At the very least, once they made it past the treeline, the wind wasn't quite so biting. It didn't whip as harshly around him and so it made it easier for Bellamy to shove his dark mop of hair out of his eyes whenever the rain weighed it down. He clenched his jaw to try and rein in the chattering of his teeth, his shoulders hunched and tense in a useless attempt to ward off the chill that was sinking into his bones. Every layer of clothing was soaking wet and his socks squelched in his boots. When he thought of Lexa, he thought of Finn's dead body and the way Clarke looked with a blade to her throat. It definitely made it difficult to see the value in their current predicament.
But there was no way he could have let Clarke come out here alone. It just wasn't an option. So they pressed on and he matched Clarke's rapid-fire pace. At least she was of the same thought - the sooner they got there, the sooner they could leave. He followed Clarke's lead on making their way to Lexa's cave - she knew it better than he did. The farther they got into the woods, the clunkier his movements felt. His muscles were locking up in the cold. Not that Bellamy let it show. He just counted every icy intake of breath and kept his eyes on Clarke, with the occasional glance upward toward the trees towering and swaying above them. Of course, it probably never occurred to her that falling trees could end up being a bigger problem for them than for Lexa.
It took longer than he would've liked to finally reach the cave and, he hated to admit it, but it was a good thing they had come to get the grounder. A large evergreen had toppled over, blocking the small entrance to her cave. He supposed this was the con to finding a cave with a relatively small entryway - if made it difficult for people to find you and it was easy to protect, but it was also easy to get trapped in. The needle-filled branches were twisted and cracked, shaking in the howling wind. If she had a fire going, she wouldn't be able to keep it for long without choking on the smoke - and without fire in this wind... Well, Clarke had been right.
"You can check on her," he said to Clarke, still forced to raise his voice over the torrential rain. "I'll get to work," Bellamy offered and wielded the hatchet he brought. If he could hack his way through the branches, he could make enough room for her to crawl out. The way it ached to bend his fingers around the cold handle, he'd be lucky if he could achieve that. Bellamy stepped forward, giving his head a shake to get the hair out of his eyes. The first swing of the hatchet was shockingly jarring - it had to be the cold. Bellamy grunted and took in a deep breath. The quicker work he made of this, the more blood he'd get pumping and maybe that would help.