I hope you all are enjoying it so far. These were some lengthy chapters, so let me know what you think!
7.
A few days passed without any disturbances in the camp, other than the occasional Bellamy Blake ass-chewings that one or two kids had to endure. Clarke rested so that her leg would heal and she was eventually able to walk without a limp. She wondered how her leg wasn't fractured during the attack, or how she didn't lose half her leg all together, but she decided not to question a good thing.
She had asked Bellamy for a meeting with him and his "officers". She had a few suggestions about how to run things in the camp that she needed to run by the Rebel King. His Highness would only tolerate an audience if he had some of his goons present, so Clarke agreed.
She paced back and forth inside the downed drop ship. Octavia sat patiently on the ground, her back against the wall with one knee bent towards her chest. She had asked Clarke to attend the meeting and since she was the only one who had a chance at convincing Bellamy of anything, Clarke agreed.
"This is probably going to be a waste of time, Clarke," Octavia spoke up.
"I know. That's why you're here."
"He wont listen to me. He never has."
"I saw differently when you convinced him to let you to the river with us." Since the river incident, Bellamy had set up a few rain collecting systems throughout the camp. He had decided to only retrieve water from the river if there was a shortage of rain.
"Well, he's probably had a change of heart since then, considering what happened."
"Maybe." Clarke cracked her knuckles anxiously as she continued to pace.
Just then, Bellamy entered the ship, followed by Miller, Atom and Murphy.
"So this is your 'council'?" she asked, mockingly.
"Got a problem, Princess?" Murphy sneered back.
"Don't call me that."
"Enough, both of you," Bellamy said, raising a hand to silence them. "So, Clarke you wanted to talk. What is it?"
"Well, to be frank, the way you run things around here is sloppy and disorganized. I'm not going to try to tell you what to do. I know you wont listen. But we need to divide our strengths. We should assemble groups- teams that will be assigned a permanent task to keep this camp running effectively so no one gets killed."
"She's run it by me, Bell," Octavia said, standing up and taking her place next to Clarke. "It's a good idea. The both of us can handle organizing everything, and you can keep doing what you're doing."
"Hold on," Bellamy said. "Nothing goes unless I say it goes."
"We get that," Octavia said. "We just want to help you."
"Why should we listen to you?" Murphy demanded.
Clarke took a step forward. "Because we know what the hell we're talking about," she said. "So you should hear us out."
Bellamy raised an eyebrow at Murphy, silently telling him to shut up. Murphy shrank back into his boots. "What kind of assignments did you have in mind?" he said, as he turned back to Clarke.
"Anything that we need to do on a regular basis," Clarke started, "like wall maintenance, hunter-gatherers, water suppliers, weapon makers, and a group of tech guys like Monty and Jasper to set up a station to try and establish a radio connection with the Ark. I definitely need a team to help me gather medical supplies. I can't be the only person who knows anything about medicine, ya know, in case I die."
Bellamy shifted uncomfortably at the last comment. "What about a group of scouts?"
Clarke shook her head. "It's too dangerous. We should get a foundation established first."
"We need to be ready if the Grounders plan to attack," Bellamy argued.
"They won't attack if we don't go after them."
"We need a some king of defense strategy. Something to help us prepare for the event that they do decide to move on us."
"Bell, she's right," Octavia spoke up again. "Basic stuff like food and water need to be taken care of so we don't starve to death before we even have a chance to fight the Grounders. We shouldn't waste man power on something we haven't even encountered yet."
"If you don't think they're watching us right now, you're crazy," Bellamy said.
"I know, but they're not an immediate threat," Octavia argued. "Starvation is. We haven't had a hot meal in three days, Bellamy."
"Guys, we can discuss the details later," Clarke said. "But Bellamy, we need a decision. Yes or no?"
Bellamy paused and straightened his jacket. "We can do your plan on one condition." Clarke raised an eyebrow, urging him on. "I get to command a team of scouts."
Clarke rolled her eyes. "It's a bad idea, I'm telling you."
"Well, that's my condition. We'd only be patrolling just outside the perimeter of the camp, anyways. It's not like I'm planning to start a full-on war with the savages."
Octavia glanced at Clarke as she pondered the suggestion. "Fine." It looked as if it pained her to say it, but she knew there was no arguing with Bellamy Blake. They needed this plan.
Bellamy grinned. "When do we start?"
"Whenever you want, your highness."
The next morning, Clarke had been able to put together a small group of trainees to help her gather supplies for certain medicines. She'd read about a lot of Earth-made remedies back on the Ark, but she'd also been able to watch the Grounders make some- mostly antidotes for spider or snake venom, amongst other smaller scale tonics.
She taught her team of five volunteers which berries to pick, which kind of root to dig up, and which flowers' nectar to extract. A lot had changed since Earth had been affected by nuclear war, a lot having to do with nature and it's properties. There were many plants that had developed self-healing agents when fighting off traces of radiation, some of which could be applied to humans. When combined correctly, they could work wonders.
They had just finished gathering sore-throat healing bark when they got back to the camp. The atmosphere had an eerie vibe to it, almost as if everyone had seen a ghost. Bellamy and Octavia were nowhere to be found. Clarke took the rest of the team's supplies and headed inside the drop ship to deposit them onto the shelves she'd constructed herself. When she had stacked the last pouch of materials, she heard a banging noise from the second level of the ship, followed by loud voices, arguing. She hopped onto the ladder and began to climb to investigate what was going on.
When she opened the hatch she first saw Miller and Bellamy. Octavia faced her brother, blocking him from something. And then Clarke saw it. A Grounder. She stepped up and hoisted herself into the room. The man was tall and dark. His body was riddled with tribal tattoos and scars of all kinds. His face looked angry under a pile of bruises and cuts, which Clarke assumed were a result of Bellamy's handiwork. The Grounder was chained to opposite walls by his hands, forcing his arms to remain open like the wings of a bird.
Octavia looked in Clarke's direction, a desperate look on her face. Bellamy appeared to be slightly out of breath and annoyed.
"We found this fucker on patrol," Bellamy said without Clarke having to inquire about the situation. "He was watching the camp."
"Clarke, they're torturing him!" Octavia said, almost panicked.
Clarke said nothing. She slowly approached the Grounder, her face as cold as stone. She looked up into his dark, smoking eyes.
"Tell them to stop!" Octavia pleaded with Clarke. "Please, he's done nothing wrong."
Clarke continued to stare at the mountain of a man in front of her. She recognized him. She didn't know exactly from where, but she had a pretty good idea. "No." She said, firmly. "Do what you have to do, Bellamy."
She turned and saw Bellamy smile. Octavia's mouth dropped open and her eyes narrowed. "What the fuck, Clarke? He didn't do anything. Show him a little mercy."
Clarke glared at Octavia. "They didn't show much mercy when they captured and tortured me, did they? Why should we show them anything different?"
The room froze apart from the Grounder's heavy breathing. Even Miller looked up to see if they had heard her correctly. Bellamy's fists relaxed. His baffled face mirrored Octavia's, but it quickly turned into complete rage. He dug his fingernails into his palms and he took a step forward. Clarke moved out of his way and continued to storm out of the room. The last thing she heard before the hatch closed was a grunt and the distinct sound of knuckles impacting hard flesh.
