Her waist burned as she strained her body, running fast and without direction from who or what had killed Jasper. A blur of green and brown flew past Amber as she ran, tripping over her feet and clutching at her loosened bandages. In front of her, Monty fell. She ran ahead, taking the lead in the scattered escape as the others stopped to help him up. She swallowed that taste in her mouth again, that strange unfamiliar taste, brought on by the care and consideration the others displayed for Monty despite knowing him for less than 48 hours. The selfishness took over her, and she shoved it away as she turned back towards the others. Clarke had crouched down, holding a blackened object, a skull, in her pale hands. Amber's distance away kept her from hearing what they were saying, but her strained attempt of eavesdropping had been interrupted by a scream echoing out of the direction they ran from. Jasper was alive, Amber's stomach dropped.
She followed the others now, at the back of the group, as they crept beneath the tree canopies and tried their best to limit any noise despite their heavy breaths. They slowed again to the clearing where Jasper's body would come into view, if it was still there. The spot that he had been hit, where Amber saw him lay dead on the floor, was empty of any boy, dead or alive.
"They took him."
/
"You can stop this." Wells argued against John's doings, his face contorted in disgust.
A sly smirk played upon Bellamy's lips, his gaze drifting toward the spot where John had hastily retreated, narrowly evading Wells' initial push, "Stop this?" he retorted, his voice laced with a wicked amusement, "I'm just getting started."
The tension hung heavy in the air, and it was clear that this was just the beginning for Bellamy.
In a predictable yet brutal turn, John's fist crashed into Wells' jaw, followed by a series of blows raining down upon the chancellor's son. It took a moment, but Wells finally fought back, intensifying the clash between the two. The surrounding teenagers and children formed a circle, their presence amplifying the gravity of the confrontation, their chants of encouragement echoing in the background.
The boys tumbled and wrestled, their bodies colliding repeatedly. Eventually, Wells managed to gain control, mounting Murphy and delivering a powerful punch to his face. He then grabbed Murphy's jacket, forcefully slamming his head into the unforgiving earth. With one resolute strike to Murphy's face, Wells stood up, disregarding the bruises forming on his own body and his aching knuckles.
Ignoring the looming threat behind him, Murphy – who had now retrieved a weapon, Wells approached Bellamy with a plea for understanding. "Don't you see you can't control this?" he implored, while Murphy continued his taunting from the rear. However, Bellamy intercepted before John could get any closer, his tanned arm acting as a barrier.
"Hold on," Blake paused, his hand rising to reveal a knife of his own, "let's make this a fair fight."
Wells appeared somewhat hesitant, his head turning nervously as his gaze darted around, contemplating his next move. But upon seeing Murphy's malevolent grin, he finally picked up the knife. Murphy attempted to strike first, but missed his mark. Undeterred, he made another attempt. Wells aimed for Murphy's face, but the agile boy managed to evade the blow, slicing Wells' arm in the process, earning a grunt but no cry of pain. Murphy snarled like a predator closing in on its prey.
"This is for my father," he growled, launching himself at Wells once more. However, this time, Wells was prepared. The chancellor's son swiftly maneuvered, gaining the upper hand and flipping Murphy, securing him in a headlock with the knife pressed against his throat. Both boys were breathless, and Murphy froze, unwilling to meet his demise so prematurely and to a chancellor's son of all people.
Clarke, Finn, and Amber hurried down the hill towards the commotion. "Wells!" Clarke shouted, her voice filled with urgency. "Let him go!" Her demand pierced through the chaos, accompanied by the presence of Finn and Amber.
Wells released John, allowing him to hit the ground with a thud. Amber's face reddened, her jaw clenched in anger. Her brother attempted to lunge at Wells, but Bellamy swiftly intervened, preventing him from escalating the situation further. However, Amber did not care for Bellamy's imminent intervention, and in a moment of unchecked fury, she unleashed a punch that caught everyone off guard.
Her fist connected forcefully with Wells' upper lip and nose, the sheer strength behind the blow causing him to stumble back. Shocked, he clutched his nose as blood began to pour. Amber struck him again, this time in the ribs, though with less force, enough to leave him breathless. Amber huffed, shaking out her hand, deciding against another strike, not because Bellamy was restraining her, but because she had no appetite for further conflict so early into her newfound freedom. She took a step closer, her eyes filled with seething rage as she locked her gaze with Wells', fully aware that he wouldn't retaliate. He released his nose and stared down at her, caught off guard by the revelation that John was her brother—an unexpected fact that startled everyone present. Amber seized the opportunity to push him back, her hands gripping the collars of his jacket.
"Touch my brother again, and I won't hold back next time," Amber growled, punctuating her words with a jab of her finger against Wells' chest. He was taken aback by the revelation of their sibling bond, a fact that left everyone in astonishment. She hastily pushed him away and started to walk backward, only to collide with a solid figure. Turning around, she found herself face-to-face with a man, his chest towering above her. Gazing up into his brown eyes, she spat out with disdain, "Is there a problem?" Amber stood her ground, refusing to yield an inch, the evidence of her recent battles visible on her person—dried blood staining her tank top's hem, a bandaged left arm, and a shirt soiled with dirt, grime, and more blood protruding from her back pocket.
"Where's the food?" Bellamy's question pierced the air, not directed at Amber but at the group she arrived with. She, however, remained focused on her brother's battered face. Finn responded matter-of-factly, revealing that they hadn't made it to Mount Weather. Bellamy's inquiry about what had transpired was met with Clarke's fearful expression as she spoke up.
"We were attacked," Clarke answered, her voice tinged with anxiety.
"Attacked?" Wells' heart raced, his mind racing through potential scenarios. "By what?" he questioned urgently.
Finn's response hit them all like a heavy blow. "Not what," he breathed, "who. Turns out the last man from the Ark to die wasn't the last grounder."
John glanced at Amber for confirmation, and she nodded silently, joining her brother's side. Standing together, their presence exuded an undeniable aura of intimidation. Bellamy stole a quick glance at the two, still shocked to discover that he wasn't the only one with a sibling on the ground, and of all people, it had to be the rogue and unpredictable John Murphy. The entire camp was well aware of how dangerous Murphy's sister could be. Blake acknowledged that while chaos was something he embraced, this girl required close observation.
Clarke addressed the growing group of teenagers, revealing a revelation that shattered their preconceptions. "Everything we thought we knew about the ground is wrong," she exclaimed. "There are people here, survivors. The good news is, that means we can survive. Radiation won't kill us."
Finn interjected with the grim reality that Amber was already contemplating. "Bad news is the grounders will."
Amber whispered under her breath to Murphy, her words barely audible, "Not if we kill them first." Her brother snorted softly in response, and they shared a brief moment of dark amusement, earning concerned glances from the rest of the group.
Wells scanned the returning group from their expedition and noticed a glaring absence. "Where's the kid with the goggles?" he inquired.
Clarke's voice softened as she delivered the somber news, "Jasper was hit. They took him." Her attention, however, was diverted by something missing from Wells' wrist. She grabbed his arm, her tone filled with concern. "Where's your wristband?"
Wells shrugged off her hands, his gaze shifting to Bellamy. "Ask him," he retorted.
"How many?" Clarke demanded an answer from Blake. But it was John, Amber's brother, who responded.
"Twenty-four and counting," John smirked. Amber glanced down at her right wrist, noticing the clunky mechanical bracelet encircling it. Absently, she rubbed at it as she refocused on the conversation.
"You idiots," the blonde muttered, shaking her head in disbelief. "Life support on the Ark is failing. That's why they brought us down here! They need to know the ground is survivable again, and we need their help against whoever is out there." She raised her voice to reach the entire gathering. "If you take off your wristbands, you're not just killing them, you're killing us."
Amber glanced at her brother, who seemed unconvinced. Uncertain of her stance, she struggled to find her place in all of this.
"Don't listen to her. She's one of the privileged," Bellamy proclaimed, and Amber couldn't help but question why her brother obediently followed him. It was now evident that this man, Bellamy, was their leader, whether she liked it or not. "When they come down, she'll have it good. How many of you can say the same? We can take care of ourselves. That wristband on your arm," Amber's gaze flickered down to her wrist once more, furrowing her brow, "it makes you a prisoner. We are not prisoners anymore. They say they'll forgive your crimes, but I say you're not criminals."
"Bullshit," Amber muttered quietly, almost absentmindedly, her voice too soft for her brother to hear.
"You're fighters. Survivors. The grounders should worry about us," Bellamy concluded, prompting a resounding cheer from the gathered crowd, a sign that Clarke finally recognized as evidence of Blake's influence. Amber watched as Clarke stormed off, accompanied by Monty.
Amber wasn't so sure she wanted to be a follower. She refused to adhere to any set of rules, guidelines, principals, or lack thereof, set by either Bellamy or Clarke. Her brother was her priority, and if he chose to stand by Blake's side, so be it. But Amber would not be following suit.