Genesis ➳ Bellamy

13. Arkinson

A/N: Do you guys get the sense something tragic is about to take place?

Atlas didn't return to camp.

With every intention, she was going to. However fate was cruel and tragedy, while a different language, was well and truly her middle name.

Her limbs had fallen numb, the net she was strung up in no longer swayed from her movements but rather the breeze that would appear in bursts. Her throat ached, her stomach churned and her mouth ran dry.

The last time she had eaten or drank was lost to her much less the last time she slept more than an hour or so at a time. The rising sun peered through the leaves, basking her in light. Swallowing thickly, she rubbed her aching chest.

She needed her medicine but was fairly certain she wouldn't get it anytime soon. Like an idiot, she had wandered toward a section she hadn't mapped out, not far from the caves or the trail she had secretly created.

It was near the caves but Atlas hadn't heard or seen anything other than the occasional forest animal.

"If this is how I die," Atlas wheezed. "I'm going to be really upset."

Her arctic gaze peered outward, sweeping over the forest floor as her fingers dug into the thick rope that was her prison. She merely traded one death sentence for another in coming to Earth.

The sad truth was Atlas had figured she'd be the first to die and yet despite all odds, she had made it this far. Only to be caught and tangled up by a hidden net left behind by Grounders who would return and eat her.

If she was to remain positive; maybe she tasted great. A scowl adorned her legs as she saw a figure appear from behind a tree. How long they had been stood there Atlas wasn't certain.

The man was tall with brown skin and matching brown eyes. His head was shaved and he had black ink surrounding his eyes and running diagonal. He was dressed in clothing that mirrored the forest and as he moved, Atlas heard nothing.

Standing before her, he tilted his head as his gaze swept over her. Atlas didn't speak; she remained taut and unmoving best she could in a slowly swaying net. After a moment, the man pulled what looked to be a hunter's knife from the inside of his black boot and moved toward the tree.

After a few seconds and the sound of metal clashing against wood; Atlas dropped, being covered by the net.

Frantically, she swatted at the net to free herself but was silenced as the man grabbed the rope and began dragging her, net and all, along the forest floor. With her body utterly entangled in the net, Atlas was forced to wheeze and wince as she was dragged and bounced along.

Atlas woke to fingers combing through her hair. Blinking rapidly, she shot up as the fingers left her hair. Her gaze peered in brown eyes. Rather than attack or lean back, the man remained sat before her. His jacket was tossed onto a hammock that was strung up by chains.

The light source came from sunlight filtering in from the opening and a torch that was set near a crack in the cave wall so the smoke would billow outward. The cave was larger than the one she had found and told Murphy to stay in.

Her thoughts were brought back to the man who extended his left arm, exposing the flesh of his wrist. Her gaze dipped downward only to inhale sharply.

Branded onto the inside of his left arm was the exact symbol she had. Moving slowly, Atlas lifted her left arm and placed it next to his, their brands matched identically.