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OCT 10, 2149 DAY TWENTY EIGHT ON THE GROUND
MONTY HAD NOT RETURNED WITH THE SEARCH PARTY THAT NIGHT. They had found and retrieved an incredibly injured Myles- an arrow to the leg and an arrow to the chest- and lost the Green boy in the process; also learning of how Clarke and Finn had been kidnapped by grounders. Overall, you could say it had not gone great.
She didn't think he was dead, only missing, but Dakota had spent the night crying anyway; waking up with puffy eyes the following morning. If she was physically able, she'd be going after Monty herself.
Though she had spent the night in her tent, she still had her own sleeping arrangements set in the drop ship from where they'd brought her after being bit by the snake. So now she was staying next to Myles on her separate cot, arrows still protruding disturbingly out of his body. No one was skilled enough to remove them but Clarke if they wanted to keep him alive in doing so. She had been tending to him the entire day, fetching him water and trying desperately to keep his spirits up with goofy jokes whilst still primarily confined to the drop ship because of her own medical state. It never worked.
Octavia and Raven occasionally checked in on her, Jasper having visited her a good few times; who was an anxious wreck over their awol best friend. Dakota's unwavering faith that he was alright had eased Jasper's raging nerves a little, each conversation they'd had bringing him down a few notches. She'd cried it out, and now she was left doing what she did best; staying unreasonably optimistic and spending time with Fox. She awaited to hear the news that a search crew had been gathered; although it better happen soon, or she'd take matters into her own hands.
Fox had refused to leave her side all day in the drop ship, even when it meant having to endure the agonized groans coming from Myles; which were almost nonstop. She'd dreamt up a new, beautiful form of creativity; the girl using Dakota's knife to carve drawings among the drop ship walls once she'd run out of the few blank pages to draw on in Lincoln's old journal.
The Thompson girl was currently sitting with her legs dangling off her cot, having much more strength today than she did yesterday as she watched Fox with a light smile. Her painfully ballooned arm rested in the secure, makeshift sling around her. The brunette crouched on the floor, utterly engrossed in the bonny incision of the forest she was currently working on with a forehead creased deeply in focus. She really was a little artist.
"Think fast!" a voice pulled her attention away from the young delinquent, looking up far too late; an apple already hurtling at her head.
She yelped and jerked herself to the side, the fruit flying past her face and smashing directly into the wall behind her; it's clear juice splattering everywhere as it exploded into chunks at the violent impact and dropped to the floor. Her wide eyes looked at the wasted food before darting to the culprit, Fallon smirking smugly. Being friends with her had proven to be quite interesting so far. The hotheaded blonde didn't really know what it was to be a friend and had never actually had one before, so you could say she was presenting a unique way of figuring it out.
