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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F O R T Y N I N E
At last, they were ready to leave the camp, the place they'd lived, and died, in since they'd landed. It had become such a big part of their lives and somehow it felt wrong to leave it. Althea couldn't shake the bad feeling she had, even as she walked alongside Octavia and they tried to distract themselves by talking about what they would do once this was all over.
They didn't mention the fact that one of them, or all of them, might not make it.
Beside her, Bellamy walked as hard faced as ever. He was thinking, watching every little movement in the trees, paranoid and with a right to be so.
"I think you were right," Althea told him, ignoring the sudden look from Octavia. "I have a bad feeling about leaving camp."
"It's for the best," Bellamy replied, but she could tell he didn't mean it.
"Out here, we're clueless and defenceless. In there, we were more protected. I just hope Clarke and Finn know what they're doing," She said, looking over her shoulder to Finn, who helped carry Raven on the stretcher.
"Lincoln knows better than anyone," Octavia piped up, jumping to the defence of the caring grounder.
"I just have a bad feeling about it," Althea insisted, not wanting to argue with Octavia over Lincoln's advice, but also not wanting to admit that her 'bad feeling' was them being massacred out in the middle of the stranger's forest by grounders with little mercy and a lot of fury.
"Well, we're doing it now. Should've said that when we were back in camp," Bellamy huffed, stalking forwards.
Althea sighed, watching him walk away from her. He was as stern and as serious as ever in the face of war. And so he should be, but Althea wasn't a fool. She could see the fear behind his eyes. Fear of death, fear of pain, fear of his little sister being killed, fear of being useless to prevent it.
They'd barely been walking when they came to a stop, and that was when the fear became real. It radiated rapidly through the hundred, sinking into their bones and kicking their instincts into gear. Fight or die? No, fight or flight.
And then he was dead. A delinquent killed by a gruesome metal weapon to the face, slicing right through and into his brain. It was sickening, but there was no time to reel. They needed to move.
"Grounders!" Jasper shouted, alerting everyone.
"Move, move, move!" Bellamy ordered, turning the hundred around. And everyone ran inside the walls again. Althea feared she would fall and be trampled, left for the grounders to pick up and torture, as they did to Murphy.
For a moment, as she stopped in the middle of their camp, in the middle of it all, she wondered whether he was already gone. Dead. Gone sounded nicer, less gruesome, but, if she knew anything at all about the grounders, she knew 'nice' wasn't their style. She didn't like to think about it, even if it would be a better death for him than starving, wasting away to his liar's bones. If he didn't want to die, he should've stayed. Stayed with her. Even then, if they died, they'd die together.
Dying alone had to be one of the worst ways to go. No comfort, no relief, no promise of the pain ending. It was you and your impending end until your final breath.
Octavia put a hand on Althea's arm. "I'm going to go fight," She murmured lowly, but her brother already knew what she was doing. She'd told him she was a grounder and she was going to fight like one. Her sword was already in her other hand, sharpened. "Keep yourself safe, ok?"
"Let me come with you," Althea managed to stutter out, but Octavia shook her head. "Like you said, fight or die."
"But you don't know how to fight yet," Octavia said, letting go of her arm. "I'm not taking you out there to die."
Althea smiled sadly. "Let me have this. Let me come with you and I can be an extra pair of eyes. Give me a sword, a knife, anything to use if I get into trouble, but I'm sick and tired of sitting back and riding the tidal wave. I want to do something worth while because we look set to die today either way," She responded, a little louder than necessary, but she was caught up in her lust to aid, just like always.
She glanced over her shoulder, meeting eyes with Bellamy for a second. He was looking at her in slight awe, giving her a nod, which she returned.
"Fine." Octavia gave in and pulled one of her daggers from her belt. "Have this, but it's not going to do much if you have to fight someone with a sword."
"It's better than nothing." She closed her fingers around the handle, slowly, but surely. She hoped she wouldn't have to use it, but knew that, if she had to, she could.
The ground had made her realise that you can't save everyone. You can't prevent all death. Death is a part of life. Unavoidable. And, as much as she wished it wasn't, it was and there was about to be a whole lot more of it on this day as the grounders marched on their camp, war drums, swords, battle ready.
"Let's go," Octavia told her, her face stern and harrowingly battle set. It was almost as if she'd been preparing for this her whole life. Like she was one of them. Althea was conflicted in how her friend had grown into this individual who was so ok with killing, but who was she to judge when she held a dagger in one hand and wished for the boy she loved to be victim to the grounders?
They ran into the foxholes, running until they came to where they would sit and wait for the grounders to show their war paint-smeared faces.
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1010 words next chapter is the final chapter. also, im wondering how I got fifty chapters out of one season???
