Together They Are Complete

Torn Apart

The sound tears through the quiet day suddenly and all the guards posted on the wall stiffen, turning their guns and weapons immediately out to the forest. They don't understand where it came from, but they know enough to contact Miller.

He comes running.

"What was it?" He asks Conner, the nearest kid who's posted on the wall of the Camp right now.

"It sounded like someone screaming." The stocky, auburn-haired sixteen year old says uneasily.

And then it comes again, this time louder: a blood-curling cry.

"NOOOO!"

All their heads swing to the northwest area of the forest. Miller jerks into action quickly.

"Conner, Kendra, Murphy, you guys are with me. The rest of you stay here and stay sharp. We don't know what happened, but we need to be ready."

The three he addressed automatically pull more magazine clips for their guns and shoulder their packs.

"And Dean," Miller turns to the large brunette who opened the gate for them. "Get Harper and Octavia into the Dropship and ready with the medical supplies. I have a feeling that . . ." His voice trails off and the younger boy nods nervously at him.

"That scream. It sounded like-like Clarke." The fourteen year old stutters quietly and Miller quickly masks his emotions behind a blank expression not willing to acknowledge that train of thought that he knew the eight others around him were thinking as well.

"Go, Dean." He commands softly and the kid runs off to obey.

It's her fault. It's all her fault.

If she hadn't been so focused on the sage and thyme that had been growing just over there - which they already had plenty of back at the Dropship - when Bellamy turned his back, she would've noticed the Grounders behind the tree. She would have pulled out her knife faster and been able to fight back. She would've been able to shout out a warning to her co-leader. She would've had at least a fighting chance before the five wildly painted humans jumped out and started beating them.

Bellamy was currently kneeling on the ground, bruises already forming on his face with blood running from his split lip and an open gash too close to his left eye. He was still struggling against the massive hulking figures of two Grounders, one tanned and tall, the other rounder with tattoos who both held his shoulders firmly while he tried to slip out of the ropes they had bound around his wrists behind his back.

Clarke was bound similarly, except the older willowy figured one who'd grabbed her had decided to throw her around when she finally fumbled her knife out and almost slit the female's throat. That had earned her three punches to the gut and a right hook to her face, enough for her to spat blood on the female's jacket and finally get a stinging blow across the back of her head.

"Stop it!" Bellamy yelled at the willowy-figured man as he finally shoved her, toppling her off balance onto the ground in front of him. "Just stop it!"

Clarke stared up at Bellamy's bloodied, blue and purple, worried face, knowing that he was the only one who saw past the defiance and bravado in her eyes to the fear and pain she hid well from everyone else.

Everyone except him.

The youngest copper-colored hair Grounder with what looked like a baby face underneath the war paint searched their packs eagerly. He had found Bellamy's radio and smashed it to pieces with hilt of his sword while he grabbed the fruit and meat the two leaders of the 100 brought along with them. The little bag of plants Clarke had collected was torn apart, scattering on the ground and her booklet of drawings and written out explanations of medicinal plants had been looked through curiously before the dark-skinned woman scoffed and ripped out pages.