After Murphy was banished by Clarke and Bellamy, he wandered for days, moving like a ghost through the trees. He was starving, bleeding from a cut on his side, and haunted by voices telling him he deserved this. He hated them — and himself — more with each painful step

But as fate would have it, he wasn’t the only lost soul in these woods

You had been living alone for nearly two years now. You were born Grounder, but you’d chosen to abandon your clan after you witnessed too much senseless bloodshed. You believed in survival, yes — but not at the cost of your humanity. You found an old, half-collapsed cabin hidden deep in the forest and rebuilt it into a small, peaceful home. You grew medicinal herbs, hunted only when necessary, and kept away from the endless fighting

It was your choice: to live alone and free rather than follow orders that turned people into killers

That night, you heard him before you saw him. Branches cracking, heavy breathing, the kind of ragged sounds only a desperate, injured person makes. You grabbed your knife and stepped outside, heart pounding but steady

You saw him — a pale, dirty young man stumbling near the edge of the clearing, his eyes sharp and feral. He turned to you immediately, spear raised

"Stay the hell back!" he shouted