𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍, bellamy blake ¹

35; oneirophobia

"Sleep, those little slices of death—how I loathe them."

― Edgar Allan Poe

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SHE WOKE UP SCREAMING, LIMBS ENTANGLED IN THE SLEEPING BAG. Sweat soaked her skin: her forehead, her hair, her thighs and her chest. The Blake siblings jolted upwards beside her. "Why did you let me go to sleep?" she cried. "Why?"

Octavia brushed Naomi's hair out of her face. "You had to sleep before we leave—even if it was only for a few hours." Naomi's mouth trembled as she clung onto the two, hands tangling in Bellamy's shirt. She closed her eyes and pressed her face into his chest as Octavia rubbed her back.

Bellamy put his hands in her hair. He kissed her hair. "Come on, we're going now. Before night falls." Tears stained Naomi's face as she trembled.

"What was the nightmare about this time?" Octavia asked, helping to pull the blankets off Noe's body.

"Charlotte," she mumbled. "Again." She shook with a cold sweat as she stood, Bellamy already helping her to pack her things. She closed her eyes once again, hoping to rid herself of the creams. Naomi rubbed her forehead as Octavia handed her Wampleiswis and her belt. The blonde tugged on her shoes.

Bellamy came to touch her arm. "You're good now?" he asked her.

She nodded slowly, reaching to slide her bow over her shoulder. She passed her gun to Bellamy—not having enough room on her body to hang it too. She grabbed her pack. "Let's go then—to the sea? I've always wanted to see the ocean."

"Yeah. Let's go," said Octavia.

They left the camp as the sun was high in the sky, casting rays of sun through the leaves above. Naomi walked towards the front of the expedition with Bellamy, now having have recovered from her fitful sleep. She held her sword outwards as she trekked forward with Bellamy by her side. Octavia was somewhere towards the middle of the crowd, with Clarke and Jasper. Somewhere, Raven was being carried on a stretcher. Naomi was pressed against a group of shooters who were fearful, with wide eyes and guns cocked. Each of them looked towards the trees for danger.

Naomi had her bow in her hands instead of her sword, an arrow already fitted. She carried it loosely, letting her fingers rest against the string. Small animals flitted through the undergrowth.

Bellamy appeared at her side, gun in his hands. "We should have stayed with our home," he grunted. "We could have fought against the grounders."

Naomi looked over at him as she hopped over a tree root. "You haven't seen them fight." She turned back to look at the crowd as the last sight of their camp disappeared behind the trees. "You did good here."

"18 of our people are buried inside those walls," he told her.

She tilted her head and pressed her shoulder against his. "82 alive." He nodded at that. She smiled at him, skipping along. "I've always wanted to sea the ocean—I think I'm going to try to surf. After some swimming lessons, of course. We can set up little huts facing the ocean and—"

Naomi saw a shadow move behind the trees. She stopped abruptly and raised a hand, keeping her bow drawn with a finger on the string. The group behind her came to a hushed stop. She narrowed her eyes and took a step forward, lowering her hand to place it against her bow. She moved forward again and peered around the tree-line.

"What is it?" Bellamy asked.

Jasper raised his gun beside her. "I don't see anything." The group murmured behind her and they looked around uneasily.