/ haunted/
• showing signs of mental anguish or torment
"She was fierce. She was strong, she wasn't simple. She was crazy and sometimes she barely slept. She always had something to say. She had flaws and that was okay. And when she was down she g...
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[PREVIOUSLY: Octavia returns to the drop ship with bad news: Trikru has declared war against Skikru. As she relays her message to her friends, Raven comes up with an idea to blow up the pathway that the grounders are sure to take on the way to their camp: the one hundred year old bridge].
My body leaned lazily back against a roughly-hewn oak table gracing the back wall of the drop-ship. My mind swirled with panicked thoughts and my brain sizzled back and forth with theories, ideas and plans.
I uttered a low groan as I drummed my fingers impatiently against the table. I slumped forward, resting my chin on my propped up hand.
C'mon, Raven, c'mon.
"Hey Princess," a soothing masculine voice reached my ears.
I stiffened.
Finn.
Slowly, I turned around to face him. "Finn? What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be helping Raven collect her - er - rocket fuel?"
"It's hydrazine to be exact!" Raven called out merrily in response as she stomped her way into the drop-ship. Glancing up, she paused when she saw Finn and I. "Uh ... you two discussing plans? Cos we need someone to take the shot."
"T-the shot?" I queried, confused.
"Y-yeah," she confirmed, her eyes darting between the figures of Finn and I.
"Okay, we ready?" Clarke demanded as she hurried inside, Bellamy at her heels.
Raven nodded glumly, her eyes glued to Finn.
Bellamy huffed in response and reached up to pull the lever that would shut the drop-ship door.
"Wait!" I held out a restraining hand. "Shouldn't Jasper and Monty be involved in this? Their expertise could be helpful."
Bellamy hesitated as he turned questioning eyes towards Clarke.
She nodded. "Octavia's right. We need all the help we can get."
"I'll be back in a minute," Bellamy said as he quickly ducked out of the doorway and strode across the camp in search of the two.
Heaving a deep breath, I leaned back against the table behind me and crossed my arms over my chest. "How's Murphy getting on?" I inquired, trying to avert my mind from the subject at hand.
Clarke shrugged. "Alright, I guess. He woke up coughing up blood yesterday. It's not a good sign, but at least he's alive. I'm keeping him isolated from the others in case what he has is contagious ..."
"That's probably a good idea," I cut in, interrupting Clarke mid-sentence. Anya's words of warning, as she released Murphy and I from the dungeons, replayed in my ears, "Octavia kom Skikru, we are letting you live, but for one purpose only: You are to tell your people a message for me ... "
