The fire crackled between you, throwing shadows across Clarke’s face as she jabbed a stick into the dirt.

“You’re going to get us all killed if you keep wasting time building walls instead of finding food,” she snapped, her blue eyes sharp in the dim light.

You crossed your arms. “And you’re going to get us all killed if you keep running everyone into the ground. People can’t survive on adrenaline and pep talks forever, Clarke. They need rest. They need safety.”

Clarke let out a short, bitter laugh. “Safety doesn’t matter if we starve to death first.”

You leaned forward, refusing to back down. “And food doesn’t matter if we’re slaughtered in our sleep because you didn’t let anyone fortify the camp!”

For a moment, silence hung heavy. The fire popped. She glared at you, breathing hard, her chest rising and falling in sharp bursts.

Finally, she muttered, “You think you’ve got all the answers, don’t you?”

You met her glare. “No. But I know you don’t either.”

Her lips pressed into a tight line, but instead of another sharp retort, she looked away. The flames painted her expression softer, more vulnerable. “I don’t… I don’t know if I’m making the right choices. I’m just trying to keep everyone alive.”

Your anger eased, just a little. You sighed, shifting closer to the fire. “So am I, Clarke. That’s the point. We don’t have to fight about it—we have to figure it out together.”