we all die anyways x bellamy blake/the 100

35 / sage

***
with every heartbeat I have left
I will defend your every breath
I promise, I'll do better
~light~
~sleeping at last~
***

bellamy blake

~~~

"Everyone, eyes peeled. We're in Grounder territory." I caution to the group, stealing quick glances at the blonde running beside me, whose feet were moving expertly and swiftly through the unpredictable floor of the forest, dodging sticks rocks—all while keeping quiet footfalls—with little effort; the act came easily to her.

We, naturally, were leading the teenagers behind us through the forest, and had been for the past half hour, legs numb from the constant pounding into the Earth. Finn was right next to me, glancing down at his map and changing our direction as need be.

"Everything is Grounder territory, all right? I can't keep running." John calls out, stopping in his tracks and holding his ground. "We don't even know if the guy Finn killed is telling the truth!"

Turning back, I shift my rifle against my chest as Finn stalks up to him and grab a tight hold of his shoulder, attempting to force him forward.

"Keep moving."

Besides me, Charlie was placing her hands on her head and taking deep breaths, her right hand gripping the handle of her gun.

Murphy shakes himself out of Finn's grasp, stumbling back slightly. Scoffing, Finn turns back around.

"We can give them a minute," I tell Finn, placing a hand on his bicep as an attempt to diffuse the growing tension that was thick in the air around us.

"No, we can't!" He rebuttals, his eyes knitted together in desperation. "You heard what that Grounder said: "They'll outlive their usefulness.""

"I heard what he said when you had a gun to his head."

Finn's narrowed eyes don't leave mine. His hair was messy, dark and sweaty strands falling into his grimy face. "Look, you think I wanted to do that? He would've told his people we're coming. By the time we got there, our people would be dead. Maybe that's something you can live with, but I can't!"

He tries to move forward again, but I place a strong hand on his chest to hold him in place.

"You did what you think you had to do. I get that. But you are not yourself right now and I can't be out here with another loose cannon."

I tilt my head to John, then to Charlie. Or rather, the spot she had just been in. Confused by her sudden disappearance, I spin on my heel, spotting the girl slowly walking away from us in a daze, her sleeve covering her nose.

She had turned in the opposite direction of where we needed to go, walking on a twisted dirt path that must've been created by Grounders. I hadn't spotted it before, but it sets me on edge, my heart rate growing faster with growing anticipation and fear.

Paths aren't made unless they lead somewhere, right?

The smell suddenly hits me then; a smell so vile and horrid I could taste it in my throat, the scent coating it like a wax. My stomach lurches, threatening vomit. I quickly recognize the pungent scent. The smell of rotting flesh. The smell of death.

Horrified, I take a few steps forward, fully examining our surroundings. The buzz of flies suddenly appears, as if the insects were waiting for our arrival to start picking at the dead around us. Only a couple feet in front of me was a stray black boot, it's owners body camouflaged in some nearby brush, his feet—one with a boot, one without—sticking out of the bright green vegetation onto the dusty brown trail. Moving some branches aside, I get a closer look at him. It was an older man, his face so bloody and cut—and currently being eaten by insects—he was unrecognizable.