The dense, humid air of the forest was thick with tension, but that didn't stop Finn from trying to fill the silence.
As they pushed their way through a heavy thicket of ferns, Finn fell into step beside Clarke, offering his signature, lopsided smirk. He dropped his voice, throwing out a steady stream of cocky, flirtatious banter designed to get a reaction out of her.
From a few paces back, Aleksander watched the interaction with quiet amusement. He had grown up with Clarke, and he knew her tells perfectly. Right now, she was completely tuning Finn out. It was a defense mechanism she used whenever she was profoundly annoyed or overwhelmed. Her eyes were fixed dead ahead, her jaw tense, completely ignoring the spacewalker's charm.
Suddenly, Finn stopped near a cluster of jagged rocks. He crouched down, brushing away some leaves, and looked back at Clarke with a triumphant grin.
"See that? Footprints," Finn said, pointing to deep grooves in the mud. "They dragged him this way. Good thing I pay attention to the details, right?"
Aleksander didn't even break his stride. He pushed roughly past Finn, his dark eyes fixed on the heavy, undeniable smear of crimson painted across the rocks and leaves ahead of them.
"Congratulations, Finn," Aleksander said, his voice dripping with dry, surgical sarcasm. "You figured out that bleeding bodies leave a trail. Do you want a gold star, or do you want to keep moving before whoever threw that spear comes back to practice on your chest?"
Finn's smirk vanished instantly. He stood up, clearly bruised by the absolute dismissal. "Just trying to lighten the mood, man."
Aleksander stopped and turned slightly, his gaze cold and entirely devoid of humor. "Don't. Jasper is bleeding out somewhere. Save the charm and the flirting for when we aren't actively being hunted."
Bellamy, who had just stepped up behind them with his rifle at the ready, gave a sharp nod. "He's right. Shut up and keep your eyes on the trees, spacewalker."
Properly chastised, Finn grabbed the strap of his bag and fell to the back of the line, quietly moping as they resumed tracking the blood trail.
For a while, the only sounds were snapping twigs and the distant calls of unseen wildlife. But the silence clearly ate at Finn. As they navigated a steep incline, he spoke up again, this time addressing the tactical situation.
"I've been thinking about Mount Weather," Finn said, looking at Clarke. "How come they didn't attack until Jasper crossed the river? It's not like we were being quiet and they didn't know we were there."
Clarke paused, catching her breath as she considered it. "They waited for us to cross. The river's a boundary. Which means Mount Weather is off-limits." She scoffed, frustration creeping into her voice. "How are we gonna get those supplies? What are we gonna do for food?"
"You're assuming the river is a border line," Aleksander countered, seamlessly dismantling the theory with cold, undeniable logic. "It's not. Think about the physics of the attack, Clarke."
Clarke looked back at him, frowning. "What do you mean?"
"The spear pinned Jasper to a tree on the far bank, striking the front of his chest," Aleksander explained, his voice analytical and precise. "To hit him with that much kinetic force from that angle, the trajectory had to originate from our side of the gorge. They weren't waiting in Mount Weather to keep us out. They were right behind us. They've been tracking us since we left the dropship."
Bellamy tightened his grip on his rifle, scanning the canopy with renewed paranoia. "Then why wait? Why not hit us while we were standing on the rocks?"
"Because an ambush requires the target to be distracted and isolated," Aleksander stated brutally. "As long as we were grouped together, engaging us was a risk. But then Jasper grabbed a vine, swung across, and stood in a wide-open clearing screaming at the top of his lungs. He broke from the pack and made himself the perfect, stationary target."
Aleksander looked between Clarke, Finn, and Bellamy, forcing them to understand the absolute reality of their environment.
"The Grounders are definitely territorial, and they likely have borders," Aleksander said, his dark eyes hardening. "But that river isn't the line. This entire forest is their territory. And the real issue isn't how we get to Mount Weather. The issue is that a hundred of our people just dropped a massive metal ship right in the middle of their hunting grounds."
Everyone after the talk started following the trail.The heavy, oppressive heat of the forest broke slightly as the group pushed through a dense thicket of vines and stepped into a small, shaded clearing. The sound of a trickling waterfall echoed softly, spilling down a mossy rock face into a crystal-clear pond.
Clarke let out a heavy sigh, her shoulders dropping in profound relief. "Fresh water. At least we don't have to worry about dehydration."
"Don't celebrate just yet," Aleksander's voice cut through her relief, cold and sharply focused. He was already crouching near the opposite edge of the pond. He pointed to a jagged cluster of rocks. Smeared across the pale gray stone was a thick, drying trail of dark red. "Jasper's blood. We are getting closer."
They carefully navigated around the pond, the tension winding tighter with every step. Suddenly, a sound echoed through the trees—a low, agonizing, and distinctly human moan.
Murphy froze, his eyes darting frantically toward the canopy. "What the hell was that?"
Clarke swallowed hard, her eyes locking onto Bellamy. "Now would be a good time to take out that gun."
Bellamy didn't argue. He racked the slide of the assault rifle, stepping to the front of the formation with the weapon raised against his shoulder.
They crept forward, following the source of the sound. Through a break in the trees, they finally saw him.
Jasper was strung up high in the canopy, his arms bound by thick vines, dangling helplessly over a small clearing. He looked pale and lifeless, save for the weak, ragged breaths escaping his chest.
"Jasper," Clarke breathed. Instinct overriding caution, she sprinted into the clearing. "Oh, my God."
"Clarke, be careful!" Finn yelled, scrambling after her.
Clarke didn't listen. She reached the center of the clearing, her eyes locked upward. "Jasper? What the hell is this—"
Suddenly, the ground beneath her vanished. A perfectly camouflaged lattice of branches and leaves gave way, plunging her into a deep, spiked pit.
Bellamy lunged, his hand snatching Clarke's wrist just as she dropped. The sudden dead weight yanked him forward, and for a terrifying, split second, Bellamy froze. He looked down into the pit, and a dark, fleeting calculation crossed his face—if he let go, the Ark's princess died, and his absolute control over the hundred was secured.
Before Bellamy could even process the thought, a blur of motion slammed into the dirt beside him.
Aleksander's Fey speed kicked in. His hand clamped around Bellamy's forearm like a vice, anchoring the older boy to the ground, while his other hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of Clarke's jacket.
Bellamy's hesitation instantly evaporated under Aleksander's lethal, knowing glare.
"Clarke! Get her up! Pull her up!" Finn screamed, sliding to his knees on the other side of the pit. "Pull her up! Get her! Pull her up!"
With Aleksander doing the majority of the heavy lifting, they hauled Clarke effortlessly over the edge, dropping her safely onto the solid dirt.
"You okay?" Finn panted, hovering over her.
"Yeah," Clarke gasped, her chest heaving as she stared at the lethal wooden spikes at the bottom of the trap. She looked up at the canopy. "We need to get him down."
Finn stood up, eyeing the massive tree trunk. "I'll climb up there and cut the vines."
Wells stepped forward, ready to assist. "Yeah, yeah, I'm with you."
"No," Finn ordered, holding a hand out to stop him. He pointedly looked at Bellamy, who was still staring at Aleksander. "Stay with Clarke. And watch him." Finn turned and pointed to Murphy. "You. Let's go."
As Finn and Murphy began scaling the thick bark of the tree, Clarke stood up, squinting through the sunlight filtering through the canopy. She noticed something strange plastered over the spear wound on Jasper's chest.
"There's a poultice on his wound," Clarke realized, her voice laced with confusion.
Wells frowned, looking around the hostile forest. "Medicine? Why would they save his life just to string him up as live bait?"
Bellamy tightened his grip on his rifle, scanning the tree line. "Maybe what they're trying to catch likes its dinner to be breathing."
"Maybe what they're trying to catch is us," Finn called down from the branches above.
"Finn is right," Aleksander stated quietly. He knelt by the edge of the pit, his dark eyes analyzing the precise, clean cuts on the lattice frame that had hidden the trap. "This wasn't dug for an animal. The dimensions, the placement, the trigger weight—it's engineered for a human stride."
Aleksander stood up, brushing the dirt from his hands, his hyper-analytical mind dissecting the enemy's strategy.
"They applied a poultice because a dead body stops screaming," Aleksander explained, his voice devoid of fear but heavy with absolute certainty. "A screaming body draws the rest of the pack out of hiding. This is a stress test, Bellamy."
Bellamy glanced at him, his jaw tight. "A test?"
"Reconnaissance," Aleksander confirmed, his eyes sweeping the impenetrable shadows of the surrounding brush. "They want to know our numbers. They want to see our loyalty, how we respond to a wounded comrade, and what kind of weapons we carry. They are watching us right now to see exactly how we dismantle this trap."
Aleksander stepped closer to Clarke and Bellamy, his voice dropping to a low, commanding register.
"Keep your finger on the trigger, Bellamy, but do not fire into the trees unless you have a confirmed target. If you start shooting blindly, you show them exactly what that weapon is capable of and how fast it runs out of ammo. Right now, we are rats in a maze, and the grounders are the scientists taking notes."