The Burning » Bellamy Blake

A Girl Who Is Dead,

Several days had passed since Bellamy had stormed away from me, for good it seemed. He hadn't spoken to me for days now, minus talk about camp business when Clarke or others were around. Other than that he was acting like we barely knew each other. Every time I tried to start conversation he'd only give me short, curt replies and a look that suggested he wanted to be elsewhere, before muttering "I have to do something" and running off.

There had also been no word from Kaden or any of the Grounders. It had been silent since the explosion, though it wasn't a silence that brought relief. In fact, it brought the complete opposite. Bellamy had multiplied the amount of kids on guard outside the camp walls, and it seemed as if every kid had a gun on them now.

Despite the laughter and the smiles, they were frightened – fearful of the unknowing. And it didn't help that the camps entire meat supply had been burnt to a crisp.

So here I was, trudging through the wood with Clarke, Finn, and Myles (who would not shut up), hunting for meat that could feed the camp of hungry, hormonal, annoying teenage stomachs. 

Myles continued chatting away, annoying the living hell out of all of us it seemed, with his bragging about how, exactly, he got onto the dropship and what life was like before. He was clearly hitting on Clarke, trying to impress the girl (and failing), right in front of Finn. The blonde wasn't interested at all and Finn seemed to find the whole thing hilarious. I pretended not to care about the entire situation, but the kid's voice was quickly starting to chew on my nerves, and I wasn't sure how much longer I could stand to be around him—

I halted mid-step, my left foot in the air and ready to take a step onto some very fresh-looking human footprints. I held my hands out, motioning for the trio behind me to stop and giving Myles a look that insisted if he didn't shut up, I would cut out his tongue.

Clarke was the first to speak. "What's wrong, Quinn?"

The wood around us fell utterly silent. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. The tracks weren't right. They were too... perfect.

I reached a hand behind my back, drawing my katana from its sheath. The sound of the blade sliding free from its cage was like music to my ears – or would have been, had the sound of my thundering heart not blocked out every other sound.

"We're being watched," I kept my voice low and my eyes on high alert.

"What?" Finn's voice was barely a whisper, panic evident in his voice.

"Just follow along," I spoke – lowly, casually – before crouching down and studying the prints. "These tracks look fresh—" I made sure to keep my voice steady and loud so that our hunters could here and hopefully fall for the little play I had in mind. "—it seems we struck it lucky."

I peered over my shoulder, taking a glance at the three when all of a sudden, an arrow whipped inches from my cheek – its tip kissing the edge of my ear and drawing blood – and landed in the chest of Myles.