The 100

35 Clarke

They had been walking for hours, making widening concentric circles through the woods, trying to cover every inch of terrain. The backs of Clarke’s legs were burning, but she relished the sensation; the physical pain was a welcome distraction from her thoughts. The flames engulfing the sides of the infirmary tent… Wells’s arms like handcuffs around her… the sickening crack as the walls collapsed.

“Hey, look over here.” Clarke turned to see Bellamy kneeling on the ground near the spot where she’d discovered Octavia’s ribbon, staring intently at what appeared to be footprints in the dirt. She was no tracker, but the marks of struggle were easy to read. Whoever had left the prints hadn’t been on a pleasant stroll through the woods.

“It looks like someone was running, or in a fight,” Clarke said softly. She refrained from finishing the sentence: almost like someone had been dragged away. They’d assumed Octavia had run away… but what if she’d been taken?

She could read the same terrible line of questioning on Bellamy’s furrowed brow, and knelt down beside him. “She can’t be far,” Clarke said, meaning it. “We’ll find her.”

“Thank you.” Bellamy nodded as he rose, and they continued walking. “I’m… I’m glad you’re here with me.”

They trudged on for what felt like hours, the sun rising and then sinking in the sky. As their circles grew wider, Clarke could tell they were approaching the edge of the forest. Through the outlines of the trees she saw a clearing and paused. There were more trees, but these looked different from the ones in the woods. They had massive, gnarled trunks and thick limbs covered with a canopy of green leaves. The branches sagged with round, red fruit. Apples.

Clarke approached the apple trees, Bellamy close behind her. “That’s strange,” she said slowly. “The trees are spaced so evenly. It almost looks like an orchard.” She walked over to the closest one. “But could it really have survived all these years?”

Although the tree loomed over her, the lowest branch was fairly close to the ground. Standing on her toes, it was easy f o r Clarke to stretch up and pluck an apple. She twisted around and tossed it to Bellamy before reaching for another one.

Clarke held the apple up to her face. They grew fruit in the solar fields on the ship, but those apples looked nothing like these. The skin wasn’t just red; it had threads of pink and white running through it, and it gave off a scent unlike anything she had smelled before. She took a bite and gasped as juice began running down her chin. How could something taste sweet and tart at the same time? For just a moment, Clarke allowed herself to forget everything that had happened on Earth and let the sensation overtake her.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Bellamy asked, and Clarke looked over. While she’d been busy eating, he’d begun using fallen branches to measure the distance between the trees.

“To be honest, I wasn’t thinking anything beyond how good this tastes,” Clarke admitted, feeling the hint of a smile curl her lips. But Bellamy didn’t laugh or tease her. He just kept staring at the perfectly spaced trees.

“These didn’t survive the Cataclysm, and they didn’t just grow like this,” he said slowly, his voice filled with wonder and dread. Before he’d even finished, Clarke knew what he was going to say. Her chest tightened with fear. “Someone planted them.”