Adjusting to Reality

Prologue

Previously, in Adapting to the Ground:

    The scene that met the warriors at Clarke’s camp was a desolate one. A few bodies lay scattered on the ground, tents strewn in pieces. The water trough was tipped over, the extra food they had procured dashed under footprints in the dirt. The Dropship itself was closed up, and Clarke almost fell on her face in the efforts to get off the horse she shared with Solan. She and the other four Sky People ran to the metal structure, pounding their fists on the surface in an attempt to rouse anyone who might be inside.

    “Bellamy! Harper! Monroe! Anyone!” They continued until the door opened, and about twenty teenagers stared out at them.

    “What happened?” Clarke stepped forward, looking the kids over.

    Bellamy stepped forward, a cut on his temple and a darkening bruise on his neck. “They were so fast, we tried to save everyone. I-” he looked around at the bodies, his brows furrowing in confusion. “There were more than that left, I swear. We held the door open as long as we could.”

    “What. Happened.” Clarke repeated herself, stepping forward again with a deep frown.

    “Monsters. They attacked us out of nowhere,” Fox stepped forward, looking at her fallen comrades with a pained expression. “We thought they were like, bandits or something, like what Bellamy had told us about, but-” She shook her head. “They smelled like- and there was blood and flesh in their teeth.” She shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself.

    “Ripas,” Anya hissed, accessing the damage herself.

    “We can’t stay here, what if they come back?” Clarke looked at the general, setting her jaw. “We’re defenseless. These things nearly destroyed-”

    “Calm yourself, Clarke Griffin. I agree with you. It is not safe for a bunch of children to stay by themselves when they cannot defend themselves against monsters. This time it was the Ripas, next time it will be the Maunon.” Anya looked at the blonde. “Gather your people and your things, we leave for Polis in an hour.”

Earth; the Tower; Sometime in October, 2149

    Natalie scrubbed her hands over her face as she made her way from the Nightblood’s classroom to her own quarters, eager for a bath and some rest. She didn’t make it very far before a guard rushed towards her, his face grim.

    “Natali, Heda has sent for you. You are needed in the Healer’s House immediately.” The big guy bowed his head a little, mostly to make sure his quiet message was heard.

    Natalie nodded and spun on her heel, headed for the stairs that would get her to the ground faster than the lift. She jogged down them, making sure a handmaiden was headed towards her younger charges to keep an eye on them while she was gone. Once she got outside, the cool night air hit her cheeks and coloured them pink. The Healer’s House was right next to the Tower, a sort of clinic set up for multiple patients when carrying them up the stairs or up the lift would be too slow or difficult. Natalie made it there with time to spare, barely winded. She met Gustus outside and he directed her inside with a wave of his hand and a blank face.

    “Heda?” The redhead rushed inside and was stunned to see a flurry of activity. Healers rushed around with bloody and fresh bandages, poultices, water, and other supplies needed to tend to an injured army. Natalie felt the blood rush out of her face as she followed the masses to the main room, where nine different patients were in various states of suffering. “Noah!” She rushed forward towards the girl, only stopping when the Commander herself stepped in front of her. “What happened?”