The camp was busy but smooth. Everyone was doing their tasks and the walls were sturdy. The grounders could come at any moment now, you assumed in about two days. The camp’s stress was high, and your stress was even higher. You grabbed Miller on a search for extra water. Just as you were about to leave, a hand clutches at your arm.

“You made sure you got enough bullets in there?” Bellamy asks you and gestures to the gun slotted under your arm, his voice averagely gruff and low.