Bellamy gently dabbed at Octavia's wound, mindful of her discomfort but determined to tend to her injuries. "What the hell was it?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.
"I don't know. The others said it looked like a giant snake," Octavia responded truthfully, fully aware of the lecture that would soon follow from her brother.
"You could've been killed," Bellamy stated seriously, his gaze fixed on his sister, reflecting his love, care, and concern for her well-being.
"She would've been if Jasper hadn't jumped in to save her," Clarke interjected, walking toward the siblings, with Wells following closely behind.
"And if Amber hadn't risked her life to distract the thing," Octavia added, almost challenging Clarke's reluctance to acknowledge that even someone as flawed as Amber could perform a selfless act. Bellamy looked at Octavia with a perplexed expression, finding it impossible to believe that such a seemingly wicked girl could exhibit such heroism. "You guys leaving? I'm coming too—"
"No, no. No way," Bellamy interjected, stepping forward to halt his sister before she could continue. "He's right. Your leg will only slow us down," Clarke sympathized with Octavia, turning to Bellamy. "I'm here for you."
"Clarke, what are you doing?" Wells interjected, his voice filled with concern.
"I heard you have a gun," Clarke stated matter-of-factly.
In response, Bellamy glanced down at his hip, lifting his shirt to reveal a handgun nestled against his tanned skin.
"Good. Follow me," Clarke spoke abruptly, starting forward without hesitation and expecting Bellamy to trail behind her.
"And why should I do that?" Bellamy questioned, his tone skeptical.
"Because you want them to follow you," Clarke replied, looking around before meeting Bellamy's gaze once more. "And right now, they're thinking that only one of us is scared." Her voice lowered to a whisper as she walked away, leaving Bellamy with the responsibility of rallying more people for their rescue mission.
"Murphy," John called out, looking up. "Come with me." Nodding in response to Bellamy's orders, John glanced over at his sister, who was using electrical tape to secure fabric over her wounded waist. Once satisfied with her makeshift bandage, she reached beside her and pulled the worn, grey top, torn at the hem and sleeves, over her white tank. Tucking her hair behind her ears, her eyes met her brother's gaze. Bellamy noticed the exchange and, turning back to his second-in-command, added, "Your sister, too." Murphy looked at Bellamy and nodded once again. Amber had already risen from her seated position and was making her way over, holding a different weapon than the one John had given her. Her brother had noticed, too, and surmised that she must have lost the previous one during her brief swim in the river.
/
Bellamy turned, noticing that Wells was a fair distance behind him and Amber even further back. Amber's face was calm, studying the trees while her hand absentmindedly tucked her hair behind her ears. She seemed to be taking a leisurely stroll rather than being on a mission to rescue one of their own.
He remembered the first time he saw her just the other day when she embraced her brother for the first time in what seemed like years. He knew bits and pieces of her story. She was like his sister, Octavia, but also completely different. She, too, had lived under the floor, just like Octavia. And when they found his sister, they found Amber shortly after. However, Amber wasn't just an illegal child; she was the most wanted person on the Ark. Yet, nobody knew her true identity. She didn't have a name, or even a recognized family that claimed her. She was nobody.
But as it turns out, she's a Murphy. She was older than her brother, Bellamy could sense that easily, it was in the way she looked at him, just as he looked at Octavia. It wasn't John protecting Amber; it was the other way around. She was strong, despite her size. Amber was undeniably dangerous. Until Bellamy knew more, he couldn't trust her. Out of all the criminals on the ground with them, Amber was the most unpredictable. No one understood her motives, no one knew who she truly was; they only knew what she had done. Bellamy invited her on the mission for two reasons and two reasons only: her evident skills in hand-to-hand and his desire to keep a close eye on her in a camp filled with hot-headed and menacing teenagers who could make her break that apathetic pretence at any moment.
Blake redirected his attention to the path ahead as he stepped over a fallen log, with Murphy walking beside him. Having John on his side was beneficial, not only because of his ruthlessness, but also because he was the only person that Amber would side with.
"Is your sister going to be a problem?" Blake voiced his thoughts.
"Amber?" Murphy scratched his brow as they walked. "She's... no. No, she's not as volatile as she seems." He looked at Blake, sharing his insight. "She's a bit reserved, unapproachable, and impulsive, maybe..." He paused his list, realizing he should be defending his sister. "But deep down, I think she cares a lot. She won't admit it, but yeah. I don't know, I can't always read her."
John clenched his jaw, staring ahead. Bellamy took in the information, nodding as he processed what John had revealed.
"She's older, you know. She was supposed to be floated two years ago," Murphy began to say, trying to strike up a conversation, playing the buddy approach with Bellamy.
"They didn't know her age," Blake presumed, maneuvering around another fallen log. Amber was 20, having escaped death. If she could hide her age for so long to save herself, then she was capable of concealing anything from anyone, including John.
"Amber's a fighter. She always finds a way to survive. She won't be a problem," Murphy assured, leaping off the log he had climbed on top of, navigating the unpredictable terrain.
"Hey, guys, over here—quick!" a distant voice called out, belonging to Clarke. The two boys in front of the group exchanged glances and began to jog toward the direction of the voice, with Wells and Amber following closely behind.
Amber glanced at the back of Wells' head as she moved through the forest, running toward Clarke. Her mind wasn't focused on anything in particular, except perhaps how hungry she was. When Wells started to slow down as they approached a pile of rocks where everyone else stood, Amber came to a halt. Her eyes drifted to where everyone else was looking, and she noticed the rocks were covered in fresh blood. There was a significant amount of it, too. Amber thought to herself that if Jasper hadn't died from the spear strike, he would surely have bled out by now. She'd seen it before.
/
"How do we know this is the right way?" John asked, expressing his doubt about their direction. They had been walking for a short while, but it felt like they were going in circles. Amber absentmindedly kicked at the pebbles on the ground, irritating her brother, but he didn't have the courage to reprimand her.
"We don't," Bellamy replied. "Spacewalker here thinks he's a tracker."
"It's called 'cutting sign.' Fourth-year Earth skills," Wells chimed in, rolling his eyes. "He's good."
Finn slowed down and turned to address the group. "Do you want to keep making noise, or should I just paint a target on your head?"
Amber couldn't help but snort loudly, drawing Finn's attention. She quickly looked away, berating herself for not keeping a low profile. Finn examined a branch of a tree and then crouched down to examine the ground. A few drops of blood stained the stones at his feet, and Amber's unease grew.
Suddenly, a distant and distressed moan echoed through the air. John asked the obvious question, "What the hell was that?"
"Now would be a good time to take out that gun," Clarke asserted.
They stopped jogging as they reached a clearing. Amber's eyes widened in disbelief at what she saw before her. Amidst the lush green bushes, a tall, decaying tree stood, and hanging from it like a ragdoll was a filthy and barely conscious Jasper.
Murphy's sister stared at the body from a distance, shocked. Jasper struggled for breath, his chest heaving with ragged breaths, and his wounds were raw and bleeding.
"Oh my god," Clarke's voice snapped everyone into action. Bellamy reached for the gun in his pants, and they all rushed forward. Amber scanned her surroundings, her golden eyes searching for any signs of danger lurking in the trees. Just as she was about to glance back at Jasper's body, Clarke, the girl in front of her, suddenly fell. Without thinking, Amber instinctively moved forward, towards the broken ground only a step away, but was pushed aside by someone, causing her to hit the ground hard with a thud and an aching elbow. As she scrambled to her feet, she realized it was Blake who had saved her, and although it pained her to admit it, his quick reflexes had spared her life. There he was, holding onto Clarke's arm, saving her as well.
What surprised Amber even more was how her body seemed to move without conscious thought. Suddenly, she found herself assisting Blake in pulling Clarke out of the trap. Her small but strong, calloused hands gripped Clarke's forearm, while Finn, Murphy, and Wells did the same. With Bellamy's help, they managed to get Clarke back on the ground.
"Are you okay?" Finn asked, as they all caught their breath.
"Yeah," Clarke replied hoarsely, crawling to her feet. Her mind refocused on their mission. "We need to get him down," she affirmed, referring to Jasper.
"I'll climb up there and cut the vines," Finn declared, already making his way toward Jasper.
"Yeah, I'm with you," Wells started to follow Finn, but he was immediately stopped.
"No, stay with Clarke," Finn ordered, then turned to Amber's brother. "You. Let's go." Murphy obeyed, something Amber noticed would soon be a common occurrence.
As Finn and Murphy went to carry out their task, Clarke noticed something. "There's a poultice on his wound," she pointed out, directing Amber and Wells' attention to a green patch covering the wound where the spear had entered Jasper's body.
"Medicine? Why would they save his life just to hang him up as bait?" Wells questioned.
Bellamy spoke up, "Maybe whatever they're trying to catch prefers its dinner to be alive."
"Maybe what they're trying to catch is us," Amber voiced her thoughts for the first time. Everyone turned to look at her, and she braced herself for the backlash. But it didn't come. They actually agreed with her. Amber cast her gaze downward, sensing Blake's lingering gaze on her. She could feel his eyes fixated on her, but she chose to ignore it. If she kept getting into fights with everyone who annoyed her, she would be exiled before she could even throw a punch.
/
"Hurry up, Murphy," Finn urged, his unease evident. Everyone seemed on edge except for Amber, who stood meters away from Bellamy Blake, casually tossing and playing with her knife. With each throw, Blake's eyes followed her, almost as if he was waiting for her to make a mistake and lose a finger, but she caught the knife flawlessly every time. As she caught it once more, a distant growl echoed behind them. Amber's focus shifted, her grip on the knife tightening as she prepared for a potential threat.
"What the hell was that?" Finn voiced his thoughts from the tree.
"Grounders?" Blake speculated, scanning the direction of the sound.
Amber's stance shifted as she caught sight of the predator. She immediately recognized its graceful yet intimidating figure—a black panther. The creature moved with incredible speed, bounding toward the clearing where they stood.
"Bellamy! Gun!" Clarke yelled, and Amber turned her attention to Blake. He didn't have his gun. A sudden burst of gunfire made her whip her head around, causing a jolt of pain in her neck. She saw Wells standing there, a mix of hesitation and determination on his face. He didn't quite know what he was doing. The first shot missed, followed by another. The panther continued its sprint. The third shot struck its lower half, but it wasn't enough to deter the beast from circling Bellamy Blake.
For a brief moment, everything fell silent. The animal hid in the nearby bushes, its gaze fixed on Blake. Amber's stance hardened—fearless. Her ears perked up, her reflexes heightened. As the panther leaped forward from the bushes, Amber watched only a few feet away from where Blake stood, about to be attacked. Time seemed to slow down. She felt herself dive forward, clutching Bellamy's side with one hand and pulling him down beside and away from her. He fell to the ground, stunned, as he watched Murphy's sister fall back flat after a gunshot, with the massive panther on top of her in an embrace. There was no movement. For a moment, it appeared that both Amber and the animal were lifeless. But then, a loud and almost annoyed grunt emanated from beneath the mass of black fur. Another grunt followed, and the panther shifted slightly, allowing the girl underneath it to breathe.
"Get... this fucker off… me," Amber strained, attempting to push the beast away. Despite her strong arms, she couldn't manage to dislodge it. Bellamy scrambled to his feet and forcefully pushed the creature off Amber, who gasped for breath and wiped the hair from her face. In doing so, she smeared a streak of rich red blood from her temple to her cheekbone. In the same hand, stained with blood, she clutched her knife, its blade coated with the same crimson that now adorned her once-gray shirt and arms. Unharmed, she stood shaking out her arms and spat onto the ground beside the defeated animal. Blake, still in shock, stared at her with wide eyes.
Behind them, Wells dropped the gun with a thud, providing Amber the opportunity to finish off the panther, it's unconscious breaths shallow. The final gunshot struck the creature, halting its thrashing, but it remained alive. Without hesitation, Amber plunged her knife into its neck, putting an end to its suffering.
Bellamy nodded at Wells, acknowledging his actions. With a shaky breath, he uttered a vague and perplexed statement, "Now she sees you."