Morning came too quietly.
Ethan woke to birdsong soft, curious notes that felt almost mocking after a lifetime of sterile silence aboard the Ark. For a moment, he lay still, staring up through the gaps in the dropship hull where sunlight filtered in, painting the metal in gold.
This is real, he reminded himself. You're not waking up.
Around him, the camp was stirring. Someone coughed. Someone else groaned and rolled over. A fire smoldered low, its embers glowing red like watchful eyes.
Watchful.
The word sent a chill down his spine.
They weren't alone.
Clarke was already awake, standing over a rough map she'd scratched into the dirt with a piece of metal. Bellamy hovered nearby, arms crossed, posture defensive.
"We need to send a signal," Clarke said. "Let the Ark know we survived."
"And let them know where we are?" Bellamy shot back. "So they can keep floating up there while we do all the hard work?"
Ethan leaned against a crate, listening. He knew this argument. He knew how it ended.
"The Ark needs data," Clarke replied. "Radiation levels, survivability—"
"They sent us here to die," Bellamy snapped. "Why should we help them?"
Murmurs rippled through the camp.
Ethan cleared his throat.
Both of them turned to look at him.
"If the Ark doesn't know we're alive," Ethan said carefully, "they'll assume the ground is still uninhabitable."
Bellamy's jaw tightened. "And?"
"And they'll die," Ethan finished. "Slowly. Everyone up there."
Silence fell.
Clarke studied him, something sharp and thoughtful in her eyes. Bellamy looked away first.
"We build the fire," Clarke said. "Big enough to be seen from space."
Bellamy scoffed but didn't argue.
Just like that, Ethan thought. A single nudge.
They split into groups to gather wood.
Ethan volunteered, sticking close to Clarke's group without making it obvious. The forest loomed thick and endless, sunlight dappling the ground in shifting patterns. Every snap of a twig set his nerves on edge.
Day two, he thought. This is when they realize they're not alone.
Jasper walked ahead, laughing too loudly. Monty trailed behind him, cautious, eyes darting constantly.
"Relax," Jasper said. "If there were monsters, we'd have seen them by now."
Ethan almost laughed.
Clarke stopped suddenly, raising a fist.
"Did you hear that?"
Everyone froze.
A rustle came from the underbrush.
Ethan's hand went to the knife at his belt.
A deer burst from the trees, bolting past them in a blur of brown and white. Jasper yelped, nearly dropping his armful of branches.
"Nervous much?" he muttered.
But Ethan's gaze lingered on the trees long after the deer vanished.
That wasn't what I was listening for.
By midday, the signal fire towered over the camp a chaotic pyramid of branches, debris, and shattered pieces of the dropship.
Bellamy stood before it, torch in hand.
"This is our line," he said. "Once we light it, there's no going back."
Clarke met his stare. "There never was."
The torch dropped.
Flames roared upward, devouring the pile in seconds. Heat washed over the camp, and cheers erupted as smoke spiraled skyward in a thick, dark column.
Ethan watched the smoke rise.
Now they know we're here.
The scream cut through the celebration like a blade.
A boy staggered out of the forest, blood blooming across his shirt. A spear protruded from his side, its tip dark with poison.
Chaos erupted.
"Get him down!" Clarke shouted.
They dragged the boy Jasper onto the ground. His breathing was shallow, skin already clammy.
Ethan felt the timeline snap into place.
This is it.
"They're out there," someone whispered. "The Grounders."
Bellamy's face hardened. "Everyone inside the dropship. Now."
Clarke knelt beside Jasper, hands shaking as she examined the wound.
"We can't just leave him," she said.
"We don't have a choice," Bellamy snapped.
Ethan crouched beside them.
"The spear tip," he said. "It's dipped in poison. Pulling it out will kill him faster."
Clarke looked up sharply. "How do you know that?"
Ethan met her gaze, steady. "Lucky guess."
It wasn't.
They barricaded themselves inside the dropship as night fell. Fear settled in thick and suffocating, punctuated by the occasional clang of metal as something or someone tested their defenses.
Jasper drifted in and out of consciousness, his skin burning hot beneath Clarke's hands.
"We're losing him," she whispered.
Ethan stared at the spear.
"There's a chance," he said slowly. "But it's a long shot."
Bellamy turned on him. "You got a medical degree we don't know about?"
"No," Ethan replied. "But I know how to make them come to us."
Silence.
Clarke's eyes widened slightly. "The flare gun."
They looked at each other understanding passing between them without another word.
Canon is holding, Ethan thought. For now.
Outside, unseen eyes reflected firelight.
Figures moved silently through the trees, paint streaked across their faces, weapons raised but unmoving.
A young girl stood among them, watching the dropship burn like a fallen star.
Her dark eyes were sharp, calculating.
Curious.
Far away, in a different camp, another girl trained with a sword under the watchful gaze of warriors and elders.