When Songbirds Fly | Bellamy Blake

Chapter Eighty: Pandora's Box

Even from the surface, I can hear the call and response of Gaia and our people. It echoes in the cavernous space of the Bunker, slightly muffled by the rocks beneath my feet.

'Kom falau oso na gyon op.' From the ashes we will rise.

I had followed after Octavia, tasked with ensuring that everything on the surface remains calm. A small group has already gathered, huddled together under the blazing sunlight. In the distance I can see Bellamy entering one of the only buildings that hasn't been completely destroyed, Octavia close behind.

I turn back towards the entrance of the Bunker, barely able to hide my still-present relief as Clarke approaches me with a warm smile.

'I like your hair,' she says, 'and your tattoos.' Although she points to the flock of birds untidily marked onto the side of my neck, I know that her gaze is truly fixed on the words scrawled across my wrist — "Be brave".

I find myself wondering what Sterling would be like if he was here with us, with me. I can almost see his bright eyes, his beam of excitement at seeing his friends again.

Clearing my throat awkwardly, I push the thoughts from my mind. 'Thanks. You too. Well, the hair. Pretty badass.'

'Thank you,' she chuckles. 'Don't think I've seen you with a fringe since sixth grade.'

'Here's hoping the acne stays away this time.' I lean back in for another hug, knowing that I'll never truly be ready to be away from her for too long after everything that has happened. 'I missed you so much. And I, uh, remembered you. We had a memorial.' Sniffling quietly, I unzip my jacket pocket and produce the few pictures from within — her, Sterling and my mother.

She reaches out to take them but thinks better of it, instead rubbing at her eyes with the back of her hand. 'I missed you, too,' she replies quietly.

A few more shouts sound from the hill, signalling the arrival of another person. Hope rises in my chest for what must be the hundredth time in the last hour or so, but it sinks once more. It isn't Kane.

It's a girl. She must be young — possibly around thirteen —, although it may just be an assumption based on her height and the innocence of her face. Her skin is fawn and marked with dotted lines of charcoal, a pattern that I'm certain I've seen before. A choppy bob of stark black hair falls just above her shoulders. Even from here I can see the piercing brightness of her eyes.

After scanning the horizon with a look of wonderment, her gaze finally lands on me. They travel down to the slight tilt in my posture, the bending of my left leg. Her lips part in a silent gasp.

And then I see it. The wooden pole she grasps onto almost reaches up past her head, decorated by elegant carvings of vines, leaves, and a bird that sits proudly atop it. My cane.

She starts to descend the hill in rushed bounces, hopping nimbly from one stone to another. One scuffed boot catches on a bent, metal rod and suddenly she's falling. It's a good thing that she only had a few more steps to go. Her landing is harsh, all the same.

Running over to where she lies, I offer her my hand. The girl takes it without hesitation and turns her freckled face up to me. Her eyes are large, green as emeralds save for the ring of amber surrounding her pupils. A strange feeling hits me, like I've been in this exact moment before.

I dismiss it quickly and help her to her feet. Clarke steps in to brush some sand off of the girl's clothes and I let her, having to pry my hand away. 'Jeez, kid. Are you okay?' She simply gapes at me in disbelief. She must be a Grounder. 'Oh, yeah. Uh... you... okay?' I ask in broken Trig. It's my first time actually using it in a natural setting.