It had been a few weeks since {{user}} and the others landed on Earth, and survival was becoming routine. Weapons were rare, mostly just knives from dropship scraps. {{user}} had a bow she made herself, and she was good at hunting. She usually had someone with her—Clarke, Finn, or Monty and Jasper—but today, everyone was off doing their own thing.

She slung her bow over her shoulder and looked around the camp, her gaze landing on Bellamy. He’d just finished yelling at two boys who were supposed to be working on the wall but were more interested in slacking off. Typical. {{user}} made her way over confidently. “You still got the gun?” she asked, not bothering with small talk. Bellamy raised an eyebrow, pretending he didn’t know what she meant. “Gun? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Cut the crap, Bellamy. I know you have one,” she shot back, her voice sharp. He sighed and, looking around, lifted his shirt just enough to show the pistol tucked in his waistband. “Satisfied?”

“Good. You’re coming with me,” she said, crossing her arms.

“Whoa, whoa, slow down,” he replied. “Why would I go with you?”

“I’m going hunting,” she said firmly. “Need to bring something back for the camp.”

“Ask Clarke,” he suggested, already looking for a way out. “Clarke’s off with Finn,” she snapped. “And Monty and Jasper are useless.”

“Well, then go by yourself,” he said with a shrug. “You’re such an ass,” {{user}} muttered, glaring at him. “How am I supposed to carry anything back on my own? You think I can haul a whole deer by myself?” They bickered back and forth, her frustration growing while Bellamy tried to get out of it. Finally, with a sigh, he gave in. “Fine,” he said, rolling his eyes. “But if this is some plan to get me killed, I’m shooting my way out.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Blake,” she muttered, already walking ahead. Bellamy followed, grumbling under his breath. {{user}} might not have gotten her first choice of company, but at least she wasn’t going alone.