Amber's actions seemed erratic and uncontrolled. Her body moved without the guidance of her conscious mind, a familiar state that had plagued her before. Tears flowed down her face, their rhythm an unpredictable dance of sorrow. Her emotions spiraled, a chaotic storm that defied reason.
The pounding of her heart matched the intensity of her inner turmoil, while her wrist throbbed with pain as she relentlessly scraped and tugged at the metal wristband that held her captive. She believed herself to be a safe distance from the prying eyes of the camp, but in this desolate landscape, one could never be too certain. She stifled her weakened cries, exhaling into the silent void, hoping her struggles went unnoticed.
Although her brother could have aided her, Amber had long forsaken the notion of seeking assistance. She had made a solemn vow to herself, refusing to rely on others ever again. With a shard of determination, she wedged a jagged rock into a narrow crevice of the wristband, summoning every ounce of strength she possessed. But her efforts proved futile, the metal refusing to yield to her desperate attempts. Defeated, she stared at the worn band, etched with scars from her struggle, resembling a forgotten relic of a bygone era. The surface of her skin bore shallow marks, reminders of the rock's unforgiving bite, though they posed no true threat.
Wearily, she wiped away the mingled tears and perspiration from her forehead, her trembling hands gathering her disheveled hair. A deep weariness settled upon her, mingling with the frustration that knotted her brow. Her head bowed forward, an embodiment of exhaustion and exasperation.
Unbeknownst to Amber, he had been watching her, silently observing her for what felt like an eternity. He couldn't help but feel a surge of guilt coursing through him, an unexpected emotion that now consumed him. Only hours ago, he had cast doubt upon her, questioning her loyalty in the presence of her own brother. In his misguided assumptions, he had painted her as an emotionless and callous murderer, a woman who only spoke in bursts with a sharp tongue or in defence her sibling. But witnessing the transformation of her face, the vulnerability that momentarily flickered within her eyes, shattered his misconceptions. She was no mere specter of darkness but a girl, a woman. And in their shared culpability, she was no less a criminal than he.
Amber remained seated on the log, her head buried in her hands, wrestling with her own actions and their repercussions. The sting of his words lingered, a question mark etched upon her thoughts. Why had she allowed his taunts to penetrate her armor? She had been indifferent before, and now she found herself succumbing to tears, unveiling her vulnerability to the unforgiving world. Frustration surged within her, prompting her to strike her own forehead with a force that would leave a bruise. The impact silenced her, but it also triggered a response from the shadows.
A branch snapped nearby, interrupting her solitary struggle. Her heart leapt in her chest, a primal instinct urging her to scan her surroundings, searching for the source of the disturbance. Eyes wide with heightened awareness, she braced herself for the unknown entity that lurked in the darkness, prepared to confront whatever awaited her.
Unafraid, Amber rose to her feet, exchanging the rock for the knife concealed in her waistband. With calculated composure, she advanced toward the source of the noise, her steps as light as a feather. Closing in on the area, she caught a glimpse of a jacket fabric hidden behind a tree. The stalker remained oblivious to her approach.
In an instant, a cold blade pressed against Bellamy's neck, causing him to freeze in place. Amber's gaze locked with his, her brows furrowing as her eyes darted between his eyes and the vulnerable spot pulsing in his jugular. The knife remained steady, unwavering in its position.
"You scared, Blake?" she hissed into his ear, stepping closer. Her attempt at intimidation was evident. Their faces mere inches apart, she could almost feel his heartbeat against her blade, a disconcertingly familiar sensation. "One move, and you're dead."
"You don't scare me," he grumbled through clenched teeth, straining his neck to prevent the knife from harming him. "I know you won't kill me."
A wry smile tugged at the corners of Amber's lips. "That's funny because right about now, I kinda really want to." Her body pressed against his, the removal of the knife being the only thing standing between them and a drastically different situation. But Amber dismissed that thought before it could take root in her mind.
In the moonlit glow, Bellamy noticed the golden hue of her eyes, accentuated by the cool blue of the night. He found himself captivated, unable to tear his gaze away from her. Her name, he mused, seemed fittingly resonant, wondering if it was more than just a nickname. He had never seen her this close before, nor had he cared enough to truly look at her in a different light. She was undeniably beautiful, a striking presence wrapped in an enigmatic aura. He felt torn, knowing she could end his life with a single swift motion, while his thoughts drifted elsewhere.
"So why don't you?" he finally managed to say after a prolonged silence. Amber's thick eyelashes fluttered, her eyes briefly shifting from his to the knife at his neck and back again. She hesitated.
Eventually, she released her grip on him. "You're not worth it," Amber muttered, pushing herself away from the tree. She took a step back, still gripping the knife tightly as a warning, but her expression devoid of any malevolence. Bellamy remained pressed against the tree, his gaze fixed on her. "You were watching me."
"You were trying to take your wristband off," he stated simply, gesturing towards her battered and scratched hand.
"Was not," she immediately spat, her tone carrying a hint of childishness. Her un-cuffed hand fell behind her back, hidden from Bellamy's view. Avoiding his gaze, Amber's demeanor seemed to regress, revealing a juvenile aspect that caught him off guard, as if he had caught a child with their hand in the cookie jar.
"I'm..." Bellamy began, uncertain of what he was about to say, but before he could continue, she cut him off, saving him from the confusing urge to apologize.
"I don't want to hear it, Blake," she interjected, her voice tinged with unease as she paused to brush the hair away from her face with the hand that held the knife. "I—I'm going to bed." With that, she turned away, purposefully avoiding any eye contact. Bellamy stood there in a state of near shock, utterly bewildered by this girl. He despised it. He despised how she posed such a challenge to unravel, because it only intensified his desire to know more, to uncover who she truly was. It frustrated him, and he couldn't fathom why. Lost in his thoughts, he stared into the distance, cursing himself. After all, she was just another criminal, so why did she have him so rattled?
/
Three days had passed since their return from finding Jasper. Three days since Bellamy had publicly called her out in front of the entire camp. And for three days, nobody dared to meet Amber's gaze, while her brother walked on eggshells around her as if she were on the brink of an explosion. Jasper's anguished screams had kept Amber awake throughout the nights. She had taken refuge in the higher level of the drop ship, claiming a dark corner all to herself. Scrounging for scraps of material, she fashioned them into a makeshift pillow, but she had nothing to shield herself from the cold. Amber still cursed the Ark guards for not providing her with a jacket like they did for the other kids. In a moment of boredom, she lifted her once-gray shirt, diverting her thoughts from Jasper's bloodcurdling screams. Unbuttoning her jeans to examine the fabric patch around her waist, she inspected it carefully, relieved to find it clean apart from the stains of blood. It was a good sign, she presumed. Somehow, she had managed to keep it from getting infected. Maybe luck was on her side. Tucking her shirt back into her pants and rebuttoning them, she suddenly heard Jasper's screams escalate to their worst. Something was terribly wrong.
Amber paced the room for no less than four minutes, wrestling with the decision of whether to descend to the lower level of the drop ship, where Clarke and the others awaited. With a self-inflicted smack to her face and an overly dramatic exhale, she made up her mind and climbed down the ladder.
As she approached the group, she caught snippets of their conversation. "—Power-hungry self-serving jackass," she heard someone say. Amber observed from behind, Monty looking up at Octavia and adding, "No offense."
Octavia shrugged, and Finn chimed in, "Yeah, Bellamy is all that. But he also happens to be right."
The group fell into an uneasy silence, and Amber couldn't help but notice the closeness they shared. Something within her stirred, an unfamiliar sensation. It felt strange, almost as if she desired to be a part of their circle, sitting there, worrying for their friend. The feeling confused her. She had always prided herself on being strong, independent, and self-reliant. John couldn't always steal rations for her; she had to do it herself. She had learned to trust her instincts and rely on herself, convincing herself that she didn't need anyone else. After all, John couldn't stay by her side forever. He had the chance to live a normal life, while Amber was destined to remain in the shadows, surviving. She had accepted that reality.
But now, a part of her yearned for companionship, for the warmth of friendship. It was a foreign sensation she couldn't fully comprehend or grasp. Amber watched her potential allies, and a small part of her wished to be a part of their tight-knit group. She had never allowed herself to feel sorry for her circumstances, and she never would. However, a sense of longing tugged at her, as if she were missing out on something she couldn't quite understand. Friendship eluded her, and she couldn't help but wonder if she was truly missing out on a vital part of life.
/
John Murphy sat silently on a log, his gaze fixed on the group of teenagers struggling to build makeshift tents. His fingers absentmindedly toyed with his knife, barely registering his sister's soft presence beside him. Amber twisted her hands together, her frustration evident on her face as she let out a loud exhale to catch his attention.
"Didn't get much sleep either?" John inquired, noticing the fatigue in her purple-tinted under-eye circles and the unusually irritable expression she wore.
"No, not really. Jasper kept you up too, huh?" Amber brushed her tangled hair behind her ears, revealing her face fully to John. He was taken aback by how much she had changed. When they reunited, she had appeared clean, younger, and fragile, barely standing taller than most Ark kids despite having years over them. Now, he realised, she had a fit, slightly muscular physique, a more defined and matured face. She looked healthier, despite the scarcity of food on the ground. And her eyes still shone brightly.
John nodded, his voice growing serious. "Hey, Amb—about what Blake said the other day—"
"John," Amber interrupted her brother, her voice dismissive. "I really couldn't care less about what that dick said about me." She shrugged, a hint of indifference in her tone. "Besides, I'm still surprised you let him boss you around like some little lap dog."
"I'm not his lap dog," John snapped, surprising Amber. He avoided her gaze. "Can you, just for once, keep to yourself, Amber?"
Amber stood abruptly, eyeing her brother who refused to meet her eyes. "John, I have spent my whole life keeping to myself," her voice trembled with an emotion she couldn't quite name, and she choked back tears. "What's gotten into you?"
"Ever since we got to the ground, you've been drawing attention to yourself," John retorted, his voice tinged with frustration. "Going against Bellamy, punching Wells, nearly getting yourself killed—twice. Everyone's talking about you. You, of all people, should—"
"Don't you dare say what I think you're about to say." Amber's voice crackled with anger. She shifted on her feet, her cheeks flushed. "Why does everyone, including my own fucking brother, think I'm some homicidal maniac?" Frustration laced her words as she pushed her hair behind her ears. "I've done nothing wrong, and..." She pointed directly at John's face, forcing him to meet her gaze. "...you know it."
"Amber, they all think you're going to snap," John's voice softened, but his intent remained firm.
"I've had enough, John. I truly have." She turned to storm away, only to collide with the unyielding chest of Bellamy Blake. Under her breath, she muttered, "Speaking of the devil."
Blake avoided Amber's gaze, a familiar pattern in their interactions. Instead, his eyes focused on her brother. "We're going hunting." His tone held an authoritative sternness. Amber had to admit, Bellamy had a way of commanding the attention of the entire camp. John rose, assuming he would join them, but Blake's eyes communicated a different message. Their gazes shifted to Amber's. "Amber, you're with me." Despite her shocked expression, he handed her a knife, which she accepted hesitantly, their fingers grazing briefly as they locked eyes. "Let's go." And just like that, the decision was made. John remained rooted in place, a mix of guilt and surprise etched across his face.
/
Amber had her knife at the ready, her instincts honed as the hunting group set their sights on a pig. Bellamy, with his inflated ego and misguided confidence, declared that the pig was his, instructing everyone to quiet down. Amber rolled her eyes at his pompous demeanor and the way he held his axe, thinking he was some seasoned expert when he was far from it. She crept up closely behind him, prepared to take the kill if Blake failed.
But a sudden crack of a stick shattered the silence, causing Blake to lose control of his axe and the pig to flee deeper into the forest. Half of the hunting party chased after the animal, but Amber, Atom, and Blake remained to confront the intruder. Just inches away from the tree where Blake's axe had embedded itself stood a small girl, no older than 12.
"Who the hell are you?" Bellamy asked, his breath ragged from the recent near-miss.
The girl appeared stunned, and Amber couldn't blame her. If Blake hadn't missed his shot, she would have been impaled by the axe. "Charlotte," she replied promptly.
"I almost killed you," Bellamy stated the obvious as he retrieved his axe. "Why aren't you back at camp?"
"W-Well, the guy who was dying—I just couldn't listen anymore," Charlotte answered truthfully. Amber furrowed her brows, stepping forward to position herself closer to the girl than Bellamy and Atom. It was almost instinctive. She noticed Blake giving her a questioning look, though it quickly vanished.
"There are grounders out here," Atom chimed in. Amber had mixed feelings about him. His presence didn't irritate her as much as Bellamy's, but that statement about it being too dangerous for a little girl while they chased after a pig annoyed her. She rolled her eyes.
"I'm not little," Charlotte responded. Amber couldn't help but smile unconsciously, a smile that Bellamy caught while also realizing he was smiling himself.
"Okay, then. But you can't hunt without a weapon," Blake said, pulling out a knife from his belt. He handed it to Charlotte without hesitation. Amber couldn't help but see a reflection of herself in this young girl who had clearly been forced to grow up too quickly. "Ever killed anything before?" Bellamy asked, his tone lacking caution. He sounded as if he wouldn't care if her answer was yes. "Who knows, maybe you're good at it." The words struck a chord in Amber, leaving her unsure how to react. Bellamy was encouraging this 'little' girl to kill. Could he become any more hypocritical?
After reuniting with the kids who had chased after the pig, the hunting expedition proved to be a failure. The pig had escaped, and there was no sign of any other creature, not even a bug.
Amber crouched down at a small stream, cupping her hands to drink the probably dirty water. The rest of the group remained on high alert, scanning the surroundings for any signs of movement. After taking her final sip, Amber stood up, but just as she did, a low, bellowing noise echoed from the distance.
"Grounders," she whispered, making eye contact with Bellamy. He was the first to sprint into action, and the rest followed suit.
Amber ran alongside Blake, but she quickly realized that Charlotte was falling behind, struggling to keep up. The girl eventually came to a halt, earning a concerned look from Bellamy, who had no choice but to keep running. Amber abruptly changed course, running up the short hill that Charlotte was descending. She grabbed the girl's hand, pulling her forcefully.
"Come on! There are caves this way!" Bellamy called out, prompting Amber to increase her pace. To her surprise, Blake slowed down, allowing her and Charlotte to catch up. Amber watched as he took hold of Charlotte's other hand, helping her as the three of them climbed up a steep hill. She could hear coughing and sounds of struggle behind them, indicating that someone had fallen behind. But they had already reached the safety of the cave, while the straggler was left engulfed in the toxic fog.
Amber stood by Blake's side as he caught his breath, hearing his friend's desperate calls from outside. Bellamy shielded his face from the poisonous air, and Amber began to cough violently. Suddenly, he darted towards her, placing his hands firmly on her lower back, pushing her inside the cave, with him following closely behind.