1 + 2 | EMBERS TO FIRESTORM | THE 100 | JOHN MURPHY

FORTY EIGHT

F O R T Y   E I G H T
-

Althea didn't say a word as Bellamy began to rally people to go out and find Clarke, Finn and Monty.

It wasn't that she didn't care. No, it was far from it. If Finn died, she didn't know what she would do with herself. He was like the brother she never, and could never of, had. He looked after her in ways that no one else could exactly when she needed it.

Clarke was a less consistent matter. Some days, she thought she saw a glimmer of hope for their friendship to be rekindled, but most days she saw nothing but dust and cobwebs. It wasn't that she hated her. No, she admired her want to save the lives of those around her, but she couldn't look at her without seeing her mother.

Althea writhed with hate for Abby Griffin, as much as her heart did not want to feel hate. Every single time she thought about her, she remembered her fathers life being taken from her and her mother, and then her mother being floated by claims of attempted murder.

So many worshipped the ground Abby stood on, but Althea would love nothing more than to spit on her feet, against her character, but inline with her love for her family.

She thought about them everyday and, when she had the time, Althea would attempt to communicate with her mother through careful meditation. She must sound insane to anyone passing by close enough to hear, but to be able to talk to her mother once again washed those worries of judgement away in a breeze.

She didn't cry for them anymore, but she remained as she always had done: scarred by the loss more than anyone could comprehend.

The things she would do to have her parents back were unholy, would put the grounders to shame.

Octavia remained with Althea as she stared off into the forest, where John Murphy disappeared minutes before. Althea held her hand tight.

"How do you do it?" She asked, softly.

"Do what?" Octavia replied, turning to her with a frown spread across her face. It wasn't out of rudeness, but more out of wonder.

"Be strong."

"It's not a matter of being strong," Octavia told her. "It's what you do after whatever has happened to you that matters. Someone insults you, you can either cry, or bite back. Whether that be punching them, or coming up with a better insult," Octavia said, they rocked back and forth slightly. It was comforting, somewhat. "Down here, it's different. On the Ark, survival wasn't... as difficult. On Earth, it's a fight or die kind of world."

"Fight or die," Althea repeated in a murmur. "But I can't fight."

"Then learn."

-

Finn and Clarke returned to camp, explaining that they needed to gather all the supplies they could carry and leave before the grounders attacked. If they didn't get out before then, they were sure to die on the ends of blades.

Althea looked at Octavia from across the crowd, mouthing 'fight or die' to her. She shook her head, looking away.

An argument ensued. Bellamy against Clarke once again with their differing opinions clashing like swords, clattering and covered in blood that was not theirs. Both had made good and bad choices in the past, but the only one that mattered now was the one of today.

Clarke's decision ruled, Bellamy was left with no choice but to agree as delinquents began packing up the camp, some panicking, others in disbelief that their day to die was on the doorstep, sounding their war drums, sharpening their weapons, smearing war paint.

"Do you think we're going to die today?" Althea asked in a small voice. She would be a fool not to be scared, but even so the idea of death wasn't so terrifying to her anymore. Maybe it would be relief.

"I don't know," Octavia replied as she sat sharpening her own sword. The sword she carried with pride while the others stood with guns in their arms. She stood out, but if she cared she didn't show it. At least someone had found a little peace in themselves.

Octavia looked down at her sword as she questioned, "Well, have you see us dying?"

"I have seen many deaths in my lifetime that have not come true, and also deaths that have. If you're asking whether I see you dying, I haven't. I have vivid memories of a reoccurring massacre in a nightmare I used to have on the Ark. I don't have it anymore, but it's still up in my head. I saw many, many people dying in a great burst of fire, charred."

"And you don't think that's us, do you?"

"I don't know who they are. It might not come true. It might've supposed to have happened days ago. It might happen tomorrow. I can never get exact times with these... predictions, but if it is to come true, God save us all."

"God save us all, if you believe in all that," She muttered in response, sheathing her sword.

"I don't believe a thing anymore. Belief gets you hurt," Althea looked away from her, down into the bag she was packing the little rations they had left in. "I would know."

"I know you believed in him and that he proved you wrong, but you can't judge everyone from him. He made bad decisions, he's a bad person, but you're one of the most compassionate people I've ever met. You can't let him push you down. Stand up and fight or die."

Althea shook her head with a low, sad chuckle. "Fight or die," She repeated. "Guess I need to learn quick."

"If you ever see that boy again, you better punch his head right off his shoulders or I'll do it for you," Octavia told her, half serious, half joking.

Althea laughed, closing the bag. "I hope I never have to see him ever again. Maybe I'll get lucky and the grounders will take care of him for me."

"You don't mean that."

"Oh, but I do." She looked up, meeting Octavia's eyes without a hint of amusement in her eyes. They were colder than she'd ever seen them before. Green with fury for everything that had ever hurt her, tides turning over and over in a storm of anger. "I really do mean it."

-

1066 words
there's probs only gonna be two more chapters after this one so it ends on a rounded number because im picky like that.