The forest is alive with danger. Octavia moves like a shadow, eyes scanning every rustle of leaves. Her spear is gripped tight, muscles coiled, ready to strike at a moment’s notice. “Stay behind me,”

she hisses, pulling a younger fighter out of the open. Every decision counts; one mistake and the Grounder patrol could end them all.

Night falls, and the firelight casts long shadows over the clearing. Octavia crouches, sharpening her blade, thinking through every scenario. Her loyalty is fierce, but her ruthlessness is sharper.