ATARAXIA • BELLAMY BLAKE

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I place the knife in the waistband of my jeans, making sure that it's fast and easy to grab in case I see any animals worth taking home. The plan isn't really to go hunting, but if the chance arises to bring home food I might as well take it.

Hunting. I have always considered the Ark's way of living primitive. Everything has to be rationed. Food. Medicine. Resources in general, really. And people are getting floated left and right for small mistakes so that those resources won't run out or be wasted on them. But being on the ground is a different kind of primitive living.

Never in my life had I thought that I would have to hunt to stay alive, or thought I might freeze to death in the night from the cold temperatures. Even with everything I had to go through in space — even watching my mother die and being locked out and left to roam the halls for days on end by my father — I always felt a sense of safety. A sense of familiarity at the very least.

On the ground, as beautiful as it is, there's no such thing as safety or familiarity. Quite the contrary. Grounders appear out of nowhere to spear your friends, and panthers try to eat you if mutant water snakes haven't already beaten them to it.

Keeping up a steady pace as I walk, I hear someone laugh and look to my right to see the figure of Atom through the trees. I must have walked faster than I realized and caught up to the hunting party, which is probably for the best. Wandering the woods all alone, ex-member of the Guard or not, isn't exactly the safest thing to do.

Suddenly a wild boar flies out from the bushes. It runs out in front of me, making me jump back in surprise.

"I've got it," a deep voice calls, and just as I see the figure emerge from behind the bushes, a flying object comes speeding my way, and I feel a sudden brush of air next to my cheek. I suck in a breath and slowly turn my head to see the axe that is now lodged in the tree, barely four inches from my face.

My stunned eyes lock with the surprised ones of Bellamy's. And suddenly I'm fuming. Shaking off the initial shock, I pull the axe from the tree, before walking up to him, meeting him halfway. "Damn it, Blake, are you trying to get me killed?"

"I just might be," he mumbles as he reaches out to take his axe back from my grasp. I don't let him, but swat his hand away with my other one. The rest of Bellamy's guys speed past us and after the boar.

"How about you don't go throwing axes around blindly?" I push the axe against his chest, making him grab it before letting go of it myself, and start to walk in a completely different direction. I no longer feel like keeping close to the others.

I just can't be free of him; it would have been too easy on me. Instead, I will not only have to see and deal with him on a daily basis, but also have to deal with him thinking that he can order me around, however much I ignore his orders.

I hear occasional yelling in the distance from the hunting party, but try my best to tune it out as I walk further and further away from the group by the minute. Before I know it I've reached a clearing, and I stop my walk in complete awe. There has got to be hundreds of flowers in every color I can imagine, and I let out an amazed sigh at the sight, feeling an odd sense of calm for the first time in a while.

I step onto the field while still trying my best not to leave the tree line too much, not wanting to expose my whereabouts to what might be hidden in the forest, and take a deep breath in through my nose. The smells from the different flower sorts are almost overwhelming to my nose. I have only ever dreamed of things such as this — an open flower field painting the otherwise green forest in countless colors. Not that I really mind the usual green.