┏ ━━┅━━━┅━━ ┓
chapter nine!
GAME OF LIFE
┗ ━━┅━━━┅━━ ┛

( warning: in this chapter, there is a brief consideration of self-harm. Nothing actually happens, but I wanted to place this warning here in case anyone is affected by it. The mention is in paragraph four. You can skip that one entirely and move onto the fifth one if the topic affects you in any way. )

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

EMOTIONS ARE MESSY. Ares knows this. He's not afraid of expressing them in the comfort of his own tent, the firelight from a few lingering torches bleeding through the beige canvas. Usually he lets them bottle up until letting the tears burst provides an almost addicting rush of relief. He can feel the volcano starting to activate. Except, for some reason, he can't make himself feel anything right now.

The flickering shadows dance on the ground in time with the moving flames outside. His cocoon of personal space is lit a dim orange, barely bright enough to see through, but still enough to keep him awake. His shared cell used to be pitch black at night; the guards had timed the lights to turn off exactly at 10 pm every day, and then flicker on again at 7 am the next morning.

For the past few nights, this change in environment hadn't bothered him. Now his mind seems to be using every excuse to stay awake. Ares is distantly aware of the emotions swirling inside of him. Panic from the possibility of the flares not working. A sliver of hope that they will. Anger toward Blake. Regret from following the orders meant to cater to Blake's own personal agenda. But, for some reason, these feelings stay cemented behind a concrete wall that he can't open. It's like the key to open his floodgates is lost inside of him. He's feeling these things, but also not at the same time. His body won't give him the catharsis he so desperately needs.

Ares doesn't remember reaching into the pocket of his hoodie until his hand closes around the handle of his knife there. It's like his arm is an extension of himself as he pulls it out, staring in a half-dazed wonder as he considers the blade. He has a high pain tolerance from his fair share of fights in the Underground. He doesn't remember ever crying from an injury – not even when Conan Gallagher had nearly sliced through his eye and given him the scar across his eyebrow and cheek. But he briefly wonders if it's worth a shot to dig the knife into his skin and see how much he can handle. Maybe he'll be forced to let the tears flow and stop feeling so distant, like he's not even attached to his damn body–

Someone yanks the bottom of his tent up until they can see inside. Ares jumps, quickly flicking the blade out toward them, and keeps it there once he registers Blake crouched there with an unreadable expression on his face.

"What?" Ares demands with a bit more sharpness than necessary.

Blake doesn't look affected by his venom. He eyes the knife warily and raises his hands in surrender. "Octavia's missing. I need you to come with us to find her."

"I'm sorry?" he slips the knife back into his pocket before tilting his ear toward the man mockingly. "Did I hear you right? Did you just say that you need me?"

"Cut the shit," Blake deadpans. "My sister's out there completely alone."

Knowing the only sibling on the face of the Ark and her wild tendencies, she's probably just off exploring a stream or whatever. Octavia doesn't seem like the type to be locked up anywhere for long. Considering the fact she'd apparently been hidden under the floor for nearly sixteen years, he can't really blame her.

"How sad. Allow me to recite a beautiful piece of poetry I've been working on: Fuck you."

Blake rolls his eyes, the gesture so dramatic that his head moves with the motion. He somehow takes Ares' sarcasm as an invitation to further invade his personal space and walks fully into the tent. The canvas closes around them. Ares shoots to his feet, mouth twisting into a scowl as dark as the night sky at the unwelcome invasion.

But Blake doesn't look pissed off anymore– he just looks desperate. In fact, this is one of the rare times when he doesn't seem to be wearing a façade anymore. It's visible in his eyes how worried he is about Octavia. It's notable in his pinched eyebrows and posture. In the emotions exuding from him like too-strong cologne.

Ares admits that he doesn't know what it's like to have a sibling. Nobody does. He can't relate to the utter anguish on Blake's face, like the mere thought of Octavia facing the unknown without him is causing physical pain.

And Blake utters the one word Ares never thought he'd hear come out of his mouth. "Please."

No manipulation. No guarantee that Ares will get something out of it. Just one last plead for help.

Just a brother looking out for his sister.

For a moment, Ares feels powerful. The co-leader of their camp is admitting that he needs their help. He has everything to lose if Ares doesn't say yes. In a turn of events that neither of them had seen coming, the younger boy has the upper hand. And both of them know it.

Ares finds himself nodding before he can even process that he's doing it. "Fine. But you owe me after this– big time."

Blake's posture slumps in relief, though he tries to hide it. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. I didn't promise that I could find her."

The older man nods as if to say, Fair enough. He turns his back on Ares and lifts the flap of the tent again to leave. "We head out in five. Be ready. I had Jasper save a spear for you."

Ares shakes his head even though Blake isn't facing his way. "No need; I have my knives."

Then he's alone again. It dawns on him that he hasn't gotten a wink of sleep, though he isn't tired whatsoever. He might regret that in a few hours. If one thing's for sure, he's learned that hunting in the woods is more physically taxing than anything he's used to. He'll be lucky if he doesn't pass out in a ditch.

Ares grabs his jacket from its crumpled-up ball on the ground and pulls it on over his olive green sweatshirt. He does a brief inventory of his weapons, then he's walking out of his tent and into the crisp air before he can second-guess his decision.

He locates Jasper fairly easily; everyone is on high alert. It seems like Blake had woken the entire fucking camp in his frenzy to locate Octavia and assemble a search party. A few kids are holding makeshift clubs. He notices Monroe inspecting a handmade axe, rust-colored braids gleaming in the light of a nearby bonfire.

The raven-haired boy shifts from foot to foot nervously. There's a dark bruise on one of his cheekbones, still healing from his time being used as live bait. The purple and red mix in it informs Ares that it'll be a while yet before the injury fades. It makes his face look bonier and sharper than it had when they'd first landed.

"What's up? You look like you just killed a man," Jasper says as a means of greeting.

Ares lets out a huff, though his stomach knots at the comment. "Yep, that's the look I was going for when I was basically dragged out of my tent."

Jasper, seeming to realize his poor word usage, winces. "Sorry. I sometimes, er, speak without thinking."

"I've noticed."

The kid rocks back and forth on his heels nervously. He looks like he doesn't know what to do with Ares in his presence, large brown eyes skittering over the camp as if he isn't sure where to look. Or maybe he's always on constant alert now after all he's been through since they landed.

First being speared through the chest, then being kidnapped and used as bait while a panther stalked from below, waiting for him to die, and finding Wells' fingers. There's an invisible shadow hanging over him. Ares knows the feeling well.

"Uh, Clarke told me that you were part of the group that helped rescue me," Jasper says. "I already thanked everyone else, so... thanks."

Ares remembers how he'd considered putting Jasper out of his misery after his screams had kept the entire camp awake for two full days. He now discovers that he can't be mean to this kid after all he's been through in such a short amount of time. So, instead of brushing off the gratitude or hurting his feelings with a snide comment, Ares replies with, "No problem."

Their interaction is cut short by the sound of people cheering. The two boys turn around to see a cluster of excited teenagers pointing at the sky, their mystified sounds mixing into the air. Ares is curious enough to walk closer and join them, turning his gaze to the sky. Hundreds of silver streaks light up the night as if the stars are falling down to greet them. It's beautiful, but Ares can't recall what's causing this phenomenon. Meteor showers don't look like this, and according to the reports he remembers reading, there isn't one scheduled for a while. Maybe it's some sort of side-effect from radiation.

Raven comes out of nowhere. Her voice snaps Ares' attention away from the sky, causing him to look at her as she comes up behind Collins and Clarke and says miserably, "They didn't work. They didn't see the flares."

Blake raises a doubtful eyebrow. "A meteor shower tells you that?"

"It's not a meteor shower, it's a funeral," Clarke replies thickly. The nearby torchlight illuminates the tears gathered in her eyes, lining her lower lids with silver as she turns her gaze to Blake. "Hundreds of bodies being returned to the Earth from the Ark. This is what it looks like from the other side. They didn't get our message."

From Ares' right, Jasper swallows as if sensing an oncoming storm.

It happens in the form of Raven. She shoves herself between Collins and Clarke, pouncing toward Blake with the unrestrained fury of a lioness. "This is all because of you!"

He's quick to jump to his own defense as Collins and Clarke hold Raven back. "I helped you look for the radio."

"Yeah, after you jacked it from my pod and trashed it!"

"Yeah, he knows," Clarke agrees, her voice returned back to its normal steadiness as she shoots Blake a glare. "Now he has to live with it."

Blake swallows and glances up at the sky once more. For a moment, a flicker of grief flashes in his eyes before it's quickly buried under his usual mask of cold indifference. "All I know is that my sister is out there and I'm gonna find her." His eyes drift to Collins. "You coming, or what?"

"Yeah," Collins answers quietly. He looks tense now that he's been brought into the conversation.

An uncomfortable silence smothers the camp for a few seconds until Blake breaks it. "Well, what are we waitin' for? Move out!"

Ares doesn't follow right away. Obeying orders so quickly would make him seem like an obedient lapdog, and, anyway, he's more interested in the conversation that Clarke starts up.

"Three hundred won't be enough," she says in dismay. "The oxygen level will just keep dropping, and if we don't tell them that we can survive down here, they'll kill more people– they have to."

"Guys," Jasper interjects. He's holding a torch now, the flames warming the side of Ares' cheek and casting them all in a soft golden glow. "They're leaving. We gotta go."

"Wouldn't wanna disappoint Blake by not showin' up, huh?" Ares drawls sarcastically as he shoves his hands into his jacket pockets and shifts his weight nonchalantly.

Collins steps forward and turns toward the two girls. Upon noticing Raven's dejected expression and Clarke's frustrated one, he explains, "I gotta do this. And you should stay and fix the radio, okay?"

"Fix it?" Raven repeats incredulously with both eyebrows raised. "The transmitter's smashed! Unless there's a parts depot around here, we're not talking to the Ark."

Clarke sucks her bottom lip into her mouth in thought before an idea strikes her. She takes a step toward Collins with a newfound resolve. "Art supply store."

Whatever that means, it must be a piece of information only they know, and Raven latches onto that fact immediately. She glances between them as they all wait for an explanation. Clarke and Collins' eyes communicate a silent message that makes the air grow tense.

The blonde finally breaks it and turns toward Raven. "I know a place you might be able to get a transmitter."

Finn seems jittery all of a sudden. His nervous energy is unlike him– Ares scarcely remembers a time that something had made him lose his cool. But whatever this 'art supply store' is, something about it rattles him enough that he has to express his discomfort.

Raven notices, too. She gives him a weird look before saying a little too loudly to break the suddenly awkward atmosphere, "Great. It looks like you're coming with me instead."

A moment's hesitation from Collins; he doesn't seem happy with Clarke staying behind. Ares wonders if it's an inappropriate time to be biting back a smirk. He's uncomfortable with a situation that could have been entirely avoidable if he'd simply thought with his head and not his dick.

"Finn?" Jasper interrupts again, causing Collins to turn around. "We're not gonna find her without you."

Ares admits that he's only here to observe the drama at this point. There's really no need for him to be here– until Raven's eyes flicker to him. "Ortega, can you give us a hand in finding a transmitter?"

He shakes his head. "Sorry, Reyes. I made a promise to Blake that I'd join him on this little adventure."

"Yeah, 'cause you seem like the type to keep your promises," Collins jabs.

Ares' words fill with venom even though he keeps his face placid. "Maybe I'm turning over a new leaf."

He's not, and he hadn't even promised Blake anything. He just doesn't want to go on a trip that's bound to get awkward with how painfully obvious Collins is being. Ironically enough, spending the better part of his night wandering through the woods with a search party sounds more inviting than one-on-one time with Clarke and Raven. That bomb is ticking and is bound to explode soon. Ares doesn't want to be there when it does.

Collins sighs and turns back toward the two girls. "Be careful."

He starts to turn away after that, but Raven grabs his arm with a confused, "Hey." Almost as a reassurance to herself, she steps forward and presses her lips to his– a kiss that Collins returns halfheartedly. She pulls away just enough to say, "I love you."

It's nearly painful to watch. Especially when Collins waits a whole five seconds before replying, "I love you, too," and the words still sound guilty.

Ares barely contains a grimace when Collins' eyes flicker to where Clarke stands behind Raven before he draws back and heads for the front gate. He couldn't be any less subtle, really, and it sucks for both girls involved. Clarke seems like she's been trying to retreat ever since yesterday. Collins keeps roping her back into something she no longer wants to be a part of.

His heart aches. Especially because he recognizes the mix of confusion and hurt on Raven's face all too well– he'd worn the same expression once.

"Hey, uh..." he begins, causing Clarke's attention to turn to him. "Tell Nate where I went, okay? The bastard's probably counting sheep in his tent for once and might think I'm dead when he wakes up."

Clarke nods, grateful for the distraction that takes her mind off of the long-haired tracker. "Yeah."

Ares doesn't thank her. Instead, he gives her a nod and follows the ever-shrinking light of Jasper's torch.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

The night stretches on. Collins keeps them on track by occasionally pointing out minor divots in the dirt that look like footprints, but there's enough of them bunched together that Ares lingers in the back without getting chastised like a toddler.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a package of rations that he'd kept from when he and Nate had left to find Raven's escape pod. Opening the package, he pops them into his mouth one at a time, steps considerably less alert and careful as the others'.

"Are you serious?" one of the girls asks with a wrinkled brow. Her long, black hair goes down to the middle of her back, bronze skin without a blemish. Brown eyes scrutinize him from head to toe. "The rations aren't just yours to eat whenever you want."

"My bad," Ares responds without an ounce of regret. "I'll gut a rabbit on our way back for everyone to eat if it makes you feel better."

The girl sighs and shakes her head, clearly not in the mood for arguing with him. He returns to snacking as if she'd never spoken.

The trees almost completely obscure the moon from sight. The only light they have is that of the few torches they'd brought with them, which make Ares afraid they'll start a forest fire with how close the plants are to the wandering flames. Luckily, Jasper seems to be cautious of how he's holding the burning stick of wood. The other boys, on the other hand... Ares watches the leaping flames in case he needs to push a section of leaves out of the way.

John Mbege's voice calls out from the front of the crowd. "Look! Over here!"

Ares, curiosity piqued, merges into the crowd until he can see what the boy is pointing at. They arrive at a steep slope that is half-covered in partially dead bushes. Something is caught in the branches. Squinting hard, he's able to make out the image of a belt haphazardly dangling from the cluster of spindly sticks.

"What is it?" Blake asks as he emerges from the trees.

"Right there. You see it?" Mbege shines the light of his lantern in the direction of the object. "Is that Octavia's?"

Instead of answering right away, Blake holds out his hand and says, "Rope."

The kid next to him hands him a coil. Blake secures one hand to the trunk of the closest tree using a system of complicated knots that Ares is surprised he's familiar with.

"What are you doing?" Collins asks.

"You should know," Ares says through his last mouthful of rations. "Aren't you the tracker?"

Ignoring him, Blake straightens up and tosses the other end of the coil down the slope. "We need the rope to get back up." He sticks his hand out to Mbege. "Flashlight."

Mbege hands him the lantern. Bellamy holds it in one hand, and, with the other gripping loosely onto the rope, he gracefully skids down the uneven grass until he reaches the bushes. He takes the belt in his hands and shines the light onto it.

"It's hers!" he announces to the rest of the group, eyes locked on the bottom of the slope. It's invisible due to the thicket and mass of shadows obscuring it from their view. "I'm going all the way down."

It's Jasper who moves next. He walks to the front of the line and passes his torch to Collins, who takes it with a proud smirk, some sort of inside joke that Ares doesn't understand. The kid secures his spear into his belt loops before taking hold of the rope and starting to follow after Blake.

Looks like there's more to the scrawny kid with goggles than he'd thought.

"Is he serious?" one boy snorts from the back.

"I didn't see you volunteering to go first," Ares shoots in response as he walks up to the edge of the slope and grabs onto the rope, watching Jasper disappear into the thicket of bushes. He shoves the empty bag of rations into his pocket before securing a firm yet loose grip on the rope. It allows him to skid down the small cliff without burning his hands or tumbling down it.

At the last second, his foot snags on a crooked root and nearly makes him eat dirt at the bottom of the ditch. His arms cartwheel to catch his balance and he jumps the rest of the way to prevent his otherwise inevitable fall. A shock of pain travels up his legs from his harsh landing.

Jasper snickers. Upon Ares' deliverance of a withering glare, he quickly sobers up.

Ares walks closer to what he and Blake are inspecting. In the pale light of the lantern, he can barely make out specs of blood on a flattened rock that's set deeply into the dirt. What draws his attention the most is the giant footprint directly beside the small puddle of crimson. Ares' eyebrows draw in closer, tilting his head to the side as he regards the impression in the ground. The print is way too large to be from a teenage girl.

Collins lands next, the flames of his torch narrowly missing the overhanging leaves of a nearby tree. Blake looks up at the longer-haired tracker with a new sense of urgency – and, dare Ares to assume it – fear in his eyes.

"Someone else was here," he mutters.

Collins kneels beside them to get a closer look at the print. The three of them share grave glances that Ares doesn't need to join in on in order to understand that this is a game-changer. Someone else being here coincidentally seems too far-fetched to be plausible. Is someone else looking for Octavia? Or, worse– did someone take her?

Ares smothers down a wry grin. This just got a hell of a lot more exciting.

The tracker points down the path leading away from the ditch. "The prints are deeper that way. He was carrying her."

"If they took her, she's alive," Jasper offers after a beat of tense silence. Out of all of them, he should know.

Ares briefly wonders if searching for Octavia is bringing back any unpleasant memories from Jasper. After all, this situation is eerily similar to his. To their knowledge, though, the younger Blake sibling hadn't been speared in the chest, but she had apparently been kidnapped and had left a trail of blood and clothing for them to follow.

And yet whatever fear Jasper feels is carefully hidden by a veil of optimism. He's choosing to look at the bright side of things instead of considering the awful possibilities that could come to mind otherwise.

Ares gets his answer when Jasper's smile falters a bit and he continues, "Like when they took me."

Wrong thing to say. Blake's eyes flicker with despair for a moment– likely because he'd been hit with the image of his sister tied to a tree as Jasper had. Then, with clipped movements, he straightens up and wordlessly leads them on their way.

The walk stretches on. Ares takes a few moments to consider the fact that, if the circumstances had been different, this would be the perfect time to admire the forest's appearance at night. The branches of the trees obscure the sky from view, so they have to rely entirely on their single flashlight and four torches to illuminate their path. Ares loves the way that the shadows dance along the trunks and how the chill air nips at his exposed cheeks. Anyone else would consider their surroundings ominous, but the open woods are where he feels the freest.

He snaps out of his daze when Monroe sucks in a startled breath from beside him. Ares follows her gaze to see that they've halted in front of what appears to be the entrance to the Grounders' territory. It's quite obvious by the skeletons hanging from the trees, their bodies long decomposed and bones left to rot in the elements. Some of them still have threads of clothing hanging off of them.

The message is clear: enter and you'll end up just like the unlucky bastards posted here.

"I don't speak Grounder," Collins says, "but I'm pretty sure this means 'keep out.'"

"Let's get out of here," one of the boys behind him suggests. Several others voice their agreement. Ares doesn't blame them– they thought they'd be simply looking for Octavia, not entering obviously dangerous territory lined with rotting skeletons tied to the tree trunks.

His fear doesn't weigh him down, though. It fuels him on.

"Go back if you want," Blake tells them without judgment in his tone. "My sister, my responsibility."

And with that, he storms right past the threshold, the path flanked by two skeletons that are missing a few parts and with determination filling his posture. The rest of them stand still as they decide what to do.

"I'd walk into hell to find her," Jasper says decisively, following after Blake.

Ares raises his eyebrows. That's a very bold statement– he hadn't known the two were that close.

He and Collins end up moving at the same time. For a moment, a rare instance of civility passes between them as they meet eyes. They both seem to realize that they're in deep shit, and those who are in deep shit stick together whether they like it or not. It's like a bond settles over the small group that decides to defy the explicit warning left by the Grounders. Ares shudders when he feels it.

And he knows that there's absolutely no going back now. As he walks past the skeletons, he reaches out and lets his hand skim one of theirs in an ironic high five. The bone breaks off and rolls onto the grass.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

They don't sleep. Ares is aware of the fatigue that makes his eyes feel heavy and droopy, his body feeling achy and mind foggy. They've been walking for hours with little to no evidence that they're even headed in the right direction. It makes Ares wonder if they should give up at this point– they're in enemy territory, most of them haven't slept in twenty-four hours, and they're in no position to keep going.

Dawn had broken a few hours ago. The once-dark forest is now smothered with pale yellow light, turning the previously black grass and trees a vibrant green that still shocks Ares' eyes. The sun filters through small openings in the canopy of leaves overhead. However, the foliage is still thick enough that they have a decent amount of shade and aren't blinded by light.

After a few more moments of useless walking, Collins announces with a sigh, "I got nothin'. We lost the trail."

"Great," Ares mutters under his breath. Did he just waste a good night's sleep on a hopeless cause?

"Keep looking," Blake urges, reluctant to give up hope so easily.

Collins swivels his head from side to side with a frown. He shakes his head and sighs again, shoulders stiff as he searches for another clue of the missing girl. None of the usual signals are there: no footprints, no broken branches, no signs of a struggle. They didn't just lose the trail– they're probably going in the complete opposite direction.

"Wandering around aimlessly isn't the way to find your sister," Collins points out as if he'd been reading Ares' mind. "We should backtrack—"

"I'm not going back!" Blake interrupts not loudly but sternly, leaving no room for an argument. It's clear he's too desperate to listen to reason. Nothing Collins says will change his mind— he hadn't thought it would take this long and now he's antsy, yearning for a positive sign.

It becomes clear he isn't going to get one soon when a girl named Roma questions, "Hey, where's John?"

The group of seven collectively stops and turns around. Ares' gaze scans over everyone carefully. She's right— Mbege is nowhere to be seen.

"I just saw him a second ago," Jasper says quietly, his wiry body tense as he grips his makeshift spear a little tighter.

"Spread out," Blake orders. "He couldn't have gotten that far."

Ares' instincts scream at him to step back. As soon as he does so, the body of John Mbege plummets down from above and lands directly where he'd been standing.

His throat has been slit, lifeless eyes staring blankly at the sky and blood soaking through the front of his blue jacket. His bronze skin is already losing some of its color even though it's been mere seconds after his demise.

Ares tilts his gaze upward, but all he can see are the tops of the trees. There's no sign of whoever had killed him. And for them to have done it so silently without any of them hearing anything...

He slips two knives out and clenches both in his fists. They won't do much if he gets into close combat with someone with a sword or another type of longer weapon, but if he sees a Grounder from afar and has a decent shot, he can hurl a blade at them.

Collins and Blake sprint closer to inspect the body. Collins' breath releases in a short pant as he realizes aloud, "They use the trees."

A bird gives a screeching cry. Others join in on the chorus, making every noise feel like a threat. It sounds like a song of the damned— a soundtrack to each of their inevitable demises.

"We shouldn't have crossed the boundary," another boy named Diggs says as he apprehensively shifts from foot to foot. He looks to be one of the older ones in the bunch, strawberry blond hair cut short and anxiety pulsing in his blue eyes.

"Now can we go back?" Roma questions. Her expression is one of pure terror that mirrors Diggs', her sharp jaw tense with fear.

"There," Jasper says, pointing to his right-hand side with the end of his spear. Ares subtlety inches closer to see a figure dressed in all-black standing hundreds of feet away. Whatever gear they wear makes their body look stocky, but it also means the Grounders are equipped with armor. He can't risk throwing a knife from so far away and without knowledge of the armor they wear.

Ares' jaw clenches. He finds strength in the handles of his knives.

Diggs moves beside Roma, releasing a shuddering breath as he looks to their left. "Another one."

After a third figure's movement flashes in Ares' peripheral vision, Collins whispers, "We should run."

The tracker takes off like a rocket. Ares moves so fast he's practically on his heels in seconds, distantly award of Blake panting behind him and the Grounders flanking then on either side. As he runs, he quickly darts his gaze to the right and makes a mental note of the shield in the Grounder's hand. Not a very good target.

"Ortega!"

Blake's voice shouts in Ares' ear as he yanks him to the side by the collar of his jacket, choking him in the process but ultimately saving him from careening directly into a tree trunk. He'd been so preoccupied with assessing the enemy that he'd forgotten that they're surrounded by obstacles. The pull puts him off-balance, making him stumble dangerously, but Blake forces him upright and pushes him along.

A bond.

Collins leads them to the left. The group follows, but so do the Grounders, blocking them from splitting up or heading in any other direction.

"What are we gonna do? They keep heading us off!" Diggs shouts from where he runs near the back of the line.

"Just keep running!" Collins replies as he grabs onto a slim tree trunk, swinging around it to use it as leverage to pull him along faster.

Jasper's labored voice yells back, "I can't run much longer!"

"I'm not stopping for him." Diggs continues sprinting past them all, a flash of determination crossing his pale face until all Ares can see is the back of him.

Blake, in contrast, stops completely. A dark sneer pulls down his lips as he yanks his hatchet out of his belt loops and turns back toward the group. "I'm sick of running, anyway."

"Hey, what are you doing?" Collins asks breathlessly, grabbing his arm.

"They know where she is."

The hair on the nape of Ares' neck stands straight up. He glances to his left to see a masked Grounder heading right toward them, a sight that spurs Roma into panicked action.

"Diggs! Where are you?" she cries as she runs in the general direction he'd gone, careful to avoid the threat making a beeline toward them.

The boy's disembodied voice replies, "Roma!"

They have no choice but to follow after her— they don't have anywhere else to go with the Grounders closing in on both sides. Ares jumps over rocks and feels his feet slide on loose soil as he runs. A terrified scream makes his blood sing. All signs of fatigue have vanished. His vision is sharper than ever, mind aware of every person around him and every pound of his feet on the dirt.

"Wait! Roma!" Blake cries as her long, raven hair disappears around a cluster of trees.

"There could be more!" Collins yells, grabbing onto his jacket and pulling him back just before he collides with a trap. "Stop!"

Ares skids to a halt beside Monroe. Diggs' body is hanging over some sort of human-sized trap, likely activated by a tripwire that he hadn't noticed. A paddle covered with spikes is embedded deep into his chest. The boy's arms hang over it lifelessly, blood trickling from his mouth in a stream of bright crimson that sends a chill down Ares' spine.

"They were leading us here," Jasper realizes. "It's the only direction we could run in."

"Eyes peeled," Ares tells them, scanning the tops of the trees in case one of the Grounders decides to pick them off as they had with Mbege.

"Wait." Collins looks behind them, noticing the rare silence for the first time. "Where'd they go?"

As if on cue, another high-pitched scream comes from ahead.

Blake's eyes fill with an unreadable emotion. "After Roma."

He moves around the swinging trap to chase after her again. Collins follows, then Ares, who finds himself grateful that at least Diggs' death had been instantaneous. Dying a slow death on that torture device would have been terrible. Plus, they would have had to mercy kill him, anyway. His groans of pain would have alerted the Grounders to their group's exact location.

He can't help but feel it— the thrill of excitement that makes his blood hum and limbs fill with adrenaline as he sprints, the clean air cold in his lungs. This... this is some real entertainment. The possibility of death and the rapture of the unknown make a smirk pull up the corners of his mouth. He's going to hell for thinking it, but, God damn him, he's never felt so alive since he landed on this planet.

A chuckle escapes his lips, a half-crazy sound, and he's distantly aware of Jasper giving him a bewildered look as they run after Roma. He knows how this makes him look: like he really does live up to the whole Psycho nickname. At this moment, though, he doesn't care.

They slow to a stop once they catch sight of Roma ducking behind a tree trunk, only her shoulder visible to their eyes.

"There she is," Monroe says just above a whisper, nodding in that direction. Her voice comes out in a hiss. "Roma!"

The girl doesn't move. Ares' brow creases when she doesn't peer around the trunk to see them– is she that paranoid? But something else gnaws at Ares' stomach and tells him that it's not mere paranoia that's rooting her in place. No, something is wrong.

Blake catches up to them and doesn't hesitate before darting ahead to get Roma's attention from a better angle. Ares shrugs before storming after him, his adrenaline making his hands tremble. He'd put one of his knives away so he wouldn't accidentally impale himself as he ran, and now he clenches his hand around the handle of his remaining one as he hops over the uneven terrain.

Soon, they learn why Roma hadn't listened to them. A Grounder had impaled her to the tree with a spear positioned directly in the center of her chest– just like they had with Jasper, according to the stories Ares had heard. Her head has flopped to one side and the blood trail from her mouth is nearly identical to Diggs'.

Finn casts a frustrated glance around the seemingly empty forest. "They're playing with us."

Blake's expression is weighed with guilt as he reaches up to Roma's face and closes her eyes with a gentle touch. He swallows thickly, jaw tensing with the movement. "She only came because of me."

"They can kill us whenever they want," Finn continues as if he hadn't heard Blake, casting a glance at Jasper, who gulps nervously and shifts from foot to foot.

In a flash, that anxiety hardens into anger. Ares catches the moment Jasper's dark eyes sharpen and become lit with a fiery rage that makes his entire body tense. A defiant scream comes out of his small frame. "Then they should get it over with! Come on!"

Ares stands and watches with unveiled amusement as Collins races over to shut Jasper up, Monroe jumping back at his abruptly loud tone.

"We know you're out there!"

Blake races forward to help quiet him down. Collins grabs Jasper by the shoulders and shushes him violently, practically throttling the boy.

"We know you want to kill us!"

Collins whirls toward Ares and notices the glint in his eye. "You think this is funny?"

"Bellamy!" Monroe's shrill yell rises above all of their combined voices, pointing toward where the Grounders are now taking Jasper's words to heart and running toward them.

Ares takes out his other knife and pulls the one in his dominant left hand up near his chest, blade out. The remaining one stays at his side. The adrenaline still coursing like acid in his veins makes him shift from foot to foot as the dwindling group packs closer and closer together. He catches sight of one, two, maybe even three Grounders closing in on them. There's a flicker of genuine fear that hits him for a split second– that maybe this is the end. These enemies are far more advanced and skilled with weapons than a ragtag bunch of criminal teenagers.

And then a horn bellows through the forest, causing every single Grounder to freeze in nearly perfect synchronization. The horn echoes again. This time, they actively turn and retreat, Ares watches curiously as the Grounders seem to forget about their existence, deeming this call more dire than killing them.

"They're leaving," Blake remarks.

Ares widens his eyes, filling his voice with a false and overly-dramatic amount of wonder as he turns toward the bronze-skinned man. "No way! Thanks, Blake. I never would have figured that out by using my goddamn eyes."

Though Blake shoots him a deadly glare, Jasper ignores their banter. The vitality he'd exhibited earlier has vanished. Now, he's back to his usual, jittery self. "That horn. What does it mean?"

"Acid fog," Collins answers. He rips one of their tents from his pack, unfolding it without looking.

Monroe eyes it warily. "We have to run."

Collins shakes his head. "There's no time."

He throws the tent up to cover all of them. Ares reluctantly sheaths his knives so he doesn't accidentally cut a hole in the thing and singlehandedly kill them all. They duck closer together, scrambling to set down weapons and also not crack their skulls together. It proves to be difficult with Jasper's lanky limbs and general flailing movements, Collins' height, and so on. A few moments pass before their heads are beneath the canvas and bodies pressed way too close together for comfort.

"Press down on every edge of the fabric," Collins orders. "We can't have any of that fog getting in here."

"We'll all suffocate before the fog can even pass," Ares points out dryly as he places his foot over a stubborn edge that keeps popping up.

Seeming to realize this also, Collins turns to Jasper, whose breaths are still labored and heavy from running. "Right. Small and shallow breaths, everyone. Conserve oxygen."

Ares positions himself so his chin is inches from the dirt. His neck is already beginning to ache from craning his head up like this, using his elbows as leverage. It doesn't make the situation any more comfortable.

"How long are we supposed to wait?" Jasper asks after a few more minutes of complete silence.

"Will this even work?" Monroe questions with a disbelieving frown. Ares finds himself agreeing with her on that one; there's a slim chance that the tent will even save them from the sulfuric fog.

Collins sighs. "We'll find out."

Blake frowns, seeming to debate something momentarily before saying, "No, we won't," and flipping the canvas over his head. "There's no fog."

Ares quickly throws the canvas off of him and scrambles to his feet, scanning the surrounding forest. Blake is right– the woods are completely clear, no sign of the telltale yellow cloud rushing toward them. Even the birds are still chirping. If they were in danger, all of the animals would have fled as the boar had on their hunting trip.

"Maybe it was a false alarm," Collins suggests as he, too, pops to his feet.

Ares doubts that for some reason. It seems unlikely that someone would blow the horn without being completely sure of the fog's arrival, especially knowing the kind of danger it poses.

A flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. He knows what it means before Blake says grimly, "They're coming back."

"I think he's alone," Jasper whispers.

After a quick survey, Ares determines that it's a possibility. There aren't any more figures working to surround them anymore. Unless any of them are hiding in the trees, Ares is fairly certain that it has become five against one.

"Now can we run?" Monroe asks, crouched low and ready to start bolting.

But as the Grounder runs along the terrain, it quickly becomes obvious that he's not heading toward them. He seems to be heading for something else.

Blake realizes this as well. His voice comes out in a growl. "He doesn't see us. I'm going after him."

Collins places a hand on his chest to stop him. "And what? Kill him?"

"No. Catch him, make him tell me where Octavia is, then kill him."

It's with those words that Blake storms after the oblivious Grounder like a predator stalking its prey. Ares wonders why he hadn't enlisted their help in his little mission. Surely, five people against one ought to have shifted the odds in their favor. But he's determined. And, apparently, there's no force in this world capable of stopping a brother from finding his sister.

"How does he know he's not leading us to another trap?" Jasper asks in a whisper.

"We don't," Collins replies miserably.

Ares reaches over and lightly hits Jasper on the shoulder. The younger boy flinches at the unexpected touch, meeting Ares' amused gaze with his dumbfounded one at the teasing action.

"Now you're thinkin' like a survivor."

Monroe sets her jaw, copper-colored braids gleaming in the light that catches them. "We should go after him, just in case. And to get away from the Grounders who were hunting us."

Collins nods in agreement. It seems that, in Blake's absence, he has become their leader. Well– Jasper and Monroe's leader. Technically, under the new rules of the camp, Ares only loosely listens to Blake and Clarke. That's why he doesn't wait for a signal or anything before scampering across the rugged terrain after Blake.

His tracking skills are mediocre, but he does manage to follow a set of footprints that only a hastily-moving person would leave judging by their lightness. He manages to locate Blake hiding behind a clump of bushes, his brown eyes following the Grounder's movements with a keen sharpness. He doesn't notice his arrival.

Ares keeps his footfalls silent as he approaches Blake, ducking down beside him and whispering, "If your game of Follow the Leader is part of your brilliant plan, it doesn't seem like it's working."

Blake jumps and yanks his hatchet out of his belt loops, pointing it at Ares, who merely raises an eyebrow without flinching. The older man sighs and responds in an equally quiet tone, "He's going somewhere. I think he'll end up leading me right to Octavia."

Ares twists his mouth to the side and directs his gaze back toward the Grounder they're spying on. He moves with the kind of purpose one only travels in if they have a clear destination in mind. And, if Ares' eyes aren't deceiving him, he catches sight of a peculiar object clipped to the man's hip.

A horn. More specifically, a foghorn. Ares doesn't know if every single Grounder carries one in the event that they run into the acid fog and need to warn the others, but if not... why had this guy blown it?

Ares' eyes land on a system of caves next. They're barely visible due to the moss and shrubbery that surrounds their mouths, but he's certain that's what they are. And the Grounder is headed right toward them.

He elbows Blake hard in the ribs. The man grunts, glaring at Ares until he follows his gaze and notices the caves.

"Seems like a great place to keep a teenage girl hostage," Ares says meaningfully.

Just then, footsteps behind them alert them of the arrival of the rest of their group. Collins latches onto the sight of the cave system immediately. His hair is windswept, and, for some reason, Ares' brain chooses now to notice that it's shorter than it had been yesterday. Instead of falling to his shoulders, it now stops just below his ears.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Collins questions through a heavy exhale.

Blake nods. His eyes shine with newfound hope in spite of all the death they'd seen today, choosing to cling to it instead of focusing on the bad. "My sister's in there."

"We'd better go before we lose him," Ares points out as he nods toward the Grounder, who is getting closer and closer to the caves with every one of his bounding leaps.

They scamper closer. The Grounder disappears into the first cave, rounding a corner that makes him disappear from their view. Ares relaxes once he's sure they're in the clear from the man's eyesight. He stands, stretching out his aching legs. Being in that position after running for so long had caused his muscles to lock up.

There's a shriek from within that sounds distinctly like Octavia. Blake tenses, resolution turning his eyes dark and face murderous.

"What's the plan?" Jasper asks, eyes skittering across the cave system.

"We go in, we ambush him, we rescue my sister," Blake replies blankly.

Ares snorts. "Thank you for the extraordinary amount of detail. I have no doubts that this amazing plan will fail."

"Just take out your knives and shut the hell up."

Ares is glad to do exactly that. He grabs his trusty two once more, taking his usual mental inventory of his remaining weapons in case things go south. Waistband. Both boots. His other pockets. Yeah, he should be fine.

Monroe holds securely onto her axe. Jasper tightens his grip on his spear. Blake takes out his hatchet. And, together, they head into the cave.

It's dark– Ares realizes this quickly. The lack of lighting makes him struggle to see as his eyes adjust, making him nearly bonk into walls due to the series of turns that block the sunlight from entering the cave. His vision finally clears the moment they reach the interior, rounding one last corner and finding themselves in a small yet homey space complete with Octavia chained in the corner.

"Bellamy?" she questions, voice full of hope and yet disbelief. Her raven hair is messier than he's ever seen it. Twigs and stray leaves are caught in the matted strands, pale face covered in dirt and what looks like blood. Her cheeks are damp with what could be tears or sweat or both.

Her name comes out in a rush of breath from Blake. "Octavia."

He rushes toward her, hurrying to release her from the restraints that are securing her to the wall. Ares doesn't know what to do. There isn't really much. The Grounder whom they'd followed is passed out on the floor, a jagged line of blood lining the side of his bald head and spilling crimson onto his dark skin. It seems that Octavia had knocked him out with a rock that's near her feet and half-covered in blood, then stolen the key from him just before they'd arrived.

Collins steps closer to the Grounder, head tilted to the side as he regards the foghorn. Ares stands back since he knows about this revelation. He just isn't sure what the hell it means.

"Monroe, Ortega, watch the entrance," Blake orders as he finally gets the cuffs unlocked, allowing Octavia to spring free and launch herself into his arms. This is a rare moment of vulnerability that Ares scarcely sees from Blake. At this moment, he's not a murderer, or an asshole, or even the co-leader of their camp. He's just an older brother clinging to his little sister like a lifeline.

Their heartfelt hug is the last thing Ares sees before he and Monroe wind back through the tunnel toward the mouth of the cave. The girl is grim-faced, dirt-smudged cheeks tense as she sweeps a hardened gaze over the forest. The color of her eyes matches the surrounding leaves.

"I'm glad we found her," Monroe says quietly, though her voice is stern. "I just wish we wouldn't have lost two people along the way."

Ares fights off the urge to shrug. It doesn't seem like the time to point out that they'd all signed up for chaos as soon as they'd stepped foot into the Grounders' territory, or that Diggs should have watched his step instead of sprinting blindly to save his own ass. Something tells him that he would only get sliced by the sharp blade of her weapon, so he merely replies with a short, "Yeah."

There's a thud from inside the cave. Ares' eyebrows crease, but it could be a number of things. He doesn't find anything to worry about until Octavia's terrified scream echoes around the twists and turns.

"Stop! That's my brother!"

Monroe and Ares share a look, unsure of whether to help or continue to guard the entrance, both of which are vital.

In the end, he says to Monroe, "Stay here," and plunges back into the darkness of the tunnel.

There's a whack and a thud that makes him move faster, nearly running until he gets to the main interior. Blake is on the ground, holding the pointed end of a spear toward his own throat for some reason. Octavia is standing near the wall. The Grounder is sprawled face-first on the floor in a different spot than he'd been before. And Collins has a knife sticking out of his chest.

It takes a moment for the pieces to fit together. Collins had been close to the man. Evidently, the Grounder hadn't been knocked out at all– he'd simply seized the opportunity to stab Collins and try to kill Blake with the spear. And Jasper, who is holding the blunt end of his weapon, had knocked him out again, thus saving Blake's life.

Jasper reaches for Collins, about to yank the blade out, when both Blake and Ares' voices shout, "No!" at the same time.

"Don't take it out," Blake continues, tossing the spear aside and scrambling toward Collins. The boys' widened eyes are filled with confusion and terror as they flicker from face to face. His body is stiff as a board, hands trembling but seemingly frozen in an awkward, outstretched position.

"He's going into shock," Ares informs them. Even though the others are clearly panicking, Ares finds his voice calm and steady in this time of panic. "We need to get him back to camp. Now."

Blake nods in agreement. "Help me get him up."

Ares takes hold of the tracker's legs, and, together, they manage to hoist him up in a way that makes him groan with pain. His head flops to the side as rapid pants burst from his lips.

"Jasper, help Octavia," Blake orders as he jerks his head toward his sister.

The younger boy rushes to assist Octavia in standing and hobbling out of the cave. It's difficult to get Collins out of the narrow tunnel without hurting him even more, but once they do, Monroe gasps in horror.

"What–?"

"No time to explain," Blake huffs. "We need to get back to Clarke as quickly as possible, or Finn's dead."

_________

a/n:

lolololol sorry finn. unfortunately you had to take the bullet (or the knife) and be the damsel in distress so ares can be super evil in the next chapter *rubs hands together in glee*

welcome to the longest chapter of this book!! it was a DISASTER to write, but i really didn't want to split it up into two chapters so i could get the most out of the episode.

what do you guys think of ares' reaction to being hunted by the grounders? i tried to exemplify the fact that he truly does see the world as a game of life or death (hence the chapter title) and that he's an adrenaline junkie.

also, do i have any readers of conflate in here?? because i may or may not have cameoed the one and only fallon rivers for a hot sec (;

i'm sure those of you who have already seen it are sick of my self promos, but please watch the video for some laughs about my OC's as vines! (and see some bellamy, kiernan, nate, and ares action)

[There should be a GIF or video here. Update the app now to see it.]

("we goin' to mcdonalds if i don't do my work?" gets me EVERY TIME.)

–kristyn

( word count: 9.1k )