𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍, bellamy blake ¹

36; the mountain men

"Fear cuts deeper than swords."

— George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones

➳ ➳ ➳

NAOMI PRESSED THROUGH THE FOREST, PANTING. Her hands had crusted with dry blood and it burned to move them. She stumbled over roots and debris. The sun had begun to rise lazily at some point. It drizzled sunlight over the war-zone. Naomi's leg stung with pain, a blade having taken skin off the side of her thigh. She limped forward, hand itching for the sword in her belt.

She stepped over the bodies of the fallen—Skaikru and Grounders alike. Ash rose in the air around her, catching against her hair. Her face was covered in blood and dirt and charcoal. The blood of her enemies stained her clothes.

The air was silent, strange for the aftermath of a victory. She would have thought the 100 would be celebrating wildly. But the forest was quiet.

What remained of the camp walls loomed in front of her: a crumbling ruin of wood and metal. She stepped onto the metal gate at her feet. The ground beneath her had been reduced to ash, grass burned away and covered in a fine line of soot. Twisted, blackened bodies lay around her. Charred skeletons with their flesh melted away. She hoped none of them were Bellamy. But she was sure she'd seen him escape—he wouldn't have tried to come after her. He wouldn't...

The camp was empty, sheets in front of the drop-ship blowing in the wind. More bodies lay against the drop-ship wall but there was no sign of her friends—or anyone in the vicinity. She limped forward, clutching her stinging fingers over her thigh. "Hello?" she cried, raising a hand to protect her eyes from the sunlight. "Is anyone here?" She craned her head around but saw no movement.

Noe blinked dozily, taking another step forward. She bent down to examine the charred corpses. She touched the ragged skeleton and ash blew away in the wind. "Clarke?" she cried, looking upwards. "Jasper, Raven, Bellamy!" She stood and walked forward, turning on the spot. "Hello?"

She took a step backwards. Her foot knocked against something. Naomi turned, hearing the sound of metal rolling against stone. An empty canister rolled across the ground. She knelt down and grabbed it in her hands. The lack of rust indicated it was newly made. There's no way something like this would survive an explosion. She shook it gently, making sure nothing was left inside. Examining the ground, she saw multiple more of the same empty canisters. "What happened here?"

Naomi stood, letting the canister fall from her hands. She kicked it over as she moved forward again, hand placed on her sword now. They wouldn't have just up and left all of a sudden. She moved forward. Drawing her sword, she pulled the sheets covering the doorway to the side. The drop-ship was untouched, with everything laying exactly as it had been before. There was no sign of a struggle, and none of the delinquents' corpses.

A girl lay in the corner, very clearly alive. She held ragged breaths and shuddered in the early morning. "Raven!" The girl was slumped along the ground, eyes fluttering. "Hey." Naomi knelt beside her. Raven's middle was covered in fresh blood, reopened from the bullet wound.

Raven looked over at her and grunted. She struggled to keep awake and tried to move upwards.

Naomi held her down gently. "No, no. Just stay still—okay?"

The older girl fell back slowly, nodding weakly. "Okay," she breathed. She gazed up at the ceiling. Naomi touched around the wound gently.

"Where'd the others go?" she asked Raven.