BATTLEFIELD→ lincoln [1] ✔️

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER TWELVE
THE RESCUE TEAM
"all night, i'll riot with you"
˚✧₊⁎*⁎⁺˳✧༚

     Dylan wasn't one to cry. Her ego was too big. So, when she lost her mother to the terrible fate that was death, she didn't cry. Well, yes, maybe when she was sitting alone in her room after funeral did she shed a tear or two, but she quickly wiped them, pretending that they had never even slipped down her cheeks. And perhaps she felt the urge to burst into tears when the only thing her parents did was fight when she was younger. But she didn't. The last time she had cried, was when she Bellamy suddenly cut her off, and she had no one to turn to besides Murphy. But now, she didn't have him to turn to, and the only thing she could confine with was her own thoughts. Without him, she would certainly not cry.

    And this was absolutely no exception. Dylan had no idea where she was, all she knew was that she was in immense pain. She felt a huge headache penetrate it's way through her skull. Her entire body ached, especially her right leg. She felt like she was on fire, but at the same time she was freezing. Shivering. She could feel sweat trickle down her forehead, but she didn't bother doing anything about it. She was feeling so weak. Too weak to even give a damn about her surroundings. In fact, her eyes was still screwed shut.

     She felt like vomiting. She felt like absolute shit. She probably looked like shit too. The last thing she could remember was falling down that hill, down into a ravine. She remembered knocking her head on a rock only for her to black out. She remembered hitting her leg and feeling an intense pain before everything went black. And she remembered a man.

     A man.

     Dylan shot up, opening her eyes wide. A bright light shone directly into her eyes, causing her to shut them immediately. As if sitting up made the head ache worse, her head started pounding ten times harder. She suppressed a scream, and instead settled on a loud groan. She laid back down again, trying to calm herself down. She had assumed that Bellamy or Clarke had found her, but she didn't remember someone from the camp find her. No. It was someone else. A grounder. It had to have been a grounder. Who else would wear that much war paint, animal fur and weapons?

     Maybe if she was lucky it could've been that guy who had saved her from the fog. Not that being kidnapped by any grounder was fortunate, but Dylan was fairly sure that if he had been the one to take her, she wouldn't die. At least she hoped she wouldn't.

     Dylan opened her eyes, this time one by one. She groaned loudly, trying to sit up. She looked at her surroundings. There were tons of stuff- mostly scrap- on the walls. There were books, metals and a bunch of other stuff. She noted that the room was packed with weapons as well. Animal antlers hung on the wall. She also noted to herself that she was most likely in a cave. At least that was what the rocky walls told her.