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"There you are," she points out the obvious, catching up to his side quickly. Her breathing is a bit heavy, but nothing too noticeable. "So, what's your plan? Take all the supplies and run? Take it to the Grounders in exchange for peace? Oh, wait, I've got it. You're going to try to fly back up to space."
"Hilarious," Bellamy huffs in annoyance. He looks over at her with a frown. "What are you doing here?"
"Ouch," Zarah mutters to herself sarcastically before clearing her throat and looking up at him. "Well, for starters, I don't want to be left at camp with a bunch of idiots — it was either a camp full of them, or just one. And, you seem to be all about the buddy system, so, here I am."
"I'm better off going alone," he comments, gaining an offended gasp. "Oh, what? You really think you coming along will benefit me?"
"Yeah. I'm amazing company, and I just so happen to be extremely good at fighting," she explains with a proud grin.
"You? Who taught you how to fight while you were locked away for the last two years of your life?" He questions in a teasing tone.
"Hm, two years? How'd you know?" She asks back in the same tone, her eyebrows raised as she studies him. But to keep from any awkward silence from taking over, she continues, "And actually, I learned a lot about protecting myself in the skybox, but I've always been learning to fight. My, uh, parents used to teach me."
"And there it is. Something sentimental?" Bellamy inquires, gazing down at her. "I'm sorry. I thought you hate me?"
"Not as much as I did before, but hate is still hate," she shrugs simply, biting her lip to hide her smile. He stops walking, and grabs her arm to stop her. After a few seconds of standing in silence, she furrows her brows. "What is this? A staring contest?"
"Show me," he encourages. "If you're so good at fighting, prove it."
She hesitates, and it's obvious. She stares at him before letting out a sigh, "Don't let it hurt your ego too much when I win. I won't tell anyone about it."
She swings at him, to which he easily ducks. He doesn't see her other hand throwing a punch to his stomach. Once he topples over, she knees him in the stomach. He quickly recovers and takes a swing — not hard enough to hurt, of course. She catches his fist with a cocky grin before catching the other. Their eyes never break contact.
She twists her grip, turning him around and pushing him. His body slams against a tree, his hands behind his back. To get to his ear, she stands on her toe. She whispers, "I hope I didn't hurt you too much."
