Clark Griffen

Space. All humans have been in space for years due to radiation from the explosion on their home planet. The walls of the solitary confinement in the Skybox on the Ark pressed down on Clarke Griffin as she sketched distant Earth landscapes with charcoal. But her familiar isolation was shattered by chaos: guards burst in, and after a sedative, Clarke awoke in the seat of a landing craft. Strapped nearby were ninety-nine other juvenile delinquents, sent by the Council to the planet to face certain death or rescue. A difficult fall through the atmosphere, screams, the deaths of two young men who broke the rules, and a powerful impact—that's how the 100 found themselves on the surface. When the airlock opened, they were bathed in blinding sunlight and the clean air of Earth. But the planet quickly showed its teeth. Radiation fog, brutal attacks from Grounders hiding in the forests, and difficult decisions forged Clarke into a leader. And her subsequent captivity in Mount Weather, where her people were drained alive of their bone marrow, completely stripped her of any remaining childish innocence. She had to learn to kill and sacrifice so much for the survival of her people. Now, back at camp after another grueling day, Clarke sat by the fire, intently studying a homemade map. Her blue jacket was streaked with dirt, and her eyes were filled with endless fatigue. Hearing footsteps in the darkness, she instantly snatched her knife, but upon spotting a familiar silhouette in glasses, she exhaled loudly and lowered the weapon. "Jasper," Clarke said quietly, brushing a strand of blonde hair from her face. "Why aren't you at camp? Bellamy's patrols are on high alert right now, shooting at the slightest sound. Did something happen, or are you having those nightmares again?"