Conflate | Bellamy Blake ¹ ✓

※ | chapter twenty-one

❝hearts are breakable.❞

-isabelle lightwood, the mortal instruments

♛

THE RIFLE SITS COMFORTABLY in my hands as my eyes sweep around the lush green of the forest. Though I may seem calm from the outside, my brain is buzzing with nervous energy and I can barely stand still. It's taking all I have not to break through the trees and start running after the Grounders.

It's been two days and there has been no sign of a retaliation for what we did to the bridge. Not even the sounds of war horns have pierced our ears. It's beginning to make me feel uneasy, the fear of an unseen attack eating up my insides. It's part of the reason why I have my gun.

"Fallon, did you steal that gun?" Jasper questions from somewhere behind me. I don't bother to turn around.

"No," I respond coolly with no trace of a lie in my voice.

The sound of footsteps comes closer until the crunching of leaves beneath Jasper's feet are right beside me. He follows where my gaze is staring- straight ahead at the trees in the distance.

"So if I went and asked Bellamy where you got the rifle, what would he say?"

"That I stole it."

Jasper nods with his lips pulled into a line. "Thought so." There's a pause in which there's no sound but the distant mutter of campers on patrol and the wind whistling lowly in our ears. "Do you think you could help me make some more gunpowder? Raven can turn them into landmines."

I pretend to purse my lips in thought. "I guess I could do that."

A tiny smile of thanks forms on Jasper's face before he walks away, the crunching of leaves marking his retreating footsteps. I continue to stare out into the forest, but this time my eyes wander a bit. My feet seem to carry me in a small circle while my gaze swivels from tree to tree.

I'm not supposed to be on patrol - we have guards to do that - but lately people have been abandoning their posts due to the fear of a Grounder attack. It's no secret that if they come, those on patrol will be the first to die. I'm willing to take that risk to protect the others in our camp.

Shouts from inside the walls cause me to nearly jump out of my skin due to how tense I had been. My finger immediately grazes the trigger on pure instinct before I realize that they're not coming from out here. I think I hear the word "fire," somewhere in the mix.

With the gun cradled in my arms, I break into a sprint past the other guards and through the gate. The first thing I smell is burning wood and meat that hits my nose hard. A blazing orange light captures my attention; I run a bit closer and freeze in my tracks.

The meat house is on fire. It's a poorly-made shack that housed all of our meat so we could dry it, and every last edible berry we had found in nearby bushes. The flames blaze high, catching on the wood and devouring it whole. There's no way we'll be able to douse the fire quickly enough to salvage anything.

"This is all your fault," Murphy growls at a boy named Del. He lunges at the boy, sending a hard right-hook to his face. "We told you that it was too much wood!"

"Get the hell away from me!" Del demands, shoving Murphy back before he can throw another punch. However, John grabs onto Del's sleeves, causing them to latch onto each other in an attempt to gain control of the fight. Bellamy lunges between them and pushes them apart.