Yet the peacefulness had an ominous quality in light of recent events. What if Rhodes came after them? What if Bellamy accidentally turned the Earthborns’ quiet village into some kind of war zone? He’d never forgive himself if innocent people got hurt because of him.

Bellamy bounced his leg nervously. His stomach had been in knots since they’d arrived here three days ago. He didn’t know what to do. Max, Sasha, and their people wanted him to stay. They wanted to protect him. And it wasn’t all that bad, staying in a place with a real roof over his head and delicious food that he hadn’t had to track, kill, and skin himself. Bellamy couldn’t deny it: A little kernel in his chest longed for a life this simple. He wanted Rhodes to forget about him, for his past to go away, for his life to be as easy as it was for those kids.

He scanned the tree line and the path leading into town, searching for signs of intruders. Nothing. He’d hardly been able to sleep since he got here. He was too busy straining his ears in the overnight quiet, listening for the sound of approaching footsteps, the rustle of leaves that would tell him they were about to be attacked—that he was about to be taken.

This was no way to live. The anticipation and dread were getting to him, and even the little town was starting to feel like a prison. Since he’d been on Earth, Bellamy had gotten used to spending hours of every day out in the woods by himself. Being confined to the village was certainly better than being stuck on a ship in space, but still.

He leaned back against the bench with a sigh and looked up at the blue expanse above. What the hell was he going to do all day? He couldn’t hunt; he couldn’t even wander off by himself. The kids were in school, so he couldn’t play ball with them. Everyone else had something to do. He looked around at the people busily going about their tasks—building, fixing, washing, tending to the animals, and so on. And they were all so pleasant; it made him kind of uncomfortable. Every single person he passed wished him a good day. He didn’t know what to say or do with his face—was he supposed to smile back? Say hi? Or just nod?

At least he knew Octavia was okay. Sasha had been back to the camp twice to check on her from afar and had gotten a message to Octavia letting her know that Bellamy was safe. For whatever reason, Rhodes had chosen not to take out his vengeance on Octavia, at least not yet. There was only so long Bellamy was willing to stay away from her, though. He couldn’t rely on Rhodes’s goodwill, if that’s what it was, for long.

“Morning.” Max had approached without Bellamy realizing it.

“Morning,” Bellamy replied, happy to be shaken from his miserable thoughts.

“May I join you?”

“Sure.” Bellamy scooted over, and Max dropped onto the bench next to him. Steam rose from a metal cup in his hand. They sat in silence for a long moment, watching the last of the children running late into school.

“How’s the shoulder?” Max asked.

“Better. Thanks for giving Clarke all that stuff to use. I know it’s pretty valuable, and you’ve done so much for us already.” He paused, wondering if it were noble or foolish to share his concerns about sticking around. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to stay here, though.”

“Where do you plan to go?” Max didn’t sound surprised, and Bellamy appreciated the lack of judgment in his tone.

“I haven’t figured that part out yet. All I know is that I can’t just sit here and wait for them to come get me, and I can’t let anyone here risk getting hurt for me.”

“I understand how you must feel, knowing that there are people out there who want to harm you. But they don’t have the right to take your life, Bellamy. No one does.” Max paused. “And no one here is doing anything they don’t want to do. The truth is, I don’t think you’re any safer out there,” Max went on, tipping his head toward the woods. “There are greater dangers than Rhodes. I’m not sure how much you know about the others?” Max raised his eyebrows. “The people from our group who left us.”

“A little.” The last time he’d been here, when he’d come to rescue Octavia, Bellamy had heard the story about the Colonists who’d come down from the ship, way before the hundred had arrived. The Earthborns had taken them in, shared their food, but not everyone had been happy about welcoming the strangers, especially since the strangers were the descendants of the people who’d fled the dying Earth in a spaceship, leaving everyone else to perish.

The two groups had established an uneasy peace, but then something happened. An Earthborn child died, and chaos broke out. There was a faction of Max’s people who blamed the Colonists, and who blamed Max for letting strangers into their home. They demanded retribution, and when Max refused to let them kill the Colonists, they split off to live on their own, outside of Max’s authority.

The craziest part of the whole story was that Clarke’s parents—who she had thought were dead, sentenced to floating from the Colony—had been among that first wave of Colonists. They had been banished along with the others after the child’s death.

Max took another sip of his drink. “I grew up with them. We raised our children together, I thought I knew them.” He paused for a moment, as if letting the memories play out in his mind before continuing. “But now they’ve become unrecognizable. They’ve become obsessed with violence and claiming as much land as possible as their own. They’re angry, and they have nothing to lose. Which makes them very, very dangerous.”