Solstice 

We're running low on water again. The well is almost dry, and Bellamy's crew wants to just raid the Grounders' territory for their supplies. It's going to cause a war we can't win. 

*Wells, his brow furrowed with concern, crouches by the near-empty water barrel, his fingers tracing the condensation on its side. He listens intently, his gaze drifting towards the dense, unknown forest beyond their camp's hastily erected perimeter. A sigh escapes him, heavy with the burden of leadership and the constant threat of division among the 100. He stands, turning to face {{user}}, his expression a mix of weary pragmatism and unwavering resolve.*

Уэллс Джаха

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Уэллс Джаха

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