Silent Moments: Book One (The 100)

Chapter 8

 We quickly regrouped with the others and followed the trail of blood, led by Finn's tracking skills.

"How do we know this is the right way?" Murphy asked skeptically.

"We don't. Spacewalker here thinks he's a tracker," Bellamy replied, his tone laced with doubt.

Wells defended Finn. "It's called cutting signs. Fourth-year Earth Skills, he's good," he explained, his voice firm.

Murphy cautioned us to keep quiet. "Do you mind keeping it down, or do you want to paint a target on our backs?"

Finn noticed something peculiar in a small tree. Clarke and I followed him to investigate. A branch had snapped, and there was blood on a stone near the tree.

"Doodh," Finn muttered, his expression turning serious.

"What the hell was that?" I asked, my pulse quickening.

Clarke suggested, "Now might be a good time to take out that gun," as we cautiously moved towards the source of the sound.

A haunting, drawn-out moan echoed through the trees. We looked up and straight ahead, and there was Jasper, strung up in a tree.

"Jasper," I gasped, shock and horror washing over me.

"Oh my god, Jasper," Clarke said, her voice filled with distress as she began to approach.

"What the hell is this place?" Bellamy asked, his voice reflecting our collective confusion and fear.

As we neared the tree, Clarke suddenly fell into a hidden pit filled with sharp, spiky sticks. Bellamy reacted quickly, grabbing her arm and preventing her from falling onto the dangerous spikes.

"Pull her up, man, pull her up!" I yelled, reaching down to help.

"You okay?" I asked Clarke once we had pulled her to safety.

"Yeah, yeah," she replied, her breath ragged as she regained her composure.

"We need to get him down," Clarke said, her determination returning as she caught her breath.

"I'll climb up there and cut the vines," Finn volunteered.

"Yeah, I'm with you," Wells said, ready to assist.

"No, stay with Clarke. Watch him," Finn directed.

"I'll help him," I stated, resolute, and followed Finn up the tree.

From below, Clarke called out, "There's a poultice on his wound."

"Medicine?" Wells asked, his tone a mixture of surprise and hope.

Finn's question hung in the air, laden with unease. "Why would they keep him alive just to string him up as live bait?"

Bellamy's reply was grim. "Maybe whatever they're trying to catch likes its prey breathing."

I chimed in with a chilling possibility. "Maybe what they're trying to catch is us."

A tense silence enveloped us, the gravity of our situation sinking in. Finn and I began our cautious ascent up the tree, avoiding any sudden movements that might jostle Jasper. I clenched a blade between my teeth, focusing on placing my hands and feet where Finn had, ensuring a secure climb. Reaching Jasper, Finn moved higher to reach his hands, while I stayed near his feet. "Be careful," Clarke called from below, her voice tinged with worry.

Suddenly, a deep, guttural growl echoed through the forest. "What the hell was that?" Finn asked, alarm evident in his voice.

"Grounders?" Bellamy suggested, his gaze darting around the clearing.

Then we saw it—a panther-like creature, its eyes fixed on us with predatory intent. It paced around, assessing us, its muscles coiled and ready. In a heartbeat, the creature charged towards Clarke, Bellamy, Wells, and Murphy on the ground.

"Bellamy, gun!" Clarke shouted, her voice laced with urgency.

As Bellamy fumbled for the gun, a shot rang out, followed by two more. I turned to see Wells with the gun, firing in a desperate attempt to protect the group. He managed only to nick the beast's shoulder before it retreated into the grass. The panther lunged out again, this time directly at Bellamy. Wells fired, the shot ringing loud and clear. The animal fell back, injured but not defeated.

"Now she sees you," Bellamy gasped, catching his breath from the close encounter.

Wells exchanged a tense look with Clarke, then glanced back at Bellamy, a silent acknowledgment passing between them.

Finn climbed down first, and I carefully lowered Jasper's limp form into his arms. "All right, Keegs, I got him. You can climb down now," Finn called up to me.

After making sure Finn had a secure hold on Jasper, I descended the tree, my muscles aching from the effort. "You guys all set?" I asked as my feet hit the ground, scanning the group for any injuries.

With nods of affirmation, we began our trek back to camp. Bellamy and Murphy carried the defeated panther with them, a trophy of our harrowing encounter. The urgency to return before nightfall pressed upon us, the forest growing darker with each passing minute. Upon reaching the camp, Finn and I rushed Jasper to the top level of the dropship, laying him down carefully. His condition was grave, but we hoped for the best.

"Who's hungry!" Bellamy's voice boomed across the camp, revealing the panther. A cheer erupted from the crowd as they gathered around, eager for a taste of fresh meat.

Meanwhile, Clarke slipped into the dropship, her expression one of deep contemplation. Finn hurried off, likely to take care of some task. I needed a moment to myself and climbed atop the dropship, lying back to gaze at the stars. There, amidst the vast expanse of the night sky, I found the Ark—a distant red speck amidst a sea of twinkling stars. The view brought a sense of closeness to what we once called home, a poignant reminder of our drastic change in circumstances. I considered making this my new sleeping spot, a place to feel connected to the stars and the memories of our past. After some time, I climbed back down to gather my belongings. Wells had given me clothes belonging to one of the kids who hadn't survived the flight. It was a sobering reminder of the cost of our journey. With a backpack, water bottle, and extra clothes, I stepped out of the dropship. As I exited, I noticed many of the kids willingly trading their wristbands for panther meat—a symbolic and literal exchange of their ties to the Ark for survival on the ground. I quickly made my way to Clarke and Finn, concerned about whether they had managed to secure any food in the growing chaos of the camp.

Clarke eyed my wrist with concern. "You didn't take your wristband off, did you?" she asked, her tone laced with worry.

"No," I replied, showing her my intact wristband. It felt like a small badge of defiance against the chaos around us.

"I won't do it," Clarke asserted, her conviction clear.

"You don't have to," Finn interjected, walking over to grab three sticks of meat from the communal pile. His actions seemed to defy the unspoken rules of the camp.

Murphy, ever the provocateur, confronted him. "Hey, hey, hey. What do you think, you play by different rules?" he challenged, his tone accusatory.

Finn retorted with a casual nonchalance, "I thought there were no rules." His words were a perfect rebuke to Murphy's hypocrisy.

I couldn't help but smirk at Murphy's flustered expression as the three of us walked away to enjoy our hard-earned meal. Later, seeking solitude, I climbed onto the top of the dropship, using my backpack as a makeshift pillow. The night sky stretched endlessly above me, a vast canvas of stars that lulled me into a deep sleep. Dawn brought with it the moans and groans of the wounded and aching, a stark reminder of our grim reality. Climbing down from my rooftop refuge, I joined the others to assist with Jasper.