“Unnatural,” Clarke repeated, trying her best to remain patient. “A pile of leaves. In the woods, in autumn.”
“A huge pile of leaves. Four times bigger than any of the others around it. Big enough for someone to hide in.” He started pacing, talking more to himself than to Clarke. “I didn’t stop to check it out. I should’ve stopped. Why didn’t I stop?”
“Okay…” Clarke said slowly. “Let’s go back and look at it now.”
“It’s gone,” Bellamy said, running his fingers through his already unruly hair. “I ignored it. And today, it’s gone. Like someone was using it for something, but they don’t need it anymore.”
His expression, a mixture of anxiety and guilt, made her heart ache. She knew what this was about. After the dropships had landed, Vice Chancellor Rhodes had tried to execute Bellamy for crimes he’d supposedly committed back on the ship. Just two months ago, he’d been forced to say an agonizing good-bye to the people he loved before being blindfolded and dragged out to meet a firing squad. He’d looked death straight in the eye, believing he was about to abandon Octavia and destroy Clarke. But his imminent execution had been derailed by the sudden, brutal Earthborn attack. Though Rhodes had pardoned Bellamy, those events had taken their toll on him. The bouts of paranoia that followed weren’t surprising, but instead of getting better, Bellamy seemed to be growing worse.
“And then you add this to all the other stuff,” he went on, his voice louder, more frenzied. “The wheel ruts by the river. The voices I heard in the trees—”
“We talked about this,” Clarke cut him off as she wrapped her arms around his waist. “The wheel ruts could have come from the village; Max’s people have wagons. And the voices—”
“I heard them.” He started to pull away but Clarke wouldn’t let him.
“I know you did,” she said, tightening her hold.
He slumped, resting his chin on her head.
“I don’t want to cause a scene…” Bellamy swallowed. The word again went unspoken. “But I’m telling you. Something isn’t right. I felt it before and I’m feeling it now. We have to warn everyone.”
Clarke glanced over her shoulder at all the people milling about the camp: Lila and Graham walking past with buckets of water, teasing a younger boy struggling with his load; Earthborn kids giggling as they ran from their village with more food for the table; guards chatting as they traded patrol positions.
“We need to warn them before this… celebration.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Whatever this is.”
“The Harvest Feast,” Clarke said. She loved the idea of participating in a tradition that went back hundreds of years, before the Cataclysm—the nuclear war that nearly destroyed the Earth and forced the first Colonists into space to save the human race. “Max said it’s been celebrated here for generations, and it’ll be nice to take a moment to—”
“It’s what that splinter group of Earthborns is waiting for,” Bellamy interjected, growing louder. “If I were going to attack us, today would be the day. All of us together. Sitting ducks.”
A little boy skipped out of his cabin, then, seeing Bellamy, blanched and ducked back inside.
Clarke took Bellamy’s hands, held them while they shook, and looked him in the eye. “I trust you,” she said. “I trust that you saw what you saw.”
He nodded, listening, though he was still breathing heavily.
“But you need to trust me too. You are safe here. We are safe. The truce we struck last month is holding firm. Max says that splinter group of Earthborns moved off south as soon as they lost the fight, and there hasn’t been one sighting of them since.”
“I know,” Bellamy said. “But it’s more than that leaf pile. I have this feeling on the back of my neck…”
“Then we’ll replace it with a different feeling.” Clarke rose onto her toes and kissed the spot under Bellamy’s jaw before trailing around to the back of his neck.
“It’s not that simple,” he said, though she could feel him finally starting to relax.
She leaned back and smiled up at him. “Come on, today is a happy day, Bel. It’s your first big event as a member of the Council. Think about your speech. Focus on enjoying all the food you helped provide.”
“The Council,” he said, closing his eyes and letting out a breath. “Right. I forgot about the damn speech.”
“You’ll be fine,” Clarke said, stretching up again to brush his rough cheek with her lips. “You’re good on your feet.”
“True.” He looped his arms around her waist, grinning as he drew her closer. “I’m good off my feet too.”
She laughed, thwapping him. “Yes, magnificent. Now come help me get this dinner together before you meet up with the Council. We can celebrate privately later.”
He walked behind her, his arms still wrapped around her waist, his breath warm against her neck. “Thank you,” he murmured.
“For what?” she asked lightly, trying to hide the fact that her heart was a drumbeat of mounting worry.
She might have talked him down today. And yesterday. And the night before.
But she could no longer ignore the fact that Bellamy was getting worse.