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“Clarke.”
The blonde haired girl lifted her head at the sound of her name, and cocked her eyebrow inquiringly.
“Three Ares Campers at two o'clock,” Clarke's dark haired companion murmured, her voice a low gravelly husk in Clarke's ear, lifting her hand to point into the forest's under brush. “Do you think you can hit them?”
Clarke shifted her eyes across the foliage until she found the breaks in the dense leaves that indicated the outlines of the Campers. “Sure,” she muttered, biting the inside of her cheek to prevent her voice quivering, “just tell me when Lexa.”
“Give me five minutes to circle behind them,” Lexa whispered, “I'll cut off their escape, and you pin them with your arrows.”
“Ah,” Clarke hummed, her chest vibrating with laughter. “So, I'm death from above, and you're the clean-up crew?”
“If the shoe fits...” Lexa replied with a smirk.
“It's a good thing we took out the rest of your cabin first,” Clarke commented with a shake of her head. “I'd hate to be going up against someone as sneaky as you are.”
“Then,” Lexa said, “it is a good thing that we are partners.”
Clarke let a slow smile cover her lips before she nudged Lexa’s hip with her elbow. “Go,” she said with a fond roll of her eyes, “get in place. You can have your kisses after we win.”
“So competitive,” Lexa joked as she adjusted the scabbard of her sword on her hip, bent to place a kiss to the crown of Clarke’s blonde head, before shimmy down the trunk of the tree the pair had been hiding within.
Clarke rolled her eyes at the other girl’s actions as she adjusted her bow. She kept track of the three figures, her arrow pointed at the shoulder of the one trailing behind the group, counting down the seconds in her head. Clarke’s lips transformed into a sneer at the sound of the three Campers stamping through the underbrush—their footsteps echoed through the forest, crunching leaves and crushing twigs, without a care for the sound of their steps.
The timer in the back of Clarke’s mind ticked down to zero.
The blonde haired girl adjusted the position of her arrow before drawing back the string to its full extension.
A deep breath.
Then… Release.
The arrow whistled through the air. It’s course sure and true.
It struck the Camper at the back of the Ares group on the right shoulder, the blunted tip digging into the boy’s armour, sending him sprawling back onto the floor. Paint exploded across the boy’s arm.
“One down,” Clarke whispered as she notched a second arrow.
She aimed for the Camper at the head of the group, and released the arrow.
It smacked into the girl’s chest, the tip dug into her armour, and the shaft of the arrow quivered. The girl stumbled sideways under the force of the arrow’s impact and cursed as she wrenched the arrowhead out of her armour. “For fuck’s sake,” she grumbled as she wiped her hands on the fabric of her shorts, “that’s going to stain.”
The third, and final, member of the original trio stood between his two fallen comrades his muscles taut, and his teeth clenched. However, instead of an arrow to the gut, the boy fell to a well-placed sword to his side which burst the paint packets hidden within the lining of his armour. Lexa stepped out of the boy’s shadow holding her sword aloft, pink paint smeared down its length, smiling in Clarke’s direction.
“Show off.” Clarke muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes despite the smile that overtook her lips.
The gong in the middle of Camp Half-Blood rang signalling the end of the game.
“It looks like we won again Bellamy,” Lexa taunted the older boy with a smirk stretched across her lips.
“Laugh it up Woods,” Bellamy grunted as he heaved Miller off the ground before turning to offer his hand to Monroe. “I’ll get you one of these times.”
“Not with me watching her back you won’t.” Clarke commented, sidling up to Lexa’s side to press a kiss to the girl’s cheek. “Good job Commander.”
Lexa hummed as she turned her head to place a soft kiss on Clarke’s waiting lips, “Nice shooting Wanheda.”