The Odyssey ☾ Bellamy Blake

↢ Ⅴ ↣

''The Panter's Call''

☽ ✯ ✯ ☾

The blonde from before moved quickly toward Jasper, her footsteps steady despite the tension hanging in the air. But as soon as she took a step too far, the ground beneath her gave way. She was swallowed by a trap. The group shouted in alarm, and the rebel leader rushed to her side, grabbing her wrist just before she could fall deeper into the snare. He hesitated, eyes flickering between her and the trap, uncertainty lingering in his gaze. Was he contemplating whether to pull her out... or leave her to whatever dangers lurked beneath?

Asteria's sharp gaze never wavered from the scene. She remained cloaked in the shadows, watching with cold precision, her fingers instinctively tightening around her bow. Her eyes flicked over the group as they fumbled with their plan, discussing why Jasper had been left strung up like a prize.

Their voices carried the weight of naïveté as they debated whether it was a trap meant to lure them in. Amateurs, she thought, the bitterness of the word lingering on her tongue. She couldn't help but smirk at their ignorance. The land won't bow to them.

As two of the boys scrambled up the tree, attempting to investigate the trap, Asteria's eyes narrowed. She could already see their mistakes—clumsy movements, unsure footing. They'd never survive a day out here. She felt a rush of irritation, the same primal impatience she had always felt for those who didn't understand the land they walked on.

A low growl echoed through the air, vibrating through the earth beneath her feet. It was a sound that could chill anyone who truly understood it. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, her instincts screaming at her to act. She drew her bow with a practiced, fluid motion, every muscle coiling in anticipation. Her eyes sharpened, scanning the dense underbrush for the predator that stalked them.

And then she saw it.

A shadow moved silently between the trees, sleek and lethal, with eyes that glimmered like cold stars. It was a panther, stalking them with the grace of a ghost, its every movement calculated, its presence an omen of death. Asteria's focus deepened, her body reacting instinctively. She could feel the predator's intent, the way it watched them—waiting for its moment. This one knew the hunt.

She nocked an arrow, drawing it back slowly, every inch of her concentration centered on the creature. Her fingers, steady as stone, caressed the wood of the bow, aligning the shot.

But before she could release the arrow, there was a sudden bang. The sound sliced through the tense silence, sharp and unnatural. The explosion of sound jolted through her, making her heart stutter in her chest. She spun quickly, her eyes immediately locking onto Wells, who had fired the shot. He was holding something metal, something that shouldn't have existed here. The cold, foreign tool was a gun.

Asteria's heart dropped into her stomach, her mind racing. The gunshot echoed in her ears, a noise too loud for the quiet forest. She had heard of such weapons, of course—Lincoln and the others had spoken of them. But seeing it in use here, in her world... It was a violation of everything she had come to know. Fear—a feeling she wasn't used to—slipped beneath her skin. Do they have more of them?

The panther staggered for a moment, blood spraying from the wound, but it wasn't finished. In an instant, it disappeared into the darkness, its movements too swift for the eye to track. The creature wasn't dead, not yet.

The silence that followed was thick with anticipation.

A moment later, the panther struck.

It was a blur of motion—a shadow within shadows. The panther had been circling them, its eyes never leaving their movements, waiting for the right moment to strike. It lunged, its sleek body cutting through the air, aiming for the curly haired man.

Asteria's bow was already raised. Her body moved on instinct, each motion an extension of her will. Her breath caught, and time seemed to stretch before her. One shot. That was all it would take.

The panther's body twisted mid-air as the arrow struck with sickening accuracy, burying itself deep into the creature's side. Blood sprayed, painting the earth in dark red as the panther's life force drained out in an instant. It hit the ground with a sickening thud, the air thick with its dying breath.

Asteria barely registered Lincoln pulling her behind him, hiding her in the shadow of his body, a protective gesture born out of instinct rather than thought. They couldn't afford to be seen—not yet. Not by the others.

Asteria and Lincoln moved quickly, their feet pounding the dirt as they made their way back toward the village. They didn't dare look back—too much risk, too much noise.  She could see Lincoln's face and how angry he was with her heroism.

twisted mid-air before it hit the ground with a sickening thud. A heavy silence fell over the group as they watched the creature's final moments. No one moved, the tension thick in the air. For a long, breathless moment, it felt as if the forest itself had gone still. The only sound was the soft rustling of leaves in the wind, the threat of the panther now silenced.

It wasn't until the sound of rushing footsteps broke the silence that everyone snapped back into focus. The sound came from the trees, distant but unmistakable. Grounders. They were running, retreating quickly, their footsteps heavy on the forest floor.

"Move!" Bellamy's voice cut through the tense silence as he turned to the others. "Cut Jasper down quickly. We need to get out of here."

"Grounders... saved you?" Clarke's voice trembled, her eyes wide as she looked at Bellamy, shocked by the unexpected turn of events.

Bellamy didn't meet her gaze immediately, too focused on the panther's body. His voice was cold, dismissive. "I doubt the Grounders have enough decency to save anyone but themselves."

He crouched down to inspect the panther's body. His breath caught when he saw the arrow lodged deep in its side. Bellamy crouched beside the fallen panther, his hands moving instinctively as he carefully pulled the arrow from its side. As his fingers touched the shaft, his eyes locked onto the symbols etched into the wood. His breath hitched slightly, recognition flashing in his gaze.

The markings were intricate—precise and deliberate. Bellamy's eyes traced over them, the design feeling oddly familiar. He had seen symbols like this before, in the pages of the old Odyssey book he had once devoured in his youth. The patterns—subtle, but unmistakable—mirrored constellations, stars, and divine markings.

He hastily shoved the arrow into his jacket, as if hiding the truth from everyone else.

"At least we have food now," Finn muttered, as they moved to cut Jasper down.