Silent Moments: Book One (The 100)

Chapter 27

 As we gathered in the drop ship, Bellamy established the rules for our hunting expedition. "All groups must have someone with a gun! They are for killing Grounders, not food! We don't have the ammo. Use the spears for hunting. Get what you can before nightfall, no one stays out past dark."

I turned to Clarke. "Are you ready to go?"

She glanced at Finn and then back at me, her expression torn. "I don't think so."

Finn attempted to persuade her. "Oh, come on, we're good trackers. You're lousy with a spear, but you're sneaky. We would make a great team."

Miles, a new addition to our group, interjected, eager to bond with us. "Hey partner, we're wasting daylight. Ready to go?"

Finn and I found ourselves reluctantly roped into the hunting party. Miles seemed keen on getting to know us better. "Hey, Finn, Kegan. You joined the band?"

"Sure," I replied, going along with it.

"Awesome. Haven't really gotten the chance to hang out with you guys much. Do you guys even know how I got arrested on the Ark?" Miles asked, sparking our curiosity.

Clarke, Finn, and I exchanged knowing glances. It seemed that today was destined to be a long day, filled with revelations and challenges we couldn't have foreseen.

"Dying to hear about it," I responded with a wry smile, mentally preparing for whatever stories or secrets Miles might unveil during our hunt. We trekked about twenty minutes away from camp, Finn and I leading the way as we meticulously followed the trail of a boar.

"Is it one of those scaly panther things?" Miles inquired, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"No," I responded, focusing on the task at hand.

"Boar," Finn clarified, his eyes trained on the tracks.

"Good, because that panther meat is nasty. But I could eat a whole boar by myself, no joke. You know what the best part is, of the boar?" Miles began to ramble, but his chatter was abruptly silenced by Clarke's stern command.

"Miles, be quiet for a second," she ordered, her tone reflecting the seriousness of the situation. The three of us gathered around the boar tracks, tension in the air palpable.

"What is it?" Clarke asked Finn and me, her voice tinged with urgency.

"These tracks," Finn began to explain.

"They're perfect," Clarke finished, her eyes narrowing as she scrutinized the trail.

"Too perfect. We're the ones being hunted," I deduced, a shiver of apprehension running down my spine. Miles, apparently oblivious to the impending danger, stood up with the gun and peered through the scope.

"I don't see anything—ah!" He was abruptly cut off, a scream of pain tearing through the air as an arrow pierced the side of his leg, followed by another striking his chest.

"Miles!" Clarke's panicked scream echoed around us.

"Clarke! We gotta go! We have to leave him," I urged, my voice tense with urgency. The realization was clear; staying to help Miles could cost us all our lives, and survival had to be our top priority.

The adrenaline surged through me as I pivoted sharply to escape, but Clarke's agonized grunt echoed in my ears, halting my desperate flight. I turned back, my heart pounding, and found myself staring directly into the cold, unyielding gaze of a Grounder. He was a towering figure, his face marked with war paint that made his expression even more menacing. Clarke and Finn lay motionless beside him, victims of his heavy club that now dripped with a chilling reminder of their encounter.