Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
THE ODDEST THING ABOUT THEIR NEW CAMP WAS THE QUIET. There were more people around, maybe two hundred or more, but there was an unusual stillness about the way they went about their business that Marley wasn't used to. She was used to the crazy, the disjointed disarray of a hundred teenagers trying to navigate their way back to normality, fumbling blindly through unfamiliarity. But, in this new camp - christened Camp Jaha in the wake of their former Chancellors death - there was far more order. The thinly-veiled chaos she'd grown accustomed to, even at night when she was drifting off to sleep, was no longer there. There was a restfulness; an air of peace, silent and still in the enclosing darkness. There were no screams, no yelling, no fighting. Just stillness and the hushed murmurs of the Guards marking the perimeter.
There was a time when Marley would have preferred the noise. It stood as a reminder that she was no longer alone. But she'd come to realise that things weren't so simple. Sometimes, she welcomed the silence. Sometimes, the very same silence screamed at her, deafening. It snapped at her ankles like a feral dog.
The breeze stirred Marley's hair as she stepped from Alpha Station. The night was frigid and Marley shrugged her jacket tighter around her body. It was late, the camp sparse with the few residents who hadn't yet retired to their beds, and she'd been politely kicked out of Medical when Elijah had finally managed to fall asleep. The silence came nipping at her ears and the cold seeped in and chilled her bones, unforgiving and icy. Marley's fragile fingers grew rigid as the cold breeze snapped at every inch of exposed skin.
There was a small spot at the side of the Alpha Station, hidden away from prying eyes. It was a secret refuge that she'd found as she wandered around in the freezing cold air; it lay concealed in the shadows, an imposing chunk of metal held up by thin tree trunks, propped by the perimeter fence. As Marley drew near, scuffed boots thumping against the frozen ground, the soft hum of electric became evident. It was low and persistent but somehow reassuring.
On the underside of the metal stood tree stumps; they jutted, harsh and jagged, from the dirt. Marley crouched behind one, her boots kicking at the frayed bark as she shuffled uncomfortably. The ice-prickled ground bled cold through her trouser legs. The cold-flushed girl resigned to tucking her knees against her chest, chin resting atop them.
Marley's grey eyes pulled towards the sky, as they always did. She found the solace again, the comfort in the otherwise mournful darkness. Darkness was meant to bring sadness. But it didn't, not to her. It probably sounded completely crazy to anyone else; like when Tate had asked her why she was always staring out of the Arks windows with an expression of longing and called her crazy when she'd explained. But the darkness brought possibility and wonder. It was the only thing that kept her afloat in the whirlpool of ferocity. The Grounders were a turbulent sea but the night was her boat; the sea churned and thrashed mercilessly as it tried to drag her down. But the boat kept her safe above the water.
