Against All Odds (Silent Moments Series: Book 2)

Chapter 17

The atmosphere was thick with anticipation as we returned to camp, our footsteps echoing faintly in the hushed night. Clarke's inquisitive voice cut through the silence, her eyes narrowing with curiosity.

"Where were you?" Her gaze bore into me, seeking answers that I wasn't yet ready to provide.

"We went for a walk," I replied, my voice measured, my eyes briefly meeting hers, wary of revealing too much.

"What did you talk about?" Clarke persisted, her insatiable curiosity refusing to be quelled.

"Nothing," I responded, a slight pause revealing the depth of my reluctance to divulge the intimate details of my conversation with Lexa. I had promised her a certain level of discretion, and I intended to honor it.

To evade any further probing, I decided to separate myself from the group, forging ahead on my own path. The night wrapped around me, the forest embracing me with its eerie quietude as we continued our journey. The moon cast an ethereal glow, painting the surroundings in shades of silver and navy.

Finally, we arrived at the imposing gates of the Grounder village, where our presence was met with suspicion. Lincoln, a seasoned intermediary, repeated his well-practiced routine of relinquishing his knife into the collection basket. I followed suit, depositing my weapons - my trusty axe, two knives, and the pistol tucked into my waistband - into the basket, each one a symbol of our trust, or perhaps a temporary truce, with our Grounder hosts. Raven, ever the indomitable spirit, engaged in an unspoken standoff with Gustus, the towering figure assigned the task of disarming us. With an exasperated roll of his eyes, he confiscated her gun and took four knives from her. The tension in the air was palpable, our uneasy alliance with the Grounders evident in this disarming exchange.

In the midst of this, a Grounder began speaking rapidly in their native tongue, punctuating the air with their impassioned words. The situation escalated quickly, prompting a swift and brutal response from Gustus. He unleashed a barrage of punches on the hapless individual, each blow echoing through the air like a drumbeat of violence. I couldn't bear to watch, the brutality of it gnawing at my conscience. Summoning my courage, I approached Lexa, my voice filled with genuine concern as I spoke up. "Commander, stop him, please. They'll blame us for this too," I implored, hoping that she'd intercede and put an end to the savage beating.

She turned her piercing gaze back to me, and in that look, I saw a glimmer of understanding. It seemed that she silently communicated with Gustus, urging him to show restraint. Lexa then pivoted to address the crowd, her voice a commanding presence in the otherwise tumultuous scene.

"The Sky People march with us now. Anyone who tries to stop that will pay with their life," she declared, her words laced with an uncompromising resolve. Her proclamation cut through the chaos, leaving an indelible mark on the assembled crowd.

As the tension began to dissipate, the crowd dispersed, albeit with lingering whispers and sidelong glances in our direction. Lexa's imperious demeanor softened slightly as she glanced around one more time, ensuring her message had been received before resuming her forward march.

"Warm welcome," Bellamy quipped dryly, breaking the heavy silence that had settled over us. His words carried a note of sarcasm, but they also reflected the sobering reality of our precarious position among the Grounders.

"No kidding," I replied, my voice tinged with a mixture of relief and trepidation. The night had brought unexpected challenges and revelations, deepening the complexities of our relationships with the Grounders, and shaping the path of our collective journey in ways we were only beginning to understand.

Upon reaching the heart of the city, we stood witness to a somber spectacle as the lifeless bodies of eighteen individuals were carefully unloaded one by one into a massive wooden box. The atmosphere was heavy with grief, and the solemnity of the moment hung thick in the air. Each body was handled with the utmost care, a poignant testament to the respect and reverence the Grounders held for their fallen comrades. Once all the bodies were gently settled within the wooden confines, an assembly of roughly 45 to 50 logs was placed atop them, forming a makeshift lid. It was a symbolic gesture, an act of closure that signified the final chapter for these souls who had met an untimely end. Among them, Finn's lifeless form occupied the highest position, a poignant reminder of the tragic events that had unfolded. With the preparations complete, the ceremony commenced. The gathered Grounders, their faces etched with grief and reverence, encircled the wooden box, forming a solemn congregation. The air seemed to still as the leader of the ceremony stepped forward, their bearing commanding the attention of all present.