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Octavia watches Clarke with concern from behind the gate. Their leader has been standing in front of the freshly dug graves for well over an hour now.
She can tell Clarke's slowly cracking under the pressure that comes with being the leader; a title that has been bestowed upon her without Clarke having a say in it.
Her blue eyes are glassy with unshed tears and her bottom lip quivers.
By the time Octavia joins her, Clarke's chest is heaving, her breathing is ragged.
"Hey, why don't we go sit down for a bit, uh?" Octavia suggests, running a hand up and down Clarke's back calmingly.
Clarke nods shakily, wiping her tears quickly with her palms, leaving strikes of dirt on her cheeks. She's embarrassed. She's supposed to be the strong one, and here she is, panicking after the first attack.
Octavia leads them over to a fallen tree and they sit quietly for a moment.
"It's okay to be afraid, Clarke. We're all scared," Octavia comforts her. "You just need to use your fear to make you stronger."
"I'm not sure I know how," Clarke confesses.
"You'll figure it out," Octavia promises, wrapping an arm around her leader's shoulders.