Chapter Text
The Grounders were surrounding the camp. The gunners were running out of bullets, and they'd barely hit anyone. The landmines only worked until they realized what was happening.
"We're going to die here," she heard someone whimper.
Then suddenly, the gunshots and chaos surrounding the camp stopped. Confusion carried over the radio. Bellamy demanded the status on each of the gunners, then of Clarke.
Then another voice carried over the radio.
"Clarke of the Sky People," Anya said, her voice sharp and dark and brought Clarke back to the day on the bridge.
"How'd they get our radios?" a fearful voice demanded behind her.
"Murphy, that damned traitor. He had one."
"I'll kill him if I see him--"
"Shut up," Clarke snapped back at them, turning her attention towards the woods, trying to spot any movement. She pressed the button on her radio and said, "I'm here."
"This battle is not turning out well for you," Anya said, her tone almost amused. Or haughty. The blonde was too frozen in fear to distinguish the two.
"You haven't seen all our tricks," she said back, feigning confidence.
"Of that we have no doubt. But you know that you won't survive. You may take out some of our soldiers, true. But more will come. Our Clan has thousands under its command, Clarke."
"Our people are coming down," Clarke reminded her testily. "They'll have more guns than us. As they're much better at using them."
"Believe me, Clarke. Our people are not afraid of your weapons. If anything, the attention you draw to yourself by using them puts you at risk." Clarke almost asked what she meant, but the voice continued. "So I am here to offer you a deal. Before you escaped me, I sent a rider telling the Commander of your ability as a healer. And the Commander has replied with an offer. If you come with us voluntarily, we will spare your people. We will not kill any more of them, unless they attack us."
"You want me to be your prisoner?" Clarke demanded incredulously.
She saw Bellamy crawl out of one of the hidden holes, striding over towards her quickly. "You can't do this," he said quietly, trying not to let the others hear. "It's a trap. They'll kill us anyway."
"If that is how you want to look at it," Anya said.
"Clarke, you can't do this," Bellamy hissed. "Tell me you won't."
Clarke raised the radio to her lips again. "And how do I know that you won't kill everyone, anyway?"
"I'm sending a horse to your gate, Clarke. You can either get on it, and spare your people, or you can watch them die as we take you, anyway."
"Get everyone inside," Clarke ordered, staring at the boy beside her. "Everyone. Even the gunners. Close the hatch. If you hear anyone outside... ignite the fuel."
"Clarke, you can't--"
"I have to," Clarke snapped back. "They won't hurt me. They need a healer."
"Clarke--"
The blonde ignored him, striding forward swiftly, leaving the dropship and standing in the yard in front of it.
"Everyone on the wall," she said through the radio. "Come back. Everyone get in the dropship."
Immediately people began to crawl through the hidden doors, rushing towards the ship. A few nodded towards her gravely, but no one said anything.
"Bellamy, close the doors."
"Clarke, we can fight them off," he insisted.
"For how long?" she demanded. "And how many more people are going to die? Close the damned door, Bellamy."
The boy didn't reply. But behind her, she heard the hiss of air as the door rose and closed.
There was silence after that. The faintest rustle of the wind in the trees. A few birds calling out. But no voices.
"The horse is at the gate, Clarke," Anya's voice said in the crackle of the radio.
Taking a breath, she tried to calm her heartbeat.
Clarke stepped towards the gate, struggling to open the heavy weight alone, but ultimately succeeding.
The brown horse was nibbling absently at a turf of grass, but looked up to give her a disinterested look.
The blonde swallowed as she tried to recall how one was supposed to mount a horse.
The stories spoke of bridles and saddles and footholds. Clarke strode forward slowly, trying not to frighten the animal. It snorted, as if amused, then returned to the grass.
She put her leg in one of the footholds and threw her arms around the neck, forcing herself onto the animal.
Immediately, Anya's voice snapped through the radio, a course string of words in their language that made the horse stand straight and begin to move away from the camp.
"Clarke, Raven managed to rig the radios. Only you can hear this, but don't respond. We'll find a way to get you out of this. Don't worry."
Bellamy's voice was sure, but Clarke knew there was no way it would work. Gritting her teeth, she held tightly to the horse, forcing herself not to hope.
The horse strode into a small clearing where a tent had been erected. Clarke saw a figure strapped to a tree, beaten bloody, and realized it was Murphy. She tried to feel nothing, insisted mentally that he was a traitor, but despite herself, she felt a pang of sympathy. And fear.
A hand reached out to stop the horse, and Clarke peered down at Anya, who was wearing a superior smirk.
"Clarke of the Sky People," she purred. "So good to see you again."
Clarke raised her chin, trying to display more confidence than she felt, and dismounted. Despite her efforts, the action was shaky and awkward, and she nearly fell on her back. Anya's hand gripped her quickly, and she whispered, "Best not show your weakness just yet, Sky girl."
The blonde grit her teeth but allowed herself to be lead into the tent. Anya reached down, grabbing Clarke's radio and setting it down on the table as they entered.
The man who'd attempted to kill her earlier was there--the one who'd confronted Anya.
"Call back your men so we can return," Anya said, beginning to bind Clarke's hands together with rope.
"We have the girl," the man grunted, eyeing the blonde scornfully. "Now it's time to finish this."
Anya paused, having completed her task. "What are you doing, Tristan? The Commander said--"
"The Commander said to do what we could to get the girl." He smirked. "And we have." He strode out of the tent and called loudly in the Grounder language.
"What's happening?" Clarke demanded, eyeing Anya's clenched jaw. "What's he saying?"
Tristan returned to the tent, a superior look on his face. "I hope you said your goodbyes, Sky girl. Your friends are dead."
"You said they'd be safe," she said, eyes widening. "You said if I came--"
"Anya said," Tristan snapped. "I am the general here. You should have gotten my word, scum."
"No, you can't do this," she rasped, struggling in Anya's girl grip, trying to get at him. "You can't do this!"
"Stop," Anya snarled, kicking out her knees so that she was no longer standing, and forcing her to remain so.
Tristan strode over to her, smirking down. "This is a good position for you," he gloated. "One I'm sure you'll find yourself in more often."
"Anya," she begged. "You can't do this. You promised they'd be safe."
"I am outranked," the woman said flatly. "Be silent."
"No!" Clarke snarled, falling to the ground and rolling out of the Grounder's grasp.
While Anya lost her balance, Clarke leaped up and bolted to the table where the radio was. She leaned down, pressing the buttons in her bound hands and screamed, "They're coming, Bellamy!"
She couldn't say anything else before a hard blow to her temple made her crumble to the ground.
Anya stood above her, a snarl on her face. "You will regret that."
"Take her to the Commander," Tristan ordered. "I'll finish things here." He laughed darkly. "Perhaps I will even bring her the head of 'Bellamy'".
The last thing she saw before losing consciousness was Anya's grim stare.
---
Clarke awoke from a gentle swaying motion that was making her stomach rebel violently.
Groaning, she lurched to the side and vomited, trying and failing to get her bearings.
A waterskin was thrust into her face, and she drunk eagerly, rinsing her mouth of the acid and spitting it out before taking a few genuine chugs.
"Tristan hit your head," Anya's voice explained. They were on a horse, walking slowly through the forest. Anya's arms were around her, keeping her steady, as she stared straight ahead. "You have been unconscious for an hour. We will reach the village soon."
"You lied," Clarke spat, sitting up straight despite the protest from her body.
"I did not give the order," Anya snapped sharply.
"You said you'd let them live," Clarke argued.
The woman's jaw set and she refused to speak for a moment. "There was a noise," she said after a few minutes. "Like what happened to the bridge."
Clarke's eyes widened. "They did it," she whispered.
"You don't understand what you've done," Anya said grimly. "Even if your people survived our army... They have drawn a much worse enemy. You've made too much noise."
"What are you talking about?" Clarke asked, frowning. "Is your Commander going to send another attack?" Already, she began to work out a negotiation, trying to think of a way to save her people. She could blackmail them... refuse to heal their wounded unless they offered them true amnesty...
"Not us," the brunette whispered, turning to look behind them anxiously. "How is your head? Can you handle riding faster?"
Clarke frowned, turning in the saddle to look at the Grounder.
The woman's face was tense, nervous. Her jaw flexed every few seconds, and her eyes were scanning the forest.
"What are you afraid of?" Clarke whispered.
"You people don't understand what you've done," Anya whispered. "We need to hurry to the camp. They might... They might already be there. They'll need a healer."
---
"Hey, Michael, come look at this."
The man rolled her chair to look into the monitor his coworker was pointing at. "What? It's an outsider."
"No, idiot. Look at the girl who's riding with her. Look at her clothes."
Michael frowned, staring more closely. The image shifted perspectives as another camera picked up their movement. "She looks like one of those kids," he realized. "The ones that fell."
"That's what I thought. You think she's one of them?"
"It can't hurt to send a team to pick her up. Can you tell the one out in the field to swing by... Where are they headed?"
"Looks like Tondc."
"Alright, tell them to swing there and grab her." Michael frowned. "And tell them to try and get some fresh ones. The doc is complaining that they're running low on harvests again."
---
After a moment to be sure Clarke wasn't going to fall off the horse, Anya began to urge the animal faster. As soon as Clarke would get used to a speed, Anya took that as being able to go faster, until the forest around them was just a blur of green and brown.
After a few minutes of sprinting, she let the horse slow to a trot, and Clarke leaned backwards, groaning. "I'm going to be sick again."
"Are all Sky People this weak?" Anya asked dryly.
"This is the second time I've ever seen a horse, let alone rode one," she replied, trying to add heat but ending up with a mild whine. "I doubt you'd do any better in zero gravity." The thought of Anya flailing around mid-air made the blonde smirk.
The trees parted and a huge monument appeared, causing Clarke to gasp.
It was a man sitting on a throne. The browned stone was shrouded in foliage and vines, but the man's gaze stared forward intently.
"What is that?" Clarke whispered.
"We are about to enter Tondc," Anya said. "Keep your eyes on the ground. Do not speak. The Commander should arrive tonight, or in the morning."
Clarke grit her teeth. "Why should I do anything you ask? We had a deal, and you broke it."
"Because you're smart. You know I'd hunt you down if you tried anything."
The blonde thought that over.
Her eyes trailed to the forest.
Anya was a Grounder. She would probably catch up to her immediately. But then again... Could she catch up to a horse?
Refusing to allow herself to rethink her plan, she jerked her head backwards, colliding roughly with the woman's chin.
While the Grounder was disorientated, Clarke roughly moved back, shoving her off the saddle, then grasping the reins and urging the horse forward quickly.
The animal took about ten steps before Anya shouted something in her language, halting it immediately.
"You think you can take my horse from me?" Clarke heard the woman growl.
Throwing herself off the saddle, the blonde bolted for the forest.
After a few moment of running, she ducked behind a tree, hoping it might keep the Grounder from finding her.
Trying to ease her breathing towards silence, the girl looked around, trying to spot her pursuer.
She'd just begun to relax when a hand shot out from behind the tree and covered her mouth, stifling her scream.
Anya crept beside her, holding a hand to her own lips as if to beg silence. Once Clarke nodded slowly she removed her hands, but immediately grabbed the blonde and held her to her, preventing further escape.
"Someone is in these woods," she whispered. "Neither your people or mine."
"How do you know?" Clarke asked back quietly.
"They're too quiet to be yours," the woman said, lip curling distastefully. "And too loud to be mine."
"Who is it? Is it... The people you're afraid of?"
She expected the woman to snap at her. To claim she wasn't afraid. To insist that Grounders weren't weak like Clarke and her Sky People.
But Anya's eyes just darkened and scanned the forest.
She was so quiet that Clarke nearly missed the hiss that escaped her lips until a sharp twinge of pain made Clarke mimic it.
A small dart with a red tail stuck out of both of their arms.
"No," Anya whispered, throwing the missile away. She stood, drawing her sword, looking around frantically. Clarke had never seen anyone look so terrified before, and she'd lived through hell for two weeks.
"Anya, what's--" the blonde tried to ask, but her mind began to fog. "Is this... a sedative?"
Anya began to sway, but seemed to be holding off the tranq through sheer force of will. "I will not be taken," she hissed. "I will not become one of them."
But it was no use. Out of nowhere, another dart flew out and hit the Grounder in her neck, causing her to fall to her knees.
Clarke leaned against the tree, trying to fight off the panic that was growing in her stomach.
A man stepped out of the forest, striding towards them slowly.
Anya lurched over to her side, unable to hold herself up as he approached.
Clarke realized he was armed with a rifle, and adorned with what looked like a radiation suit.
He got within a few feet of him and Anya threw herself forward, sliding at him, but missing anything major.
His suit was rent at the knee, and the man screamed, falling forward and reaching into his pack.
Immediately, three more darts were shot into Anya, and the woman was unconscious before she finished falling to the ground.
Clarke managed to remain awake before seeing three more men rush forward to help their comrade.
She didn't have the time to ask them who they were, or what they wanted. Or if they were what Anya was so afraid of.
"Red Team to Mount Weather. Repeat, Red Team to Mount Weather. We've got the girl you asked for, and one for Harvest. One casualty. Can't risk entering Tondc. We're headed home, over."
Clarke's mouth opened, as if to question the strange words, but her mind blanked and her body went limp.