Chapter 8: Strained Loyalties

Inside the dimly lit dropship, Derek lay still, his face pale from the injury that threatened to take him. Clarke knelt beside him, her fingers gently pressing against his neck to check for a pulse. He was fading, and panic clawed at her throat. Outside, the camp buzzed with activity, but inside the dropship, time felt suspended, heavy with dread.

Monty stood nearby, his expression a mask of worry. "How bad is it?" he asked quietly.

Clarke glanced at him, shaking her head. "He was hit by a spear, and there's no telling how deep the wound is. I need to clean it and see if we can slow the infection before it spreads. It's all I can do right now."

"I'll help," Monty offered, moving closer to assist her.

Ares stood near the door of the dropship, observing silently. His sharp gaze flicked between Clarke and Derek, assessing the situation. He had seen injuries like this before, but now, with no proper medical care, everything was a matter of survival—raw, brutal survival.

As Clarke rose to gather supplies, Ares moved beside her. "I can scout for herbs or anything that might help," he offered, his voice low but firm.

Clarke nodded, appreciating the offer. "Be careful. We don't know how many Grounders are out there."

Ares gave her a curt nod before stepping outside. He inhaled deeply, absorbing the earthy scents of the forest that surrounded them. It was both familiar and foreign, a wildness that reminded him of the old world.

"Clarke, where do you want to look?" Wells asked, joining them outside.

"I was thinking we might check by the river," Clarke replied. "There's supposed to be seaweed there, which could help with infection. It's rich in nutrients."

"I remember hearing about it in the old world," Ares interjected. "It's also used for wound treatment, but it's rare to find. If it's in the area, it's usually near the water."

Clarke nodded, her mind racing with possibilities. "Let's head to the river, then. We can find something that might save Derek."

As they moved deeper into the woods, Clarke felt a renewed sense of determination. The urgency of the situation drove her forward, her thoughts focused solely on saving Derek.

The trio trekked through the dense underbrush, the air thick with the scent of pine and damp earth. Ares led the way, his instincts sharp as he navigated the terrain. Wells walked beside Clarke, his brow furrowed in thought.

"Do you really think the seaweed will help?" Wells asked, glancing over at Clarke.

"It has properties that can fight infection," she explained. "If we can get it back in time, it might stabilize him. But we need to move quickly. Time isn't on our side."

Ares suddenly halted, his senses on high alert. He motioned for silence, his instincts kicking in. "Wait," he whispered, scanning the area around them.

"What is it?" Clarke asked, stepping closer.

"I think I remember where I saw some seaweed growing," Ares replied, pointing toward a narrow path that led down to a riverbank. "It should be just ahead."

Clarke felt a flicker of hope. "Let's go then. We can't waste any time."

As they made their way to the riverbank, Ares took a moment to focus, honing his instincts. Herbology Skill Unlocked flashed in his mind, and he felt a rush of knowledge about the different plants and their uses flowing through him.

They reached the water's edge, and Clarke's heart raced as she scanned the area. Sure enough, patches of vibrant green seaweed swayed gently in the current, glistening in the sunlight.

"There it is!" Clarke exclaimed, rushing forward.

Wells followed closely, helping Clarke gather the seaweed, carefully pulling it from the water. Ares kept watch, his senses alert to any sounds of movement in the trees.

"This is perfect," Clarke said, stuffing the seaweed into a makeshift pouch. "We need to get back."

Just as they turned to leave, a deep, resonating horn echoed through the forest, causing Ares to freeze in place. His eyes darted toward the sound, adrenaline surging through him.

"What was that?" Wells asked, tension creeping into his voice.

Clarke's eyes widened. "I don't know. But it can't be good."

Ares's instincts screamed at him to prepare for danger. "It sounds more like a warning," he said, his voice low and steady.

They exchanged uneasy glances, the reality of their situation setting in. They were far from the safety of the dropship, exposed and vulnerable in the wilderness.

"Let's get out of here," Clarke urged, her voice a low whisper.