Wounds [Bellamy Blake]

Death by Firing Squad [Chapter 42]

                I leaned back against Bjorn, feeling his strong chest against my back, his hand on my thigh and his breath on my neck. However, when we neared the bridge, I felt myself leaning forward, over the long neck of the elegant steed below me. The silky mane flipped from side to side as Bjorn slowed the horse to a trot, the horse shaking its head in understanding, or perhaps agreement. Regardless, the beast slowed and then came to a halt when Anya did. I scanned the forest, seeing the archers in the trees; Felicity’s flaming red hair caught my eye. She was so young…

                I watched as Anya hopped off from her large stallion, landing gracefully and staring at the four on the other end of the bridge. My eyes followed the cracked and withered bridge until they found familiar faces; but not the one face I had hoped to see. Where I had expected Bellamy to be, stood Clarke, Finn, Octavia and Lincoln.

                Bjorn allowed me to slip off of the large horse, though I had quite a drop before I reached the concrete, and my ankle screamed in protest. As I walked towards my friends, eyes locked on Clarke; if anyone, she could tell me with her eyes what was going on. On the Grounder’s side, there were archers in the trees with their bows; ready to fire at Anya’s command. Knowing Clarke and her recent change to accept guns under the circumstances, I had a feeling she had back up as well. My eyes scanned the trees behind the bridge, but they were too dense.

                Clarke looked at me, pleased to see that I was there and mostly unharmed. I began to walk towards them, wanting to catch up, see what was happening on their end, and just go home. But Bjorn jumped down from the horse as well, but placed his hand on my shoulder. When I turned to look at him, he simply shook his head, signalling that I was not going to be granted the chance to speak to my friends, only see them and allow them to see that I was safe.

                I could not hear the words that were being exchanged by Anya and Clarke; instead, I had to gauge the progress of the conversation by Clarke’s facial expression. From the looks of it, things were heated and not about to cool down. Anya was hot headed, and while Clarke had been the logical and sensible person since day one on Earth, things had changed her. She looked at Anya with a pleading look that shortly changed to that of anger.

                Anya spun on her heals, turning towards us, a devious and confident look in her eyes; she knew how this was all going to go down the minute Lincoln set up the meeting. I gaped at Clarke, who was still staring at us. Bjorn cleared his throat, suggesting that I get back on the horse before he had to force me, but gunfire filled the air and everyone dropped to the ground.

                Over the loud echo of the gunshot, Bjorn yelled at me to run. I rose to my feet, hearing Anya yelling at me, or Bjorn; it was too chaotic to know. I glanced back for a second, seeing Bjorn on his feet, his arrow pointed directly at me. My heart hammered in my chest as I faced my destination; he had said the dense forest would protect me from the arrows of the archers. Was I fool to trust his word?

                When I heard a high pitched, female scream, I wondered if it was Anya, and I snapped into realization of the seriousness of my situation. It was obvious the Hundred who were shooting, which meant they wouldn’t shoot me on purpose, but I wondered how good their aim was after never having shot before in their lives.

                Before I was at the end of the bridge, I turned to see someone falling from the trees; someone had been shot. My feet and legs wanted to crumple beneath me when I saw the flash of red hair; Felicity. Her body had fallen from a tree, lifeless, and she landed with a splash into the bitter cold rapids in the river below. Tears swelled in my eyes; I couldn’t stop running, I couldn’t go back for the girl. She was gone now, and I would be too if I didn’t make it across the bridge.

                My feet pounded on the hard concrete bridge, and I was only inches away from the forest; the side of the river where I might survive long enough to tell Bellamy that I loved him. I spotted Jasper, rifle in his hand, but the firing stopped and he turned to run out of firing range of the archers, just as I had. I continued to run; though the Grounders had turned around to the safety of their side of the river. Now it was war.

                My feet flew underneath me, and I felt as if I was skimming the ground as I ran.

                A hand gripped my bicep and I yanked away out of instinct, believing that it was a Grounder, but then I remembered that they had turned back to the other side of the bridge. My eyes adjusted to the scene and I found them locked onto Bellamy Blake’s brown eyes. At first, I was unsure how to react; how many days had it been since I had seen him?

                “Ava!” Bellamy’s smooth voice brought me into reality and his lips slamming on mine, even though briefly, sent me to another place; somewhere where I was safe.

                “Bellamy, come on!” Clarke shouted.

                Bellamy took my hand before I could say anything, my head was spinning from the intensity. Gun fire had partially deafened me, running for my life had sent my adrenal glands into a craze, and seeing Bellamy made my heart stop despite all the chemicals racing through me, forcing my whole being to move quickly. I followed him as we raced through the forest; my mind began to form all the memories of the last time we ran through these woods.

                My ankle throbbed at the memory, but I pushed through. Octavia, Jasper, Finn and Clarke were all ahead of us, and I couldn’t seem to spot Lincoln, but my eyes were locked on Bellamy now. We arrived at the camp, breathless and sweaty. Once we were just outside the false safety of our pathetic tin walls, I scanned the area; was I really there?

                Bellamy’s arm wrapping around me confirmed that yes, I was back home. However nice he felt with his body pressed against mine, his soft words comforting me, I knew that this could not last long. Not now that there was a bloody war on the horizon. Bellamy had a gun strapped around his neck, hanging at his hip; Jasper too. I wondered who had initiated the firing; who had started the war earlier than we needed?

                We had to prepare, even though we couldn’t survive their wrath.

Well, I pondered over that title for a while, but I have to eat breakfast before work, so don't judge my pathetic decision. Titles are hard. Loved, loved, loved the comments on the last chapter, let's see more of that! Anyways, Bellamy is back in the story, I know you guys were all craving some more of his beautiful bod. So here is a picture;