Chapter Text
Crack!
Dry and stinging, my bleary eyes fluttered open as the world around me came into hazy focus. A twig tumbled down charred branches before bouncing off the ground, smacking into my chest. I flinched instinctively, the jolt fully yanking me out of the fragile comfort of unconsciousness.
Curling onto my side, my lungs spasmed violently as coughs racked my body until my stomach ached, each hack more painful than the last. When I finally gasped in a full breath, I realized that I had somehow moved from the safety nest I had made at the corner of the foxhole and the wall while knocked out.
The twig cracked behind me as I rolled onto my back, its brittle edges jabbing through my clothes. With a frustrated grunt, I snatched it up and tossed it away, my hands trembling. Small bits of ash and smoke still swirled around me, though the fire seemed to have been put out. The itch in my throat dulled but did not leave entirely; every muscle ached with a deep pain, like my entire body had cramped up.
Crrr...
The sound pulled my gaze upward. All around me, the trees were scorched skeletons, their leaves burned to crisp edges, embers flickering in the sparse foliage that remained. My heart sank, a chill settling in my chest as the memories rushed back: The dropship launch. Anya. Tristan. Finn.
Bellamy.
Fuck. Where did he go? I turned my head in the direction of the foxhole entrance—
...rrrACK!
A louder crack above snapped me out of my thoughts, forcing me to look up. Eyes wide, a massive branch broke free above me, its fiery limbs angling toward the ground. Weak from hunger, thirst, and sheer exhaustion, my body protested as I rolled away, barely managing to get clear before the branch slammed into the dirt, scattering embers and debris across my face. Coughing, sputtering, I clawed at my shirt to wipe the grit from my eyes.
Something hard poked my thigh. I froze. Reached down. My fingers closed around an object, and I pulled it out. Unmistakable smudged lenses and a frayed strap. Jasper's goggles.
Slumped against the wall. Lifeless eyes staring into nothing. Darkened blood dried almost black on his shirt and neck, stark against the pale pallor of his skin.
I had barely looked at him as I fled from Anya and the dropship launch. Swallowing thickly, I slid the goggles up my arm, tightening the strap around my bicep. I would not pretend like I liked him, but I knew Monty would be devastated. He would want them.
Pushing myself to my feet, I swayed slightly, head spinning. Hunger gnawed at my stomach in quiet growls, and my throat burned for water. I scanned the landscape, taking in the carnage: collapsed trees, smoldering plants, and the remnants of the dropship camp. Smoke curled upward, painting the sky a dull, lifeless gray.
When Lincoln and I first saw and reported the devastation of the forest around the original landing of the dropship, the Lieutenant and the General had been furious. I could only imagine what kind of meetings Trikru would have now.
With no time to waste, I entered the foxhole, my boots crunching against brittle remains. I kept my eyes forward, even as my stomach churned. When I reached the other end, I climbed out, my limbs weak and trembling. The tip of my sword’s sheathe jostled against the ground as the gravity of exhaustion dropped me to my knees, on the stark white—
Oh. It's not dirt.
Ashes of the dead, warriors reduced to nothing more than powder.
Shutting my eyes as tight as I could, I pressed the back of my hand to my mouth, swallowing the salty sour saliva threatening to make me gag. There was nothing in my stomach I could expel anyways. Only when my stomach stopped squeezing did I open my eyes, searching for the doors of the dropship.
Gaping wide open.
"No way," I breathed, scrambling up the ash-covered slope on all fours before I ran, ignoring the cut on my thigh that burned with the movement. My heart slammed against my ribs, the effort burning through my already depleted energy. When I reached the metal floor, I collapsed onto it, panting heavily.
The curtains had burned away, revealing an eerily empty first floor save for a few crates of resources. No signs of life. No Trikru warriors. No Sky People.
My mind raced. Anya had been the last to attempt to enter the doors, and I tackled her down. No one else should have gotten in. Unless the kids opened it themselves after?
"Who's there?"
The dry, raspy voice froze me in place, my hand instinctively gripping the hilt of my sword until I realized—I knew that voice.
"Raven!" I exclaimed as I rounded the crates. I found her sprawled on the floor, a gun just within reach. Relief mixed with dread as our eyes met. No one else except for a corpse, one of Trikru's warriors.
"I can't feel my legs," Her whisper wavered, tears streamed down her cheeks, panic etched into every line of her face. "I... I don't know what to do."
I crouched beside her, brushing the tears away with gentle fingers. My jaw clenched as I swallowed a surge of anger. This was Murphy's fault. I should have killed him when I had the chance. Forcing the thought aside, I glanced around the dropship. "Where is everyone?"
Raven winced, her body trembling with pain. "They left. The last thing I remember is everyone stepping outside. I don't know what happened. They just... left me here."
I almost did not want to believe her—yet, not a single one of those kids were in sight. My fists curled as I fought the urge to curse aloud. Eyes flickering around, I searched for materials as I said, "If you cannot feel your legs, it is most likely the bullet in your spine. I will not move you without a stretcher; carrying you myself might make it worse. I can try to make one and drag you somewhere safe, but it will be rough."
"No." Her hand clamped around my ankle, the closest part of me she could reach. "Leave me here."
"...What?"
"Leave me here," she repeated, her voice stronger this time. Determined. "You survived the blast, right? There must be others, too. Find them first. Then come back for me."
"Absolutely not." I shook my head, my voice firm. "I'm not leaving you defenseless."
"I have a gun," she countered, gesturing weakly toward the weapon. "I'll wait for you. Look for the others and bring them back with you."
I stared at her, torn. Logically, I knew she was right, and even if I built a stretcher and dragged her through the forest, the bullet might move with the jostling unless someone else carried the other end. "Fine," I muttered reluctantly, slipping the goggles off my arm and handing them to her. "Take these."
Her fingers closed around them hesitantly. "Jasper's?" she asked quietly.
"I did not see it happen, but I saw him. He's gone, I'm sorry." I said as I pushed the rifle closer to her. "Stay here. Play dead. If someone comes, shoot them on sight."
Her gaze hardened with resolve as she nodded, clutching the gun tightly.
I stood, glancing back toward the open doors. Find the others, then come back. With one last look at Raven, I ran out of the dropship and disappeared into the treeline.
‧₊˚✩ ☾ ✩˚₊‧
If I had to pick the thing I hated most in this universe, it would be scouting. No contest. I could complain about it for hours—boring, exhausting, patience-testing, brain-numbing drudgery. It was the absolute worst part of a warrior's training. The longest I had to scout for was in the deep forest of Mount Caocin, watching the movement of Azgedan armies for 57 hours straight.
But as I darted through the dense forest, weaving past gnarled roots and low-hanging branches, I grudgingly admitted: scouting had its uses. This forest was a perfect example. Thick, tangled, alive with sounds that bounced off every tree and bush, twisting and scattering so much that pinpointing their source would be impossible to the untrained ear.
Then I heard it.
"Bellamy, get out of here!"
Finn's voice. Head perking up in that vague direction to my left, I froze for only half a second before my body's instincts ran ahead of me. I had hoped Finn would make more noise, but it was not necessary. Barely registering the words, I sprinted northwest, breath heavy in my chest until I saw light through the thinning treeline.
Squatting low, I hid behind a dense cluster of bushes and foliage, peeking through small gaps, and there they were.
"Bell and Finn," I murmured, my stomach knotting as I laid my eyes upon the two young men.
Wrists red and raw, both had been bound tightly with ropes that tethered them to a horse's saddle—too precise to be the work of a grunt. With dirt smeared across their swollen faces and blood trailing down their injuries, the two seemed to have gone through hell and back—though Bellamy had clearly taken the brunt of it, thank the Gods he was alive. Barely half a day since I had promised Octavia to look after him, and here he was, looking like he had been dragged by a horse and kicked by it for good measure.
I exhaled slowly. Battered and bruised, but alive. That was what mattered. My gaze shifted to the man tending the horse's saddlebags. Even from this distance, I recognized that bald head of his.
General Tristan.
Of course. It just had to be him. Not some nameless warrior, or someone easy to kill. Someone who I did not have history with.
My jaw tightened as I watched him adjust the pouches. Tristan turned as though he had heard something, revealing raw red skin about to slough off the side of his face. I grimaced out of disgust more than pity.
Taking a slow breath, I forced every thought from my mind. No doubts. No distractions. Just Tristan.
Kill him, get Bellamy and Finn out.
Simple.
Sword in hand, I slipped out of the bushes, my movements as silent as the grave. My boots barely touched the forest floor, stepping light over drying leaves. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, threatening to give me away.
No thoughts. Head empty.
Tristan had more kills, more training, and more experience than I did. If I did not end him immediately, I would not live long to regret it.
‘Stop that.’
I crept closer, the sun at my front hiding my shadow. His attention locked on his saddlebags, Tristan's peripheral focused on Finn and Bellamy's forms, but not the details. He did not see Finn and Bellamy's wide-eyed stares. The two had noticed me. Their gazes flicked to Tristan, then back to me, their faces carefully blank.
My free hand shot up, a finger pressed to my lips. A silent command: Stay calm. Do not react.
Bellamy and Finn shifted just enough to give the impression of adjusting their bonds, but otherwise remained still, their eyes darting to me from the corners of their vision.
Trembling from hunger and slick with sweat, my grip tightened on the hilt of my sword as I slowly raised it high, afraid of any noise it might make. This was it. The perfect angle to behead him—
The forest erupted with shouts.
Two teenagers burst from the trees to my right, wielding crude spears and screaming loud enough to wake the dead. Monroe and Drew stopped dead in their tracks when they had realized what they had done.
Tristan spun on his heel at the noise, but his attention flickered to the closer threat.
Me.
DOWN!
Changing direction, I followed instinct and swiped diagonally.
Only one of the General's twin swords slid free from its holster with a shling. The other flew in the air and dropped on the ground—
Along with his right arm.
With a pained shout, Tristan stumbled back, bouncing off his sturdy horse before swinging his remaining blade low, aiming for my head.
I raised my sword to meet his, the impact sending a jolt through my arms, throwing me off balance. My boots skidded on the muddy ground, and I stumbled, barely catching myself before I fell to a knee.
'Even the Earth, the very thing that sustains us, can turn against us in battle.'
Indra's voice echoed in my mind, a lesson learned what felt like years ago but could only have been just last month. Mud had cost me a sparring match with Lincoln once. It could cost me my life now.
'Use the elements to your advantage.'
Twisting my leg, I slid along the slippery ground with my knees away from Tristan's next unsteady strike. Even if I could not get another hit in, blood loss should take him out eventually. Just had to survive.
One quick motion. I scooped up a handful of mud with my hand. Tristan's boot slammed into my chest, knocking me back to the ground. Braced for it, I flung the mud into his face as I fell.
A howl of agony, and no other choice but to raise a shoulder to try and wipe the dirt off instead of dropping his sword.
I rolled away before either his boot or weapon aimed for me, adjusting the hilt of my blade as I rose, ignoring the black spots at the edges of my vision, the sweat that broke out across my body.
His arm swung wildly, missing me by inches. Backing up, I circled him.
Predator met prey.
He stepped forward, snarling—And froze mid-motion as the tip of my sword punched through his abdomen from behind. His body jerked as he looked down, disbelief and agony twisting his face.
I drove the blade deeper, twisting it slowly. Deliberately. I leaned close to his ear, "Makankunaka tukuchishkanki." [Your fight is over.]
Tristan's breathing hitched, his strength faltering as his body sagged forward, slipping off my blade and collapsing into the mud.
I did not move for a moment, staring down at his lifeless form. My chest heaved, every breath raw and burning. With one sharp swipe to the side, blood and dirt flew from my blade.
"Asshole," I muttered, stepping over him and driving my blade through the nape of his neck. Just in case.
Taking a deep breath, I yanked my sword out and analyzed it for a moment. Orqowañuchik was not on the verge of breaking, but its age became visible over time. The same sword since I was eighteen. It might be time for some upgrades. My gaze shifted to Tristan's twin swords lying on the ground.
"Winner gets to keep the weapons," I muttered under my breath, flicking the last bit of blood and gore from my sword before sheathing it. I collected Tristan's twin blades and their sheaths, testing the balance and weight as I walked toward the Sky People. Not bad. I gave them an approving nod. Not too different from mine.
The clatter of a spear hitting the ground caught my attention. I could not help but snort at the sight in front of me. Bellamy and Finn stood awkwardly behind a horse, flinching at the flies buzzing around the animal's rear that aimed for their faces instead. Meanwhile, Monroe and Drew wrestled with the ropes binding them, while the spear laid useless on the floor.
A small, maybe incredulous, but relieved laugh left my lips, catching Monroe and Drew's attention. "If he had killed me, what would you two have done?" I gestured to the fresh corpse on the ground. The two straightened, hands off of Bellamy and Finn's binds like kids caught red-handed. "Matter of fact, what was all that about?" I pointed to the forest line where Monroe and Drew had come from, but before they could answer, I held a hand up. "You know what, save it. We're good." I took out the pointed edge of the spear from its body and cut Finn’s bindings first.
"Thanks. What're you gonna do with those?" He asked, nodding toward the twin swords I had just claimed.
"Who knows. Maybe find a blacksmith willing to melt them down and make knives. I will not lose this bad boy," I replied, patting my sword affectionately.
I coiled the ropes neatly and tied it to my belt, catching Finn's raised eyebrows. "You never know when you will need rope."
Eyes dark, almost lifeless, he gave a quiet nod and went to check in with Monroe and Drew.
Hmm.
That was when Bellamy stepped up, holding up his bound wrists, that familiar snark in his voice as he said, "You mind?"
The corner of my mouth twitched, but my smile faltered when I got a good look at him, dark purple splotches surrounding his eye and cheekbone. "You look nasty," I said, slicing through his restraints with ease.
"Thanks," He shot back with a roll of his eyes. He winced as the edge of his jacket brushed against raw, irritated skin.
Before he could step away, I reached out and grabbed his arm.
His gaze flickered between my face and my hand as I carefully hooked my thumbs under his sleeve to fold it back, keeping the rough material from irritating his wounds.
"Other arm," I ordered.
He blinked, but complied.
The blood crusted around his cuffs made it harder to fold the sleeve neatly, and I could feel his eyes on me, watching my every move. I glanced up, locking eyes with him—a mistake. Now I could see the full extent of his injuries.
Small cuts scattered along his swollen cheek, but it was the burst vein in his eye that made my empty stomach clench. Without thinking, I lifted a hand and brushed the bangs of his hair back, checking for more, but I did not dare touch his injuries. The grimace on my face probably said enough.
"I'm sorry." My voice barely above a murmur, I dropped my hand along with my gaze.
That was all I could bring myself to say. No need for him to know the fear I felt when I realized I had no idea where he went before the launch.
Bellamy shook his head, ignoring my apology. "I saw you take down Anya. You had your hands full." To my surprise, a small, teasing smile appeared on his face. "Didn't realize you cared so much."
"Well, now I have to," Feigning exasperation, I smacked his chest with the back of my hand, not enough to hurt but to chastise. "Out of my sight for a few seconds, and you somehow picked a fight with the one man I told you to avoid—"
Pain exploded in my side, cutting me off mid-sentence as a gunshot rang out.
The force stole breath from my lungs, tilting the world, and before I could make sense of what happened, I stumbled forward. My temple smacked straight into Bellamy's shoulder, knocking me further out of my own head as the warmth that seeped into my side quickly turned into a spreading wetness. His hands caught me instinctively, gripping tightly to keep me upright as his breath hitched.
Another crack of a gunshot shattered the air, but I barely registered it as Bellamy jolted, his arms wrapping securely around me.
"No, stop shooting!" I felt the rumble of his shout in his chest as he turned us slightly, as though shielding me.
The shouting continued, distant and frantic from one of the others, but all I could focus on was the heat throbbing throughout my side. My knees finally gave way, and Bellamy cursed under his breath, adjusting his grip as he helped lower me to the ground with more care than I thought him capable of.
"Stay with me," He demanded, one hand on my shoulder, the other pulling up my shirt and revealing the wound. "Monroe, pass the med kit!"
I pressed a clean hand against my side, trying to staunch the bleeding as I took in deep breathes, teeth gritted hard enough to hurt my molars.
"Let me see." Bellamy's hands peeled mine away and lifted my shirt. The sudden exposure to air and rustling of fabric made the wound sting even more, and I hissed through gritted teeth. "Damn it," Muttering under his breath, one hand covered the entire wound and pressed down firmly in spite of my flinch at the contact. "You'll be alright, it's not too deep."
My vision wavered for a moment, and I blinked hard, trying to focus on something—anything—other than the pain of heated metal on skin. Bellamy's face swam into view, set in a determined scowl. I realized someone must have passed him a rag when he pressed fabric against my wound, keeping it from spiraling further.
"You're gonna be fine," He said, almost as if he was convincing himself. "Just keep breathing and focus on me."
"I'm not dying, Bell." I managed weakly. An unusual wound, but one that should not have knocked me down like this. Yet, my limbs would not move. The dehydration and starvation must have caught up to me.
His lips pressed into a fine line, somewhere between annoyance and relief. "Save your energy and stop talking."
I nodded faintly, leaning back against his arm as another wave of dizziness washed over me.
An unfamiliar voice, no doubt a leader of some sort, rang out over the chaos: "Build a stretcher!"
"Build two!" I shouted, raising two fingers weakly in the air and waving, hoping to catch their attention. Bellamy's hands pressed harder against my side in alarm, and I groaned, my own hand instinctively snapping back to the wound. But, my actions grabbed somebody's attention.
Unfamiliar faces stared at me like I had sprouted a second head. "I found Raven Reyes," I forced the words out before my body betrayed me further. "She's hurt. Bad. Give her the sturdier stretcher."
"What do you mean?" A voice asked from somewhere behind.
"That's Abby Griffin," Bellamy murmured beside me, his tone edged with something I could not quite place. "Clarke's mother."
My mind struggled to connect the dots for a moment. "Oh, really? She should love me, I saved her daughter's life, like… at least three times now."
Without waiting for a response from him, I craned my head back to look at the blob-shaped Abby, who stepped closer to us with Finn in tow. "Raven was shot," I said, forcing the words to come out stable. "I found her after the battle. Alive, but she might be paralyzed."
In the background, the other leader muttered something to his squad before breaking off to organize help.
Even with my blurred vision, I saw Abby's expression shift with concern. "What about everyone else?" She asked. "Are they okay?"
...Shit. With everything going on, I had forgotten. I shook my head, "Unsure. Not here. Don't know where they went."
Bellamy frowned, his hands still steady on my side. "What do you mean, they're not there? Why aren't they helping Raven?"
"They're gone," I said, my throat tightening. "I only found Raven in the dropship. Everyone else… they disappeared."
‧₊˚✩ ☾ ✩˚₊‧
Explaining everything to fellow adults took a toll, but I managed through the haze of pain. The militant leader, who I learned was named Kane from Bellamy, huddled with his squad to plan their next steps.
They moved me onto a stretcher once they realized I was not a threat, but the guards stripped Bellamy, Finn, Drew, and Monroe of their weapons. Pistols, handcrafted spears, knives, even jagged scarps of metal. What caught me off guard, though, was how the kids flinched when the adults got too close. Bellamy, who I would have expected to blow up at them, did not argue either. Strange.
The guards took my weapons as well, but too focused on the agonizing ache radiating from my side, I let it slide.
"Dude, feel how heavy these swords are." I overheard one guard say to another as they passed mine and Tristan's swords to another, who almost dropped them.
"Jesus, how could they even use these?"
...the slide had some bumps. Gods, I could only hope they did not lose or break my weapons.
Abby examined me and confirmed that while the bullet had not hit anything vital, it had grazed me hard enough to likely fracture a rib somewhere. "A minor break, maybe," she explained, her hands precise as she checked for damages, "but nothing fatal."
I did not doubt her based on how sure her tone was, but I raised a brow, skeptical. "How do you know?"
She met my look evenly. "I'm a surgeon."
Oh. That's where Clarke got her expertise from. I lowered my gaze in brief respect, filing that information away before meeting her gaze once more. "Some advice: if you ever get captured by one of mine, mention that first—it will save your life. Surgeons are always in demand around here."
Knowing how likely that could be, a faint flicker of unease in her eyes told me she understood.
Kane ordered Finn and Bellamy to carry the stretcher as we made out way back to the dropship, and I braced myself for either an awkward or rocky ride. Grabbing the handles by my boots, Bellamy's gaze flickered to my side, where my leather armor had been torn and dark with blood, but he quickly looked away.
"What?" I rasped, catching him mid-grimace.
"For once, you look worse than me."
I raised a brow. "Only one of us has a battered face."
"And the other with a hole in their side." He shot back, mouth twitching.
I snorted softly, immediately regretting it as a pain shot through my ribs. My mind wandered as we moved through the plains away from the forest. Now that all of them were down here... Invaders sounded too harsh. Sky-borne too... strange. And too long to call them descendants of traitors. That would also cause some problems. Sky kids and adults? Space people? No, that sounded ridiculous. Maybe...
"Bell," I cut off my own train of thought.
"Mmh?"
"What was the name of your home up there?" I nodded vaguely toward the sky.
"The Ark?"
"The Ark," I repeated, mulling it over. "Ark-kru, then? Or, maybe just Arkers..."
"What are you on about?" He asked, tone curious more so than dismissive.
Before I could explain, I heard Kane's voice through the murmur of conversation around us. "Anything more from Jaha?"
Finn's voice behind me cut in. "Wait—Jaha, like Wells? You're in contact with him?"
Abby and Kane turned to him, frowning in confusion. "How could we be in contact with Wells if he's dead?" Abby asked.
I blinked, the words not making sense. I turned to Bellamy, searching for confirmation. "Dead?" I repeated. "What are you talking about? He's missing, not dead."
Kane narrowed his eyes. "Wells died shortly after landing."
"No, he's still alive." I said firmly, glancing between Bellamy and Finn. "The guy missing two fingers, is he not Wells?"
I caught a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, his teeth clacking together. "He's alive," Bellamy confirmed after a beat. "We had to take off his bracelet early on. Monty was trying to figure out how to contact you guys, and Wells offered his."
Finn sent Bellamy a wary glance. What was that about?
"Wherever Clarke is, I'm sure he's with her," I added.
Abby's expression wavered between disbelief and hope. "Wells is alive?" she said softly, the weight of it clear in her voice. "We all thought he was dead. It's why…"
Kane finished for her. "It's why Thelonious stayed on the Ark."
While I did not know who this Thelonious was, Bellamy remained quiet, his eyes fixed somewhere far away, and Finn shuffled uncomfortably, his thoughts clearly spinning. The silence stretched as we moved forward, the plains opening up into a clearing that led toward their camp. My mind churned with questions, but I tucked them away for now. Answers would come in time, and I had more pressing matters to focus on.
Survival without Trikru.
‧₊˚✩ ☾ ✩˚₊‧
Exhaustion had caught up to me. Restless nights, scraps of food, the battle, and now the searing ache in my side—it all took its toll. My eyes kept drifting close with every sway of the stretcher in spite of the pain shooting through my ribs.
Sleep came in shallow, fleeting moments, but I startled awake each time, instincts honed by survival making it impossible to stay under for long.
Eventually, the movement stopped, and I blinked myself fully awake. Finn and Bellamy had put the stretcher down. I braced myself for their usual bickering as they took a break, but instead of their familiar voices or hands lifting the stretcher again, it was two unfamiliar guards a few minutes later.
I frowned at the sudden change. "What's going on, where are we going?"
"Inside the camp," one of the guards answered.
I said nothing in response. The throbbing in my ribs would not let me argue over who carried me. Shifting, I propped myself on my elbows, biting back a wince as the position pulled at my side. Now that the dust had settled, my eyes flickered around. There were more dead than I had originally saw when I first came back to camp after the dropship's launch.
With two guards cuffing his wrists behind his back, Bellamy stood still, eyes lowered. If I were not half-delirious and sapped of energy, I would have caused a bigger scene at the sight. My gaze flickered down to—ugh, of course that roach of a human survived—Murphy, sprawled on the ground.
In the middle of a conversation, Finn's raised voice trailed in. "You don't understand." He spoke to Kane. "Murphy murdered two of our people. He shot Raven. He tried to hang Bellamy!"
"I don't care," The militant leader's stern voice responded. "You are not animals. There are rules. Laws." He turned to Bellamy. "You are not in control here anymore."
Glancing between the two, I allowed my filterless mouth to speak. "What kind of leader does not care? Rules and laws include attempted and premediated murders, does it not?"
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Finn shoot me a desperate look. Incredulous, Bellamy shook his head slightly.
Kane cut through the quiet that followed. "The last I heard about your people, they were killing our kids without mercy," he replied to me, striding closer, holding something metallic in his hand.
The sheer audacity. "In the past month alone, your kids have killed hundreds, burnt down a village, destroyed a vital library, and kidnapped and tortured our scouts—all before Trikru could even attempt to make contact." My words hung in the air like a challenge. Kane struggled to form a response. I would not let him off that easy. "And right where you stand, they killed at least 300 Trikru warriors."
His eyes flickered down to his ash-covered boots. Human ash.
"Do not act like you know what happened here on the ground." I spat. Out of the corner of my eye, Finn stood tense, and Bellamy, for whatever reason, kept his head lowered. As for Murphy—oh, how my blood boiled at the sight of his frog-looking ass—his eyes darted between his Commander and I, shoulders hunched. When our eyes locked, I hissed through my teeth, "Your people may show you mercy," My eyes flickered at his shoulder where I knew my knife had been buried, "but I will not miss next time."
Looking away with a sneer, the boy flinched, his hand covering his injured shoulder.
Good.
Energy waning, I leaned back against the stretcher.
Silence filled the camp.
For a moment, even I thought I had finished. But another bitter thought bubbled up, and I roughly pushed myself back up on my elbows, injuries be damned. The sudden motion made the guards holding my stretcher stumble a bit, but I did not care.
"And another thing: Whose bright idea was it to send a bunch of imprisoned kids down here with no proper adult supervision? Who even imprisons kids for being born?!" I bit out, recalling Octavia's history. "Your ancestors were fools, no doubt, but clearly the apple planted itself at the base of the tree."
Kane's jaw worked like he was chewing nails, but if he spoke, I swore I would tear him to shreds, injuries be damned.
Finn scrubbed a hand down his face, while Bellamy looked like he was one breath away from laughing outright.
The moment did not last.
Two guards emerged from the dropship, and my breath hitched when I saw who they were carrying.
"Raven!" I shifted slightly to get a better look, but this time, the sharp pain forced a hiss from my lips and I collapsed once again, frustration burning in my chest as black dots spotted my peripheral. Finn ran up to her stretcher.
"It's a miracle she's still alive." Abby said, holding Finn back from overwhelming the mechanic too suddenly. "There's no one else in there. Let's get moving."
And just like that, we were on the move again.
Wait.
Where were we going?