Raven's leadership was palpable as she steered our frantic efforts. "We have to launch those flares ASAP if we have any chance at saving those people," she directed, her voice a blend of determination and urgency. She was the anchor in our storm, her technical skills our last hope.
"Finn, get that control panel back to camp," Raven commanded, her tone a blend of authority and desperation. "Clarke, those pieces need to be intact, or they won't work."
Then Raven called me over, her demeanor serious yet touched with her characteristic wit. "Kegan, get over here. I need a hand with something." I quickly joined her, ready to assist. She handed me a monkey wrench, her instruction clear. "Softly loosen these bolts. Be careful, please. Rocket fuel likes to go boom!" she joked, her humor a welcome respite in our tense atmosphere.
As we worked side by side, Raven discussed the next steps. "We're going to need power for the launch," she mused aloud.
"I told them to tie in the batteries from the dropship. They should be ready when we get back," I informed her, focused on the task at hand.
Raven nodded in approval. "Great! So what's the problem?" There was a hint of sarcasm in her voice, but it was tinged with genuine concern.
I hesitated, my worry apparent. "Nothing! It's just... if we manage to launch the rockets, can they be seen from the Ark?" The uncertainty in my voice betrayed my inner turmoil.
Raven offered me a reassuring smile. "As the good book says, it's all about cloud time and cover," she said, her optimism infectious. "But your mom will be watching. I've never seen anybody love someone like she loves the two of you. Even if it feels like she doesn't, just know that she does, okay? You have to trust that," she advised, her words both comforting and poignant.
Her reference to Abby Griffin stirred a complex mix of emotions within me. "She's not my mother. My mother was floated for doing what Abby Griffin was too scared to do," I replied, my voice tinged with bitterness. Raven nodded in understanding, and we continued our work, the mood now more somber.
Hours later, as dusk began to settle, we finally readied the flares for launch. Raven's expertise had guided us to this critical moment. Clarke approached me as we watched the flares ascend, a hopeful glimmer in her eyes. "Do you think they can see it from up there?" she asked, her voice a mixture of hope and uncertainty.
"I don't know. I hope so," I replied, feeling the gravity of the moment. I attempted a lighter note. "Can you wish on this kind of shooting star?" I asked, half-joking.
Clarke gave me a look that was somewhere between skepticism and amusement. "Forget it," I mumbled, feeling slightly embarrassed by my whimsical question.
"I wouldn't even know what to wish for. How about you?" Clarke asked, her gaze drifting towards Finn, who was now entwined in a tender embrace with Raven.
I remained silent, unsure of my own wishes in our current reality. Shortly after, I found myself returning to my tent, a simple structure I had managed to erect. The cold nights had driven me from my preferred perch on the dropship roof, despite its unmatched view. My tent was spartan – a bed made of sticks and parachute material, my weapons belt hidden underneath for quick access. Lost in thought, I was startled by Bellamy's voice calling out for Octavia in the distance.