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"Do you think the Grounders grow weed?" Alec asks out of the blue as they walk through the woods around the camp. They're not really supposed to leave without telling anyone, but neither of them care enough. "Because I'll be glad to sell my soul to them for just a puff."
"Who knows?" She shrugs, glancing over her shoulder to check their backs. She seems to be the one making sure death isn't coming towards them as he can never focus on one thing. "I wonder what their booze tastes like. Maybe it's better than moonshine."
He hums, seeming to think about her words. "I don't know. The moonshine is pretty damn good. I'm not sure anyone could beat that," he mutters. "It's official, I need to get drunk or high soon."
"You're something else," she scoffs with a laugh, but she quickly falls silent when she hears ruffling of the trees. She quickly holds her hand over Alec's mouth knowing he'll give away their location if it was a grounder.
They're met with silence, yet neither of them dare to move. She slowly removes her hand, taking a small step back. He turns his back to her to glance around and she does the same. "I think we're being paranoid," he lowly mumbles.
She would've agreed with him if it wasn't for a hand that wasn't his wrapping around her arm. She quickly pulls the blade tucked into her waistband out and presses the figure against the tree. Her arm is pressed against its throat, the blade lightly poking the skin.
The figure is Bellamy and he raises his hands in surrender. "Relax, klepto," he mutters. "I'm not the enemy."
"Maybe not, but you're a damn idiot for doing that," she snaps, pulling away from him. She steps away with a glare. "What the hell are you doing out here?"
"I could ask you the same thing. You know you're not supposed to be roaming around alone," he replies, fixing his jacket and stepping away from the tree.
"I'm not alone," Zarah replies, raising her eyebrows and gesturing to her friend.
"Were we interrupting something?" He tauntingly asks, a smirk tugging at his lips. Of course he takes it the wrong way.
Alec cuts in with wide eyes, "Woah! I'd never go for her. No offense, just not my type." He shifts awkwardly under her glare before throwing his arms out as if they're protecting him. "Not that she's not great! I mean, who doesn't love a sarcastic thief who could not care le—"
"Alec?" "Yup?" "Shut up," she mutters, pinching the bridge of her nose with her thumb and index finger.
"Bellamy!" A voice calls out from behind them. "You might want to see this!" A yellow colored fog is growing closer to them. A small group of the 100 is running away from it quickly. With the fog came the sound of a horn, like a warning. "Run!"
