Starcrossed | Bellamy Blake

1. watcher

Watcher (noun): a person who observes something attentively or regularly.

Luna

I took a deep breath in through my nose, letting the forest air flow through my veins like a drug. Several bodies surrounded me, jostling uneasily at the task at hand, but my pulse was steady and I was still.

The wind whistled through the trees that we were hidden in, leaving a trail of goosebumps along my exposed skin. Below us were, if I had counted correctly, 98 teenagers running around a small clearing whooping and yelling not realizing that they were attracting every grounder in a 50 mile radius. But lucky for them, our orders were not to touch them only to scout their numbers, location and resources to report back to the commander.

I rolled my eyes as a gangley brunette boy picked up a stick and began to sword fight with his asian friend. A man to my right shifted restlessly, an unmistakeable fury in his eyes. I slowly reached my hand over and placed it on his shoulder. A warning.

"We shouldn't be up here watching. We should be down there, taking back the land that they stole." He hissed, spitting in the kids common tongue like it tasted foul in his mouth. Mocking them.

I didn't speak but I locked my gaze to his and pressed one finger to my lips. He scowled. My ears picked up the tail end of a conversation and my interest turned to the scene below me.

"So, Mount Weather? When do we leave?" A boy with long scruffy light brown hair and a cheeky smile spoke to a blonde girl who was tending to a dark boy's ankle after the confrontation earlier.

Mount Weather.

Everyone in the tree shared an uneasy look. We didn't know much about Mount Weather, but it was known that if you wandered to close to the mountain, you might just disappear. They were too powerful, sitting up on the mountain looking down on us. It was foreboding. If these kids were aligned with the Mountain Men, the were much more of a threat than I had first anticipated.

"Right now." The blonde declared, stretching up to her full height.

"We'll be back tomorrow with more food." She spoke to the guy nursing his ankle.

"How are the two of you gonna carry enough food for a hundred?" He asked. But there wasn't a hundred, there was only 98 I was sure of it and I didn't count the two body bags behind the Dropship. One less thing to worry about in my opinion. The light brown haired boy turned and grabbed the two boys that had been fighting with sticks earlier.

"Four of us. Can we go now?" He asked eagerly.

"Sounds like a party, make it five." A pretty brunette strutted over.

"Hey what the hell are you doing?" A boy with black messy hair, olive skin and striking features pulled her back.

"Going for a walk." She said, irritatedly.

The blonde girl then spoke up. "Were you trying to take this off?" She grabbed the light brown haired boys wrist and held it up. Attached to it with a heavy duty metal wristband. I scrunched my brow and leaned in, what the hell is that?

"Yeah? So?" He sassed.

"So? This wristband transmits your vital signs to the arc! Take it off and they'll think you're dead." She excalimed.

They're transmitters. They're still in contact with wherever they came from, the arc she called it. That is bad, that means the possibility of more coming down and not just ignorant teenagers.

"Should I care?" He asked.

"Well, I don't know! Do you want the people you love to think you're dead?" She asked.