Overwhelmed by all of the people and excitement buzzing around our makeshift camp, I find some pieces of metal from the dropship and some material from the seatbelts and chairs before heading off into the trees to find some peace and quiet.
Eventually I settle down on a fallen tree and set to making three knives out of the materials I brought. I hum to myself, enjoying the solitude.
The knives are of poor quality, but coming from a poor family on the Ark, I'm used to making due with scrap bits. As I sharpen the blade, my thoughts drift back to my father.
My father taught me almost everything I know about knives and fighting. The guard training taught me to use guns, but that won't really help me down here. I smile, remembering the constant lessons from my father. He always pushed me further than I thought I could go and it taught me just how capable I can be if I want something bad enough.
The guard, on the other hand, forced you to push yourself. If you didn't try to your full potential, they let it slide. The guard wants soldiers who obey their every command, not strong, independent fighters. The self defense techniques they showed us were sub-par and I often got called out for trying to use techniques that were too advanced for my level.
As I recall the guard training, I begin puzzling over Bellamy once more. It just doesn't add up. Sure, Bellamy was a great fighter and would have made an excellent guard, but the deserving do not always get. Even more confusing is why they would send him down here with us.
The more I think about it, the more I'm convinced, Bellamy had an in somehow. He wanted to come down here with the prisoners and someone helped him or made some sort of deal. An obvious reason to want to come down here would be his sister, Octavia, however I find it hard to believe that's his only motive.
Lost in thought, it takes me a moment to register that someone is watching me. I stand up immediately, brandishing my makeshift knife.
"Whoa there tiger, you can put that down. I didn't mean to startle you"
Of course it would be the ex-guard trainee himself.
I don't lower the knife, looking at him expectantly.
"Can I help you?" I grit out, still suspicious.
He gives a shrug, taking a step closer.
"Don't" I say, stopping him in his tracks.
He raises his hands up in surrender, standing a few feet away.
"Look, I heard you humming while I was out scouting the area. I thought you might be lost or something" he says, trying to convince me with his eyes.
I huff, sitting back down on my log and continuing to work on my knife. I'm embarrassed at myself for not noticing him sooner and it's put me in a defensive mood.
"I take it you're not lost then" he chides, approaching the log slowly.
I grab another knife and start to sharpen it.
Why does he put me on edge so much?
He sits down on the log next to me and I feel the hairs stand up on the back of my neck.
Relax, Ali, he's just sitting down. Why the hell are you so nervous?
I side glance at him as he picks up the finished knife from next to me.
"This is impressive" he states, examining the weapon, "We could definitely make use of some of these".
I shrug, pointing to the blade,
"They really aren't difficult to make. This is metal from the drop ship and this here is from one of the seats…" I trail off, pulling my hand back and focussing back on the knife in my hand, reminding myself that I still don't quite trust this guy.
He nods, and we sit in silence for a moment. I try to block out his presence, as distracting as it is. I need to get these knives finished soon so we can go out hunting and find some protein.
"I'm Bellamy" he says suddenly.
I nod, "I know who you are".
I enjoy the look of surprise on his face.
"You do?"
He sounds almost worried and I find myself wondering why he feels threatened by that.
"Ali Kaspen. I was in training to be a member of the guard, like yourself" I say vaguely.
He seems to relax slightly.
"The name rings a bell. Wasn't your father in the guard too?" he asks.
My heart throbs at the mention of my father and I have to swallow back the lump in my throat.
"Yes. Speaking of which, I don't recall you ever making it to a full-fledged guard, Bellamy Blake" I say casually.
It's my turn to get some answers.
He shifts uncomfortably, "No, I didn't. Neither did you".
I smirk at our back and forth accusations.
"The uniform looks good on you though. I can't help but wonder where you got it from".
He stands up, looking down at me with a serious look on his face and I stare back at him innocently, head tilted slightly.
"Listen, Ali. You're right, this isn't mine. I needed to get down here to protect my sister so I did what I had to do. But I'm in a good place with these people right now and I'm not about to let you screw things up for me".
I stand up calmly, less than a foot away from him. I can feel the heat radiating off of his body, smell the scent of pine on his skin. I meet his glare with my own, icy blue against smoldering brown. However, I find myself at a bit of a disadvantage height wise. He stands almost a whole foot taller than I, a mere 5'2 girl.
"We've all done things to get ourselves sent down here. So let's get one thing straight, Bells, I'm not scared of you. Don't think you can intimidate me into silence because that'll only piss me off".
Slowly, a small smile appears on his face and I'm taken aback slightly.
"Alright" he says, backing off.
The tension dissipates and he turns to head back to camp with one last glance at me.
I release the breath I hadn't realised I was holding and stare at the retreating form of Bellamy as he walks away.
I frown at the way he can get under my skin so easily.
Who does he think he is?
Throwing my hair up into a loose bun, I rub my hand along the back of my neck and shoulder, letting out a sigh.
I really need to relax.
Scooping up the three knives I made, I make my way back towards camp to look for John.