Chapter 9: Instinct

The horn echoed through the forest, its deep, eerie tone sending a shiver down Ares' spine. He knew what that sound meant. Acid fog. His memories from before—the fractured ones that lingered in the back of his mind—told him exactly what was coming.

They had to move. Now.

"Run!" Ares shouted, already sprinting through the dense undergrowth.

Clarke and Wells, startled by his sudden outburst, exchanged confused glances but followed. Clarke's voice, breathless and demanding, reached his ears as she struggled to keep up. "What's going on? What are we running from?"

Ares didn't answer. There wasn't time to explain. He knew they wouldn't understand, not fully. The fog was coming, and they had only minutes to get out of its path.

"Run first!" Ares called over his shoulder, his heart pounding as he pushed his body faster. "Questions later!"

Wells lagged slightly behind but kept up, the confusion still evident in his voice. "Ares, what the hell is going on?"

Ares' eyes darted around the forest, searching for shelter—somewhere they could take cover. His instincts screamed for him to find safety before the acid fog hit. Through the blur of trees and foliage, he spotted something—a rusted, half-submerged car, its roof just visible through the overgrown brush.

"There!" Ares shouted, pointing to the car. "Get inside! Now!"

Without hesitation, Clarke and Wells followed him as he dashed toward the car. Ares reached it first, gripping the corroded door handle and yanking it open with a grunt. The door creaked and groaned, but finally gave way. Clarke and Wells scrambled inside, and Ares threw himself into the front seat, slamming the door shut behind him.

Just in time.

Through the cracked windows, the yellow, toxic mist began to roll in, creeping like a living thing through the trees. Ares' heart raced as the thick fog consumed the forest floor, swallowing everything in its path. He had seen what it could do. The memories were fuzzy, but the consequences of being caught in the fog were crystal clear.

It killed. Anything that touched it would burn alive.

Clarke pressed herself against the back seat, her eyes wide in fear as she watched the fog spread. "What is that?" she whispered, her voice shaking.

Wells, still catching his breath, glanced outside as well. "That's no normal fog," he said, his voice low. "What the hell is it?"

Ares clenched his fists, trying to calm his racing thoughts. He knew exactly what it was—acid fog, controlled by Mount Weather. But he couldn't explain that to them. Not yet. Not without raising suspicions he wasn't ready to address.

"I don't know," Ares lied, his voice tight. "I just knew we had to move."

Clarke's brow furrowed in disbelief, but before she could press the issue, a new sound caught their attention. From just outside the car, an injured animal—a deer, its body riddled with wounds—stumbled into view. Its legs trembled as it hobbled forward, bleeding from deep cuts on its side. It let out a low, pained cry as it limped past the car, clearly in distress.

The three of them watched in horror as the deer's path intersected with the creeping fog. The instant the yellow mist touched the animal's skin, it screamed—a bloodcurdling, agonizing cry as its flesh began to burn and blister. The deer staggered, its legs buckling under the intense pain, before collapsing onto the hood of the car with a sickening thud.

Clarke gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in shock. "Oh my God…"

Wells turned away, unable to watch as the animal's skin sizzled and melted, the acrid stench of burning fur and flesh filling the car. "It's killing everything," he muttered, his face pale.

Ares clenched his jaw, watching the animal's body twitch before it finally went still. He knew this was only the beginning. If they'd been out there even a minute longer, they would've shared the same fate as the deer. The fog was lethal, and it showed no mercy.

Clarke tore her gaze away from the gruesome sight and looked at Ares, her eyes filled with fear. "How did you know?" she asked, her voice trembling. "How did you know we needed to run?"

Ares didn't answer immediately. His mind raced, searching for an explanation that wouldn't give away too much. The truth was dangerous—he couldn't reveal what he remembered about Mount Weather, or about the acid fog. Not yet.

"I don't know," he lied again, keeping his voice steady. "It was just… instinct."

Clarke didn't seem entirely convinced, but the terror in her eyes kept her from pushing further. Wells, still shaken by the sight of the dying animal, nodded in agreement. "Whatever it was, it saved us," he said, his voice quiet.

The fog outside thickened, swirling around the car like a living entity, but they were safe for now. Ares could feel the tension inside the vehicle, the air heavy with the stench of death and chemicals. They were lucky to have found shelter, but he knew they couldn't stay here forever.

"How long do we wait?" Clarke asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ares kept his eyes on the fog outside. "As long as it takes for the fog to pass," he said. "We can't risk going out there until it's clear."

Wells nodded, though he still looked uneasy. "And what if it doesn't clear?"

Ares didn't answer. He didn't have a good answer for that. They were safe for now, but the longer they stayed in the car, the greater the chance that something—or someone—would find them. Mount Weather controlled the fog. They had to know it was out here, and that meant they were being watched.

Suddenly, the horn sounded again—louder, closer, its haunting call cutting through the silence. Clarke's eyes widened in alarm, and she turned to Ares. "What is that?" she asked, her voice filled with dread.

Ares stared out the window, his mind racing. The horn wasn't meant for them. It was a warning, a signal that something worse was coming. He could feel it in his bones.

"It's a warning," Ares said quietly, his voice grim. "But it's not for us."

The three of them sat in tense silence, waiting as the fog continued to drift through the forest, thick and deadly. The horn echoed once more, its eerie tone filling the air as if to remind them that they were far from safe.

And Ares knew—this was only the beginning.