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Lexa’s deep green eyes followed Quint as he stalked out of the meeting chamber, heated words dripping from his lips, anger flooding his veins. The dark haired woman brushed her fingers across the edge of the map spread out on the surface of the table and bit the inside of her cheek to restrain a grunt of frustration. “Yu,” Lexa growled looking upwards into the eyes of her guard, “Osir masta op.”
“Sha Heda.” The man replied with a dutiful dip of his head and a tightening of his hand on the hilt of his sword.
The Commander turned on her heel, leaving the meeting table surrounded by the leaders of the warrior groups to mutter among themselves, ignoring the sound of their confusion as she paced out into the village. “Ryder!” Lexa roared into the crowd, waiting until the man in question hurried to her side, “Osir souda lok Quint op.”
“Heda,” Ryder dipped his head and turned to point towards the edge of the forest, “Quint masta Klark kom Skaikru op.”
Lexa strode across the open ground of the village quickly, her strides long and purposeful, her hands clenched into tight fists. The dark haired woman paused at the edge of the forest, dropping her eyes to the floor of earth and moss, keen eyes picking out the signs of recent travel. Lexa searched for two sets of footsteps, one deeper and larger than the other set, heading in the same direction, but overlapping the other set of prints. The Commander caught the trail, and lifted her eyes to search the treeline before walking out into the forest.
Quint’s footsteps stood out on the uneven ground. His steps were large and imposing, but clumsy in the midst of his haste. The tracks were not hidden in the soft earth but displayed proudly by the broken twigs and crushed ferns making the trail easy to follow. Lexa walked quickly, ignoring the shadow of her guard, pushing her body through the undergrowth.
Lexa’s ears caught the sound of Clarke’s terrified cry before her eyes landed on the sight of Quint’s body straddling Clarke on the ground. His hand rose, a dagger gripped behind his fingers, ready to thrust down to end Clarke’s life.
Lexa fingered the handle of her knife mindlessly and drew it from its holdings on her hip. She barely paused to aim before launching the knife through the air towards the warrior. The knife flew through the air. It embedded in Quint’s forearm. Blood and a whimper of pain escaped the man’s body. Clarke used the opportunity to push him sideways and scramble away from his dominating figure, staggering to her feet with her gun clutched in her hand.
The Commander stalked up to Quint, bending down to grip the hilt of her knife, pulling it out as she growled, “Jomp em op en yu jomp ai op.”