The sudden, almost imperceptible rustling of the leaves alerted Bellamy to the possibility of danger. He halted, drawing his gun out, ready to shoot at anything that moved.

'Stop.' he whispered.

Immediately, the rest of the group, like a well-oiled machine, aimed their guns at the trees, scanning them for movement. Bellamy was painfully forced to remember that the guns they held for protection were just for show. He was out of bullets, and he doubted anyone else had more than a couple left. Bullets ran out as fast as water. They were vulnerable, and left to the mercy of the grounders. Their weapons instilled little fear in their enemies and would be no deterrent to their aggression.

Surveying his surroundings, he caught a glimpse of a shadow on the corner of his eye. This time, he noticed golden flickers of hair flying through the air. He quickly took in this very familiar shape and his mind made sense of it all. The blood drained from his face, and his grip on the gun faltered.

'Clarke.' Bellamy's voice resonated throughout the woods, wavering ever so slightly.

Clarke froze, her feet stuck to the ground. 'Bellamy?' She uttered as she turned her head around. Finn rapidly caught up to speed on what had just happened and blurted her name out like it was a secret he was dying to tell. 'Clarke!' And as he said that, he could feel the mix of adrenaline and relief running in his veins, his tense body relaxing all at once, while he rushed towards her.

'Finn.' She was on the brink of crying, her voice remarkably shaky.

'Oh my God, Finn. You're alive. I thought...' She didn't care what she thought anymore. Clarke was prudent enough to know that they might have not made it, but she also knew enough about herself to know she didn't believe in that for a split second.

She fell into his embrace, longing to be held.

'You're safe.' Incredulity and assurance crept up on his words, as he whispered them softly against Clarke's ears.

Bellamy felt strangely inappropriate standing there. He always knew they'd eventually find her, and the others. He felt the urge to move towards her but he wasn't sure what he'd do next. Just in case, he hid his feet lower into the dirt, and went against his primary instincts, once more.

'Where are the others? Have you seen Octavia?' Not knowing if his sister was safe or not was unbearable. He thought he'd always have her by his side, that he'd always be able to protect her. Clarke's face contorted into a desperate and worried expression, a look he recognized all too well.

The pang of guilt and despair resurfaced and sped up her heartbeat. The shackles she'd been carrying screwed themselves tighter around her ankles, and more weight clung to her skin, bruising it. The lives of her people were in her hands. She broke away from Finn arms.

'I was the only one to escape. She wasn't there Bellamy.' She looked directly into his eyes, trying to shorten the distance between them and somehow comfort him. They were stern and remained unchanged by this news.

The thought of Anya hit her like a bullet to the chest.

Every second they wasted reminiscing the times that weren't they'd be closer to death. The grounders might already be surrounding them, letting them say their last goodbye. Clarke started to move forward.

'We have to go, now. Grounders might be close.' There was no time for explanations. She looked over to the group as they moved. Bellamy was ahead, holding tight to his gun, ready for anything. His eyes wide open with determination. Silvia was trying to keep up with him. Clarke didn't know her very well, but she looked well equipped for a battle, although fear flashed across her face every couple of seconds. Behind were Finn and Dan, covering the woods with their eyes, searching for the enemy. Dan seemed to be moving his legs involuntarily, clutching his gun with not enough force. And then Clarke knew why. Surviving came to her like a second nature, and she just assumed it was the same for the rest of them, but as she looked at Dan she realized that he was terrified at the thought of an imminent death, that on the battlefield he'd retrieve to a safer place and abandon his friends. That was his second nature. Maybe if the Ark had been able to survive, he would've lived a happy, uneventful life, have a beautiful family and feel himself slowly get old while he watched the Earth beneath him age with him. The sight of a ghost dissipated her train of thoughts. The sight of that ghost sucked her breath out of her. She forced her eyelids shut and flung them open in one quick motion. It hadn't gone away. Murphy was there. Staring back at her.

He was smiling. It wasn't a smirk, and she couldn't see any hint of arrogance in it. It was a genuine sympathetic smile. And it disgusted her. His smile made her stomach turn inside out. It made her contradict and doubt her own instincts. When it came to Murphy, Clarke tried to act as humane as possible, reinforcing her belief that they don't decide who lives and who dies. If it weren't for that he'd be lying on the ground, cold and with no sign of a pulse. After all, this was person who sought Charlotte's death, who was a biological weapon that killed 14 of their own, and the one responsible for their vulnerability in the Grounders attack, because he decided it was more important to use almost all of their gunpowder to save himself, and not the ones who took him in.