❛ the ground. that's the dream. ❜
On the list 𝘓𝘺𝘳𝘢 𝘑𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘛𝘰𝘱 𝘛𝘦𝘯 𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘔𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘖𝘧 𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘛𝘪𝘮𝘦, getting arrested is definitely up there. But, hey! At least there's a silver lining ━━ getting shoved into a drops...
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"I DON'T think I like this plan."
"I have a good feeling about it."
"That feeling is nausea," retorts Wells, wrinkling his nose. "You've already thrown up, like, five times."
"Three, actually."
Primrose clouds drift above them, an emerald copse sprawling at their backs as they dawdle at the edges of an ancient and rusted bridge that twists across a churning river. The water is a violent vortex with waves that are nearly black, the riverbanks muddy and treacherously steep. In fact, the water is such a terrible cacophony that all the sounds of the forest ━━ the fowl trilling from perches, the fauna traipsing through the undergrowth ━━ are swallowed whole as dawn's first light emerges.
Octavia is some distance ahead of them, standing in the dead center of the moss covered bridge. Waiting for her Grounder, a warrior named Lincoln.
"And, anyways," continues Lyra, smiling at him in earnest. "This isn't the stupidest thing we've done."
He gives her a look.
"OK, maybe it is," she says, hardly deflating at all. "But it's for a good cause!"
"I want another drink," he mutters.
The thicket of bushes behind them rustles and Lyra chirps, "Too late now!"
Finn pushes through the foliage, twigs snapping beneath his boots. There's a strange edge to his usually soft features and a beat later, Lyra discovers why.
Clarke is right behind him.
Pivoting, Octavia's eyes narrow as soon as they land upon the blonde. Clarke approaches them without hesitancy, Finn's teeth yanking on his bottom lip as he balks uncertainly behind. Then, as if deciding whatever it is he must be debating is futile, he bars his tongue and shrugs his shoulders as he follows.
The five of them meet at the very edge of the bridge. Before anyone can ask the question Lyra's sure they're all wondering, Clarke starts to speak.
