very night, I perched myself in front of the bonfire. I hadn't been treated for my injury just yet, allowing Clarke to work with Jasper since he was by far in worse shape than I was in. Instead, I enjoyed the aroma of cooking meat, and observed as other prisoners had their bracelets removed.
'If they come down here, Marcel, your fate will be absolute as the one you held at the Ark. Don't go on about second chances and wiped slates, that's shit and you know it.'
Drawing my legs close, with my back against a fallen tree, I sucked in steady breaths. Dammit, he was right. I couldn't – I didn't want fear to take over my actions, but I just couldn't. Clarke would shout at me for agreeing, but she only spent a year in solitary, I spent . . . too long. God forbid me, I was going to allow hundreds of people to die. Jaha created this, though, he did this to me.
"Hungry?" Turning my head over on my knees, I assessed a sideways view of Bellamy Blake, two spears of the animal in both of his hands. Without awaiting for an answer, he dropped down to the ground adjacent to me, stretching his legs out with a silent groan. "No more hiking for me," he said.
I let out a small laugh, stretching my hand left hand around to grasp the stick with the slab of freshly grilled meat. "You didn't haft to knock out that poor kid, y'know," I was referring to the boy that had followed steps of, 'no rules so we can get food with our wristbands, anyway' view from Finn and Clarke. I was certain if I still had my band, as well, I would have done the exact same thing – but aspects of the situation were different.
"There is fear for leadership," Bellamy spoke, finishing a bite, swallowing. "I'm being tested."
"Fear? Did you read a fairytale guidebook for villains as a kid, Bellamy?" I snorted, eyes halfway closed. "You're responsibility and providing is what makes you a leader. Don't fall under rule of dictatorship, or somethin', which just sounds ridiculous."
"Fear will keep Octavia safe." The way he said that caused me to glance over at him, and I wasn't surprised to see him frowning sullenly into the fire prior to us. I secretly admired his will to protect his little sister. She was a bitch, but a very well protected bitch who lived under the floor for so many years, I had to pity her or perhaps been sympathize with the isolation.
"Speaking of fear and keeping Octavia safe," staring at the half-eaten meat, I wasn't famished anymore. "I agree with you. I am going to help you – under one condition."
His eyes went to slits, and the smile he had was as sly as a fox. "What?"
"Never hesitate to save someone innocent."
