Eight bags sat in a row in the afternoon heat, tidily stuffed with supplies, ready to be hoisted and carried away down the long, uncertain road.

Bellamy surveyed the contents of his bag and started to unpack it. Dried meat, apples, a hunk of cheese, half a loaf of charred bread, and a rolled woven cloth for bedding all went in a neat pile that he would return to the people remaining at camp. The only things Bellamy required were his bow and a quiver of arrows, along with one small leather canteen for storing water they sourced along the way. No need for a bedroll. He had his own small hunting knife, and any food they needed, he could hunt and forage for along the way.

“Come on everybody,” Paul shouted, clapping in slow, maddening rhythm. “Bags up, feet on the ground, no time like the present.”

Bellamy turned away and rubbed his temples. If this idiot kept talking this loudly, the raiders would pounce on them the second they set foot on the trail.

Some of the children poked their heads out of the lean-to he’d helped cobble together. One small girl rubbed her eyes with a confused frown and stared at him. Bellamy gave a wave and she smiled shyly back, then ran out as fast as she could, hopping back and forth on chilly bare feet.

Bellamy picked up an apple to offer to the girl if she promised she would share it, but she was already crooking a finger for him to come closer. He grinned and cocked an ear for her to speak into.

“Are you going to find Octavia?” she whispered.

“I sure am,” he said, rocking back to look into her eyes, smiling through the jolt of pain shooting through his chest.

She leaned over to whisper again, “Will you tell her we love her and we miss her and we want her to come home?”

“I’ll do better than that,” Bellamy said. “I’ll bring her back myself.”

Before he had time to blink, he felt little arms wrapping themselves around his neck in a warm squeeze. Then the girl flitted away like a bird and disappeared back into the tent.

With a sigh, Bellamy stood and turned to see Clarke at the end of the row of bags, unpacking her food to leave behind, just as he had. She held a bright purple apple up to him with a rueful smile and put it aside. He grinned back, then felt it fade as Paul came stomping up.

“Do you really think it’s a good idea to be rearranging our bags right now? We’ve got to get going.”

“I’m all done,” Bellamy said, standing up, pleased to note that he was a good two inches taller than Paul. “Just ensuring that our people don’t starve to death while we’re gone.”

Paul didn’t seem to note the sarcasm in his voice. “You’re leaving your food behind?”

“We don’t need all this,” Clarke piped up, waving to her own discarded supplies. “We’ll be quicker with lighter packs, don’t you think?”

“Good thinking, Griffin,” Paul said, placated. Bellamy rolled his eyes.

The other members of the expedition were waiting at the edge of the clearing. There had been over twenty volunteers, but Max and Rhodes had whittled the group down to eight key members. Along with Bellamy, Clarke, Luke, Paul, and Felix, there were three Earthborns known to be skilled fighters, foragers, and trackers. A young woman named Vale, a stocky man named Cooper with a scar across his cheek, and a girl a little older than Bellamy, Jessa, whose brother Kit, a Councilor, was among those taken by the raiders.

At first, Rhodes and Max had expressed concern about Luke’s limp, but he’d refused to back down. “With all due respect, Councilors, I’m one of the best marksmen we have,” he’d said with impeccable politeness. “And I’m not putting this rifle down until I’ve used it to rescue Glass.”

And then there was Paul. He wasn’t close to any of the people who’d been taken, but he’d still felt it was his duty to volunteer because he’d been an officer back on the ship. Like anyone gave a shit about that anymore. “I’m the only one of us who’s been east of here,” Paul had argued—loudly, of course. “I know the terrain, I know the challenges. I got my people from there to here, I can get these people from here to there.”

Bellamy wanted to slip away without much fanfare. The quieter, the better. He heaved his pack over his shoulders, and for a brief, foolish moment, thought about picking Clarke’s up for her. But then he pictured the flash of indignation that would light up her green eyes and thought better of it. She was a thousand times tougher than he was anyway. He shook Max’s hand, nodded at Rhodes, and started to head across the tree line, when he heard Paul clear his throat.

“Here we are. The brave eight, walking into danger because it’s the right thing to do. We don’t know what we’re going to find at the end of this road, but I know…” He pressed a fist to his heart, jaw clenched. “I have faith that we will overcome it and bring our friends home. When my dropship landed and everyone was consumed with worry and despair, do you know what I said to them? I said—”

“Let’s save the end of that fascinating anecdote for later, Paul,” Bellamy cut in. “It’s time to head out.”

Paul shook his head. “We can’t just head into the woods willy-nilly. We need to march in formation.”

“Formation?” Bellamy repeated, willing his blood to stop boiling.

“It’s how we do it in the guard corps. Here’s what I suggest: I take the advance position, in case we run into trouble. Everybody else pairs up behind me.”

“We’re an even number,” Bellamy said dryly. “There aren’t enough of us to pair—”

“I know that,” Paul said quickly. “Luke takes the rear, protecting the flank.”

“This is ridiculous,” Bellamy said, no longer trying to hide his anger. He counted off on his fingers. “For one thing, Luke taking the flank is a terrible idea.” He glanced at Luke with an apologetic wince. “No offense, man, but your leg isn’t healed yet. You’ll lag with that limp.” He turned back to Paul. “And second, no way you should lead. Do you know how to follow a nearly dead track through a forest, day and night? Do you know what to look for? The way grass bends from a foot hitting it versus a hoof? The way rocks show mud when they’ve been overturned? Is that something you’re familiar with?”

Paul stayed silent, his mouth clenched shut.

Bellamy nodded. “It doesn’t have to be me.” He pointed to Cooper, Vale, and Jessa. “They’ve got even more experience hunting than I do. But I’m telling you right now, it makes zero sense for you to be the guy in front. You’ll lead us around in circles.”

“Circles?” Paul’s voice had lost some of its cheeriness. “Might I remind you that I was a senior officer back on the ship? I think that entitles me to a little respect, especially from someone who—”

Clarke cut him off. “Here’s what we’re going to do. Bellamy will go on ahead of us, marking the way we go and making the path a little easier to follow. That way, you can stay in the front line to protect the rest of us, Paul. And since you won’t have to worry about orienteering, you can figure out where we stop to rest and make camp and look out for potential dangers, since you know the terrain so well. Luke will flank you with his rifle, providing cover for the rest of us.” She paused and scanned the group, giving them the chance to interject. When no one did, she continued. “I’m happy to take the rear. That way, if anyone needs my medical help, I won’t have to backtrack.”

“That sounds logical,” Paul said, smiling a little too widely and making Bellamy’s stomach churn. “I second the motion.”

“No one put it to a vote,” Felix said under his breath.

Bellamy was already starting to turn away. They’d already wasted too much time talking. It was time to leave. The moon was full tonight and would provide plenty of light, but if those clouds in the distance rolled in, they’d be screwed.

Bellamy walked until the quiet of the forest surrounded him, his eyes adjusting to the muted light. They landed on the crossed branches, the subtle marks of wheel ruts left in the piled leaves beyond.

Here we go, he thought, and followed the trail, heart pounding. Let’s do it. Let’s bring our people home.