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Lexa and Clarke hurried away from the smoking remains of the village, their ears ringing from the impact of the missile. Once they were far enough away that they were safe from the sniper’s shots, Clarke grabbed Lexa’s arm and signaled for her to stop.
“What is it?” Lexa asked.
“I can’t get the look on my mother’s face out of my mind” said Clarke. “Did we make the right choice, letting all those people die?”
“If we hadn’t, many more would have died up on Mount Weather” said Lexa. “We’re leaders, Clarke. And that means we have to make the hard choices. Only another leader can understand that.” She took Clarke’s hand and led her away from the wreckage.