𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐃 | the 100

16 | Your Friend

"I didn't want him to die. It was an accident."

‧ ✩ ｡ ✭ ° ☆ ･ _______ ･ ☆ ° ✭ ｡ ✩ ‧

Something is wrong when Amber leaves her tent, but then again, something's always wrong, and she has her own goal to focus on. The people who rush back and forth are nothing more than a welcomed cover for her as she hurries into Clarke's tent to retrieve what remains of Jasper's poultice. She also finds a hidden bottle with alcohol splashing around at the bottom and she pushes everything into a backpack before walking as casually as possible towards an exit of camp.

"Amber!" Shit. With a plastered smile she turns around to see Ant waving at her with his scrawny arm. He's panting when he reaches her.

"You haven't seen Octavia, right? No one can find her, she's missing." His words rush out in a frenzied mess. "Help us search?"

Amber presses her lips together and glimpses a group forming in the dim bonfire light by the dropship. If Octavia is in danger then she should try to help. But Murphy could also be in danger. Octavia has a group of people organizing themselves to help her and Murphy has no one.

"I..." She crosses her arms over her chest, glancing away awkwardly. "I have to do something first."

"What?" Ant insists, not knowing how anything else could be more important.

Amber looks around, desperate for a better explanation than the truth. Out of options, she looks Ant dead in the eye. "Pee."

He blinks. Then gives a tight-lipped smile. "Fair enough. You gotta do what you gotta do. But hurry, we're getting ready to leave."

"Sure," Amber sighs of both relief and regret as she turns around and marches away, set on escaping the disappointment she's doomed herself to be when Ant realizes that she won't show up.

***

Dawn is not far away when Amber finally reaches the sharp cliff where she last saw Murphy. She calls out his name, but of course to no response. For a moment she watches the horizon, still scared of being faced with the truth of failure yet again, but she reminds herself of Jules back at camp and how she wants to prove herself worthy of her admiration. This is for her. As the sun's first rays turn the sky a bright orange and then a cold blue, she finally turns around and enters the forest. Once she leaves it again, she will know if she's still worth a second chance or not.

The night's chill still lingers in the morning shade under the tree crowns and she wraps her jacket tighter around herself. She's not sure where to start, but if she's lucky, perhaps she can find Murphy's tracks. Her pace slows as her eyes scan the ground. Nothing. If I was a pyromatic teenage boy turned banished outcast, where would I go?

A rustle followed by a thud sends a chill down her spine. She whirls around.

Her gaze sweeps over the bushes, searching for the source of the sound, but there is nothing, only the impending sense of being watched, and she has no way of knowing whether it's by a stupid bird or a savage Grounder. The forest around her is still with anticipation, as if holding its breath with her. She swallows, gathering the courage she needs to keep her voice steady.

"Murphy?" It only comes out as a strained whisper.

Silence, like a child has been caught in a lie they don't know how to cover up.