Kings // c. griffin

Twenty Three

Working in the Smokehouse was one way to keep Isaac busy. Tending carefully to the fire, cleaning and hanging up the meat, adjusting everything so that it was just so. Taking care of every little deal so he could keep his mind off of things. He straightened a strip of meat on its rod, making sure it was hung evenly.

Octavia was inside of the hut with him, and though she didn't say it out loud, she was worried for her best friend. He hadn't said a word to her, or to anyone for that matter, for two days. She thought she had seen him talking with Clarke a few nights ago, but she wasn't sure and Clarke wouldn't tell her what happened. He was uncharacteristically quiet, even for him, and the Blake girl wasn't the only one beginning to worry.

Even Murphy had sensed something was off. He was eyeing the boy from where he stood on the opposite side of the hut. He was inside, assigned to help, but with Isaac scurrying everywhere at the speed of light, fixing even the slightest problem, there wasn't much left for him to do. "What's up with Flighty over there?" Murphy asked under his breath, the question directed towards Octavia.

Octavia looked at him suspiciously for a second before sighing, shrugging her shoulders as she looked over at Isaac, who was brushing some imaginary dirt smudges off of a piece of meat. "I don't know," she whispered back. "He won't talk to me."

"Great," Murphy rolled his eyes. He scuffed his shoe against the dirt ground, and a few twigs snapped up and fell into the fire. "Well at least he's doing something productive instead of moping behind the drop ship."

Isaac bit his lip at the shorter boy's words. It's a small hut, and I can hear you, he wanted to say. But he kept his mouth shut. Instead he simply chose to watch as a boy named Del ducked into the shack, a bundle of sloppily cut wood held in his arms. "Let's get this party started!" the boy exclaimed, tossing a few branches into the flames. Isaac crossed him arms disapprovingly, and Octavia seemed to be thinking along the same lines as he as she sent Del an annoyed look.

"You don't want the fire too big," she reminded him, a cold edge to her voice. "So maybe just try to knock that down with some wet leaves."

Del narrowed his eyes. "Get that from your boyfriend?" he asked accusingly. "Grounder pounder?"

Isaac whirled around on his heel and sent Del a scathing look, his fists clenching at his sides. Del looked at him, seeming bored, crossing his arms over his chest cockily as if issuing a challenge. "She's right," Murphy butted in, setting down some of his own wood. "A hot fire won't do anything to preserve the meat."

"You can't take the heat, get out of the Smokehouse," Del shot back. "Should be kissing our asses for being allowed back in camp."

"If you can't handle a simple concept such as following the rules then I suggest you leave." All three of them turned to see Isaac rubbing his hands together nervously, but the look on his face was clearly showing that he was not about to take anything from some boy who thought he was better than his friend.

Del mockingly put a scared expression on his face, lifting his hands in surrender. "Geez, okay, I'm leaving," he whined. "Calm down, loner."

Isaac bit back a remark due to him not wanting to start anything, instead turning back to adjust a piece of meat. It had already been perfectly placed, but now he was just distracting himself even more. After Del had left, Octavia came over to stand by him with her own piece of meat. "Thank you," she muttered, referring to the way he had defended both her and Murphy.

Isaac shrugged, but gave no verbal response. "So, Octavia..." Murphy started. "Your brother couldn't get you a better job? Would think anything would be better than working in the meat furnace."