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THERE WERE GROUNDERS EVERYWHERE. Each one of them shot Marley glances, and each glance chilled her right down to the bone. They were all so big and imposing — at least double Marley's size, though she was slight, still, and that wasn't entirely surprising — and she would have been hard-pressed not to be intimidating by the glares they gave her. Looks that told her, if she put one foot out of line, they would not hesitate to end her life before it had even really begun.
Without a second thought.
The sun-brushed the tips of the trees. The light was cold, barely burning bright enough in the early morning to light the horizon. Marley shuddered and pulled her jacket tighter around her body; it made no difference. The chill cut through the leaves and lay claim to her skin.
She wondered if Bellamy's arms around her would stop the cold from snatching at her bones.
She looked over at him; walking beside Clarke at the head of the group, their two de facto leaders, keeping them all safe. Even now the others were here - the Chancellor, the Council, the guards, those who made it to Camp Jaha still looked to them as the voices of reason. She'd chosen to walk with Elijah and Raven, instead. In the middle of the Grounder pack, surrounded by other friendly faces, it seemed like the least reckless of all the options. They were unthreatening, merely followers in this death march.
And Marley was a sucker for the safest option.
Though they'd been walking for what seemed like days, though Marley was sure it couldn't have been that long. The sun had yet to sink, and it still sat high above them, beating down upon their heads with brutal, uncomfortable ferocity. She'd already had to take off her jacket and sling it over her arm. The heat had become a problem for Elijah and Raven, too; their legs were less than capable of making the strenuous trip and, despite their stubborn insistence that they were okay to walk, they'd both since perched on the back of the Grounder wagon that carried Finn's body.
Surprising, given the moment Elijah had seen the funeral procession — the very thing leading his oldest friend to his death, and not nearly as friendly as it was meant to be — he'd shut down again. He hadn't said a word to either her or Raven, just shot both of them a smile that was meant to reassure but did nothing except make them worry more.
Marley had fallen behind after they'd left for the wagon. Reserved and hesitant, between the pair of them and Bellamy and Clarke. Safe, but alone, wringing her hands awkwardly in front of her, unsure what to do.
She could hear Bellamy and Clarke talking behind her - a low murmur, too quiet for her to hear what they were saying, over the sounds of the forest and the rumble of the wagon's wheels - though, half the time they talked, it was never anything good. One, or both, of them usually came up with a ridiculous plan, a plan so absurd that was sure to get them killed.
