"Breezy days deserve the union of two old friends."
―Sanober Khan
Astoria was sat in her tree watching Bellamy search the camp, not bothering to get down to help. For whom he was looking for she didn't know for certain, but from the way he was pacing and huffing—not caring for those trying to sleep—she guessed it was Octavia.
She nearly moved to the ground to make sure everything was alright, but before she could he was moving out of the camp walls and standing in the trees below her.
"Astoria!" he spoke, his voice much harsher than it had been the first time he called to her from the ground. She knew it only meant that he wasn't being dramatic in his searching.
After a sigh left her lips, but Astoria quickly moved to descend her tree. The shuffling noise caught Bellamy's attention and he watched her climb down in a way that seemed effortless (much different to how he had slowly moved down the tree days ago, nearly falling a few feet to dirt).
She went to speak a greeting, but clearly Bellamy had no time for one.
"Have you seen Octavia?" he questioned, his voice tense and hard.
She thought over the night and her birds-eye-view patrol. "No, but I didn't see anyone leave—"
"Well, clearly you missed someone, cause she's not here," he cut her off, and she quickly shut her mouth, her face morphing to hold a scowl. He noticed immediately and tried to calm himself, not wanting to get on the grounders bad side when she was the one who would help the most to get his sister back—no one knew these woods like her, certainly not any of the teenagers. "I just..."
"I'll help you find her," Astoria cut him off this time, shaking her head slightly. She started back towards the camp and Bellamy jogged to catch up with her, "When was she last seen?"
He though for a moment, "Yesterday, just before running into you in the woods with the radio."
"And you haven't seen her since?" she questioned, earning a small shake of his head from Bellamy. She rolled her eyes. "Well, then my expert guess would be that she never came back to camp. I didn't see her when we were setting off the flares—or at the stream to fish out the radio."
Once inside the camp walls the two went their separate ways, Bellamy going to 'get supplies'—she hadn't bothered to ask him to go into further detail—and Astoria moving to search the camp for herself. She didn't trust Bellamy to have looked to the best of his abilities in his haste and stress, but it wasn't long before Clarke stopped her.
"Have you seen Bellamy?" she rushed out, her worry for Octavia clear in her tone.
"Recruited me to help find Octavia and then disappeared to get supplies, whatever that means," she explained the situation to the blonde, taking a look around for the man herself. "I could go look for her by myself to reduce the risk of any one getting hurt, but to stop Bellamy we may have to knock him unconscious."
Almost as if his ears had started to burn, Bellamy appeared and called out to the teenagers with a tarp slung over his shoulder. "Everybody, gather around and grab a weapon," he told the group, dropping the blue fabric to the dirt and displaying a dozen or so spears and poles with sharpened metal tied to them. Clarke moved closer as he continued, though Astoria stood in her spot watching. "My sister's been out there alone for twelve hours. Arm up—were not coming back without her."
Astoria watched him as he turned to find her, teenagers moving to volunteer to help. She ignored him and watched Jasper move to pick up a weapon—Clarke stopping him.
"Hey, Jasper," she started, "You don't have to do this. You haven't left camp since we brought you back."
"Clarke," His voice was shaky and quiet, like he didn't want the others to hear. "I need to do this."
Astoria hadn't noticed him, but suddenly Bellamy spoke up from beside her. "We need all the people we can get."
She wanted to send a glare his way, but she knew he just wanted to find his sister. She would do the same for her brother.
When Jasper had walked off, Astoria took a few steps closer to Clarke. "I'll keep an eye on him," she promised the blonde, knowing she was going to worry.
"We need a tracker," Bellamy thought aloud, looking between the girls before raising his voice. "Finn, get out here." He gave the boy a second to appear before speaking again, "Finn, we're leaving!"
Astoria rolled her eyes, grabbing Bellamy by the fabric at his elbow and pulling him away from the group. She kept her voice quiet, not wanting any of the teenagers to hear. "If the grounders have Octavia, we could be leading half these kids into the slaughter by bringing them with us," she began, the words clearly not being ones he wanted to hear. She continued anyway, "Let me go by myself; I've snuck into grounder villages before. I can track Octavia and have her back by dawn—"
"I'm not risking that," he cut her off, and Astoria wasn't sure if it was because he didn't trust her or because he didn't trust anyone with his sisters life. Either way, she let out a sigh. "They've all volunteered to come—they all know the risk."
"Guys, come here!" a kid yelled, the tone of voice catching Astoria's attention.
The two moved together towards the commotion as another teenager spoke. "What is that?"
White dots littered the sky, seeming to be falling from space itself. Astoria found it beautiful—until she found out what they were. Then she felt a sickness fester in her gut.
"They didn't work," Raven spoke from behind them, Finn and Clarke just beside her. "They didn't see the flares."
Bellamy turned his attention to her, "A meteor shower tells you that?"
"It's not a meteor shower," Clarke clarified, clearly knowing something they didn't. "It's a funeral. Hundreds of bodies returned to Earth from the Ark. This is what it looks like from the other side. They didn't get our message."
Astoria had stopped listening at the word funeral, her mouth drying up and her temple stinging from an incoming migraine. Herself and Bellamy had killed three-hundred innocents all by throwing a radio into a stream. Why must she always be surrounded by so much death?
"This is all because of you!" Raven accused, eyes only trained on Bellamy—it seemed the only person who blamed Astoria was herself.
The oldest man stuck a hand out as he countered her, Finn having held Raven back from hurting him. "I helped you find the radio—"
"Toria helped find the radio, after you jacked it from my pod and trashed it!" she corrected him, venom in her voice. Astoria nearly wasn't listening, eyes trained on the white streaks in the black sky.
"Yeah, he knows," Clarke cut in, trying to deescalate the situation as always. "Now he has to live with it."
Bellamy took a moment to look to the sky as well, stomaching his guilt for the time being. "All I know, is that my sister is out there, and I'm gonna find her." He looked to Finn, "You coming or what?"
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Astoria and Bellamy led the group, though they were all spread throughout the current patch of forest they were searching. The two stayed together, looking around the trees in silence and checking the mud for any tracks. There was a tension looming between them since the funeral in the sky, and neither wanted to acknowledge it—though, Bellamy could see the change in her demeanour. She was quieter than she usually was, even if she was quieter than most to begin with, and refused to look in his eyes.
He shouldn't have included her in trashing the radio—he shouldn't have trashed the radio at all.
"It wasn't your fault," he finally broke the silence, and they both felt a weight leave their chests.
She didn't respond at first, instead continuing to move through the forest with the solar powered—a concept that Monty had kindly explained to her (one of the only interactions she had with the boy since meeting him)—lantern in hand.
"I let you throw the radio away, barely tried to stop you," she explained as if he hadn't been there. "Whether you want to admit it or not; half of those three-hundred deaths are because of me."
The man released a tired huff. He wasn't sure if there was anything he could have said to change her mind, but he knew he had to try. "You didn't know the Ark was dying, I did. I took the radio, and I trashed it. All you've done since then is try to right my wrong—which is more than I can say about myself."
Astoria could hear the guilt in his voice, even if he wanted to pretend to be too strong to have any. She knew it was eating him up just as much as it was her, if not more, but she couldn't bring herself to tell him it was alright—that it wasn't his fault. The three-hundred voices in the back of her mind wouldn't let her.
"Look, over here!" Someone called and distracted them both from their own minds eating them alive. Their attention switched to the direction the voice came from and Bellamy was the first move, Astoria waiting a moment before following.
It was a small hill free of trees, though rocks and bush still littered the space. "What is it?" Bellamy asked just as Astoria came to a stop beside him, handing her lantern off to one of the teenagers behind them and finding what he was looking at.
"Right there," the boy who called them pointed out, his hand trailing to a bush just down the hill with a piece of fabric hanging from it. "You see it? Is that Octavia's?"
Bellamy didn't hesitate, "Rope."
But Astoria didn't wait.
As the man tied the rope to a root sticking out of the dirt Astoria moved down the hill with ease, making sure not to lose her footing on the way. Bellamy didn't protest, but she could feel his eyes burning into her figure as she moved.
When she got to the bush that resided halfway down the hill she stopped, taking the fabric off the branches to inspect it. Bellamy was at her side shortly and she quickly handed it off to him, watching his face to gage a reaction. "Is it hers?"
He didn't answer with words, but his head nodded just slightly to acknowledge her. "I'm going all the way down!" he called to the others and Astoria followed behind him.
They saw the blood immediately when they reached the bottom, and the man stopped for a few seconds. Astoria felt sick, her eyes focusing on Bellamy's face—it was only slightly illuminated by the lantern he had taken from one of the teenagers. He composed himself quickly before squatting down, dragging a finger along the rock to gather blood onto his skin.
Eventually, Jasper kneeled on Bellamy's other side, and Finn followed suit. "Someone else was here," he told the group, noting the set of larger foot prints. Astoria observed them as well, knowing it was the proof they needed to know that grounders took her. "The prints are deeper going that way," Finn spoke as he pointed in the direction in front of them, looking to Bellamy. "He was carrying her."
For a moment they were silent as more of the teenagers reached the bottom. It was Jasper who spoke up, Astoria and Bellamy's eyes moving to focus on him. "If they took her, she's alive," he noted, having experience with the subject. "Like when they took me."
Bellamy didn't wait for anyone to add anything more, standing and starting to follow the foot prints. The others followed, leaving Astoria in her spot by the bloodied rock. For a moment, she debated returning to camp, knowing the probability of this ending with an encounter with her people was high. If any of them recognized her—especially if they had already discovered that she was with the hundred—she was as good as dead.
Her mind wandered to when Bellamy told her of how Octavia thought her to be a badass, the words having been ones that she needed to hear in a time where she felt like nothing but an outsider. She still wasn't sure if what he said had been completely true that night, or if he had just wanted to cheer her up, but she still knew she couldn't leave the girl for dead. Not when they had the best chance to find her if Astoria was with them.
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They stopped again, though this time it wasn't because of a bloodied rock or a piece of fabric.
Astoria's eyes moved between the different dead bodies impaled on sticks—their beings reduced to only skeletons due to the passing time. Her mind wandered to what the grounders would have done with her remains if they had caught her, but it was too gruesome a thought to remain thinking of for too long.
The skeletons lined the entrance to a new part of the forest, one that Astoria knew belonged to a Trikru village not much farther away. It was a warning—she wondered if they had put the bodies up just to scare the teenagers.
"I don't speak grounder," Finn was the first to speak, "But I'm pretty sure this means keep out."
Astoria took a few steps closer to one of the skeletons, looking carefully at the dirt and blood that was smudged between the bones. She ignored the few teenagers that quickly left, the grounders scare tactic clearly working. "It's my first language," she spoke up, "And you're not far off."
She turned back, looking at Finn first before her eyes travelled to Bellamy. "Go back if you want," he told the teenagers, knowing that if anyone would follow him into the unknown, it was Astoria. "My sister, my responsibility."
He walked past her without looking her in the eyes, almost like he didn't want to be a part of her decision, but it didn't change her mind. If she was going to walk into hell—as Jasper had put it before walking past her to follow Bellamy—she would do it for something good. She would be the hero for once.
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They had wandered long enough for it become light, and Astoria walked beside Finn as he did his best to follow the tracks. Bellamy was just behind them with the rest of the group, following the two with blind confidence. It didn't pay off.
"I got nothing," Finn finally spoke as Bellamy moved to his free side, his voice quiet enough for only them to hear. "We lost the trail."
Bellamy looked exasperated, hatchet in hand that he moved around while thinking. "Keep looking," he settled on, and Astoria rolled her eyes. If only tracking was as easy as that; sometimes when you lose a trail, you don't find it again.
"Wandering around aimlessly isn't the way to find your sister," Finn continued, stopping and turning to Bellamy (causing Astoria to do the same). "We should backtrack—"
"I'm not going back," the older man cut him off, the tone of his voice proving that he meant his words.
Astoria sighed, "If we don't, we might never find her—"
"Hey, where's John?" It was Roma who stopped her unknowingly, her words gaining the attention of everyone present. Astoria turned to look at her, scanning at her surrounding area with squinted eyes.
"I just saw him a second ago," Jasper spoke, more to himself than any of the others.
The grounder moved a few steps away from the group, her eyes watching the trees with such precision she couldn't have missed anyone hiding amongst the green.
"Spread out, he couldn't have gotten far." Bellamy instructed them, his voice calling her name making Astoria turn back to him. "Astoria, keep your head down—"
He was interrupted by John's body falling from above them, landing just behind Roma. All eyes turned to the scene quickly, the blood leaking from the now dead boys throat causing Astoria to completely still. If they heard Bellamy call her name—
He and Finn moved towards John's body, whispering amongst themselves as Astoria remained glued to her spot.
"We shouldn't have crossed the boundary," the other boy with them spoke, his words making Astoria tilt her head in agreement. It would have been smarter to return to camp at the first sight of dead bodies, and definitely safer, but they had already made it this far. If they stopped now, Octavia was as good as dead.
"Now can we go back?" Roma asked the group, and Astoria wondered why she followed them into the graveyard at all. She was a little brave, at least.
Her attention was drawn to Jasper as he stuck out his arm to point through the trees. "There," he told them. A grounder stood a good distance away and Astoria's skin grew bumpy, the knife in her pocket suddenly not feeling like a suitable defence despite her having not chosen any of the weapons—if she had, one of the other teenagers would have gone without.
More appeared and they slowly called them out, Bellamy turning to look to Astoria for help. She gave him none when she only swallowed the spit in her mouth as Finn spoke up, "We should run."
At that she nodded her head, and Bellamy quickly copied her.
Astoria led the group, thankful that her injury from the panther was now only a scab and a bruise. If it had still been as bad as the day she got it, she wouldn't have made it more than a few feet.
"What are we gonna do?" the boy—whose name Astoria had yet to learn—called out to the group as they moved. Her eyes darted amongst the trees, catching sight of grounder after grounder seemingly playing a game with them. "They keep cutting us off."
"Just keep running!" Finn called out a solution, though Astoria knew it would only keep them alive for a little longer.
It was Jasper who caused them to stop completely, telling the group that he couldn't run for much longer. Bellamy didn't hesitate to help him, slowing himself. "I'm sick of running anyway," he told the group, twisting the hatchet in his hand as Finn grabbed him by the arm.
"Hey, what are you doing?" he questioned and Astoria looked to count how many grounders she could see. Every time she thought she had a number, a new one appeared.
Bellamy shook himself free, "They know where she is."
"Diggs!" Roma's voice caught their attention, the girl out of sight but not earshot. "Where are you?"
Astoria was the first to run after her, Bellamy following and the others not far behind. They spotted Roma as she stilled for a moment and they picked up their pace just as she took off once more with a scream, Bellamy calling out for her to stop.
But it was Astoria who stopped, the sudden halt causing the older man to run into her back and grab her shoulders to steady them both. But the grounder was too focused on the dead boy in front of her—a boy whom she hadn't even gotten to know the name of.
She watched the blood drip down his chin, his body having been impaled by a trap the grounders set out for them. "They're leading us here," Jasper observed, "It's the only direction we could run in."
"Where'd they go?" Finn questioned and Astoria took her eyes off the dead boy, looking at their surroundings.
"After Roma," Bellamy told them, and then it was Astoria chasing after him.
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Astoria had been shot in the skin just above her left hip, the arrow still lodged into her flesh and working to stop too much blood from leaking from the wound. The man who had shot it was long dead. She killed him when he attempted to finish her off up close; he knocked her off her feet, snapping the back end of the arrow off, and brought his hands around her neck. She took a chunk of skin from his arm, using his sudden pain and surprise to reach her hands out and dig her fingers into his eye sockets. The once blue orbs turned red with blood, and she finished the kill with the knife at her hip.
Then she quickly took off into the trees, not wanting to wait for more of her people to show up and try to finish what she had started six years before. The pain at her side become more apparent as the adrenaline left her system, a limp forming and her breathing growing more staggered. She hadn't gotten injured so badly before.
Her mind grew clouded after she reached a stream, her legs coming out from under her and leaving her to collapse onto her side. The pebbles at the shore scratched her shoulder, her body lying in the shallow water and relishing in the coolness. It took all her will to not just lie there and close her eyes, listening to the running water as it moved over the rocks and moss.
She didn't have a choice before she heard the horn, knowing what it meant right away. There was no way she would reach safety before the fog came and filled her lungs—not with the arrow that was still lodged in her skin and the lack of energy it caused. She had been burned once before, the fog creeping up on her unexpectedly before someone with a horn warned the others. She screamed when it coated her shoulder with welts and burns, but she was quick to act. She managed to reach her cave just in time to avoid any further harm, but it was enough to keep her awake with pain for days.
She didn't realize she was being pulled to her feet until she was up, a man who looked only a few years her senior holding her with a touch much gentler than she was used to. She wanted to fight against him, but she was nearly unconscious already. If she moved much more, she wouldn't know where he was taking her, and then she wouldn't know how to get away.
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They ran through the woods blindly after Roma for only a few minutes before Astoria saw her figure peaking out from behind a tree—her body so incredibly still that the grounder knew if she wasn't dead already she was too close for them to get her help.
She didn't stop Bellamy from moving towards the girl, but she did follow slowly behind him. She watched as his face fell when they both saw the spear sticking out from Roma's chest, and the blood that was already crusting from the cold air surrounding her lips and leaking from her nose.
Astoria was glad that she never got used to the sight of dead bodies. With how many she had seen and killed herself, the thought wasn't too farfetched. Perhaps it wasn't as much as Roma being dead—a girl she hadn't spoken to once in her time with the group—but instead Bellamy's reaction to seeing her. He definitely hadn't seen the same mass of death as she had, and the look on his face proved that.
It sent a tang of dread into Astoria's gut, because it was the first time she saw Bellamy vulnerable.
"They're playing with us," Finn's hushed voice caught Astoria's attention and she turned to look at he boy as he spoke. He looked scared, all of them did, and Astoria felt guilt fester in her stomach from having no plan to get them out of the situation at hand.
She should have gone by herself.
"She only came because of me," Bellamy ignored the younger boys words, reaching out to close Roma's eyes.
"They can kill us whenever they want," the spacewalker continued, and Astoria took a deep breath. He was right—the grounders wanted them to know that they were outmatched, to scare them.
"Then they should get it over with!" Jasper suddenly yelled, and both Astoria and Finn had their attention on him in an instant.
He continued to scream, egging the grounders on as the two advanced towards him quickly. It was Finn who grabbed him, trying his hardest to quiet the boy down.
Bellamy joined in, though even that didn't work. Astoria shook her head with a fury.
She pushed Finn out of the way, grabbing Jasper by his collar and pulling him towards her roughly. "You want us to die—? You want Octavia to die?" she hissed, the boy quieting slightly at her words. "Cause if we die, so does she—and I know damn well that if it was you in her place, she wouldn't be giving up at the first sign of a fight."
"There coming!" Monroe called out, her words causing Astoria to move her eyes from Jasper to the trees around them. The girl was right—grounders were closing in on them from all sides, and she knew Jasper had only made it worse.
She seethed, pushing him away from her as she whispered out a quiet "Joka," before pulling her knife from her waistband and holding it by her side. Her shoulder touched Bellamy's but she ignored him, eyes trained on one of her people that was growing closer by the second.
Though, he stopped when he was close enough to truly see her face, his head tilting and his features no doubt scrunched underneath the mask he wore. Astoria's blood went cold, and she knew that this man alone would sign hers, and the teenagers, death sentences—if they weren't already.
"Fragheda!" he called to her, his tone filled with an anger that Astoria had only heard from select few of her own people. The ones who knew what she looked like, and knew what she had done.
But a horn blew, and it saved her life that day just as it had six years prior.
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She was slung over a shoulder when she regained conciseness, having no recollection of passing out. She could still feel the wood from the arrow in her flesh, the man carrying her clearly having snapped the tip off to ease their trip.
A few embarrassingly weak groans fell from her lips as she lifted her head up with her last remaining strength, only seeing trees and green around her. At least she wasn't at Polis to pay for her crimes before the Commander—whom had the title now she wasn't even sure of.
She was out once more shortly after, and the next time she awoke she was on the floor of a cave that she recognized as her own. Her hands remained free of bindings, as well as her ankles, and the fact shocked her. What shocked her more was the bandage she found wrapped around her side, deep red stains littering the fabric overtop where the arrow had entered her.
The stranger patched up her wound—most likely saving her life in doing so—and returned her to her home, no more of her people in sight.
When she managed to get to her feet, the pain in her hip erupting from the movement though it wasn't enough to stop her, she slowly moved to the open air with caution. But, he was nowhere to be seen, and there was no one waiting to ambush her and tell her it was a sick trick. That her torture was only just beginning.
No, instead the area was clear of her people and the air clean of any fog—if there even had been any at all. Instead, Astoria was left with a feeling of dread, along with one she had no familiarity with.
Perhaps she had an ally hidden in the trees somewhere. One that she seemingly owed her life to.
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"It won't work," Astoria spoke from where she was wedged between Jasper and Finn, a tarp over the group of five in hopes of it protecting them from the acid fog. She had tried to tell them that it would prove useless when the idea was first brought up at camp days before; not if it wasn't staked to the dirt and void of any cracks where air would come in. Without anyone on the outside to make sure it was clear they had no way of telling if it was.
The group ignored her, and for good reason. They didn't have much of a choice—no caves were close enough for them to take refuge in, and out running the fog itself was all but impossible.
"How long are we supposed to wait?" Jasper asked after another pocket of silence went by, and Astoria sighed. The fog should have begun passing over them by now, so even she wasn't sure; unless someone had blown the horn without having meant to.
Monroe had another question before Astoria could answer Jaspers, one that clearly was due to the grounder's earlier words floating around her head. "Will this even work?"
"It won't," Astoria was able to answer without a thought that time, and Finn ignored her pessimistic words.
"We'll find out," he spoke instead, trying to give Monroe some hope while also knowing himself that the chances of Astoria being right were high.
Bellamy only sighed, "No, we won't." Then he was pulling back the tarp, not even Astoria telling him not to. She wanted out from underneath it more than any of them. "There's no fog," he was clearly annoyed that they wasted their time hiding from nothing, and Astoria would have agreed if her mind wasn't working twice its regular speed.
"Maybe it was a false alarm," Finn suggested as he rose to his feet.
Astoria shook her head, taking a look around the forest. "Or someone blew it to give us a fighting chance," she whispered, it being clear that Finn was he only one who heard—or cared, more likely—by the way he turned to look at her face. Like he was waiting for her to continue.
"They're coming back," Bellamy told the group, and Astoria quickly followed his gaze to the man running through the trees on his own.
That's when she knew the chances of it being him—being Lincoln—were too large to trust Bellamy to handle the situation properly.
"I think he's alone," Jasper whispered, a stark contrast from his yelling earlier.
Astoria didn't pay attention to Monroe's pleads to run, eyes still on the man who was retreating farther and farther into the woods. His build was similar to Lincoln's, though it had been too long since she had last seen him for her to be sure. But saving a group of innocents, especially if he knew she was with them, was something he would do. It was something he had done.
"He doesn't see us," Bellamy observed, but Astoria wasn't so sure.
She grabbed Bellamy by his jacket before he could stand fully. "The four of you go back to camp," she instructed, hoping that by some miracle the man would trust someone else instead of insisting on doing it himself. "I'll handle it and bring Octavia back without making anything worse."
He looked like she had slapped him, but inevitably he ignored her orders. "I'm going after him," he started, twisting his hatchet in his hand. "You're welcome to come, but you won't be able to stop me."
"And what?" Finn interjected, "You're going to kill him?"
Astoria's heart turned cold.
"No; catch him," Bellamy started a list, "Make him tell me where Octavia is, then kill him."
Then he was out of Astoria's grip and moving after the grounder, Monroe following shortly after. The girl remained still, only watching as they moved out of earshot before Finn spoke up.
"What do you know?" he questioned her, gaining her full attention. They stared at one another for a moment, and Astoria debated telling him—if anyone would help her, it was him.
Instead she shook her head, standing fully and following after Bellamy in hopes that she could stop any further bloodshed. Especially between him and her only friend.
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"Ge klin oyun ouder!"
Weeks had passed since Astoria had been shot, and she felt his eyes on her everyday that went by. Whether it be when she was hunting, or failing to sleep, or tending to her wound. Whenever she wasn't in her cave, she could sense him watching.
She wondered how she hadn't noticed before, it being obvious that he had following her for days before she was shot. He knew to bring her back to her cave—he knew where her home was.
Many seconds passed before he showed himself. Immediately, Astoria had the bow in her hands drawn back and loaded with an arrow. But the man—or boy, he looked only to be maybe three years her senior—didn't seem afraid when he emerged, and he didn't flinch.
"Who are you?" she began her questioning, not loosening her weapon. The first question was only a formality; she didn't truly care who he was, only what he wanted with her. Still, when he remained silent she took a step towards him and let her voice harden even farther, "Your name?"
"Lincoln," he didn't wait to answer this time, wanting to prove that he meant no harm. His voice was softer than Astoria would have guessed by the way he looked; he had wide shoulders and he would no doubt tower over her if he came any closer.
She didn't let the observation show on her face. "What do you want?"
"To know if what they said of you was true," he answered truthfully, and it surprised Astoria. But she didn't believe him. "It isn't."
"You know who I am?" she clarified, readjusting her position and aim. He only nodded his head this time, not seeing the need for a verbal answer. "And you saved me," she continued, motioning with her head down to her hip. Her bandage was visible under the thin fabric she wore. He nodded again. "Why?"
He thought over his answer for a moment, and when Astoria thought he took too long she emphasised her weapon once more. "They speak of you like you are a monster," he began, "But when I first saw you—when you had snuck into our village to gather supplies and went unnoticed by everyone but me—I realised that you were no monster at all. Not Fragheda. Just a child."
"I've killed," Astoria countered him, not enjoying the way he spoke of her like she was weak. "You must have saw me kill that man, before you blew the horn. I pushed in his eyes. I'm no child—"
"You are," he corrected her, and Astoria felt her anger bubble. "In the time I've watched you for, you have never attacked first. You never seem to want to fight at all. You only do when you have no where to run."
Astoria had nothing to say to his words, and the two fell into a silence. She felt her grip on her bow loosening and quickly readjusted.
"How old were you when it happened?" he finally took the opportunity to ask the question that seemed to have been burning on his mind since he first saw her. Almost like he wanted to compare it to the one that was told in the stories.
"Nine."
From the look on his face, Astoria knew Lincoln had been told that she was much older—most likely older than he was then. Instead he was right, she was only a child and everyone she'd ever known wanted to be the one to kill her. Nine years old and not given a chance for a trial, or to explain the reasoning why she had done what she had. Instead, everyone from Trikru to Azgedakru wanted to be the one to deliver her to the Commander. To take the glory of having killed the Fragheda.
Everyone, it seemed, expect for Lincoln.
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
The further they went, the more Astoria began to recognise the area—and when the grounder slipped into the small, almost hidden entrance to his cave, she knew it was Lincoln.
She stopped Bellamy with a tug on his jacket, pulling him behind a tree (and the others followed without having to be told to) to make sure they weren't spotted. The man was far from happy about the fact, but Astoria didn't care. She wasn't going to let Lincoln get hurt—or any of the foolish teenagers who had been dragged along.
"Wait here," she told him, her tone of voice leaving no room for discussion though Bellamy was able to find a way to have one—as he always did.
He copied her earlier action, tugging on the sleeve of her sweater to stop her from making it too far. "The hell are you doing?" he questioned, his tone always managing to irritate her.
"Do you trust me?" she tried, but Finn had already put all of the pieces of her odd behaviour together.
"You know him, don't you?" he asked, and Astoria cursed under her breath as Bellamy twisted to look at the boy in disbelief.
When he looked back to Astoria, she wasn't afraid to meet his eyes and gave him the same look of defiance he was giving her. "So much for all the grounders wanting you dead, huh?"
"Stay here," she seethed, her patience for the man running dangerously low. "If you go in there, you'll end up killing one another. I won't let that happen, to either of you."
Then she was moving into the familiar cave on her own, hoping that Bellamy would be able to control himself long enough for her to warm Lincoln and get Octavia's location. Grunting from farther inside the stone walls caused her to speed up, though she halted abruptly at the sight of Lincoln knocked unconscious on the ground. Octavia knelt by his body with a rock in her chained hands.
"Skrish," she spoke in an exasperated tone, moving towards the girl quickly.
"Toria?" Octavia questioned, almost like she thought there was a chance that the grounder was a hallucination.
Astoria nodded her head, stepping over her friend (knowing that one rock to the head couldn't have done too much harm) to reach the missing girl. "You see a key anywhere?"
Octavia pointed to Lincoln, and Astoria quickly turned her head to spot the small bronze key in the mans limp hand. She didn't hesitate to grab it, going back to unlock the chains when the younger girl spoke words that caused Astoria's blood to boil.
"Bellamy?" she questioned, and much to the grounders dismay the man was moving towards the two at a rapid pace from he cave entrance.
"I told you to wait," she spoke almost as if to remind him, but he only grabbed the key from her hand.
"And I didn't listen," he retorted as he worked on the lock himself. "Monroe, watch the entrance!" he called before welcoming his sister into an embrace. It would have warmed Astoria's heart if she wasn't so on edge, eyes moving to Lincoln's unmoving form. She needed to get them out of here.
"How did you find me?" Octavia wondered aloud as she moved from Bellamy to hug Jasper instead.
The boy looked smitten, shrugging his shoulders slightly as he welcomed the affection. "Followed him," he gestured to Lincoln.
"We should go, now. Before he wakes up," Octavia advised them and Astoria nodded along, hoping that Bellamy would listen because it was coming from his sister.
He didn't.
"He's not gonna wake up," he correct her as he circled Lincoln, moving to grab a spear from where it rested against the stone and dirt wall.
Astoria took a step forward immediately, joining in on Octavia's attempts to stop him. "Bellamy stop, he didn't hurt me. Let's just go."
When he didn't listen to his sister Astoria stepped in his way, "Bellamy..."
Her voice was clearly a warning, and for a moment it looked like he was going to take it. "Astoria, move," he warned her in his own way, but she had no plans to back down.
"If you are going to kill him, you'll have to kill me first," she told him, her words completely true. "And I won't go down easily."
"Foghorn," Finn's voice broke their eye contact, the grounder turning to watch just as Lincolns eyes shot open. It seemed to happen in brief moments—just as quick as her heart beats were. Lincoln grabbed a knife concealed in his clothing, and stuck it into Finn's chest before kicking Bellamy's feet out from under him.
"Hod op!" she screamed as it all happened, her eyelids blinking once before Lincoln had Bellamy on the dirt with his spear pressed into his throat and the only thing stopping blood from pouring out of the mans neck being his hold on the weapon. "Bants em!"
Astoria's pleads stopped Lincoln for a moment, his eyes diverting to her just as Octavia called out as well, this time in English.
"Stop!" she cried, crouched beside Finn. "That's my brother!"
The older grounder wasn't able to make the decision to spare Bellamy's life before Jasper was behind him, taking a piece of wood—one that Astoria would guess Lincoln was going to whittle down into a new spear—and hitting it over his head. When Astoria heard Bellamy take a breath of relief she let out one of her own, moving to Lincoln's side quickly to make sure he was both okay and unconscious.
Jasper moved to Finn and Bellamy remained in his spot for a moment, eyes moving from Lincoln to Astoria. She had an unreadable look on her face, but he knew she was more angry with him she had ever been. Neither of them could speak on it yet; not when Finn had a dagger in his lung.
translations:
joka... fucker
ge klin oyun ouder... i know youre out there
skirsh... shit
hod op... wait/stop
bants em... leave him
other italic dialogue spoken in trigedasleng