in which a girl with a heavy burden tries to find her way through the trials and torments of the earth they've come home to.
OR
in which she must rebuild.
EMBERS
JOHN MURPHY
DEATHLIES 2016
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN T...
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T H I R T Y E I G H T
It wasn't long before it came to light that the grounder hostages had escaped and, just like Bellamy, Althea had a pretty solid idea that it was all down to Octavia. But, unlike Bellamy, Althea was glad that it had been done. If they'd still been here, it wasn't hard to predict what would have eventually happened to them.
Althea didn't like to think about it. Why would she? She saw enough death in her mind without thinking about more. It drove the crows wild when she wanted them to be quiet.
But the crows were her friends. As she sat beneath her tree, head leant back against the trunk, she smiled up at them as they sat upon their branch, three of them all in a row. It was a delight to see them so peacefully sat there for once. Normally they would caw at her when she approached and fly away, but there they sat looking down on her with their black beady eyes and pointed beaks.
"Something big is going to happen soon," She says airily. "I can feel it and I know you can too." Her head rolls on her shoulders, turning away from them to look down on the camp. "They have no idea what's coming. No matter what they say, we're going to die down here. One way or another, we're all walking corpses."
She chokes out a laugh, closing her eyes and curling her fingers into the earth either side of her. "But whatever's going to happen, it's an act of war." She swallows. One of the crows flaps its dark wings, shining in the sun. But even with the shine it still looked menacing and devious. Perhaps that's it. Perspective. If you look at something, or someone, with the wrong perspective then the image you see is distorted. Maybe that's why Althea saw them as friends, her perception was shattered. "War," She says with a dazed laugh. "What a joke. We come down here to start again, but we fall right back in where we left off. War."
And then she is silent. The crows take flight. Soaring into the winter's air to circle above, their eyes forever watching the movements of the hundred. They were waiting for something and no one knew what, but Althea had a pretty good idea: they were waiting for them to die. Because the dead cannot protect themselves from the scavengers who pick the meat off the bones and the eyes from their sockets, loving and adoring every last morsel with every aspect of their being.
They were scavengers of the skies and the hundred were their waiting game.
"Althea," A voice says. It's a light voice, a soft voice, that pulls Althea from the depths of herself and back into the reality that was the camp. Her mind was filled with the bustle and the business of the camp. Immediately, she wanted it gone again, but she plasters a smile across her face and listens to Clarke. "Good. You're awake."
"I wasn't sleeping," She replies, pushing herself up. "Did you need me to do something? I thought you said everything was good?"
"No, no," Clarke tells her, but she extends a hand. Althea takes it, getting to her feet, and then lets go again, sinking them into her pockets. "But there's someone I think you're gonna want to see. They're in the drop ship. Come on."
"Ok," Althea sighs. "Who is it?"
"I think it's better if I don't tell you," Clarke responds, pressing her lips together. They walk the rest of the way in silence, but something chews at Clarke the entire way. When they get to the entrance, she stops Althea. "Before you go in, I want to say that I'm sorry for what I let Bellamy and Raven do to the grounders."
"I'm sorry, I don't want to hear it because if you cared that much you wouldn't have let him do it in the first place," Althea tells her, looking at her with thin lips and endless eyes. Then she steps past Clarke and into the drop ship.
And as soon as it happens, everything she'd said to Clarke was forgotten when her eyes land on him.
Murphy.
He was slumped against the wall, his face bloody and bruised. He looked defeated. A broken man in the shell of someone who used to be so full of life. She pushes her hair behind her ear, looking to Clarke at her side for a moment before looking back to him.
Althea couldn't believe her eyes. He was here. Alive and breathing. Looking right back at her with eyes that seemed to water as they did so, glistening like nothing she had ever seen. They were beautifully sad and brimmed with emotion that could not simply be described by words.
She walks forward and kneels down in front of him. There was a moment when looking at him that she thought herself truly insane. She gently reaches a hand out to touch his bloodied cheek with her fingertips and when she connects with his skin, a soft gasp escapes from between her parted lips and her eyes brim with tears.
"You're real," She whispers, smoothing her thumb across his cheek. Her bottom lip trembles as she speaks to him. Relief and joy washes over her as she lurches forward, wrapping her arms around him and never wanting to let go again.
"Thea," He says softly, his arms wrapping around her too. He'd missed her. He'd missed the way she looked at him, the way she spoke to him and the way she held him as if he'd never done a dastardly deed in his entire life.
"I thought you were dead," She breathes, her heart thumping as she searches his complex expression for answers. There was something in the air that enhanced her being. Like she was being fed by a source that was unimaginable to him. She was vibrant, but in a good way, and most definitely different to the last time they'd laid eyes upon one another. "I thought the grounders were going to kill you."
"I thought so too," He replies, his voice cracking. "But they forgot to lock the door so I ran."
"I'm glad you're here, even if things have changed."
And in his mind he couldn't help but question what she meant by that. What had changed? Why would she say that to him if it didn't mean something significant to her? Maybe she hadn't changed on her own accord. Maybe it was necessary, more so than either of them first knew.
But the crow had taken flight, spreading its wings at last. Feeling the rush of the wind between her feathers, never wanting to come down. Not even for the one she loves the most.
