𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐂𝐘; 𝖡𝖾𝗅𝗅𝖺𝗆𝗒 𝖡𝗅𝖺𝗄𝖾

Unity day

The night had fallen, but it didn't feel as heavy or oppressive as the nights before, those dark moments laden with memories of everything they had lost or could still lose. Those nights were steeped in a profound sorrow, haunted by the weight of their past and the uncertainty of their future on this unforgiving planet.

Yet, in that fleeting moment, everything felt like a comforting dream, a rare respite from their harsh reality. Boys and girls were laughing, dancing, and living with a freedom they had never known before. Born on the Ark, their entire lives had revolved around survival, rationing air, food, and water, always one mistake away from disaster. Even now, on Earth, with solid ground beneath their feet, survival remained their constant struggle, a battle against unseen dangers lurking in the wild.

Still, the scene before her was heartwarming, a quiet reminder that perhaps not all was lost. Despite everything they had endured, loss, betrayal, impossible choices, they were still young, brimming with hopes and dreams that refused to be extinguished.

Hannah sat on a weathered log in front of the crackling bonfire, its warm glow casting flickering shadows across her face. Her hands rested loosely on her knees as she scanned her surroundings, taking in the lively chaos of the camp. She wasn't having a bad time, not at all; she felt at ease in her own way, lost in her thoughts, her mind a quiet refuge amid the noise.

The Grounders were still out there, lurking in the shadows of the dense forest. They wouldn't pause their hostility just because it was Unity Day, this makeshift celebration meant to bring a semblance of normalcy to their fractured group. Someone had to keep watch, to ensure the camp remained safe. But Hannah wasn't alone in this duty. Clarke was also vigilant, perched near the crashed dropship, her sharp eyes scanning the perimeter. And Bellamy stood tall near one of the makeshift walls, his posture alert and unwavering, a sentinel against the unknown.

When Hannah's gaze settled on him, it was as if she'd summoned him somehow. His face turned toward her almost instantly, his dark eyes locking onto hers across the firelit clearing. After a moment of what seemed like quiet contemplation, he strode over, his boots crunching softly on the dirt until he stopped in front of her, the firelight casting his shadow over her.

"What's with that serious look, Miller?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest, his tone light but carrying a hint of concern. "You're missing out on the party."

She tilted her head slightly, her expression skeptical but not unkind.

"The Grounders aren't going to take a break just because it's Unity Day," she replied, her voice steady, grounded in the reality she couldn't ignore.

Bellamy nodded slowly, his features softening as he leaned against the log beside her, not sitting but close enough for her to hear him clearly over the crackle of the fire and the distant chatter.

"I know," he said, his voice low and thoughtful, almost intimate. "We've got people posted at every vantage point. The camp's secure tonight." His tone suggested she didn't have to carry the burden alone, a rare offer of relief. "Take a breath while you can, Hannah."

Her eyes drifted back to the fire, its flames dancing hypnotically. Her fingers loosened their grip on the polished wood of her bow, which she'd been clutching like a lifeline.

"I'm not sure I know how," she admitted softly but firmly, her gaze still fixed on the flickering flames. "It's not something I'm good at. Not when I know what's out there." She gestured vaguely toward the dark forest beyond the camp, where unseen threats loomed in the shadows.

That was how her mind worked, constantly churning, overthinking scenarios that might never come to pass but weighed on her like a persistent burden, a nagging fear she couldn't shake.