[ BOOK ONE ]
Sawyer Wesley fought to survive everyday of her life. On the Ark, it was either comply or die. To put it lightly, Sawyer was never one to throw in the towel. She did everything in her power to live in a world that awaited her death. And...
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AS IT TURNED out, Sawyer missed quite a lot. While she and Raven were underneath the dropship, working on how to get the front hatch open and getting shot in the process, several major events took place without her knowledge.
Murphy hung Bellamy, almost succeeding in killing the man, before he used the rest of their gunpowder supply to blow a hole in the side of the dropship. After his daring escape into the surrounding forest, Clarke and Finn appeared back in camp. They explained how the Grounders kidnapped them, forcing Clarke to try and save the life of a girl injured by Raven's bomb. When she failed, the two of them were almost killed. But to their luck, Lincoln helped them slip out of the Grounders custody unscathed.
Sawyer showed up in time to hear the last of the chaos. The Grounders were on the move. The war they anticipated for the last few weeks finally arrived on their doorstep. And with it, two vastly different ways on how to face it. Bellamy wanted everyone to stay and fight for the home they made, while Clarke wanted them all to leave and seek refuge from a friend of Lincoln who lived toward the ocean.
It did not surprise Sawyer when the delinquents chose to run. She could not blame them. Despite their preparations and gun training, her people were not fighters. Not like the Grounders. They would have faced them, if they had no other choice, but Clarke offered them a way out without bloodshed. They would be insane not to take it.
Sawyer perched on a makeshift bed inside the dropship. Her jacket had been removed from her shoulders, while she pulled the top half of her jumpsuit down far enough to expose the wound on her left thigh. She would have rolled up her pantleg, saving her from sitting in front of everyone in just her tank-top and boy-shorts, but the fabric failed to move passed her knee. Clarke, who had a series of bruises and cuts on her cheeks and nose, faced her with a red-hot blade in her hand. Sawyer cringed at the sight, having watched her use the same thing on Raven a few minutes earlier.
"I would prefer to stitch it up, but we don't have the time," Clarke voiced after she examined the long and deep, bullet graze, meeting the Wesley girl's wide gaze. "This is gonna hurt."
Sawyer blew out a long breath through her lips and gripped the bed's edge until her knuckles lost all color. "Just get it over with."
Clarke pressed her lips together and lowered the blade down onto Sawyer's leg. As soon as the hot metal came into contact with her skin, Sawyer screamed. The immense temperature of the blade fused her skin together, wafting the smell of her burning flesh into her nose. Pain, sharp and blinding, encased her entire leg, radiating down to her toes and through her stomach. On some level, the cauterization of her wound hurt more than the bullet that ripped across her thigh.
After an agonizing moment, Clarke removed the blade from the wound. Sawyer breathed heavily, trying to rid herself of the immense pain that consumed her thigh. Sweat broke out on her forehead as she looked down to the red, bubbled skin that had been a bullet graze.
