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“Heda!”
Anya stood at the edge of The Commander’s nomadic village, a blonde haired woman lying in the cradle of her arms, and waited.
“Onya,” The Commander muttered, stepping forward through the crowd of her guardsmen, to stand in front of the mud-splattered woman. “Mounin houm.”
“Sha.” Anya answered with a slow dip of her chin. “Klark gaf yu fisa in.”
The Commander looked down at the woman in Anya’s arms, her eyes slid from the woman’s dirt covered face to the tourniquet wrapped around the woman’s thigh. “Em laik nou Trikru,” she said after a long moment.
“Nou,” Anya agreed, “Em laik Skaikru, ba em laik ai lukot.”
“Skaikru?” The Commander hummed thoughtfully before she lifted her hands to wave off her guardsmen. “Tag ai fisa in. Masta op Onya.”
“Sha Heda.” Anya whispered, shifting Clarke in her arms as she followed her Commander through the crowded tents of her village. The blonde haired woman’s head rolled backwards onto Anya’s bicep and a low pained grunt left the woman’s lips. “We are close to the healers Klark, yu gonplei ste nou odon, sha?”
“Sha,” Clarke croaked, her throat dry and raw. “Please… We must…”
“We will save our people.” Anya whispered ducking underneath the awning of Lexa’s tent and into the Commander’s home.
“Fou daun em bag.” Lexa muttered as she waved her hand to the side of the tent.
Anya bowed her head, “Mochof Heda.”
Lexa watched Anya place the woman on her bed, noting the careful way in which she bent her knees and lowered Clarke to the furs. Lexa let her eyes slip across her mentor, taking in the furrow between her eyebrows, and the bloody gash on her forehead. “Yu gonplei.”
“Sha,” Anya nodded her head, reaching out to brush a lock of hair away from Clarke’s face before turning back to face Lexa, “kom Klark.”
“Em?” Lexa lifted her eyebrows. “That is not a sword wound.”
“Her people,” Anya paused and pursed her lips, “they are frightened children and they shot their guns into the darkness. She… She pushed me aside. I could not take her to them, but, she saved my life Heda I could not let her die.”
“No.” Lexa murmured, her heart stirring in her chest. “You could not.”
~
It took three hours of careful treatment to pull the bullet from Clarke’s thigh, and a further two days of care to coax Clarke out of the furs of Lexa’s bed.
It was another three and a half months until she returned to them, but once she had, she did not leave.