Rebellion (The 100 #4)(21)
CHAPTER 11
Clarke
As silly as keeping to formation had seemed at first, Clarke didn’t mind walking in the back. She could take in the new terrain, forests opening onto wide green fields full of plants she’d never seen, before the trail took them back down into smaller, sparser copses of trees and out again. Keeping pace behind the others helped draw her mind off one reality and onto this one—one foot landing in front of the other, forward progress, a sense of hope in the middle of hopeless circumstances.
“Circumstances” sounded much nicer than “brutal, devastating attack that you completely failed to prevent.”
The Earthborn members of the rescue party took turns hanging back and keeping Clarke company. Right now, it was tall, wiry Jessa, who was a little quieter than the others. Clarke didn’t mind the silence, but she noticed how the older girl’s eyes were fixed on the horizon, a furrow of worry dug into her brow.
“How old is your brother?” Clarke asked gently.
Jessa cleared her throat. “A few years older than me. Kit can handle himself,” she said, so sharply and suddenly, it was clear she was speaking more to herself than to Clarke. “He might not even need rescuing. But he’s the only family I’ve got, and just going on without him like he never existed is not an option. You help the people you love. That’s what you do.”
“I know what you mean,” Clarke said, her mind drifting to Bellamy. Since they’d set out from camp a few hours ago, he’d been too far ahead on the track for her to see him. She knew what was pulling him onward in such a frenzy, and it wasn’t just the raiders’ trail. It was his family. He’d spent his life protecting Octavia, and he and Wells had just started connecting as brothers. It was no wonder that he was desperate to get them back.
Clarke understood that fierce, desperate longing to find those who had been lost. She’d felt that for her parents, even when there was no logic to it, and against all odds, they’d returned to her.
At the thought of her parents, Clarke gritted her teeth against a wave of shame.
She’d spent the hours before they left by her mother’s side. Dr. Lahiri’s treatment seemed to be working well for her infection, and the bullet hadn’t pierced any organs, but she would still have a difficult recovery ahead. Sitting with her, chatting in low voices while holding hands, Clarke had nearly reversed her decision to leave. But then her mother had murmured, “I’m proud of you. I’m proud of what you’ve become,” and Clarke had known she meant her courage in setting out with the others. Still, her heart felt torn in two directions with every step she took away from home.
Nothing will happen to me, she promised herself. I’ll come back to them safe and sound, just as I told them I would.
The woods broke apart as the ground grew steep under their feet. The sun was starting to set, bathing everything before her in gold.
“What the—” Ahead of her, Paul ducked as a thick vine unwound itself from a tree branch. It stretched into the air, bright yellow leaves unfurling. Clarke knew from previous investigations that the leaves were sticky, and by morning, they would be covered with insects for the vine to absorb.
“You okay?” Clarke called.
“Yeah,” he said, pausing to let her catch up with him, and he turned from side to side, slightly dazed. “What was that?”
“I’ve been calling them nocturnal carnivorous vines. But I have no idea what they’re really called. Or if they’ve ever had a name at all. I think it’s a recent mutation.”
“It’s pretty incredible,” Paul said, glancing over his shoulder for a better look. His earlier bravado seemed to have vanished, replaced by a surprising air of wonder. Not many people other than Clarke were intrigued by plants.
“What’s incredible?” she asked.
Paul shook his head. “Nothing on Earth looks or acts the way they told us it would. The flowers we read about are poisonous. The deer have two heads. The vines have turned carnivorous. And at first, it all seems kind of terrifying and monstrous, but there’s a logic to it, you know? All these species, doing what they have to do to survive. They’re all fighters. I like that.”
Clarke surprised herself by smiling. “You consider yourself a fighter? You seem a little too cheerful for that.”
Paul smiled back. It was wistful, almost sad. “Sometimes being cheerful is a way of fighting. When you’ve seen some of the stuff I’ve seen…” He shook his head. “Let’s just say I didn’t have the easiest time growing up.” Clarke stared at him, wondering if perhaps Paul and Bellamy had more in common than anyone imagined. They’d both had tough childhoods but had chosen different ways of coping: Bellamy turned distant and rebellious, believing there was no one he could trust but himself, while Paul had tried to be open and amiable, someone other people could trust.
Paul shrugged. “But hey, who did, right? I assume it wasn’t all rainbows for you, or else you wouldn’t have ended up in Confinement.”
Clarke blanched slightly, thinking of Lily and the other kids she’d been unable to save. “It’s… complicated.”
He smiled at her—a kind, sincere smile, a world away from his usual overly cheery grin. “I doubt that,” he said quietly. “I’m sure you were just trying to do the right thing.”