Clarke smiled. “It was brave, what you did for her,” she said.
“Yeah, well, I’d say the same thing about you, but I have a feeling you’re not exactly here by choice.”
She held up her wrist, which, like all the others’, was still encased in the monitor bracelet. “What gave it away?”
“I’m sure he deserved it,” Bellamy said with a grin. But instead of laughing, Clarke turned away. He’d meant it as a joke, but he should have known that he couldn’t be so glib with her—with anyone who was here, really. They were all hiding something. Bellamy most of all.
“Hey, I’m sorry,” he said. He apologized so rarely, the word felt strange in his mouth. “We’ll find the medicine chest. What’s in it, anyway?”
“Everything. Sterile bandages, painkillers, antibiotics… things that could make all the difference to…” She paused for a moment. “To the injured people.”
Bellamy kne1">nd of w she was thinking about the one girl she was always watching over, her friend.
“You really care about her, don’t you?” He held out his hand to help her over a moss-covered log blocking their path.
“She’s my best friend,” Clarke said, taking his hand. “The only person on Earth who knows the real me.”
She shot an embarrassed smile at Bellamy, but he nodded. “I know what you mean.” Octavia was the only person in the world who truly knew him. There was no one else he really cared about ever seeing again.
But then he glanced over at Clarke, who was leaning over to breathe in the scent of a bright-pink flower, the sun catching the gold strands in her hair, and suddenly he wasn’t so sure.
CHAPTER 15
Clarke
Bellamy led Clarke down a steep hill bordered by slender trees whose branches wove together to form a sort of archway. The silence felt ancient, as if even the wind hadn’t dared to disturb the solitude of the trees for centuries.
“I’m not sure I ever thanked you for what you did for Octavia,” Bellamy said, breaking the spell.
“Does this count as a thank-you?” Clarke teased.
“I think it’s the closest you’re going to get.” He shot her a sidelong look. “I’m not the best at stuff like that.”
Clarke opened her mouth, but before she could launch a retort, she stumbled over a rock. “Whoa there,” Bellamy said with a laugh, grabbing Clarke’s hand to steady her. “And apparently, you’re not the best at stuff like walking.”
“This isn’t walking. This is hiking—something no human has done for hundreds of years, so give me a break.”
“It’s okay. It’s all about division of labor. You keep us alive, and I’ll keep you on two feet.” He gave her a playful squeeze, and Clarke felt her face flush. She hadn’t realized she was still clutching his hand.
“Thanks,” she said, letting her arm fall to her side.
Bellamy paused as they reached the point where the ground flattened out again. “This way,” he said, gesturing to the left. “So, how did you end up becoming a doctor?”
Clarke’s eyebrows knit in confusion. “I wanted to. Didn’t you choose to…” She trailed off, realizing, to her embarrassment, that she had no idea what Bellamy had done back on the ship. Clearly he hadn’t been a guard.
He stared at her, as if trying to determine whether or not she was joking. “It doesn’t work that way on Walden,” he said slowly, stepping deeper into the green-tinged shade. “If you’ve got a great record and you get lucky, you can become a guard. Otherwise you just do whatever job your parents had.”
Clarke tried to keep the surprise from registering on her face. Of course she knew only certain jobs were available to Waldenites, but she hadn’t realized they had no choice at all. “So what were you?”
“I was…” He pressed his lips together. “You know what? It doesn’t matter what I did back there.”
“I’m sorry,” Clarke said quickly. “I didn’t mean that—”
“Hold on,” Bellamy whispered, reaching out a hand to block her path. In one fluid motion, he pulled out one of the arrows tucked into his sling and raised his bow. His eyes fixed on a spot where the trees were so dense, it was almost impossible to distinguish the shrubs from the shadows. Then she saw it—a flash of motion, a glint of light reflected in an eye. Clarke held her breath as an animal emerged, small and brown with long, tapered ears that flicked back and forth. A rabbit.
She watched the creature spring forward, its tail almost twice as long as its body, twitching curiously. Aren’t rabbits supposed to have little, fluffy tails? she wondered. But before she could remember her old notes from Biology of Earth class, Clarke saw Bellamy’s elbow draw back, chasing every thought out of her head.
Her gasp caught in her throat as Bellamy’s arrow shot forward, landing with a terrible thwack right in the creature’s chest. For a second, Clarke wondered if she could save it—run over, remove the arrow, and stitch it back up.
Bellamy grabbed her arm, squeezing it just hard enough to convey both assurance and warning. That rabbit was going to help keep them alive, Clarke knew. It would give Thalia a little strength. She tried to close her eyes, but they remained locked on the animal.
“It’s okay,” Bellamy said quietly. “I got it through the heart. He won’t suffer for long.” He was right. The rabbit stopped twitching and slowly fell to the forest floor, then went still. Bellamy turned to her. “Sorry. I know it’s not easy to watch someone suffer.”
A chill passed over her that had nothing to do with the dead rabbit. “Someone?”
“Something.” He corrected himself with a shrug. “Anything.”
Clarke watched Bellamy jog over to the rabbit, extract the arrow, and swing the creature over his shoulder. “Let’s go this way,” he said, inclining his head.
The tension seemed to have drained away, Bellamy’s mood visibly bolstered by his successful kill. “So, what’s the story with you and Wells?” he asked, shifting the rabbit over to his other shoulder.
Clarke braced for a rush of indignation at his nosiness, but it never came. “We dated for a little bit, a while ago, but it didn’t work out.”
Bellamy snickered. “Yeah, well, that part was obvious.” He paused, waiting for Clarke to continue. “So,” he prodded, “what happened?”