Fireheart | Raven Reyes [O.H.]

22 | the shot heard 'round the world

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chapter twenty-two!
THE SHOT HEARD
'ROUND THE WORLD
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SO, LIFE IS looking pretty shitty. On top of their gazillion other problems — Clarke and Collins still being missing, the new disappearance of Monty, their impending battle with the Grounders, and the annoying fact that Raven is being standoffish again, to name a few — they now have another one: Murphy is holding Jasper hostage in the dropship.

Ares isn't exactly sure how it had happened. He only knows that Blake had burst into the ammunition tent as Ares had been finishing up another landmine, asking if there was any other way into the dropship aside from the main door. Ares had given the extremely intelligent response of, "Um," before Blake had backed out and sought Raven instead.

Now, they're crouched near the back of the ancient spacecraft, searching for a back way inside. Before last night, maybe he'd jump at the idea of helping Raven. Now he wishes that he could be working on those landmines or finishing the foxholes.

This anger isn't the crackling, living electricity that had snaked through Raven throughout yesterday. Ares doesn't even think this is anger at all. It's more like a quiet annoyance that's hardly discernible from the usual, reserved manner she retreats to when she's focused. Another person may not have noticed it. But Ares has grown up knowing how to read people, so he can see the slightly too-deep chasm between her angular brows and the frown on her lips that never vanishes. Worst of all, he'd noticed that these minuscule changes had arisen when she'd come near him.

Ares has yet to sleep even though the sun had risen about an hour ago, hidden behind an overcast sky that turns the entire camp a dreary grey. He rubs at his tired eyes with the knuckle of his index finger and sniffles. The lack of slumber isn't doing his head cold any good, and considering they have a life-or-death battle coming up, he's in need of a decent nap to get him alert and healthy.

Despite the fact his breath forms white clouds in front of his face every time he speaks and there are cold drops of early-morning dew coating every surface, he'd shed both his jacket and hoodie long ago. It leaves his bare arms exposed to the chilled air. It's a method of keeping himself awake, but also a precaution. He knows that this task isn't going to be easy — if they can accomplish it at all — so he's going to sweat.

He and Raven work without speaking. The only sound between them is their gentle tapping against the dropship's rear panels in an effort to find the hollow sound of a hidden door, the metal so dark and smothered with rust and grime that Ares finds his hands dirty where they're not protected by his fingerless gloves.

He wants to say something to her, but what? He'd already opened up to her so she would come back to camp; bearing his soul open twice in less than twelve hours isn't exactly on his agenda.