One thing that Navya Hernandez was very, very good at was counting. For a nine-year-old, she was pretty smart. She had a knack for it, a kind of comfort in the way the numbers lined up, one after the other.

When bedtime came, she counted until she fell asleep.

When Charlotte was doing activities without her, she counted until it was time to go back to their cells.

When she was stuck in confinement, waiting for the results of her trial at just five years old, she counted.

Spending so much time on your own, locked in a tiny cell, at some point, you start resorting to... well, lame stuff. And counting was Navya's thing. It was easy, mindless, like a weird little ritual. Sure, she'd talk to Charlotte. But after a while, it was like living with a broken record. They needed their space.

And when she was dragged down the hallways of the Ark, wristband itching and pulling at her skin, no idea what was happening or where she was going, she counted.

Twenty-three, twenty-four...

"Prisoner 246, face the wall and hold out your right arm."

The needles that had pricked her skin then now sat uncomfortably, every movement of her arm sending an itch racing through her. A wristband wasn't supposed to feel like that, was it? It wasn't supposed to pierce your skin, clamped tight around your wrist, digging into the flesh like it was trying to choke the life out of her.

The guards hauled her around the corner, causing her to stumble over her feet. She didn't recognise this side of the Ark. The hallways stretched on forever, or maybe that was just the way they seemed because her eyes were glued to her feet. She felt dizzy, like she was moving too fast, though she wasn't really going anywhere.

Until the guard gripped her chin, yanking her head up.

"Eyes forward."

Her skin crawled under the touch. Navya fought to keep her whine inside, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she suppressed the urge to snap at him, to bite down on the fingers gripping her. She hated being touched. Ever since that day, touch had become something cruel. Painful. Something to fear.

One hundred and five, one hundred and six...

The lights were too bright in the next hallway. The white panels burned her eyes, forcing them to squint. Her vision blurred, her eyes watering as she tried to adjust, and when the fog finally cleared, the sight in front of her stopped her in her tracks.

Rows upon rows of people—no, kids. They were lined up like cattle, standing next to massive machines. Her stomach churned as she recognized them instantly: dropships. She'd seen pictures of them before, back when she'd been little and curious enough to ask questions. She recognized them immediately.

Somewhere deep inside her, something screamed.

"Join the line," the guard behind her said, his voice a monotone bore. He nudged her forward, and she looked over her shoulder at him, giving him the meanest look she could muster.

She wanted him to feel it. To see it in her eyes. But he just tilted his head, as if daring her to resist. She swallowed the anger rising in her chest, her fists clenching so tight her nails bit into her palms. She wasn't stupid enough to make a scene. The guards wouldn't hesitate to throw her into solitary for something like that, and she'd been in enough of those tiny cells to know better.

The line brought her behind a lanky teenage boy, older than her by several years. From the back, his shaggy, unkempt hair fell in uneven strands, dark brown against his pale neck. His shoulders were bony, his frame slim and tense. The strap of his goggles was tangled in his hair, as though he hadn't bothered to fix it in days.

She felt the urge to get his attention, to ask what was going on, but these were prisoners. Criminals. People who'd done bad things. Maybe he had anger issues. Maybe he'd turn around and throttle her before she could even get the question out. She didn't know.

Her nerves shot through the roof. She peeked out from behind the boy, following the line with her eyes, trying to trace what was going on. At first, she'd assumed she was being brought here to be floated. Maybe the Ark was running out of air, and to conserve the oxygen, they'd start floating all the prisoners—starting with them.

But now, she wasn't so sure. If you were floated, you didn't end up on a dropship. As far as she knew, they just flushed you into space, your body alone. You didn't need a metal ship to take you to the void if they were just going to flush you into nothing.

No, this was something else.

Think, Navya. Think!

Dropships were for Earth. Dropships didn't transport prisoners to be executed. They weren't a vehicle for anything that didn't have a purpose. They were for Earth.

And if a bunch of delinquents—kids—were lined up, heading for one of those dropships—

She was going down to Earth.

A wave of panic washed over her, sudden and suffocating, like someone had cranked the pressure up to eleven. Suddenly, she was hyper-aware of every little thing—the brush of her clothes against her skin, the baby hairs floating above her forehead, the way her toes barely reached the tips of her shoes.

The ground. The ground.

I'm going to die of radiation. I'm going to die.

Death.

A lifeless body. Blood pooling around it. A stacking block, sharp and red. A mother's wail, breaking the air, cracking it like glass. A father's sobs, guttural.

The way his hand flopped, limp, after he hit the ground. I did that.

She hadn't meant to. She hadn't— But I did.

I'm going to die, just like Cosmo.

"Hey, keep walkin'," a voice growled behind her, sharp with irritation.

Navya flinched, the sound jerking her out of her spiraling thoughts. She hadn't even realized the line was moving. With a muttered huff, she shuffled forward, the cold floor biting through her thin soles.

Sixty-seven seconds later, she was strapped to a seat so tight she could barely move, her arms and legs squashed awkwardly against the restraints, clearly designed for someone much older than a nine-year-old.

It was uncomfortable, to say the least. The hard plastic seat dug into the back of her thighs, and the strap across her chest felt like it was trying to crush her ribs. Around her, teenagers—mostly older, clearly pissed off, others terrified—were in the same predicament. About twenty of them stood strapped to the walls. A kid next to her rubbed the raw skin around his wristband, the flesh turning red from the pressure. Eyes closed, breaths heavy.

And then—jolt. A sudden movement sent surprised yells tumbling through the cabin.

Navya's heart skipped a beat, throwing itself into her throat, and she swallowed hard, her lip quivering. The dropship's doors had slammed shut, swallowing the cabin in an almost oppressive darkness. Then, flickering lights.

The dropship roared to life, the vibrations reverberating through the metal frame and shaking her in her seat. She clutched the red strap over her chest, her fingers digging into the fabric as she counted under her breath.

She had to restart, she lost count.

One. Two. Three...

Her mind kept circling back to Charlotte. Where was she? Navya hadn't seen her since they were dragged out of their cells earlier. Charlotte had to be here. There was no way they'd take her somewhere else. She had to be somewhere on this dropship.

Another sudden jolt, harder than the last, rocked the ship again, sending a new round of startled gasps through the cabin. Navya's eyes shot open. The murmur of nervous voices around her grew louder.

Directly across from her, a blonde girl with sharp eyes turned to the others. "What was that?"

"That was the atmosphere," answered a boy seated beside her.

All of a sudden, the lights inside the dropship flared brighter, blinding Navya for a moment. She blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the harsh light, and then a screen flickered to life at the front. A low murmur rippled through the passengers, followed by disapproving gasps as Chancellor Jaha's face appeared on the screen.

"Prisoners of the Ark, hear me now," his voice began. "You've been given a second chance. And as your chancellor, it is my hope that you see this as not just a chance for you, but a chance for all of us, indeed for mankind itself. We have no idea what is waiting for you down there. If the odds of survival were better, we would have sent others. Frankly, we're sending you, because your crimes have made you expendable—"

"Your dad's a dick, Wells!"

Navya's head whipped toward the sound of the voice. People snickered despite their situation.

It was a little surprising, actually, to see Jaha's son on the dropship. It was almost funny. What had he done to land here?

The laughter faded as Jaha's voice continued to drone on, but Navya barely registered it. Earth. It was real, and they were going there. But not as free people. As prisoners. As experiments.

Of course.

Before she could dwell on it, a guy in the center of the cabin pushed off the floor and began to float, completely unstrapped. A cheer went up from one of the girls, and about five other people nearby laughed. Honestly, Navya couldn't help it—she laughed too. It was just cool. There was something almost freeing about seeing someone float around without being tethered to a safety cord.

Of course, it didn't take long for others to start unbuckling themselves. Twenty seconds, to be exact. Navya could only guess who the guy floating in the middle was: the Spacewalker. The guy who wasted a month's worth of oxygen to go on an illegal Spacewalk. And now he would most definitely die, that is if he doesn't return to his seat soon.

He didn't seem in any rush to do so. Instead, he lowered himself to hover near the blonde girl from earlier and the guy beside her, crossing his arms like he was chilling in zero gravity.

"Check it out," he told him. "Your dad floated me after all."

That guy next to the blonde? Wells Jaha, apparently.

Being locked up for four years of the nine she has been alive, Navya didn't recognize the faces of the more well-known kids. She hadn't seen anyone's face clearly for four years—certainly not Wells, whose face she likely last saw when she was a baby. At least she knew his name now. At least she knew someone.

Her mind immediately drifted back to Charlotte. She craned her neck, searching the higher levels for her friend, but the darkness above made it impossible to see clearly.

She bit down on her lip anxiously, eyes shooting from seat to seat. She didn't recognise any of these people. She was surrounded by people, but she might as well have been alone. Going to Earth was terrifying enough. Going to Earth alone was worse. She would've preferred being floated.

"You should strap in before the parachutes deploy," Wells said, his voice serious.

"Hey, you two!" the blonde girl called to the two guys unbuckling themselves. "Stay put if you want to live."

"Mount Weather is life. You must locate those supplies immediately."

Jaha's  words echoed around Navya, but they felt distant, like they were coming from somewhere far away. Everything felt like it was happening too fast, too loud. The cheers of the girl beside the guys about to unbuckle themselves, the constant, grinding hum of the dropship's engines, the blonde girl's urgent voice, Wells shouting at the top of his lungs—it was all too much.

One, two, three, four...

"One responsibilty. Stay alive. Finally, I'm sure you're wondering about those wristbands—"

"Stay in your seats!"

Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen...

The dropship lurched violently as the parachutes deployed, the sudden slowing hurling the unbuckled boys, including Spacewalker, across the Dropship. The sickening thud of bodies meeting metal silenced the cheers in an instant.

Smoke hissed from overhead vents, quickly filling the cabin with a stinging, acrid scent. Sparks erupted from exposed wires, showering the passengers with fiery bursts of light. The dropship screeched and groaned, like a living creature in pain.

Navya shrank into her seat, hands clamped over her ears to block out the noise—the screams, the yells, the shrieks of metal twisting and breaking. The lights flickered, plunging the ship into a terrifying ten seconds of darkness before sputtering back on.

And then, with one final, earsplitting crash, everything stopped.

Everything went still. The sounds of chaos gave way to an eerie silence, broken only by the gasps and coughs of the delinquents. Slowly, the lights dimmed back on, bathing the Dropship in a muted, flickering glow.

The sudden silence was worse than the noise. It was the kind of silence that made you feel like you were underwater, like the world had gone still, waiting for something else to happen.

An Asian guy spoke up, "Listen."

Everyone stilled, their collective breaths held.

"No machine hum," he said, wide-eyed, glancing at the boy beside him.

The boy—Navya recognized him as the one she'd stood behind in line—leaned in, his expression mirroring the first guy's. "Whoa," he whispered. "That's a first."

He was right. The always-present hum that had been the constant heartbeat of the Ark, the sound that had never stopped since the day they were born—gone. For the first time in her life, there was nothing.

It felt eerie. Wrong.

With a soft click, every belt in the dropship unbuckled automatically. The sudden release startled Navya, but she didn't hesitate. Her trembling hands shoved the red straps off her chest. She scrambled to her feet, desperate to get out. She didn't care about the possible deathly radiation; she couldn't stand to stay here a second longer.

People began to rise from their seats, most of them dazed. Navya slipped out of hers, stepping carefully past others. The blonde girl from before was already kneeling beside the two boys who had unbuckled themselves, her hands hovering over their limp forms.

"Finn, are they breathing?" she asked, her voice tight, like she already knew the answer and hated it.

Spacewalker—Finn, apparently—stood there, staring at the bodies with wide, haunted eyes. He didn't respond. Didn't even flinch. He looked like someone had ripped the air out of his lungs. If someone poked him, he might actually topple over.

Navya didn't need anyone to tell her what the answer was. She'd seen death before. And it was burned into her memory like a bad scar.

She hadn't thought she'd ever see another body like that again. But here she was, staring right at one. Her stomach twisted painfully, spikes of panic hammering through her chest. She swallowed hard, fighting the wave of nausea that surged up her throat.

Then, a shout pulled her out of her spiral. "Outer doors are on the lower level! Let's go!"

That snapped everyone into action. The dropship was filled with the sound of shuffling feet and voices as people scrambled toward the doors.

Navya's eyes flicked to the blonde girl, who was already on her feet, raising her voice above the rest. "No! We can't just open the doors!"

The crowd didn't stop. It didn't even slow. Navya hesitated at the base of the ladder, her small hands gripping the metal rungs tightly as she took in the chaos in front of her. The crowd swarmed around the sealed outer doors, everyone jostling and pushing for a better position. Right at the front, right by the door, stood a tall guy who looked more like a man than a boy.

But the strangest thing? He was wearing a guard's uniform.

It made sense, sure. They'd want someone from the crew, someone who could control the situation if things went south, someone who could keep them in line. After all, they couldn't have a bunch of kids, barely more than delinquents, running around without someone to keep them in check.

But that didn't make it any easier. The fact that someone in charge was here, watching, judging—controlling—made her more nervous than she had been before. It wasn't just the dropship or the flight, or even the mess of bodies in front of her. It was the presence of authority.

She forced herself to focus, to push past the unease twisting in her chest.

She started making her way down the ladder, careful not to slip on the metal steps. Each step felt harder to take as the bodies around her squeezed tighter and tighter. It was like the air itself was thinning, getting harder to breathe with every inch she descended.

Six, seven, eight steps further, and she finally set foot on the lower level. She was instantly sandwiched between sweaty bodies, the heat pressing in from every side, making it feel like the air was choking her.

She tried to push her way to the front, to get a better look at what was happening, but it felt like an impossible task. There was no room to move, just the constant shifting of bodies, all of them jostling as if they were all racing toward the same goal. She squeezed and shoved, elbowing her way through the crowd, but each step forward only seemed to get her stuck in another knot of people.

At least twenty bodies she had to push past. Each one ignored her, too focused on their own place in the chaos to even notice the girl trying to carve out some space for herself. No one cared. It was every person for themselves. And yet, as she bumped into them, she could feel their irritation—sharp glances as they shifted around her.

"Hey, just back it up, guys," the guard by the door said, holding out his arms to create space.

At the same time, he reached for the lever on the door, his fingers brushing against it. He looked ready to pull. Ready to open the doors.

"Stop!" The sharp voice came from above. Everyone turned to see the blonde girl, now halfway down the ladder. Her presence alone seemed to silence the crowd. Navya craned her neck to see her better.

The blonde girl climbed down the rest of the way, pushing her way through the crowd, brushing past Navya without a glance. Once she reached the front, she stopped.

"The air could be toxic," she told the guard.

He didn't back down, his hand still on the lever. "If the air's toxic, we're all dead anyway," he countered. And he was right.

Before anyone could respond, another voice interrupted.

"Bellamy?"

The word was soft, almost like a question, and it made Navya turn her head. A brunette haired girl—unsteady on her feet, as if she wasn't fully awake—pushed through the crowd. Navya recognized her as the one who had been cheering for Finn, but now she looked like she had seen a ghost.

A murmur rippled through the crowd of people.

"That's the girl they hid under the floor," someone whispered.

Navya blinked, puzzled. Under the floor? That's weird.

The guard—Bellamy—froze at the sound of her voice, his whole demeanor shifting. His hand fell away from the lever, and his expression softened. He turned to face the girl, his posture relaxing as if a weight had been lifted. She reached him, stopping just in front of him.

"My God," he murmured, a breathless awe in his voice. "Look how big you are."

Before he could say anything else, the girl flung her arms around him, and he held her tightly, like he was scared she might vanish. When they finally pulled apart five seconds later, the girl's eyes landed on his uniform. Confusion washed over her face, followed by suspicion.

"What the hell are you wearing?" she demanded. "A guard's uniform?"

Bellamy stepped back, shrugging slightly. "I borrowed it to get on the dropship. Someone's gotta keep an eye on you."

Navya felt a wave of relief flood every fiber of her being at those words. So he wasn't a guard after all. He was just someone trying to blend in. Someone who had taken the risk of pretending to be one of them to get aboard the dropship. For the girl, no doubt. Navya didn't even care, she was simply glad he wasn't one of the guards.

The girl stared at Bellamy for a good three seconds before stepping forward and hugging him again. But the blonde girl didn't let the moment linger.

"Where's your wristband?" she asked, her tone sharp.

Navya couldn't help but roll her eyes. Jeez. Read the room, Blondie.

The brunette stiffened, letting go of Bellamy. She turned toward Blondie, visibly irritated. "Do you mind? I haven't seen my brother in a year."

Navya's mind did a quick double-take at the word brother. On the Ark, having more than one kid was unthinkable—illegal. They couldn't spare the oxygen for a second child. It was simply the way things worked. No exceptions, no room for error. Judging by the gasps rippling through the crowd, she wasn't the only one caught off guard.

"No one has a brother," someone said.

"That's Octavia Blake! The girl they found hidden in the floor!"

The girl's face twisted with rage. She whipped around, lunging toward the speaker, but Bellamy caught her arm before she could get far. "Octavia, no." His voice was firm, pulling her back before she could make things worse. "Let's give them something else to remember you by."

For a moment, Octavia hesitated, fists clenched, her breath coming faster. She glared at the crowd, then at her brother. "Yeah? Like what?"

"Like being the first person on the ground in a hundred years."

"Ninety-seven," Navya corrected quietly under her breath, unable to stop herself.

Her brother's words seemed to be enough for Octavia, though. A grin spread slowly across her face, and with one final glance at the crowd, she stepped toward the door.

Bellamy took a breath, placed his hand on the lever again, and after two seconds, pulled it down.

The doors whizzed open, and a flood of bright white light spilled out from the dropship. Navya had to shield her eyes for a quick four seconds, the intensity of the light too much for her senses. For a quick ten seconds, she couldn't see a thing—just a glare that filled every corner of her vision.

But then, as the light started to soften and she dropped her hand, she saw it. 

The grass. The trees. The plants.

It was so green, so vivid, it looked like something out of a dream. Every blade of grass seemed to glow, as if it had been painted by the hand of a master artist who had spent years perfecting every shade. The colours were too perfect, too vibrant, like nature itself was showing off—like the whole world was too beautiful to be real.

Her gaze drifted upward, following the sturdy trunks of the trees that stretched high into the sky, their thick bark a mix of deep browns and grays. They reached so far, like they were trying to touch the clouds themselves.

And the sky. Oh, the sky. The blue was impossibly clear, so bright it made her eyes ache. it was too perfect, too full of life. It stretched out in every direction, so wide it made her feel small in a way she had never experienced before, like she was nothing but a speck in the vastness of it all.

And she felt it. The breeze—a cool whisper against her cheek, tugging at her hair, like it had been waiting for her. She inhaled deeply, the air thick with an earthy scent, fresh and cold, like the world was still waking up after a long sleep. The leaves whispered as they swayed, and around her, she could hear the shallow, excited breaths of the people behind her.

She inhaled, and the air rushed into her lungs. It was alive, raw, and real. There was nothing like it in space—nothing that even came close to this. Her chest expanded with the wonder of it, as if every breath was a gift she hadn't earned, but was lucky enough to receive. It felt like being reborn.

They'd made it. Earth was here, and they were on it. It was theirs.

Octavia took a slow step forward, her boots crunching softly against the ship's metal floor. She was taking it all in—the sky, the air, the world they'd only dreamed of. The moment was too perfect.

She paused, closed her eyes, and sucked in a deep breath, savoring the fresh, thick air like it was a drink after years of thirst. Then, two more steps, and she stopped again.

Navya couldn't see much beyond the sea of heads in front of her, so she had to shove past four more people, elbows knocking, to catch up. Not that she cared. She wouldn't be blocking anyone's view. They were all taller than her, after all.

Standing on the edge of the dropship, Octavia took one last long look at the wild green below. Her eyes flicked from the grass to her boots, then to the wide area of trees and sky. Her head dipped, like she was grounding herself before the leap. Then, with a small, satisfied smirk, she jumped down.

Her feet kicked up a cloud of dirt, sending little flecks of brown flying into the air, and she let out a soft laugh as she landed. She carefully squashed through the grass, leaving a trail of five flattened leaves behind her. The earth absorbed the pressure of her footsteps, leaving clear imprints, marking her as one of its own.

Taking a breath, Octavia threw her hands in the air. "We're back, bitches!"

The crowd rushed forward as her shout seemed to break the spell. Cheers erupted from the group, and bodies jostled and pushed, eager to spill out of the dropship. Navya found herself swept along with them, her feet stumbling to keep up as she was carried toward the open door.

She didn't mind.

She was smiling—beaming, actually—as her feet hit the grass, the soft earth cushioning each step. The breeze caressed her face, carrying with it the scents of damp soil and fresh leaves. They were here. They were actually on Earth.

She ran forward, not caring about the crowd pressing against her. For the first time since she could remember, she felt truly free.

Her feet touched the grass, and she giggled at the softness under her worn shoes. She stretched her arms out wide, spinning in a slow circle. She wanted to see everything, to drink in every detail of this place.

All she could see was green. Green trees towering above, green bushes bursting with leaves, green ferns unfurling from the ground. It was like stepping into a storybook. She couldn't even count the amount of trees she was seeing. It would be impossible. And surprisingly, she didn't even mind.

For a moment, she forgot everything else. The Ark. The guards. The fear. The past.

It was just Earth. Just her and this beautiful, endless green.

Dropping to her knees, Navya grabbed a handful of dirt. Grinning widely, she let it slip through her fingers, not having expected it to feel as rough as it did. For some reason, she had expected dirt to be much softer. Especially since it was, in a way, fresh dirt.

She pressed her hand to the grass, to the tree trunks, to the little pebbles hiding beneath her shoes. Every inch of it felt like discovery. If she was going to die of radiation soon, if this was all going to be over, she wanted to make sure she had touched everything she possibly could. She wanted to know it, to feel it in her bones.

"Navya!"

Her heart jumped. She spun around so fast that her hair whipped into her face, eyes wide, searching. She spotted a small figure pushing through the crowd, arms waving.

"Charlotte!" Within a second, Navya had leapt to her feet.

Charlotte practically launched herself at her, throwing her arms around her. Navya stumbled back slightly but tightened her grip, holding her friend close.

"I thought they took you somewhere else," Navya mumbled into Charlotte's jacket, her voice thick with relief.

"I thought they were gonna float us," Charlotte said with a nervous laugh, pulling back from the hug.

"Me too." Navya smiled through the lump in her throat, wiping the tears she hadn't known were coming. "Look."

She grabbed Charlotte's hand and dragged her toward a patch of moss under a sprawling tree. The ground was soft, spongy beneath them. They both plopped down, laughing, as Navya tugged Charlotte's sleeve.

"The grass is so soft here. And the dirt—it's all crumbly. I touched it. Feel it!" She scooped up a handful and thrust it toward Charlotte.

She held it in her hands, studying it with wide, curious eyes before letting it slip through her fingers. "It feels weird," she said, laughing softly. She dusted her hands on her pants, shaking her head. "I can't believe we're really here."

"Right?" Navya grinned, leaning back against the trunk of the tree.

Charlotte sat beside her, and they both just stared out at the green sea around them. The trees, the bushes, the sky—it all stretched out so far that it seemed impossible, like they could never reach the edge of it. 

"Gravity feels much weirder here, doesn't it?" Charlotte said, her voice pitched higher than usual, like she couldn't quite contain the excitement bubbling within her.

Navya nodded as she looked down at her boots, her feet sinking slightly into the soft earth. "Yeah. Feels like I'm stomping everywhere, like a big fat elephant."

It was peaceful, surreal. This was Earth. And it was alive.

And so were they.

•

Everyone had spent the past hour scattered across the area, exploring, stretching their legs, and taking in the strange new world they had been dropped into. Literally.

Now, they were back at the Dropship, wandering around, chatting, and trying to act like they weren't completely out of their depth. Navya sat perched at the entrance of the Dropship, her legs dangling off the side of the ramp. One, two, three swings of her legs.

Her gaze landed on Blondie, who had spread out a map across the ramp. She was frowning at it, her finger tracing invisible lines that Navya couldn't quite make out. Earlier, she'd overheard the girl muttering about how they'd been dropped on the wrong mountain. Not Mount Weather. The wrong one.

They weren't even on the right mountain.

That meant they'd have to trek their way to the right one, and probably face whatever dangers came with it. Blondie was talking about finding a route to get there and—hopefully—bring back food and supplies.

It was impressive, watching her navigate the map. Navya had no idea what she was doing, but it looked like she had a plan.

The quiet moment was interrupted by something brushing against her back. Navya, with a flinch, jerked her head around just in time to see Wells passing by her, a quick apology slipping from his lips as he tried to make his way out of the Dropship. She blinked at him, confused, before turning back to Blondie—who was still absorbed in her map, not seeming to care about anything else around her.

"We got problems," Wells told her. "The communication system is dead. I went to the roof. A dozen pannels are missing. Heat fried the wires."

That meant they couldn't reach the Ark. On one hand, Navya didn't mind that much. If the Ark did come down, she'd probably go back to being a prisoner, a murderer in their eyes. But on the other, they were all alone now. A bunch of kids stuck on a strange planet, with no way of contacting anyone. It wasn't exactly a comforting thought.

Blondie didn't seem that fazed. "Well, all that matters right now is getting to Mount Weather," she said coolly, pushing the map a little closer to him, sliding it along the ramp with the tip of her finger. "See? This is us." She pointed to a spot on the map, tracing a line from where they were to another marked location. "And this is where we need to get to if you want to survive."

Wells furrowed a brow. "Where did you learn how to do that?"

All she offered him was a glance before she swallowed and looked back down at the map.

"Your father," he muttered.

Before the situation could get any more uncomfortable, the boy with the goggles—Goggles, as Navya had taken to calling him—bounced into the conversation, all too eager. "Cool, a map," he said, his grin practically splitting his face. "Can I get a bar in this town? I'll buy you a drink."

Wells didn't even hesitate. "You mind?" He shoved Goggles back with a quick jab, sending him stumbling a little. Goggles looked offended, rubbing his chest and shooting Wells a glare, but Wells didn't care. 

Before the tension could build any further, a group of boys suddenly strolled up, swaggering like they owned the place. "Hey-hey-hey!" one of them shouted, his voice loud enough to make everyone pause. Navya turned to find... nine boys walking towards them, a small gang in the making. "Hands off of him, he's with us."

Wells immediately took a step back, holding up his hands defensively. "Relax. We're just trying to figure out where we are," he said, sounding exhausted.

"We're on the ground," Bellamy spoke up. "Is that not good enough for you?"

Wells hesitated, glancing at Blondie for backup before responding. "We need to find Mount Weather. You heard my father's message. That has to be our first priority."

"Screw your father," Octavia scoffed, stepping forward with a glare. When Wells turned to her, surprised, she crossed her arms. "What? You think you're in charge here? You and your little princess?"

Blondie bristled at that but didn't react any more. Instead, she straightened her back and addressed the group at large. "Do you think we care who's in charge? We need to get to Mount Weather. Not because the Chancellor said so, but because the longer we wait, the hungrier we'll get, and the harder this will be." She jabbed a finger at the map for emphasis. "How long do you think we'll last without those supplies? We're looking at a twenty-mile trek, okay? So if we want to get there before dark, we need to leave. Now."

Bellamy scoffed, stepping forward with a wry grin. "I've got a better idea." He pointed between Wells and Blondie. "You two go. Find it for us. Let the privileged do the hard work for a change."

A murmur of agreement spread through the group, building into a chorus of "Yeah!" s from the gathered crowd.

Wells clenched his jaw. "You're not listening. We all need to go."

Before he could finish, the boy leading the group of troublemakers lunged forward, shoving Wells hard enough to make him stumble. The boy turned to the crowd with a mocking grin. "Look at this, everybody! Chancellor of Earth."

Laughter rippled through the group. Even Navya, despite herself, had to bite her lip to keep from letting out a small, guilty laugh. It was funny in a way. After all, no one liked Chancellor Jaha. No one. His rules had made sure of that. And so, naturally, his son had become an easy target for their frustration. He wouldn't die from a little teasing, though.

Wells didn't take it well. "You think that's funny?"

The boy's grin only widened. Without warning, he kicked out at Wells' legs, sending him sprawling onto the dirt with a thud. "No," the boy said, stepping over him, "But that was."

The crowd roared with laughter, and Navya's smile faltered. She hadn't expected it to go that far. Wells pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, his face red with anger and humiliation. He rose shakily to his feet, brushing dirt from his hands and pants, his jaw tight.

And then, almost comically, he tried to take on a fighting stance. It was weak, more like a desperate flail than anything remotely threatening—but it was an attempt.

The boy who'd knocked him down grinned wider, stepping back just enough to give Wells room to make his move. "All right," he said, raising his two fists lazily, like he was doing Wells a favour.

Wells squared his shoulders, trying to look braver than he felt. His hands came up, in a stance that wasn't quite sure whether it was for defense or just a nervous tick. The boy opposite him chuckled, stepping closer and making a half-hearted jab. Wells flinched backward, his feet stumbling.

"C'mon," the boy taunted, circling him with the confidence of someone who knew they had the upper hand.

Navya winced, watching Wells stumble slightly as he tried to hold his ground. The whole thing felt like watching someone drown, helpless and slow. She could almost feel his humiliation.

But then again, maybe he did deserve it. After all, with a father like his, maybe Wells had it coming. Maybe the universe was giving him a taste of what everyone else had to deal with. The way people treated him, the way they looked at him, like he was some sort of untouchable royalty, just because of who his father was—it was enough to make anyone angry.

Before anything more could happen though, a blur of motion came from above, and something—or rather, someone—dropped directly between the two boys.

The crowd murmured in confusion, looking up at the Dropship's pipes where Finn had apparently leapt from. The boy facing off with Wells blinked, caught off guard. 

"Kid's got one leg." Finn tilted his head slightly at the boy. "How about you wait until it's a fair fight?"

The boy muttered something under his breath but ultimately lowered his fists, muttering, "Whatever." He stepped back, casting a glare at Wells before turning to rejoin his group.

The tension in the air eased, and the crowd began to scatter now that the fight had passed. They returned to their small clusters of conversation. About ten remaining people snickered about the scene but didn't linger.

Navya, still leaning against the side of the Dropship, barely spared the scene a second thought. She was used to people trying to prove themselves in these kinds of petty power struggles. It was nothing new.

Still, she couldn't help but glance over at Wells, who was dusting himself off, clearly trying to act like it hadn't bothered him. But she could see the tightness in his jaw, the way his shoulders were pulled just a little too high. He'd been humiliated, no matter how much he tried to hide it.

It was a little funny, in a twisted way, but not enough to make her care about it for long. Let Wells deal with his own mess. The last thing she needed was to get tangled up in it.

✎ AUTHOR'S NOTE:

hello hello and welcome to my newest fanfic!! i've been seriously so excited to share this one with you all—no kidding, i've been working on it for weeks. i'm sure there are some things that need work in this chapter, but honestly, i just couldn't wait any longer to post it #lol

ANYWAY! remember to comment and vote!! i love u guys sm and i hope you'll love navya as much as i do :)) <3