With Aleksander sitting behind her and guiding her hands on the heavy leather reins, Octavia gently squeezed her calves against the Hex-Strider's massive flanks. The six-legged beast responded instantly, stepping forward with a smooth, rolling gait that was surprisingly fluid despite its terrifying size.
As they walked the Alpha out of the shadows of the tree line and back toward the ruined gates, the chaotic noise of the camp slowly died down.
The delinquents who had been struggling to wrangle the four-legged warhorses stopped what they were doing. They parted like the Red Sea, their eyes wide with absolute awe as the pitch-black, mutated stallion stepped over the splintered remains of the gates. The rhythmic, synchronized thud of its six heavy hooves echoed in the quiet courtyard.
Octavia sat tall in the saddle, a triumphant, radiant smile on her face. For a girl who had spent her entire childhood hidden beneath the floorboards of the Ark, riding the deadliest beast on Earth into a fortified camp was a profound moment of liberation.
Aleksander let go of the reins, allowing Octavia to steer the massive animal entirely on her own. She gently pulled back, bringing the Hex-Strider to a perfect halt in the center of the camp. The beast let out a low, rumbling snort, its dark eyes sweeping over the awestruck teenagers, daring any of them to step too close.
"Okay," Jasper whispered, leaning against his rifle and staring at the massive horse. "That is the coolest thing I have ever seen."
Standing a few yards away, Bellamy watched his sister sitting atop the Alpha, a proud smirk crossing his face. But as the camp's leader, Bellamy wasn't about to be outdone by a horse, and he certainly wasn't going to let the rest of the Ingranronakru herd go to waste.
He looked over at a massive, scarred Gullfaxi stallion that was currently pinning two terrified delinquents against the dropship with nothing but angry snorts and stomping hooves.
Bellamy tossed his empty rifle to Miller and stepped forward.
Unlike Connor, Bellamy didn't strut. He didn't try to puff his chest out or wave his arms to project fake dominance. Bellamy had spent the last few weeks holding a camp of ninety-eight chaotic teenagers together through sheer willpower and protective instinct. He carried himself like a true Alpha.
"Easy," Bellamy commanded, his voice low and firm as he stepped between the terrified kids and the massive warhorse.
The Gullfaxi turned its heavy head toward him. It flattened its ears and let out a sharp, aggressive hiss, stomping its front hoof into the dirt to test him.
Bellamy didn't flinch. He didn't take a single step backward. He just stood his ground, locking eyes with the beast, radiating a stubborn, unyielding determination.
"I'm not backing down," Bellamy told the horse quietly, his posture completely relaxed but immovable. "We've both had a long night. But you're in my camp now."
For a long, tense moment, it was a battle of sheer willpower. The massive warhorse stared at the boy from the sky, its muscles coiled tight. But Bellamy's absolute refusal to show fear or hesitation finally broke through the animal's aggressive instincts.
Slowly, the Gullfaxi's ears perked back up. The tension left its heavy neck, and it took a slow, heavy step forward, lowering its head to Bellamy's chest level.
Bellamy slowly raised his hand and placed it firmly on the horse's thick, muscular neck, stroking the coarse hair. The beast huffed, leaning slightly into his touch.
A cheer erupted from the delinquents watching in the courtyard.
"Looks like we have our cavalry," Bellamy called out, looking over at Octavia and Aleksander with a satisfied grin. He grabbed the heavy leather reins, fully securing the beast.
Aleksander watched from the back of the Hex-Strider, genuinely impressed by the siblings. The Sky People were adapting to the ground far faster than he could have ever anticipated. With high-powered rifles, a magical kinetic barrier, and now the deadliest warhorses on the continent, the hundred were no longer just surviving the woods—they were conquering them.
Sitting high in the saddle, Octavia ran her hand through the Hex-Strider's thick, dark mane. She looked over her shoulder at Aleksander, her eyes bright with the thrill of the ride.
"He needs a name," Octavia murmured. "You know all the old Earth history from the archives. What should we call him?"
Aleksander thought for a moment, his mind sifting through the ancient mythologies preserved on the Ark. "In the old Norse legends, the king of the gods rode a massive, terrifying steed with extra legs. It was the fastest, most powerful beast in all the realms, capable of crossing into the underworld itself. Its name was Sleipnir."
"Sleipnir," Octavia repeated, a fierce, satisfied smile spreading across her face as she patted the beast's neck. "I love it."
Over by the dropship, Bellamy caught the end of the exchange. He stroked the thick, scarred neck of his massive Gullfaxi stallion, a competitive smirk tugging at his lips. "If we're pulling from the old myths, then this one is Arion," Bellamy declared, referencing the immortal, impossibly fast warhorse from Greek legends. "It fits the new cavalry."
With the immediate excitement of the horses settling into organized chaos, Clarke pushed her way through the gathering crowd. She walked up to the side of the towering Hex-Strider, looking up at Aleksander. Her expression was a heavy mix of exhaustion and profound relief.
"I just finished the medical sweep of the perimeter," Clarke whispered, keeping her voice low so only Aleksander and Octavia could hear. "Because of the magical barrier, no one suffered any injuries. The rebound kept all the shrapnel, arrows, and the cavalry out. They're just shaken up and scared, but we didn't lose a single person tonight."
Aleksander gave a curt, satisfied nod. A flawless defense was exactly what they needed to cement morale. But as his dark eyes swept over the milling teenagers in the courtyard, his tactical mind picked up on a missing variable. He frowned, scanning the faces near the fire pit.
"Where is Finn?" Aleksander questioned, his voice dropping to a cautious register. "He was supposed to be restricted to the main deck during the attack."
Clarke let out a heavy, tired sigh, crossing her arms over her chest. The adrenaline of the battle was fading, leaving behind the messy, emotional reality of their camp dynamics.
"He's inside the dropship," Clarke answered bluntly. "He and Raven got into a massive screaming match on the middle deck while the attack was happening outside. She confronted him about everything—the cheating, the lies. They fought, and they broke up. Completely."
Aleksander's eyes darkened slightly, processing the psychological shift. A volatile, codependent boy who had just violently lost his primary emotional anchor was a dangerous wildcard to have walking around an active warzone.