Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Clarke walked away from Bellamy. Away from Camp Jaha, away from her friends, away from her mother. Clarke left behind her nearly everything she knew.

She didn't look back - couldn't let herself look back at what she was leaving behind. A part of her wanted to, but she knew, deep down, that nothing good would come of letting herself have one last look. She was aware that it would just be one more image, one more bit of fuel added to the pyre her mind would burn her with.

So Clarke held her head high, forced her eyes not to stray from directly ahead, and made her way across the cleared area directly surrounding Camp Jaha back toward the woods. She didn't dare breathe, as she took measured steps away from camp, moving at a constant pace, terrified that if her body was able to, it would shudder and cry. Afraid that the sobs and breakdown would come too close to camp, worried she wouldn't be far enough away to keep the ones she was leaving from worrying. She didn't want them to have to watch as the agony of what she had done for them tore through her. And she didn't want them to pull her back inside with them.

As the shadow of the canopy above shielded her from the harsh brilliance of the blue skies, she could finally breathe. The breath in was shuddering, uneven, and water leaked its' way out of the corners of her eyes. Clarke shut her eyes tightly, and shook her head, doing her best to remove the unwanted water from her face without raising a hand to touch the offending wetness and wipe it away. Clarke took another breath in, opened her eyes, and pushed forward. The tears didn't continue. Not then.

Clarke wandered through the woods at a moderate pace, trying not to think or to wonder what was next for her. Moving too slowly would make it hard to keep her mind blank. She had no idea where she was going, or even where she could go. There wasn't anywhere on this planet for her. Camp Jaha, behind her some distance away, was full of painful memories, full of faces that could smile, and hearts that could beat because she had taken that right away from many, many others. The rest of the world, any of the twelve clans, their capital, and various grounder villages were no better. Those people had been saved, too, but the cost of their lives had been her choice to save her people in any way other than genocide. The cost of their lives had been her sanity.

And somewhere in this world, somewhere among the clans, probably in some nearby grounder village, was Lexa, Commander of those people. The commander who had traded her alliance, her trust, her people, and her sanity for her own people. Clarke didn't even want to consider what other unmentioned things were included in that trade. Lexa had left her to die. No one could have expected Clarke to walk away from the mountain, leaving behind a mountain of ghosts, not a single one of those belonging to her own people.

Clarke tried her best to keep the potential romance between herself and the commander silent, even in her own mind. She had no way of knowing if it had been real. In the moment, it had felt that way, but following what had happened at Mount Weather, she couldn't help but wonder if she'd just been a pawn in a larger play. Perhaps the deal for the grounders had been made before they had even set foot upon the mountaintop. Maybe the grounders had simply needed them, to trade a few extra bodies of marrow for the freedom of all their people. Clarke shook the thoughts from her mind, pushing her way through the underbrush beneath a tree. She knew better than to dwell, especially on that. There was enough regret, rage, and confusion at the rest of the situation. She didn't need to think about how Lexa might have used her.

Lexa, she thought to herself. It won't be long until she and the rest of the grounders hear about what happened at the mountain. If they don't know already. And Lexa will send someone looking for me, probably. If she cares. Maybe even if she doesn't. She scoffs to herself, I'm on her land, after all, she doesn't really need any excuses to keep tabs on me.

She trudged on. The sun was setting as she found herself at the base of the mountain. Clarke wondered briefly why her feet had led her here, pulling her jacket closer to her, as a breeze left her with a chill. It didn't take Clarke long, however, to realize that she had come here because she knew there wouldn't be anyone here. No one alive, at any rate. Clarke considered turning around, going to the bunker instead, but memories of Finn wouldn't really be any better. She resigned herself to her unintentional destination, realizing that at the very least, if someone were sent looking for her, this wouldn't be where they would start.

Clarke climbed the mountainside, keeping to the less steep areas. Until she got near the top of the mountain, where she climbed the steeper slopes up to where the antenna array was, higher than the entrance to the mountain itself. There was no way, sanity or not, that Clarke was going to go inside the mountain. The blistered corpses of her victims would hardly have begun to decay, yet. It would be some time before they were merely skeletons. And even then, Clarke wasn't sure she would ever be able to face the interior of the mountain, face what she had done. What she had been forced to do.

Clarke scrabbled up the last of the sheer land before the antenna array. She sighed to herself, knowing this was her final destination for the night, knowing that with the constant movement of the past few hours gone, her mind would be less numb and would fill to the brim with unwanted thoughts. Unwanted memories. She turned in a slow circle, gazing across the canopy of the forest beneath her, light growing dim as the sun made its final descent below the horizon to the west. For the most part, the forest was unbroken. There were other mountains, hills, valleys within her sight. She could just barely make out the top of the crashed Ark she had come from, miles east of her, mostly obscured by another mountain. She let out a deep breath, glad that she couldn't see the open area of the Camp Jaha compound, and relieved that in less than a full day, it wouldn't be in sight at all.

The mountain beneath her, however, wasn't at all far enough away from her. She wished that her feet had led her somewhere else, but with her luck, she would have found herself unwittingly in a grounder village, face to face with Lexa. And she did not want that. She moved over to the base of the antenna atop the mountain, turning her back to it, and sinking to the ground, back to the base of the support structure that held the antenna aloft. She shoved her legs out in front of her, across the ground, and pulled her arms close to her chest, pulling her jacket closer to herself again. With the sun gone until morning, the temperature began to settle into a chill.

Clarke tilted her head back, gazing at the stars above her, brightening in the emergent darkness. Not for the first time since she had been on the ground, she thought of the Ark. But unlike previous thoughts of her birthplace, this time she missed the cold space dwelling. The ground may have sun-warmed air, and blue skies, it may have birdsong and volumes and volumes of water, and it may have enough oxygen to never have to suffer its' loss, but on the Ark, she hadn't had to decide to end hundreds of lives. She had been a child. Truly a child, not the way the adults thought of her here on the ground.

She sighed to herself, breath puffing into a small misty cloud before her eyes. That isn't quite true, she thought. Even on the Ark, I made choices that affected life. Dad and I might not have really managed to save anyone, but we had both wanted to. Even knowing his life was forfeit if he did so, dad tried to warn them that the Ark didn't have enough oxygen to keep us all alive. Jake had died just for wanting to tell them. And if he had managed to tell them, maybe systems could have been repaired. Maybe the problem could have been delayed, life in the sky prolonged. But that wasn't what had happened. He'd been floated. Even watching her father be sucked into the vacuum of space hadn't stopped Clarke from wanting to tell them, also. Even if her father had begged her to do nothing. She never got the chance, but she knew she would have. She would have told them all and been floated just like her father. The ark was life and death, too. The choice was just kept from me, then. Even then, hundreds had died in space, the oxygen leached from their bodies. Thousands had died before or during the final descent of the Ark to earth. Clarke couldn't call it necessary, but it was the only choice that had kept any of them alive.

My choice to kill the mountain men isn't so different, Clark thought. They could all die, or we could all die. And all I wanted was just not to watch my friends die. Clarke let her head droop to her shoulder, still gazing at the sky. She didn't like the choice she had been left with, but she made the choice she had to. Just like decision that had been made in the sky, to crash the Ark to earth, knowing most of them wouldn't survive the journey. There was no choice, just something that had to be done.

Clarke could rationalize to herself all she wanted to, but it wouldn't change the fact that the mountain, even now, was haunting her.

Chapter Text

Clarke found herself walking into a room. It only took a moment before her mind registered the long parallel tables and the rows of flags above them. Level five. The mountain. For a moment more, the room was empty, before shifting. Clarke fell forward as if the ground beneath her had shaken. Her face didn't hit the concrete flooring. It hit flesh.

Blistered, still, silent and cold hands between her and the body she had fallen on. The blisters still full of puss, skin coated with blood. And Clarke's face was on them. Clarke let out a scream as she flung herself backward, tripping over another body, she fell to her rear. Clarke could barely breath, the the air tasted like the copper of blood. She panted and crawled backwards as fast as her body would allow, away from the corpses before her, only to back into another. She screamed again, and flung herself to the side, standing quickly, placing her back against the nearest wall.

Eyes wide, Clarke tried to breath, staring in horror at the room before her. Her chest rose and fell, but the oxygen wouldn't reach her lungs. Her mouth still tasted like blood, and the room was full of limp, blistered bodies, slumped in chairs and collapsed on the floor. Clarke couldn't shut her eyes, she couldn't even blink. The room seemed to lurch before her and Clarke stumbled, nearly falling again, hands clinging as best they could to the wall behind her.

Jasper was here now. His eyes looked up at her deplorably, hollow. He opened his mouth. She was sure he spoke, but Clarke couldn't hear anything. She had screamed earlier, but had she heard it? Clarke raised a hand to her head, shaking it slightly. Jasper, on his knees, cradling a lifeless body to him, opened his mouth again, saying something. Clarke's eyes flicked down to the body he held. Maya, her eyes still open, but rolled into the back of her head. The whites of her eyes stared up at Clarke, her limp neck draped over Jasper's arm.

Unexpectedly, Maya's body lurched away from Jasper, and stood tall, white eyes still staring at Clarke. The body only took one step forward before Clarke turned to run. A few steps later, Clarke stumbled over the body of a fallen guard in the hallway, flinging her arms up in front of her, expecting to hit the concrete wall.

Clarke rolled to her left, onto her forearms, body lurching her forward, knees coming up to partially support her weight as her stomach contents loosed themselves onto the ground beneath her. Clarke coughed and gagged for only a moment, interrupted by another lurch. Her body continued this pattern for a few moments, but quit shortly after it was clear that there was nothing left to expel.

Clarke panted, coated in a shiny film of cold sweat, rolling herself away from the pool of sick. Lying on her back, she caught her breath for a moment. She knew she had to get away from this mountain, even though she doubted that would cure the horror she'd just seen. She didn't even recall falling asleep. There were memories of her life before the ground, and then there were corpses, like there was no time in between. She pushed herself to her feet just as soon as she could breath normally and set off away from the glimmer of light creeping its' way up the eastern horizon.

Clarke walked, and walked, pushing herself, not stopping for more than a couple sips of water at a stream. Despite the aching emptiness of her stomach and the accompanying rumbles, she didn't so much as think to stop for food. All she knew was that she needed to put as much distance between herself and the mountain, and Camp Jaha as she could. She just hoped she wouldn't run into anyone traversing lands she didn't know.

She kept moving. It was all she could do to keep her mind silent, to avoiding thinking about the dream, what it had meant, or anything that had led to it. Even when the sun had crossed the sky and was setting on the other side, she didn't stop, didn't pause. Even exhausted, in the darkness, she trudged onward. She didn't trust herself to stop, or to sleep. It was only when the sun began to rise again that she realized that sometime in the night, she had gotten turned around. She cursed to herself and turned on her heel, wondering just how much she had backtracked on herself.

Exhaustion now eating at her body, Clarke moved slower, and it was easier to keep her mind clear. As she stopped at a stream for water at midday, she even allowed her mind to wander briefly, simply paying the results of such an activity no mind. It was easy not to think when it took more effort to think than to move or to simply do nothing at all. Clarke moved on. She knew she would have to stop soon, to sleep, or her body would make the choice to stop for her. She quietly agreed with herself that she would stop tonight, as the sun set. There was no point in getting herself turned around in the dark again. She dreaded what would come in her sleep, but she also knew she wouldn't have much luck avoiding it.

As the sun began to set, she shivered and pulled her jacket closer to her. It was getting closer to winter, something Clarke had never experienced, but had read about on the Ark. She would have to figure out how to make a fire soon. She had excelled at her Earth Skills class, but making a fire had been something they had never had the opportunity to practice. It wasn't something they could. A fire would eat up their oxygen, it wasn't worth the practice, especially when she and the other Ark children in her classes weren't supposed to be the ones to come to earth. There was supposed to have been another hundred years before their return to the planet, and they were only supposed to be a link in a chain, passing the information down to their descendants, to the ones who were supposed to journey to the ground.

She would have to learn to hunt, too, if she wanted to live. And Clarke wasn't so sure she wanted to. Living alone in a world on fire, a world full of war and blood; it wasn't what she had pictured when she had dreamed of earth. But she also hadn't imagined that there would still be people alive on the ground. That aside, if the dreams continued, this existence would be nothing but haunted. Haunted by her own actions, by the lives of those she had sacrificed. Haunted by what-ifs, and by wondering how life, and maybe love, might have been if Lexa hadn't abandoned her at Mount Weather. Clarke shook her head violently. She didn't want to dwell on that. She didn't want to accept that the kiss had even happened. She wrapped her arms around herself and set herself down, her back against the trunk of a tree, the grass beneath her soft and pleasing, if somewhat cold already.

Clarke couldn't remember falling asleep, but she jerked awake the next morning as the sun rose, again panting and covered in cold sweat. She wasn't quite sure if it was from the chill of the night, or the now recurrent nightmare. She had heard the words Jasper spoke this time. "How could you?" Over and over, like he couldn't process what had been done, much less why she had had to do it. She dragged the back of a hand across her forehead, ridding it of the sheen of sweat. The small change somehow made her whole body feel a bit warmer.

She stood and took in her surroundings. To her, it looked like almost anywhere in the woods. To her, that's exactly what it was. Trees around her, grass beneath her, sporadic bits of undergrowth, never very dense. There was nothing about this spot that distinguished it from anywhere else Clarke had been in the forest. She sighed and started walking, searching the ground and undergrowth for sticks, dry bark, maybe some dead grass, if she was lucky. She found sticks easily enough, but had ended up having to pry bark from a tree, still alive. The bark was too fresh for what she needed it for, and she knew better to try to start a fire with it quite yet. She put the bark and a few of the sticks into the small bag strapped to her. She hadn't had cause to use it since she had left, though if she'd been smarter, she would have stocked it with dried foods, or matches, or almost anything. As it was, the bag only had a small knife in it, and now some bark and sticks. She yanked a few more pieces of bark off a nearby tree and added them to the bag, not knowing how long it might take for them to dry, and suspecting it might take her more than one try to get a fire going. And with the nights getting cooler, she'd soon need a fire every night.

Since she couldn't spend the morning practicing making fire with wet bark, she decided to move on, turning away from the rising sun. As she trekked throughout the day, she kept her eyes open for more suitable fire starting tools. She did eventually find some dry grass, and cut some away from the ground with the knife from her bag, throwing it in with the store of other supplies afterward. She wondered how she was going to hunt food. Or forage for food. She hadn't seen many animals since her departure, and she wasn't sure she would be able to hunt them with the small knife she had. Knife throwing skills were something taught to grounders, not sky people. She still had her gun tucked into her belt, but she didn't want to have to use it for hunting. There was every chance she would need it to defend herself against grounders, or god forbid a pauna.

She supposed she could try to trap food, it was likely to be more successful than her attempting to hunt, anyhow. On the Ark, they had been able to practice making small game traps in her classes. Not exactly with the right tools, but they did get to practice, and it was more than she could say for her fire starting. They had borrowed shoe laces from their own boots, and used pieces of crap metal and bits of circuit boards that had stopped working decades ago. They would tie bits together with one lace, and string up another at the height of a small animal's head, so that it would tighten around the neck of the creature if it passed through the trap. Of course, she'd never been able to practice with sticks and roots, as the traps were really supposed to be made of, and the animal wasn't killed by the trap, and could still destroy the trap or escape. She would have to try.

Clarke was getting thirsty. She knew she hadn't been drinking enough water, but her primary drive had been getting away from Camp Jaha and the mountain. Now, three days travel away, she could find it in herself to worry about getting something to drink. She turned again to face west, and walked, hoping she would find a stream sooner rather than later.

It was only a few hours before she did find a stream, and drank as much as she could stomach from it. She briefly worried about the fact that she'd been drinking un-purified water, but she didn't exactly have anything to boil it in, or a fire to bring it to a boil. She supposed she would just have to do better when she could produce a fire.

After her fill of water, Clarke settled to her knees near the base of a tree not far from the stream. She tried to dig through the earth for the roots of the tree, hoping to start constructing some traps. Even close to the stream, the ground was not pliable, and resisted her hands, dirt caking beneath her finger nails. She ended up pulling out the small knife and carving a channel in the ground before her fingers could successfully pull the dirt from the ground. Clarke had to dig much deeper than she had hoped to find the roots of the tree, but she did find them. She cut the root with her knife and pulled as much of it out of the ground as she could. With several feet of root, she set to work with small sticks and the root and her knife, making traps.

Her first few attempts at making traps didn't hold together too well, and she had cut the root length for the snare too short, so it would have been a wonder if an animal had been able to get its head into the trap in the first place. But Clarke learned from her mistakes and improved every time. Hunger was eating at her by now, drawing her focus away from her task, but it was also a motivation, because these traps were her best shot at finding food, beyond stumbling across something forage-able. She was sure there had to be plenty of edible plants around, but not all of the species on the ground were the same as when the books that had made their way into the sky were written. Clarke would have to gamble with her life, or wait until she caught food, and she could always gamble later.

The sun had been descending in the sky for a few hours by the time Clarke had constructed two fairly usable traps, and one that might work, but might also just let the creature in it go too easily. She had taken breaks throughout the day, drinking from the nearby stream each time. Even though she hadn't had anything to eat since before the battle at Mount Weather, the water alone made her feel much better. My stomach is probably just glad to have anything in it, she mused to herself. She stretched as she stood before ambling over to the little stream. She knelt and lowered her hands into the water, cupping them and bringing what they could contain to her lips. Clarke would soon have to move again, away from the immediate vicinity of the water source, to find somewhere to place her traps. She drank and repeated her actions, hoping she would be able to find her way back to the stream, or at the very least, find another on her way. Clarke returned to the base of the tree she had labored under during the day and carefully retrieved her traps. It wouldn't take much maltreatment to turn her work into nothing more than a couple of sticks and a some roots, and she'd much rather an animal destroy her work than doing so accidentally herself.

Clarke crossed to the other side of the shallow stream, cradling her trio of traps in one arm. She took one last glance behind her, at the blue sky, just a single cloud in sight, before turning and entering the cover of forest canopy again. She pushed herself some distance through the woods, light much dimmer than it had been in the open area near the stream, before she began to look for some place to set up a trap. She kept her eyes trained on the ground, looking for places near spots of undergrowth, or for any sight of game life, or maybe something an animal might like to eat. For just a moment, she was envious. She knew these woods weren't empty, the animals were just rather good at keeping away from humans, and moved with a grace that couldn't be learned. Or maybe it could be learned, she mused, as she considered the fluidity many of the grounders had demonstrated in their movements. Nevertheless, these animals managed to find edibles and survive. She would, too.

Clarke knelt down near a bush of some kind and started placing the first of her traps very close to it. As she finished its placement, she stood and glanced around, wondering how on earth she would find the trap again. She couldn't very well stay here and watch it. If the animals could avoid her all this time since Mount Weather, she doubted it would change with her staring down a trap meant for them. She turned to look at the nearest tree and took out her small knife. She pried the bark from the tree at eye level, before clawing and pulling a larger swath away. She put the bark in her bag with the rest, no use in wasting, but the bared portion of the tree might serve as a mark if she found her way close enough to spot it.

Clarke left the area and moved further into the forest. Placing traps too closely would do her no good, she figured she needed to be at least a quarter mile from the first, if not further, before placing the next. Still, she mostly kept her eyes to the ground. This was fortuitous for Clarke, as she may have tripped and fallen on the round objects she encountered otherwise. The objects were quite small, she noted, as she reached to pick one up. They weren't precisely spherical, but more of an ovoid with an occasional raised ridge. The one she held was no longer than half the length of one of her fingers, marginally narrower than it was long, with six shallow ridges meeting at slight points on either end. It was a light brown, almost pale. Clarke opened her left hand, holding it flat and placed the object into it, and smirked to herself as she turned to the nearest tree and slammed her open hand into it. The object crushed and split between her palm and the trunk of the tree, her palm stung from the force. She pulled her hand away, catching the object using both of her hands. She pulled the two broken halves apart from each other and revealed the interior to the world. "It's a nut," she said aloud, to no one but herself, and with some degree of excitement. She plucked it from its' destroyed casing and plopped it into her mouth, practically melting at the taste of something other than water in her mouth. She swallowed and her stomach was quick to protest that there wasn't immediately more following the morsel.

She quickly fell to her knees and began to crawl around the forest floor, snatching as many of the small spherical foods from the ground as she could, and tossing them all into her bag. Most were varying shades of brown, but some were still mottled with green, obviously having fallen from the tree fairly recently. Unfortunately, her bag was quite small, and was already partially full of bark and twigs. She discarded the least dry pieces of bark to shove a few more nuts into her store, before picking up a handful more to eat right then. Her traps lay carelessly on the ground nearby during the discovery, and she crushed these nuts into a tree and ate their centers as she had done before. Nuts had been an occasional staple of their food supply when the hundred had lived at the drop ship. They were much safer than the gamble that came with consuming [possibly hallucinogenic] berries. Clarke finished her meager meal and grabbed the best of her remaining traps from the ground. There was food here, there had to be certain animals that frequented the area to eat it. She placed the trap near some grassy undergrowth, as close to the tree the nuts had fallen from as she could without it being in the open.

She marked the tree as she had previously, leaving the pile of discarded bark carefully at the base as her bag was already full. If she found her way back here to check the trap and needed more, she knew where it was.

Clarke wandered further, trying to keep on the same azimuth of her previously placed traps. She got just far enough away, she thought, before placing the final snare, then she set about finding some place just far enough away from that trap to sleep for the night. When Clarke settled on a location, she pulled a few more nuts out of her bag, cracking and eating them. She extracted the driest piece of bark she could find and a stick from somewhere beneath the hoard of nuts. She settled onto her knees, placing the bark, flat side up, before her. She leaned forward with her upper body, carefully placing the stick upright, one end in the center of the bark, between her palms. Clarke sighed, uncertain if she should allow herself to hope to be able to produce warmth or not. The sun was already setting and she had to try before she lost what was left of the light. She breathed in and began to move her palms back and forth along the shaft of the stick, trying to move as fast as possible. However, these weren't movements her body was used to, and the attempt at speed merely resulted in clumsily flicking the stick from her grasp. Clarke tried again, and again. She tried until the skies were dark. She had managed to stop losing the stick completely from her grasp, but she didn't seem to be able to generate smoke, or a spark, or anything other than aching palms. Not yet, she thought. Not yet. Clarke settled into the grass on her back, staring into the darkness above her, and tried to surrender herself to the night. To sleep.

Chapter Text

The flags in the room were an immediate sign. Clarke knew she was back in the mountain. And she knew this was another nightmare. Without her permission, her breathing sped up, bordering on hyperventilation. She closed her eyes, trying to calm herself, knowing what was next.

When she opened her eyes, it was to the added presence of blistered corpses slumped in every chair and collapsed onto most of the floor. Clarke turned, keeping her eyes on her feet, she didn't particularly want to face plant into a corpse again. She stepped over a body, prepared to enter the hallway in an attempt to get out, away from the dead, away from the nightmare itself, when she heard Jasper's voice behind her. The words hadn't changed. "How could you?" Clarke hung her head, pausing in her exit. She knew she hadn't had a choice. Not after... not after she had left her there. But that wouldn't be enough of an answer for Jasper, not even in her own mind.

Clarke ignored the fact that she was shaking as she stepped into the hallway. Jasper didn't stop questioning her, but she also didn't stop moving, approaching the door at the end of the hall. She pushed through the door, only to find herself entering the far end of the dining room, Jasper already staring at her, despite that fact that she was on the opposite end of the room she'd just left. Clarke couldn't help the panic that began to set in. Leaving this dream, this nightmare, wasn't as simple as just walking out, and it left Clarke scared. She glanced around frantically, but unfortunately, the only things to see were limp bodies. Clarke had actually begun hyperventilating now, the lack of oxygen making her all the more frantic.

Desperate to leave, she remembered what had ended the dreams before. She turned to the nearest wall and voluntarily smashed her head into it. Only, that didn't end the dream. Clarke held her head, reeling away from the wall and tripping backward over a fallen body. Before even landing, she could feel her revulsion, she didn't want to be surrounded by these bodies again, she didn't want to be touching them again. And then she landed, the back of her head smacking into the floor.

Clarke sat bolt upright, hands moving to her head. Despite not having actually hit her head, it hurt quite profoundly. Clarke felt her stomach lurch and leaned sideways to let her stomach empty onto the grass beside her. She spat at the soggy spot on the ground, and scooted across the grass away from it, placing her back against the nearby tree. Clarke sighed and rested her head against the tree, looking upward at the underside of the trees above her.

Clarke didn't look forward to sleep, and now knowing that there was no easy escape, she wished she could just go without sleep at all. She knew it wasn't practical. She was hardly finding food and getting enough water, hadn't managed to make a fire yet, and refusing to sleep on top of that would either sap her strength until it became very hard to do much of anything, or would manage to drive her crazy faster. Not sure it could drive me crazy much faster than the nightmares, themselves, she thought bitterly. There might have been a part of her that didn't mind if she simply did nothing until she died, if it meant avoiding the nightmares. But Clarke's a survivor, and if ever she were to give up, it wouldn't be now. It wouldn't be yet.

Clarke leaned over to grab her bag, dragging it toward her. She took a handful of nuts from the bag, and began cracking them against the same tree she was leaning on, and eating them. The nuts were dry and made her wish she had some kind of canteen or waterskin. Having to be at a river or stream or lake to drink was an inconvenience. The nuts were still better than nothing, and settled her stomach a bit.

The sun had been rising since before Clarke had woken, light filtering through the canopy above at a steep angle. Clarke thought about the things she had to do today as she ate her morning meal. There wasn't much, but out in the wild, something more could come up at any point, and if she were honest with herself, Clarke would admit concern over her ability to find the traps she'd laid the previous day.

Clarke pushed up off the ground, using the tree, swinging the bag up over her shoulder in the same fluid move. She spendt just a moment to remember last night and orient herself toward the south-east before heading out to look for her snares. She tread onward, occasionally stumbling over a raised tree root as her eyes were on the tree around her, not her feet, trying to spot the marked tree. Her last trap hadn't been placed too far from her campsite. She spotted the tree off to her left ahead, and corrected her course.

She reigned in any instinct of excitement. Just because she'd found the trap didn't mean it would have caught anything. And if it had, she hadn't managed to start a fire yet, and would need to do so to safely eat the animal. Calmly, she walked up to the tree, peering around the underbrush to look at her trap. It hadn't moved, didn't even look to have been touched. Clarke frowned. It was good, in a way, she wouldn't have to make one to replace it, but there may not be animals in the area to fall into it, either.

Clarke did her best to pick out the direction that would lead her to the next trap. It was much further away than this one had been from her campsite. She set out again, paying somewhat more care to where she was placing her feet. She couldn't help but wonder, involuntarily, how her people were. But Kane, and her mother, and Bellamy were all with them. She shook the thoughts from her mind. Thinking of them would only make forgetting what she had done for all of them harder. Clarke wasn't sure she deserved to forget, but she certainly wanted to.

She could see her next marked tree in the distance. When she reached it, it too was empty and intact. She stopped long enough to refill her bag with fallen nuts from the tree, and to eat a few more. It was hard to resent eating the same thing for a whole day when it was better than having nothing to eat at all, but it still annoyed some part of her mind. She wanted something more substantial.

Clarke moved on, lost in her own thoughts, despite the fact that she didn't want to think at all. A little bit of wondering about home, a little bit lamenting her failed attempts to light a fire, and a little bit wondering how long she could really last out here. The sun was nearly directly above her when she started wondering if she'd missed the last tree marker. She pondered just how long she'd been walking from the last trap and compared it to what she remembered of the night before, then decided to turn around. It was more difficult going the other way. The stripped portion of bark would be facing her back as she passed by. It took some stumbling, and a lot of checking over her shoulder, but she eventually noticed the last of her marked trees and headed toward it. The final trap was decimated, the roots tying it together broken apart like someone had stepped directly on it. She knelt before it, looking at it and the surrounding area. There was no sign of what really happened, but she pulled the sticks away from the broken roots and took them with her.

She turned east and headed toward where she knew the stream would be, boots crunching across the rocks near the edge of it as she arrived. She stooped and scooped water into her parched mouth. She worried again about how sanitary the water was, but there was still nothing she could do. Yet.

Clarke spent a good chunk of the afternoon digging up another root and reconstructing the trap. A better trap, or at least better workmanship. She dank more water, ate a few more nuts, an afternoon snack, or dinner. Who knows, it's not like she had a regimented three meal a day schedule to stick to. Clarke headed back into the woods sometime in late afternoon, a few hours of sunlight left. She planted the new snare in roughly the same place as the previous one and began the long trek back to her temporary campsite. She passed the last of her traps on the way back and knew she was in the right area. She picked a tree and camped out beneath it, no point in going back to the same place she'd used the previous night, she hadn't left anything behind. And the vomit might attract creatures.

She pulled off her bag, grabbing some dry bark and a stick, tossing the bag aside, under the tree. There was nothing left for Clarke to do but give fire starting another shot. She knelt down and got to work trying. The best she accomplished before the sun set behind the western horizon was a steady stream of smoke that just didn't seem to want to ignite, no matter how much friction Clarke generated between the stick and bark. Clarke's hands were red and raw from the efforts, not quite bleeding, but feeling a bit like she'd scraped them along a tree trunk. Which isn't too far off the truth, Clarke mused. With the sun setting, there isn't much point in continuing my efforts, I wouldn't even be able to see the smoke. Why was I never around when someone had to get a fire going back at the drop ship? Clarke signed aloud. She settled her back to the nearby tree and gazed up through a narrow gap in the trees above, the moon perfectly aligned in view.

Clarke jerked awake from where she had fallen asleep, uncomfortable folded into and L-shape on the ground next to the tree, as if she had simply fallen sideways. She pushed herself into a sitting position and pulled her legs in, feeling the discomfort in her muscles. She stretched her arms, particularly the one she had unwittingly slept on, as she sighed. The nightmares were nothing if not persistent, but when they weren't new and she wasn't trying to fight her way out of them, at the very least they didn't send her stomach lurching. Small comfort.

She glanced around for her bag, finding it a few feet away, where she'd flung it the night before. She moved just enough to grab the strap and drag it towards herself before settling back against the tree, legs folded inward and crossed. She had breakfast as she had the previous morning, marveling at the dryness in her mouth and pondering how she could carry water with her.

Before getting on with her day, she considered the possible merit to heading to the stream for a drink before checking her trap. However, with the snares on the way, albeit not the most direct route, to the stream, she couldn't really justify the choice. So Clarke traveled to the site of the nearest trap, noticing more than she had before, how much noise her movements made in the quiet forest. Trees had been slowly shedding leaves since before she had left Camp Jaha and her people. It was only then that Clarke had become accustomed enough to the silence to notice the noises she generated. While kneeling, examining her still-empty trap, she wondered if she should take the time to learn to move more quietly. Perhaps she was so loud that the animals gave her an exceedingly wide berth.

Clarke pushed that thought away for another day. Fire first. Then maybe I can take the time to move through all these leaves quietly. She bounded over raised roots and fallen logs, traversed around bushes and shrubs on her way to her next snare. Her mouth was parched and traps aside, she was more anxious to get to the stream and quench her thirst. As she reached the nut tree, and her trap beneath it, water was temporarily forgotten as excitement overtook her.

There, neck caught by the roots through the center of the trap, was a small little creature. It was no longer than her forearm, with a small lithe brown body and bushy tail, curved into the shape of an S. It made a chittering noise, obviously panicked at the much larger form of Clarke above it. Clarke glanced around for something to hit it with, hopefully to kill it, so she could take it from the trap and with her, maybe cut it open and harvest its meat by the stream. Maybe even manage a fire and cook it.

Clarke noticed too late the shadow passing beneath the trees. The paws made no noise on the fallen leaves, teeth bared, though there was no growl. It was a large black cat, much like the one that had been the hundred's first real meal on the ground, and whether it was interested in Clarke or the chittering creature beneath her, Clarke didn't have time to care.

Clarke lunged sideways, scrambling only slightly with her footing as she rounded tree between her and and the most direct route away from the beast, who now snarled. Clarke paid no attention to where she was going except that it was away from the sound of the animal's growls following behind her, though if she had had the presence of mind, she might have noticed she was heading west, and that meant an area she hadn't been in yet. Normally that would be no problem, but with the panther chasing her down, every moment mattered.

Clarke was panting, sweating, her muscles ached, not only from the unusual exertion, but from a stiff night of sleep, and it was all she could do to keep her feet moving, thankful she hadn't tripped over anything yet. But when Clarke exited the treeline only to see a cliff's edge a few feet further away, she skidded to a halt, the momentum throwing her to the ground, where she rolled immediately to sit upright, throwing her left arm up before her defensively. Nearly immediately the beast's teeth were wrapped around her forearm, through her jacket, so close she could smell the warmth on its breath. The teeth pierced her jacket easily, tearing into her skin as the animal still growled, fury in its eyes. Clarke frantically tried to reach her gun, tucked into the waste-band of her pants, with her right arm, with some difficulty. Simultaneously, she did all she could, without even thinking about it, to pry the beast away from her, kicking up at its neck repeatedly. These efforts jarred her arm, through the adrenaline surging through her prevented her from truly feeling the extent of what was happening, and made her efforts to reach the gun all that much slower.

Clarke's foot must have caught the panther just right in the throat as it let out an almost-whimper, losing her arm, and stepping back, only to circle part-way around Clarke for another attack. With her dominant hand free, she grabbed for the gun, pulling it out just as the beast lunged. A jaw snapped at her shoulder as Clarke rolled away from the creature. It had been instinct, but the move sent Clarke over the cliff edge, stomach hitting a rock near the top, pushing her further out over the slightly sloped ravine, gun flying free of her grip. Momentum and rage carried the beast down after her.

Clarke's arms automatically sought the wall of the cliff, seeking any purchase, any hold. The right side of her body closer to the wall, it was that arm that wrapped around a rock protruding laterally out of the cliff face. Clarke's head fell back, silently screaming, her eyes hardly registering the blue clear sky as she felt a decisive snap in her arm, though she managed, just barely, to maintain her hold on the rock.

The panther was prone to its own instincts, claws extended, seeking a way to arrest its own descent. An outstretch paw grazed Clarke's lower back, before claws sunk into her buttock, earning a vocalized scream from the girl. The animal's other paw scrambled for purchase, digging into Clarke's left calf. Sinew alone could never hold the beast, and hardly slowed the fall. Claws pulled away from her body by gravity, but the claws in Clarke's left calf caught on her boot, for just a moment adding all the weight of the cat to her own, wrenching an earsplitting pained scream from the girl. It was far more than her arm, fractured, could even come close to supporting, and she fell.

The panther hit the ground. Clarke landed on her back on top of it. If she hadn't been in agony, she would have been glad that it broke her fall. Eyes hardly focusing, pain flooding her brain, Clarke felt the beast shift beneath her. This wasn't over. Clarke hazily spotted her fallen gun on the ground, yards away. She lunged off of the beast, toward the weapon, the adrenaline in her system still dulling her pain. She staggered in her steps toward the pistol, dropping to her knees in front of it, her left hand closing around the grip as she heard movement behind her. She rolled around onto her rear, fumbling with only her left hand to turn off a safety designed for right-handed people. The beast was already standing, anger obvious in its eyes, but it limped as it approach her. The safety clicked off and the panther lowered, preparing to pounce. Front paws lifted off the ground, hind legs pushing against the ground forcefully as Clarke raised the weapon up. Claws extended, unnoticed, Clarke's eyes just on the teeth approaching her, she squeezed the trigger.

Clarke felt a jolt of pain in her left arm, though it had nothing on the agony of her other arm. The beast had taken the bullet to the head, just a hair off-center, and collapsed sideways onto the ground, unmoving. Clarke let the gun fall, and fell back onto the ground herself. She let herself catch her breath, though quickly the adrenaline was wearing off and pain was seeping in, making it just as difficult to breath without exertion.

She sat herself up and took stock of her wounds. Right humerus broken. Punctures from a bite to the left forearm. Left calf muscles torn, could cause me trouble with walking. Sitting won't be fun either, clawed there. Shallow scratches in lower back. Clarke took a deep breath, head already starting to fog from the pain. With her left arm, she pulled her bag off of her, carefully, but still managing to jar her right arm slightly, causing her to hiss. She reached into the bag, through all the nuts and bark and sticks, right to the bottom, grabbing hold of the small metal knife.

With her left arm, she cut away her left pant leg just below the knee, and cut the cylindrical fabric down the middle, helping to hold it still with her right foot. She cut strips off the long edge of the material, before glancing directly at the bloody claw marks in her calf. She folded the cloth in half, placing it over the wound and tying it in place with the strips with much difficulty, resting the material and her calf on the back of her opposite ankle and carefully doing the ties with just her left hand and her teeth, where she could reach.

Clarke wished she could slit the left sleeve of her jacket from wrist to elbow, but with her right hand out of play, it just wasn't going to happen. Instead, she used her left knee and her teeth to pull the sleeve up enough to expose the wound. It was deeper than she had expected, and still bleeding quite profusely. She used the knife to make a slit at the bottom of her shirt before pulling at it, tearing a scrap free that she had to tie around her wound with her teeth while balancing her arm and the rag on her knee. The bleeding slowed, she hoped, but she wavered, physically, the pain and blood loss was making it difficult to function, but she still had to set her arm. Clarke cut and pulled free two more strips of fabric from her shirt and knotted them together, before taking the knife to the remainder of her shirt. She slit from the neck to arm holes on either side and then proceeded to cut down the right side of the shirt, trying to move her right arm as little as possible. She tugged the shirt away from her, it already had blood in places, and fashioned it into a sling, laying her right arm into it, passing it under her right arm and up over her left shoulder. Clarke then took the strips she'd tied together, and placed it behind her, laying down onto it, pulling the end around her and the sling and tying it to the other, binding her slung arm to her torso.

Clarke pushed back up into a sitting position with her left arm. She still had to set her arm, but she couldn't do that without something to splint it with. In this narrow ravine she and the panther had fallen into, there was nothing, just dry, cracking dirt. Clarke had to find a way back up to the forest, to find some sturdy sticks to brace the broken arm. She surveyed the cliff. The drop had only been about thirty feet, maybe a little more. And wall had a slope to it. North of where they had fallen, there were more outcroppings, hopefully enough climb up, even with one arm.

Clarke got to her feet, unsteady, favoring the left and moved to the promising portion of the cliff while pocketing her knife. The sun in the sky told her it was already sometime past noon. Shaking, in pain, and very slowly, Clarke made her way up the cliff-side. She could hold on with her left arm, and brace herself with her legs or her rear. So by pushing and pulling and sitting, Clarke made it up the cliff wall in what couldn't have been more than a few hours. The bleeding had to have stopped, I would have long since fainted otherwise, Clarke thought as she literally crawled onto the flat of the cliff top. Everything in her was pounding, her vision was blurry, her body was sluggish. She needed to set her arm quickly. She entered the woods and stumbled around, eyes on the blurry ground until she had found two sturdy sticks. She broke them to the length of her humerus using her right foot and left arm. She sat down, back against the nearest tree, sticks laid beside her, before untying and pulling the laces out of her boots. She carefully slotted the sticks into her sling, holding the boot laces her mouth. With care, but urgency, she set her right arm, straightening and placing the bone in the right orientation, groaning. She moved the sticks to brace either side of the broken bone and used the shoe laces to tie above and below the break. Below was harder to manage, as it was inside the sling and she couldn't hold an end of the lace with her teeth, but she managed.

What was necessary had been done, and tired, injured, exhausted, and eyes out of focus, Clarke surrendered herself into a dark and dreamless sleep.

Chapter Text

Clarke was shivering as she came to consciousness. There was a constant pain in her right arm, a deep burning feeling. The rest of her ached, but nothing overcame the strength of the pain radiating from her arm.

Clarke opened her eyes, slowly gaining focus. The events of the previous day slowly crept to mind as she realized the cause of the pain. A tentative exploration, through the jacket sleeve still on her, of her right arm revealed some significant swelling. It was to be expected, but she hoped it was just that, and not her bleeding internally. She could easily have lacerated a brachial artery with the broken bone. However, if that was the case, Clarke suspected she wouldn't have woken at all, given how much blood she had lost through other means.

Still upright, back to the tree she had passed out against, she glanced at the rest of herself, somewhat glad, yet baffled, that she had slept upright. Falling aside could have seriously hurt. More so than she already did. Clarke caught sight of the portion of shirt she'd tied around her left forearm, partially hidden beneath the jacket sleeve that had worked its' way downward. The rag was entirely soaked through with blood, and rivulets of blood, most dried, ran down her arm to her hand. Some of the blood however, was fresh enough to still be liquid, not flaking away from her skin like the rest. That bandage would need to be changed immediately, or at least have another layer added to it.

Still shivering, Clarke looked down at herself for what she could used as a bandage. Her shirt was already off, that was probably why she was shivering, despite the jacket and the former shirt, now sling, blocking most of her from nature. She could cut away part of the sling to use as a bandage, if she had too, and she might, as her other options were what remained of her pants or her jacket. It'd be nice if she could at least remain decently clothed.

Clarke slipped her good hand into her pocket and extracted the knife she'd placed there before she'd begun her trip out of the ravine. She cut away some of the shirt fabric that wasn't essential to the structure of the sling, though the movement jarred her arm enough, despite the wood bracing it, to earn a hiss. Without her right hand, Clarke couldn't do much to probe the wound in her left forearm, to establish how safe it might be to replace the bandage, so she erred on the side of caution and wrapped the new strip around the old, repeating the balancing act used the previous day to tie it.

Clarke could hardly be bothered to look further at her other wounds. Mostly, they were less serious, had darker fabric wrapped around them that wouldn't show if they'd bled through, or were where it would be hard for her to see, if it didn't hurt her to do so. Clarke had a higher priority when it came to tending the wounds, something she knew she hadn't had time to do the day before, as stopping the bleeding had had to come first for survival's sake. She had to wash her wounds. This meant a trip to the stream. She'd need to anyways, because she would need the fluids for her body to replenish the blood she'd spilled. The sooner that happened, the sooner the fog in her head would recede somewhat. But only somewhat. Complications could arise just from the pain she was in; pain she had no way to dull.

She carefully got to her feet before trying to glimpse the sky beyond the canopy. She couldn't quite tell where the sun was. With last night's wandering for supplies, she didn't quite know where she was either, but the relative position of the sun told her it was either mid-morning or sometime in the afternoon, depending on which way was which. Lowering her gaze to the forest around her, she couldn't tell. The cliff wasn't visible from here, and there was nothing else she knew of to identify which was which. She figured it was most likely morning, that seemed reasonable, and walked through the trees in the direction of the sun.

She couldn't quite feel the pain in her leg, beyond the ache, but her body told her via a limp that something was definitely not quite right. Unfortunately, difficulty walking was entirely expected from what she'd seen of the claw marks in that leg the day before. It had been only a handful of minutes limping along when she encountered the treeline, and the cliff. She didn't leave the cover the trees, but turned around and walked away. It was afternoon. She'd been asleep for quite a while, and the walk to the stream... she actually wasn't sure how far it was. She had run the previous day from the nut tree, which was nearly a mile from the stream, she estimated. And today she would be limping that distance the other way, much slower.

For the most part, Clarke's mind was quite empty. She had already done the thinking she needed to. She needed to clean and re-bandage wounds, hopefully not get an infection. She needed to drink water, regain blood volume. What her mind did say a lot was pain, which wasn't a thought so much as a feeling, or reminder. She hobbled along, eyes not so unclear as the night before, but not as sharp as normal. A jolt of pain would make her lose that little focus. After a short while of her repeated efforts moving along, her body stopped its' shivering.

The walk was long and boring, nearly numbing to Clarke's mind. The laces missing from her boots made the walk even longer, making her basically shuffle to avoid tripping over her own feet. It was a surprise to Clarke that the sun was setting as her boots scraped and crunched through the rocks at the edge of the stream. Clarke was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to just lay down and stay down, but her injuries needed tending. She had put off cleaning them for longer than was advisable, though not by choice.

Clarke lowered herself down onto her rear at the stream's edge before easily slipping her feet out of her boots and shifting closer to the water. She untied the strips of her pants holding what remained of a pant leg to her calf wound before extending her leg into the water. The stream was shallow and she had to lay her leg nearly flat to immerse the cuts in the water. The cuts already had a thin membrane over them that would become a scab, but to clean the wound, Clarke would need to reopen it. It was by no means pleasant as Clarke used her fingers to reopen the wound, blood flow starting up, streaming into the water. It stung, and burned, and felt like Clarke had driven knives into her own leg. She almost considered tweaking her right arm just to let that pain overtake this one. She moved as quickly as she could, washing the wound. Of course she had no soap, or antibiotics, but this was all she could do at the moment. She pulled her fingers from inside her own wound and, leaving her leg in the water, examined the bandage that had covered it. It wasn't bled through entirely, but there were patches, directly along where the claw marks had been, where it had. Clarke contemplated her options. She could flip it over, less of the old blood, maybe some material that could still absorb something, but the wound was likely to bleed almost as much this time, and that wouldn't do. The only other real alternative was to take her other pant leg. She didn't like the idea, she was running out of fabric to use, and didn't feel like shorts were a great option for the weather, but like always, Clarke did what she had to. She cut, removed, folded, applied, and tied the right pant leg to the gashes in her left leg.

Clarke then untied the two shirt strips around her forearm. The outer hardly had any blood at all, the other was saturated, but drying. Maybe she could rinse it out. Pulling the rag away, she got a look at the wound. It had a membranous cover as well, but some portions of the edges leaked blood. There seemed to be some swelling involved in breaking the seal of the membrane. The wound was red and puffy. Not so different from her leg, which was doing quite well considering how much she had had to use it today. She knelt on one knee and lowered her forearm into the water. Then Clarke paused. How the hell am I going to clean this without my other arm? My mouth? My foot? Just fucking cause myself agony and try to use my other arm anyways?! Clarke thought in frustration. She didn't particularly feel like breaking into her own wound with her lips or teeth, and the thought almost made her gag. She sighed, sat on her ass, and awkwardly moved her right foot to break through the membrane covering the bite. It was quite possibly one of the most awkward things Clarke had ever had to do. Then, she just swished her arm through the water, doing the only thing she could to clean it out, since she wasn't going to keep poking at it with her foot. She then extracted her arm and tied the relatively clean shirt rag around it. She then rinsed the other with just the one hand. It was permanently stained, but the shirt was so beyond use as such that it didn't matter in the slightest.

She set the rag with her boots and remained sitting by the stream, most of her rear wet from proximity and efforts. She scooped water with her one hand and drank what she could, repeatedly. The sun had set while she cleaned her wounds, but the water was important. If her blood supply couldn't replenish, she'd probably die. So Clarke drank until she felt she could no longer, then grabbed her boots and the drying rag in her hand and walked over to a tree to rest for the night.

As light was just starting to make its way across the sky, Clarke was waking, trembling. She wasn't sure if the shaking of her body was due to the cold night or not, but she would have to find, make, or steal a new shirt, somehow. There was a crick in her neck. Sleeping upright against a tree two nights in a row wasn't comfortable in the least. However, Clarke figured it had to be preferable to any comfort she could find on the ground, as she'd either be confined to her back or have to lay on her left side. Neither seemed very appealing with a broken arm, but perhaps she'd spend the next night on her back and see how it went.

Aside from the crick, which was fairly minor in comparison to anything else going on, her entire body was still in pain. She hadn't expected otherwise. In fact, the pain was so consistent, barring movement that directly aggravated the injuries, that Clarke wasn't sure if she was becoming accustomed to it or if it was absolute agony. As much as a part of Clarke wanted to suffer, as some kind of sick atonement for her deeds at the mountain, she knew she would need painkillers of some kind. And that would mean either going back to Camp Jaha, or to the grounders. Even with a head clouded by pain, it only took Clarke a second to decide that going to the grounders was better than going home. Her mother would never let her leave again if she did. At the very least, not until she'd fully healed. The grounders, on the other hand, would either kill her, ignore her, or give her something and let her leave. She liked those options better than being stuck with reminders of what she'd done breathing next to her for months on end.

Clarke did a cursory survey of her wounds again. She was pleased to find that she hadn't bled through the new bandages. She couldn't quite tell if the swelling in her right arm was worse or not. To find out, she'd probably have to cut her jacket off, and no matter how she did that, she'd hurt herself. She then pulled on her boots. Should I have put them on last night? She questioned, still shivering. Could be part of why I'm so cold. She shuffled over to the stream and had herself some water, before wondering about food.

It didn't immediately click for Clarke, the realization that she didn't have any food. In fact, she patted her back, wondering where her bag was, before taking another mouthful of water. And then Clarke realized, she'd taken the bag off to tend to her wounds at the ravine. Clarke, sitting on the rocky ground beside the water, one knee to her chest, nearly slapped herself, placing her head in her good (though wet) hand. How could I be such an idiot? Well, I was injured, I know why, but I'm a three to four day walk from anywhere I actually know, injured, and without any food! She had to have been quite an idiot. That or her subconscious wanted to die more than she did. Much more. And... and I've got no protection. I dropped the gun. I dropped the gun a second fucking time. Well, of course I did, everything hurt, and it was dead, and I needed to fucking breath and stop bleeding, but then I just left it there! Clarke brought her fingers to her furrowed brow. Okay, think. Either go get the gun and, sure, food, and then be, say, five days away from anything I know. Five days away from painkillers. Or start toward home, or near home at least, and take three or four days... if I wasn't limping. Who knows how long without painkillers and without protection. If something attacked me, I can't even shove at it. I can maybe kick it. This was not a choice Clarke was enjoying. Be vulnerable to anything, or take longer to get relief from the pain. And Clarke knew that both options could be her death. The pain alone could result in nausea and vomiting, making her more dehydrated. It could lower her blood pressure, slow her pulse. And it could also cause her to faint.

Clarke returned to drinking while she pondered her options. Real question is, am I more likely to be something's food, or succumb to the pain. The pain is already starting to feel almost normal, though that may not be the best sign...

In the end, Clarke knew what she had to do. She'd only been out here five days when she was attacked by the panther, and if the trip back was five days, the odds certainly weren't in her favor. And there was more than panthers out here. The pain, on the other hand, though it would be agonizing, there was a chance she could be just fine without some kind of painkiller.

Food was another matter. She wasn't at the same place in the stream that she had been frequenting. She figured that had to be somewhere south of her. But that meant that she didn't know her usual inroads to the nut tree. It should have been on her way between the cliff and here, but she hadn't encountered, or at least hadn't noticed it, on her way here the previous day. But she did have a bag full of nuts at the ravine. It might not be much, but she wouldn't starve in the time it took to get near home.

Clarke stood and limped her way into the woods, toward the cliff. It was still early morning and the air had a chill to it, Clarke still shivering. Maybe the grounders would give her a shirt if they didn't kill her. And new pants, maybe. Ugh. I do not want to be relying on them. Clarke was mad at herself. I just really don't want to go home. Clarke shook her head, a few tears falling away. She had left for them. But she had also left for her. She made the choice she'd had to make at Mount Weather for them - so they could live. And she chose to leave so they could forget that such a choice had to be made. She chose to leave so that she wouldn't blame their existence for the choice she had made. Going back so soon, going back now, wouldn't work. Not only would they not forget, and she not forget, but her being so seriously injured would make them feel as if they'd let her down. That wasn't the case.

Back home, people wouldn't even have healed from the invasive marrow harvesting procedures, yet. There hadn't been time to forget. Either I die out here, where they'll never know about it, or I'm going to go bother the grounders, ask for some damn clothes and medicine, and deal with it if they want to kill me.

Clarke staggered on. She was still shivering, though she didn't feel particularly cold. She wondered briefly if it was a reaction to the pain. And she was sweating now, she assumed from the exertion.

The sun rose, and Clarke limped on. The sun was telling her it was hardly afternoon when she reached the cliff's edge. She had to go a bit south to reach the part of the wall she'd used to climb up, but her path through the forest had evidently been fairly straight. She examined the rocks on the way down, thinking about the path she wanted to take, but in the end, she just started scooting her way down from rock to rock. Her head was full of fuzzy things that all sounded like the word pain.

The climb down wasn't so bad, so long as she didn't try to rush. The one time she tried, she'd slid sideways into another rock and yelped in pain. Overall, the descent was fairly quick. She sat on the very last rock for a while, letting herself rest. Part of her wanted to just lean back into the wall and take a nap, but the sun was still in the sky, and she'd be closer to pain relief if she at least climbed her way out before nightfall.

She walked over to her bag and picked it up, slinging it over her to rest opposite her slung arm. Then she looked for the gun. It was only a foot or so away from the head of the panther. There was a small pool of dried blood directly beneath the creature's head. Little flying bugs swarmed around the carcass. Clarke's stomach wanted to turn. She just leaned down to retrieve her weapon, slotted it into her waist band, and turned away.

Suddenly she wanted to get out of the ravine as fast as she could. If the panther hadn't been two days dead and already starting to decay, it might have made a good meal. If she'd been able to cook it. As it was, it was just a waste and a reminder of her stupidity. She approached the wall and started her climb. Her left leg was absolutely aching. She had probably done too much with it today, but until she had painkillers and some proper bandages, there wasn't going to be much rest for it. But she didn't have to rush. She took the climb slowly, taking care not to injure herself further.

When she crawled onto the flat of the cliff's top, Clarke was sweating profusely from her climbing efforts. The sun didn't have much time left in the sky. She walked a ways into the woods, settling down on the grass and leaves in a small clearing. She put her bag aside and laid back, hoping she wouldn't roll in her sleep.

Clarke woke with a shiver and a pounding in her head, her body coated in a cold sweat. The sun was not up yet, though a trickle of its' light could be seen in the sky. Clarke brought her good hand to her temple and rubbed lightly, trying to think. She felt cold, though the skin beneath her fingers did not. Everything ached, but the headache was strong enough to be worrisome, even overcoming the discomfort of some other parts of her body. Clarke sat slowly. Even so, the movement made her head swim like she'd stumbled down a hill.

She ran her fingers through the layer of cold sweat on her abdomen, trying to think. It's been exposed to the less-than-warm weather for days, there's no way I should be sweating, much less in exposed areas... As far as she could tell, the layer of sweat covered her entire body. She'd even felt the wetness on her head. And then, it clicked. "Fucking shit. Just... fucking float me..." Clarke buried her sweaty forehead in her good hand. It's a fever. I have a fucking fever. Which means at least one of my wounds is infected. Great, I'm going to die. Burn up and sweat to death.

She drew her left leg in, bracing it with her hand, and smacked her head into her knee. Lightly. She let herself think about her life since she'd hit the ground. The times that were fun, the people she would miss... the people she had let down, like Jasper. Not everything on the ground had been horrible. People who'd never known each other on the Ark had been brought together here, saved each other. And Jasper had been the first, even if she'd failed him later. But... it wasn't actually me who saved him... If the grounders hadn't poulticed the wound, it wouldn't have been possible. But that was exactly the right thing for Clarke to remember in that moment. The seaweed! Antibiotic properties, if I could manage to make a tea... manage. Need a fire for that, but I don't have much choice. Do or die, like always. I need to find slow-running water deep enough for it to grow, reddish hue to the water. The only place I know is near the drop ship, and that's too far away.

Clarke clambered to her feet, taking only a moment to grab her bag, ignoring the sting in her arm as she slung it around herself before beginning a trek toward the stream she'd frequented. Just move as quickly as you can. Find the stream, head north, hopefully it's deeper, still slow moving, and has some seaweed. Then I'll worry about... about making fire, and something to boil water in. Clarke's vision was swimming slightly, bright spots flashing momentarily, a surge of pain in her head. She'd just stood too quickly. That was likely enough.

Clarke moved as briskly as she could with her damaged leg, bracing herself on trees as she passed with her good hand. The pounding in her head made everything feel a little off-balance. When she reached the stream, she didn't stop. She simply turned left and continued. The shivering had taken a toll on her, making her feel weak. This was a very unpleasant feeling for Clarke, especially coupled with the pain of her injuries.

Out of the trees, near the water, Clarke was stumbling more with nothing to hold on to. There was no denying that the symptoms were getting to her as she tried to keep moving as swiftly as her body allowed, feet slipping around in laceless boots. The world felt to her like it simply wasn't staying still, threatening to remove itself from under her feet at any moment. Clarke fought against the instinct to lay down and rest, even when she tripped over a rock and tumbled into the shallow stream, landing on her injured arm, eliciting a scream from the girl. She dragged herself up out of the water, panting, the water dripping from her face hiding her tears, and continued on the other side of the water.

Clarke had followed the stream as it steadily got deeper until late afternoon, when she came upon the lake it originated from. Unfortunately for Clarke, the lake was not calm and placid. A waterfall fed into it on the far side, a thundering noise she should have realized some time ago. The shallow stream she'd followed wasn't the only exit for the water. On what Clarke figured was the east side of the lake, a swiftly moving river led away from the lake. The stream she'd followed was only an overflow mechanism. Clarke shook her head, trying to clear enough of the fog in her brain to think about what to do.

I'll just have to... Her mind practically stuttered, overheating from fever, made no better by continuous physical effort, telling her to lay and rest. I should follow the river out and hope it gets slower. That's... that's all I can do... Clarke sloshed her way through part of the lake itself, paying no mind to anything but following the water, though the lake tried to suck her boots right off of her at each step she took. If she was going to die out here, it would be while doing all she could, and not because she lay down and let it happen.

Mouth dry, head pounding, leg protesting, and drenched in what was probably a combination of sweat and water, Clarke followed along the raging river, fast enough to generate small rapids as it crested over submerged rocks. Light glinting off the water made her head hurt more, squinting so as not to shut her eyes and end up drowning in the river. Moving became progressively more difficult. Her body had no energy left to give, and still she pushed on.

The sun was about to set as the river forked before her. Her eyes took a long moment to focus on the sight before her, her brain muddling through the information at a snail's pace. Eventually she identified the slower moving split from the river. It was the farther one. Clarke stomped into the water, deep enough to reach to the top of her breasts and swift enough to carry her unwillingly downstream every time she lifted a foot to step forward. The motion of the water jostled her arm, along with the rest of her, and had her grunting at the sensation. Distracted, she lost her footing and her head slipped beneath the water. In a panic, she flailed, her hand catching a submerged branch, and holding tight. She used the branch to push her closer to the far shore, her feet catching ground just near enough as she got closer, taking a haggard step forward in the water and falling to her knees, half in, half out of the water, slumping forward, and coughing up water from her lungs.

She crawled the rest of the way out of the water, using her left hand to help drag her body forward. It was a moment catching her breath before she slowly realized, again, why she was even here. She had to find seaweed. She climbed to her feet, body barely supporting her anymore, and ambled forward. She found the edge of the slower river and followed, the sun setting, taking the light with it. Clarke tried to keep her eyes on the water when she didn't need them to prevent her from falling over her own boots, hoping she could spot a seaweed clump in the water, even in the relative dark. As the moon rose, seeing became slightly more possible. There was still quite a journey between where Clarke was and where she eventually noticed a dark discoloration in the night waters. The river had calmed and spread wider the farther she'd followed it, moving much more slowly. It was too dim to make out color from such a distance, but Clarke hoped.

She moved closer before entering the water, reaching her hand beneath the surface and wrenching at the slimy plant her fingers met. The roots gave and she dragged the dripping tangled mess towards her. It shone red and silvery in the moonlight, and Clarke sighed. Clarke exited the water and dropped to her knees, looking at the seaweed a moment more before setting it down and reaching for her bag. She search through the bag, greatly confused at finding her supply of bark and sticks soggy and wet. She tossed them over her shoulder toward the water and walked into the trees to find new supplies.

When she returned and knelt next to her seaweed with some sticks and bark, she wondered just what she could boil water in. She looked around and then at herself, before yanking her left boot off. Shoe cup. This is going to taste like foot. Literally. But... that or die. She dunked the boot into the water, filling it, and returned to her pile. Now a one-armed fire...

Clarke had very little sense of time, especially since she'd begun to search frantically for a cure to her infection, but the sun crept up the eastern horizon and into the sky as she settled down to try starting a fire. Her journey along the second river had lasted nearly the whole night. Clarke pondered how she could twirl the stick fast enough with just one hand, or something to help hold it upright while she did. Slowly, she decided that boots were all the answers right now. She sat down, ignoring the sting though the wounds in her buttock and angled her right leg inward, placing her booted foot horizontally over part of her bark slab. She grabbed a stick and placed it against the bark along the edge of her boot, right before the angle between insole and heel. Then she moved her hand back and forth along the stick, twirling it. The bottom of her boot wasn't the smoothest and resisted the simple spinning action. Clarke groaned in frustration and kept trying.

A flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention and she looked up. Lexa stepped from behind a tree and strode calmly toward her. "What are you doing here?!" Clarke yelled in her direction, anger surging to the surface.

"I'm not." Lexa looked unaffected and simply glanced around.

"You're not?" Clarke was taken aback. The vision of Lexa before her shimmered slightly and became somewhat more transparent. "You're not. Fuck. Now I'm hallucinating. So what's my fever now, hundred and five? Hundred and six?!" Clarke was yelling again.

"How would I know?"

"Why are you here?"

"Because you want me to be." The Lexa before her turned to look her in the eye. Eyes green and shimmering and not so transparent as the rest of her.

"No... no, no, no, no, no. I do not want you here. You are the last person I want to be near right now!" Clarke returned to furiously try to start a fire. All the more concerned, knowing how high her fever must be.

"Whatever you say." The image of Lexa tilted her head, eyeing Clarke's activities, one arm and boot. "You're not doing it right."

Clarke glared up at her. "Do I look like I can do it right?!" she bit out, gesturing somewhat wildly with her left arm, stick in hand.

"You almost had it." The figure sounded just too calm for Clarke's liking.

"What?"

"The other day, when you got it to smoke. You almost had a fire started. Just needed a small ember hitting some tinder."

"Well great, now go lecture someone else."

"I can't."

"Because you're not real."

Lexa didn't respond, but made no move to leave, or shimmer out of existence.

"Just go away! You're real damn good at it, just leave!" Clarke hollered, her head pounding furiously, vision tilting the world upside down and inside out.

The vision of Lexa thinned and wisped away, though Clarke thought she saw movement somewhere behind where Lexa had been. Then the twisted world around Clarke became nothing but black, the last thing she knew was the sound of a crunch.

Chapter Text

Something wasn't right. Clarke's mind swam up out of darkness, processing her surroundings before she even knew she was conscious. There was a soft, repetitive clicking, but none of the ambient noises one would expect from the forest. The air was still, seemingly un-moving. Clarke's body felt heavy, like someone had replaced her limbs with sandbags, and the ache she'd become accustomed to, while dulled, was still there. The ground beneath her felt far more like air, more like lying on nothing than like rocks or sticks or leaves. Clarke breathed in, even the air temperature didn't feel right. It was too... neutral.

Clarke struggled to open her eyelids, heavy as they were. Her eyes only fluttered, refusing her internal commands. With great effort, she managed to fight the weight holding her eyes shut, and force them open. The sky was gone, and the trees looked odd and all their leaves were missing.

She blinked slowly, her eyes threatening to stay shut each time she did so. Gradually, Clarke came to realize that it was a ceiling that blocked the sky from view, made of cut branches, twined together perfectly and snugly keeping out the elements. The tapping noise from earlier continued steadily, somewhere to her left. A part of Clarke wanted to look, wanted to take in all of her surroundings and understand where she was and just what had happened. A stronger part of Clarke wanted to close her eyes and never move again. She did a little of both, closing her eyes and dozing off for some time.

When Clarke woke again, everything felt almost exactly as it had before. However, despite the fact that she was entirely still, pain radiated out from her arm, making itself known. The clicking noise continued steadily and Clarke finally mustered enough curiosity to turn her stiff neck towards it.

An elderly brown-skinned woman sat in a chair nearby. It was only then that Clarke registered the fact that she was actually indoors, and had no recollection of how she'd come to be there. The woman glanced up from her task, setting it aside on a table Clarke couldn't see the top of. The woman brushed a lock of gray hair that had loosed itself from the braids adorning her head behind an ear and seemed to examine Clarke with her eyes, a dark hazel that had an odd gleam to them even in the dim interior lighting. The woman spoke, "Stomba yu raun."

Clarke let her eyes flick up to read the woman's face, but it told her nothing, expression placid. Clarke ran through everything she knew as quickly as her sluggish mind would allow. I don't know where I am. This woman is a grounder, so I have to be in a grounder village. They haven't killed me... and had to have taken the effort to bring me here, so they must have helped me. But I don't know what she's saying. And they might not know I'm Skaikru. If they find out, that could change. Clarke felt uncomfortable in her position. She was exactly where she'd decided... she wasn't sure how long ago, but before she'd fainted, that she needed to be, seeking grounder help. But this wasn't how Clarke had imagined it, and she felt hopelessly out of control, not knowing what exactly the grounders here might know about her. If I don't talk, they'll have very little to go on. Maybe they'll think I hit my head or something... I'm so tired, it should be easy just to not react to anything. I'll bide my time and see what they know, and if it's going to be a problem, I'll find my way out of here. After a moment, Clarke realized there's even more reason not to speak. If they do find out I'm Skaikru, they'll probably send someone to tell the commander. Or interrogate me, since we're no longer in an alliance and might be a threat. Or both.

Clarke schooled her eyes back to neutrality, refusing to focus on anything, leaving her head turned to the side. The woman repeated herself, with a questioning lilt to the words. When Clarke made no movement or response, the woman reached for something further back on the table, before scooting her chair closer to where Clarke lay. In her hands was a gray clay bowl, with some kind of dark murky liquid in it. Clarke nearly startled as a hand was placed behind her head, tilting her upward, though Clarke presented no resistance. The woman brought the bowl to Clarke's lips and tilted it, letting the contents flow into Clarke's mouth. The substance was bitter and burned her throat slightly, but Clarke suspected that this substance was not meant to harm her; the grounders had had ample opportunity before her awakening. The unpleasantness of the drink made Clarke want to cough and splutter, but she fought the urge and let her head be laid back down as the woman took the bowl away.

The woman looked at Clarke, obviously searching for a reaction of any kind, before tilting Clarke's head to look her in the eye. "Beda?" Although Clarke could probably pick out the meaning of that word, she gave no response and simply closed her eyes. The woman's hand left her chin and she heard movement as the woman stood and shuffled away. There was a soft clink, which Clarke imagined was the bowl being placed on the table, and then there was a brief breeze followed by a soft thud.

Clarke cautiously opened one eye. The woman was gone, the room empty, and the door on the opposite wall was shut. Clarke opened both eyes fully, before using her arm to prop herself up slightly. Her body protested, but Clarke was determined. She needed, at the very least, to know her surroundings. She looked around, taking in the room. The place Clarke lay was a simple cloth, something akin the rigidity of canvas, wrapped around two parallel poles suspended off the ground. It was a crude, but effective, cot. Quite a comfortable one to Clarke, as it felt like sleeping on air after several days of sticks, leaves, and actual trees.

There was a small wooden table near Clarke's head with only two unlit candles and the firearm she'd had on it. Wax had dripped down the candle edges at some point in the past. Above Clarke, attached to the wood making up the wall, was a long plank, probably a shelf, though Clarke couldn't make out what it might hold from her position. There was another shelf on the adjacent wall. It held some vials and pottery. Across the room, by the door, was a larger table. On the near edge of the table sat a bundle of fabric, possibly whatever the woman had been working on before she'd woken. The bowl sat close to the edge by the door, and an empty plate sat on the opposite end. The center of the table held a cluster of candles. The back, behind the candles, pushed against the wall, was lined with a row of little containers and vials of varying substances. The only thing Clarke could liken it to was the kit Lincoln had had when they'd taken him prisoner at the drop ship or the medicines available to them when she'd been tasked with saving Tris. Only, there were far more than just a handful of plants and salves here.

Clarke had to crane her neck to see farther than the table right behind her head. Aside from another empty chair resting by the wall, there was a bookcase of sorts next to an open door leading from the room. The bookcase held no texts, but held an assortment of dishes and a couple small daggers and even more candles. It wasn't a wonder to see candles all over the room, as the place seemed to have very little in the way of natural lighting.

Clarke's eyes came to rest on the open doorway, wondering if she were truly alone. The adjacent room could hold anything, or anyone. She attempted to shift her legs over and out of the cot. Her limbs had other plans in mind, hip joints aching at even the slight movement she managed. The substance she'd been given for the pain must have been masking a great deal of pain and weakness in her body. Clarke looked down at herself. She was no longer in her jacket, and she actually wore a shirt, soft and pale brown with short sleeves. I didn't actually cut my jacket off, did I? Where is it? Clarke glances around, not spotting the missing garment. She returned her gaze to herself. The hefty sticks she'd uncomfortably braced her arm with were gone, replaced by smaller, smoother wooden pieces. She did recognize that what held them together were her boot laces, however. The sling itself had been replaced with a stiffer material, almost heavy, tied efficiently supporting her arm.

Clarke laid herself down so she could examine the wound on the arm she'd supported herself with. The injury, however, was not visible. From elbow to wrist, her arm was wrapped in linen layers, tied carefully. No sign of blood graced the exterior of the bandage. Satisfied that it was likely okay, and knowing without her right arm, examining it herself would be a struggle, she left it alone. She pushed herself up to sit, and pushed back a blanket covering her lower body. She was still in her cut-up pants, which she found odd, given that they'd replaced her sling and shirt. She felt down her leg and found that the wound there was bound similarly to the one on her arm.

Suddenly, Clarke was tired, eyes drooping and head bobbing. The suddenness scared her, though she rationalized, It must be the medicine, whatever she gave me to drink. Clarke left her leg alone, satisfied enough that it had been tended to. She was about to lay back down before her body decided to for her when she remembered she had one more wound. She reached tentatively to her back, and felt a layer of some sort of material beneath that of her shirt. That was enough for her, and she lowered herself back onto the cot, eyes fluttering shut again.

Clarke wasn't sure if she had truly fallen asleep or not, when she felt a hand on her shoulder, shaking gently. Clarke let her eyes drift open, confused. A face hovered over her own, the lighting odd. Slowly, Clarke realized that any natural lighting was gone, even from the crack between the door and wall, and the candles about the room had been lit. She laid still as this figure above her turned to glance at something else, before returning her gaze to Clarke.

"Yu ait?" The woman questioned. Why would she ask? It's pretty obvious I'm not... what exactly is she getting at?

The woman, hair a dirty blonde, tied in braids behind her head, skin appearing tan in the candlelight looked away from Clarke again. She was looking at the elderly woman from before, Clarke realized. "Chit nou ait? Chit em ledon?" The woman's eyes, a light brown, glinting with orange reflections of the candles, returned to seek Clarke's. A soft hand gripped Clarke's chin, turning her head to look directly into her eyes. Clarke kept herself unresponsive, trying not to let her eyes wander about the woman's features and show that she truly lived, beneath the surface. A thumb stroked her cheek gently. It was oddly calming, from a complete stranger, and made her want to close her eyes and sleep again.

Then the hand moved away and the woman was gone. She spoke to the older woman as she left the dwelling, "Ai komba raun neson sintaim. Reshop, komfoni."

Clarke was confused about what had just happened. Why did she wake me just to ask if I'm alright? And look at me. She hardly even tried. However, Clarke wasn't going to complain if no one was going to interrogate her. Then Clarke noticed that the elderly woman had been moving about, and came to her bedside, a bowl in hand. She pulled her chair closer again and sat, lifting Clarke's head from the bed and holding the bowl before her. Clarke pursed her lips, not ready for more of the bitter medicine. And then she smelled the contents of the bowl, warm and seasoned, delicious. It was a brothy soup. Clarke let herself be fed, wondering why she hadn't noticed any hunger earlier.

When the bowl was emptied, the woman placed it aside, and wiped Clarke's face with a rag. Clarke was keeping up her pretense of being mentally out of it for now. Plus, a little soup on herself wouldn't be the end of anything. Immediately following the wipe-down, however, was another bowl. This one was the dreaded medicine, but Clarke could feel the beginnings of pain tingling their way into her consciousness again, and with only a minor pause, allowed the woman to pour the medicine into her mouth. The woman set the bowl on the table and shuffled toward the other room, a quiet "Reshop, gada." before she was gone.

Clarke thought to herself, waiting for effects of the medicine to hit her. They don't seem bad at all. They've treated my wounds, fed me, clothed me... I've got a place to sleep. I don't even think they know who I am. Maybe I should try to talk to them. I was planning on asking the grounders for help, anyways. Clarke was still hesitant. Maybe I can stay... maybe I can learn the language... or let someone teach me. It might not be bad if they find out I'm Skaikru... Clarke's mind started to drift off, the drug taking effect, and she shut her eyes. The last thing she thought before sleep took her was that she might stay, so long as the commander didn't know she was here.

 ~*~

Pain woke her in the early morning. It's hardly anything, but it did make it harder to sleep. So Clarke just lay and stared at the ceiling, thinking about sleep, instead. Until a noise interrupted her thoughts. She turned her head to look, before internally chiding herself. Well, that won't pass as mentally out of it... What she saw, however, was a young teenage boy picking up a spear that leaned against the bookcase. That wasn't there yesterday... was it? And what the hell made that noise? The boy, who looked about thirteen, made to cross the room, before noticing Clarke's eyes on him. His pale face lit with a brilliant smile, and he ran a hand, seemingly nervously, through sandy brown hair before lowering it and offering an awkward wave. "Ha yu?" The boy paused. It was quite obvious what he was asking, but Clarke wasn't sure what to say. Where had the boy even come from? Did he live here? An uncertain expression flitted across his face before he continued, "Ai kep yu klin." He pointed a thumb toward his chest. "Lok yu op." The boy looked even more uncertain, with her lack of response. A voice rang out from the other room and the boy startled, he responded with "Sha, komfoni!" before hurrying out the door with another awkward wave.

Clarke wondered if the boy was just excitable, or was excited by her. She figured it more likely that it was just his nature, wondering what he had said. Her head was still turned to the side when the elderly woman entered the room. Clarke didn't try as hard to seem so passive, but made no effort to speak to the woman, either, who moved to sit at the table, with a bowl. Her back to Clarke, Clarke was free to examine the woman's actions, as she grabbed various containers on the table and added their contents to the bowl, mixing them together. After a short while, she drug her chair over to Clarke and sat.

Clarke startled a bit, and then the woman placed the bowl on the table behind her and gingerly grabbed Clarke's arm. Fingers made quick work of undoing the knots holding the bandage together, and the woman methodically unwrapped the dressing, before placing it aside. She examined the wound, bringing Clarke's arm closer to herself, as Clarke's eyes diligently followed her actions. The woman dipped her fingers into the bowl and returned them to Clarke's arm with a salve that she gently spread onto the open flesh. It felt cool to the touch, but the tender skin complained by way of pain. The bandage was re-wrapped, and Clarke was given back her arm. The woman then moved down to her leg, moving only half of the blanket away before repeating her actions tending to the gashes there.

The woman's eyes met Clarke's as she came back up to her chair. "Miya," the woman stated, beckoning with her fingers in a gesture that clearly said 'come here'. Clarke wasn't exactly sure what she expected, though. The woman raised an eyebrow, seemingly having noticed the confusion in Clarke's eyes, and reached to place a hand on Clarke's right shoulder, gently pulling her upward. Then Clarke got the message, and rolled onto her side, taking care not to lay on her freshly bandaged forearm. The woman was standing quickly, and leaning over Clarke. She felt her shirt tugged upward, and the bandages to her lower back being undone. Without ceremony, the woman stooped before Clarke and undid her pants, sliding them downward. Clarke blushed and the woman stood and leaned over her again, applying salve to her back and the lacerations through her buttock. So glad there's a legitimate reason for this embarrassment... That wound was re-bandaged as well, and then the woman flitted her fingers away from her, gesturing that Clarke could roll back, and she did.

The woman was putting away the supplies she'd used, Clarke watching curiously, when the door opened to admit the woman she'd seen the night before, followed by a tall, young male, both dressed in armor, with swords at their sides. The garb instantly made Clarke feel at risk. What had changed overnight? The younger woman nodded a greeting to the other before walking over to the chair by Clarke and seating herself.

"Ha yu deyon?" she directed toward Clarke. Clarke looked up at her, searching her eyes, before offering up a one-armed shrug. The gesture earned her a cocked head, and a look that spoke of mild amusement, a small smile sneaking it's way onto the woman's face.

The woman reached a hand out, and softly touched the golden strands of Clarke's hair, undoubtedly messy as she hadn't so much as seen a comb since she'd left home. "So you're feeling better, then?" Clarke startled, as the woman spoke in English.

"Uh... yes, I do, mostly." She was tempted to say more, but she left it at that, not sure what was coming next.

The woman patted her shoulder lightly before standing and turning to the young man who'd entered with her. "Sen hosa op gon heda. Yu biyo lok oso op Wanheda, laik hed em op wamplei gon em." The boy nodded and exited quickly.

Clarke may not have understood what was said, but she knew she'd heard heda, and more than once. It was not a stretch to assume that someone had just been sent to tell the commander that she was here. Instantly, Clarke found herself consumed with worry. She would have to leave, and relatively soon, if she was going to avoid Lexa. She wasn't ready to see her, wasn't sure she ever would be.

The woman was looking at her, concern in her features. Clarke's anxiety must have been obvious enough to notice, and with effort, she calmed herself. "You'll be fine. Our grandmother is a great healer. You're lucky my cousin found you."

Clarke sighed, "That's not what I'm worried about," and left it at that, as she returned her eyes to the ceiling. The woman took the dismissal in stride and went over to converse with the elderly woman for a while before departing. Clarke, meanwhile, was entrenched in her own thoughts and worries. If they just sent someone, I have some time. But I have no idea how far I am from Polis, I don't know where it or I am. I think if I get out of here by tomorrow night, it should be early enough, I hope. I'm going to have to refuse the painkillers, there's no way I'm getting out of here if I'm asleep. Ugh, and who knows what they're telling Lexa about me. How bad was I when they found me? Clarke wished very much that she could roll over and bury her head under something.

 - - -

It was later in the day when the old woman propped her up and handed her a plate of food, seating herself in the chair beside the cot. She began animatedly telling Clarke some story in Trigedasleng that Clarke didn't have a hope of understanding. She knew the woman knew this, as she pulled apart pieces of meat with her left hand and fed herself, but she took the action as one of friendliness. Clarke almost thought that it was a shame she would have to leave. Everyone here had been kind to her. No one seemed to know her past. If the commander weren't coming, and Clarke was almost certain about that, it might have been nice to stay. She could have learned about Grounder medicine. She could have learned their language. She could maybe learn to fight, or help cook food or something useful, since they already had a healer. Clarke could have made a nice life here. The story went on, with hand gestures and smiling, the occasional dramatic pause. Clarke was pretty sure there was a horse involved, somehow.

CLARKE

Clarke had accepted her morning dose of medicine, after a breakfast that consisted largely of boiled plants she didn't recognize. The drug had put her to sleep, as expected, and when Clarke woke again, she allowed herself to be concerned about how she was going to leave. The elderly woman didn't seem to have anything else that needed attending, she just stayed by Clarke and rambled on through another story. It was amusing, even without understanding what was being said. The woman had a way about her when she talked. Clarke could imagine the woman surrounded by a herd of children listening intently to her stories, and it brought a smile to her face. However, what Clarke needed was an opportunity to leave. She still wished that she didn't have to, but she wasn't going to face Lexa. Most especially, not like this.

When the woman presented her with a bowl of medicine in the late evening, Clarke brought her hand up to gently move it away from herself, shaking her head. The woman's expression filled with confusion and concern, brows knit together, but she acquiesced and placed the bowl on the table by Clarke's head, pointedly gesturing at it as if to say 'It's there if you need it.' Again, Clarke felt guilty.

The woman moved about the room, lighting candles as the sun seemed to be setting, starting up a new story to Clarke. Clarke wished she could understand. It would have been something nice to remember about these people when she was gone. As the story came to an end, and Clarke feigned sleepiness, the woman wished her a goodnight and left to the adjacent room.

Clarke bided her time, waiting until hopefully the woman would be asleep. She had no idea where the teen was, but she knew he wasn't in the hut. She had to leave tonight, any longer and Lexa was bound to arrive.

When it had been silent in the night for some hours, Clarke finally sat and pushed her legs over the edge of the cot, stretching what sore muscles she could. The lack of movement hadn't done her any favors. She looked down at her feet. Where are my boots? Clarke was going to have to steal some things on her way out.

She stood, bracing herself on the small table, the bowl of medicine wobbling slightly, but retaining its contents. Clarke walked to the bookshelf and picked up a knife, her first steal, and a chance to make sure she could actually walk. She glanced around, then, and spotted, beneath the bed, her bag and boots, sighing in relief. She made her way back to the cot, and sat to pull them on. They still didn't have their laces, so she didn't have to worry about tying them up with just one hand. Then she pulled out her bag. It had been emptied, which she supposed was alright, considering it was mostly sticks and nuts. She tossed the knife in, and pulled the strap of the bag over her head.

Clarke stood, grabbing her gun from the table. She was surprised the grounders had willingly touched it to move the weapon that far. She slotted it into the waistband of her pants, but it threatened to fall free. Clarke realized, belatedly, that she'd lost enough weight for the pants to fit not quite so snugly. Begrudgingly, she added the gun to her bag as well. Then she crossed to the table lined with medicines. She'd been watching the woman make her medicine since she'd known she was going to leave. She was pretty sure she knew the recipe. Or at least close enough. She grabbed the applicable vials, and added them to her supply, before moving quietly to the door, and peaking outside.

It was dark, as was expected. There was a fire somewhere to her right, and the sound of people talking. It had to be several hours into the night, and Clarke wondered, in passing, what people were still doing awake at the fire. She slipped out of the hut and walked the opposite direction. The hut happened to be very close to the tree line, and Clarke didn't have to worry long before she was ensconced by trees.

She was several feet into the forest when a soft rustle sounded, followed by a figure dropping out of a tree before her. Clarke didn't startle, simply observing the figure. It was the boy who sometimes dwelled in the healer's hut. He looked at her with worry and confusion, before saying "Weron gon we?"

Clarke just limped past him. The boy appeared almost panicked, and hesitantly switched to English. "Going where?"

Clarke turned her head and gave him a sad, harrowed look. "Away," was all she gave in answer.

There was no look of understanding from the boy, but he didn't move to stop her, or follow her. He watched until she'd been swallowed by the forest, and climbed back to his post in the trees. 

Chapter Text

LEXA

Lexa rode her horse hard through the heavy rain. The two guards trailing her on either side had exchanged many a concerned look during the trip, but they'd lost their worry for her as the night skies had darkened even further with clouds and rain had begun to pelt them. They had been riding through the entire night, and the impatience of their commander had seemed to grow the longer the trip took. The weather felt to Lexa as merely an external echo of her internal worries. Her mind had had far too much time to think and wonder and worry.

Light was just beginning to trail its way into the sky at the horizon, beyond pregnant clouds, as the village became visible. Lexa felt no sense of relief. She was quite certain she wouldn't until she had seen Clarke herself. The only information that the messenger had been able to provide was that she looked like she'd 'commanded death upon herself.' Not 'hurt really badly,' not 'alive, but injured.' No, Clarke must truly have been in a bad state for her people to think it possible that Wanheda, the commander of death, had commanded her own death. Unless Clarke actually did, said the little voice in the back of her mind.

Lexa clenched her jaw, drops of water forming rivers running from her face. Clarke had been so full of strength and resilience. If that had changed, if she had done anything, it would be Lexa's fault. She couldn't have chosen any differently at the mountain, but for Clarke, she wished she could have.

As the trio neared the village, hooves beneath them splashing muddy drops back at the assaulting sky, a new worry broke through Lexa's wall. Will she even want to see me? She'll hate me. Lexa had spent all this time worrying about Clarke, that she'd neglected to concern herself with whether Clarke would want her there. I have to know how she is, was all Lexa thought, as she shook the worries away, drenched hair clinging to her face and shoulders. She can hate me if she must, so long as she is okay.

Lexa slowed her horse to a trot as they entered the perimeter of the village. It was a small place, with only a couple dozen huts, a communal fire pit, and a building partially salvaged from before the bombs dropped used as storage space. The fire was alive in the pit, beneath an awning that protected it from the torrents raining from the sky, an attendant stoking it higher, preparing to cook a morning meal. Villagers seemed to be between the stages of waking and truly being ready for their day, or perhaps they were merely hiding from the storm. As Lexa pulled on the reigns, drawing the horse to a stop, she dropped to the side, off the animal, boots splashing into a muddy puddle, painting her with flecks of brown. She let her eyes take in the limited morning activity.

A tall woman, fully dressed in light armor and a sword at her side exited a hut not far away, turned away from Lexa, toward the fire. Lexa's mind sparked with a sense of recognition. She may not personally know every leader of all her villages, but she had made a point to meet most of them, and this woman, she recognized. "Chief!" she called out.

The woman had just made to move toward the fire when she heard, her dirty blonde braids whipping about over the woman's shoulder, already growing heavy with accumulating water, as she turned her head to see what demanded her attention. Her eyes went wide, and she lowered her upper half in a bow, drops making small tinny noises as they rebounded off the armor on her back. "My apologies, heda, we did not expect you to come yourself."

"I owe Wanheda as much as any of the rest of you. The news of her condition concerns me. I would also like to discuss the matters of our alliance with her." Lexa divulged more than she should, but maintained a carefully stoic face, and ignoring the effects of the water running over her. Her painted mask had long since vanished from its place. "Take me to see her."

"Sha, heda." The woman turned and walked past the fire, and to a hut near the tree line, boots squelching as the ground attempted to swallow their every step. Every person they passed, the few that braved the weather, greeted their heda with more enthusiasm than she could handle at that moment. She made a mental note to visit smaller villages more often, they seemed far too unaccustomed to her presence. If peace were to prevail, she would have ample time to do such a thing. The chief stopped at the door to the hut and opened it, holding it aside for her commander to enter before her.

Lexa entered the building, and swept her damp, mussed hair back over her shoulder. There was no one in the room she stepped into. An empty cot rested against the opposite wall, empty chairs about a table next to her, no one in sight. Lexa strode confidently to the only other door in the room, leaving a trail of wetness in her wake, and looked around the opening into the other room. The room was small and narrow, and held two simple beds and a smattering of personal belongings and clothing. Only one of the beds was occupied, and by a person who was most certainly not Clarke. Lexa turned on her heel, water flying away from her at the quick motion, and stormed up to the chieftain, who had followed her part of the way into the room, dripping a pool onto the floor beneath her. The chief was gazing fixedly at the empty cot with a frown. "Is this some kind of joke?! Do you take me for a fool?" Lexa demanded, roughly grabbing the chief by the collar of the cloth beneath her armor, dragging the woman toward her and slightly up into the air. Lexa's eyes blazed with fury, her jaw set harshly, waiting for an explanation.

- - -

CLARKE

Clarke had been attempting to distance herself from the village throughout the night. Her limbs were heavy and stiff, and the longer she trudged on, the more pain seemed to set in. Whatever painkiller the grounders had been giving her must have been quite effective to have lasted this long. However, the freedom from the pain came with a downside. With the drug leaving her system and the pain seeping back in, unaccustomed to the torture it had been, it was an assault to her senses.

Clarke felt hardly a twinge from the marks on her backside. She'd never been able to see them, herself, and figured they must really have never been bad. In contrast, the bound wounds of her leg and arm pulsed with her heart, a steady rhythm of pain, pain, pain. The ache in her broken arm, for now, felt muted. She had no doubt that she would feel it again, quite unpleasantly, but for now, it was manageable.

She kept moving, having absolutely no idea of where she was or could go. A crack of thunder from above was startling, and Clarke turned her head toward the skies, or rather, what little she could see in the darkness beyond the trees. That little, was largely the absence of stars and any light. Clarke was stationary, the silent beating of her heart still heralding pulses of pain as the skies boomed again. There was a violent flash of light as the clouds unleashed a torrent on the world beneath them.

The water did not immediately drench Clarke, hidden beneath the forest canopy, but the drops of water sliding sideways off of leaves and bending them to tilt toward earth was unavoidable. Clarke had never had to survive directly in the face of assaulting elements, and the prospect wouldn't have worried her, had she been whole. But Clarke, in her injured state, just barely keeping her pace, mind hardly fending off the pain, only just recovered from a life-threatening infection, was genuinely worried. With a prolonged stay in the rain, she could expect anything from a cold to bronchitis.

Clarke balked, uncertain of how to continue. She could still return to the village, if she could find her way. Surely, she could claim that she just wanted some fresh air and was caught unawares by the storm. That would be risky, though. Lexa wasn't one to waste time, and if Clarke turned back, if Lexa really did plan on coming to the village, there would be no avoiding her. On the other hand, if Clarke went forward, into the unknown, it was precisely that. Unknown. Her health, her survival, her location, all unknown. But Lexa was a known. Someone, something known to cause her agony. The mountain was fresh, and even thinking to make plans of avoiding Lexa was enough to make Clarke question her will to live. To be in Lexa's presence would likely make her loathe to continue this pitiful fight she'd begun.

She put one foot in front the other, moving through the pain that spasmed through her leg. She shivered, slowly become saturated, despite her natural shield. Her fight was not over, and part of that fight, in her mind, was staying away from Lexa. Whatever she had been to the girl, a love interest, a friend, an ally, a commander; Clarke would be so no more. She wasn't even certain that she hadn't been played by the commander. Perhaps she had just been a means to the release of her own people and anything that had happened...anything that had seemed to happen, wasn't real. Clarke cared, not that she would even admit that to herself, but she wasn't ready for any answers. Like many things these days, Clarke wasn't sure she ever would be.

Clarke continued her trek, movement becoming slower both as pain grew more prevalent, and as the ground became more unstable. The squish of mud beneath her tried to suck her boots clean off her feet, and the third time she had to return her foot to the boot, she stopped, silently cursing that she hadn't stolen new shoes, or at least the lacing or ties from some. It was hard to tell in the darkness generated by the massive clouds beyond the tree tops, but Clarke thought that there might be the beginnings of light in the sky.

Clarke lowered herself into the mud at the base of a tree, not concerned that her makeshift shorts would be completely covered with the substance later. She did wish, however, that she had stolen a change of clothes. These garments were light and left her lower legs and arms bare to the world. Water was dripping from every part of her, and when the weather slackened, it might have been nice to have something remotely dry to wear.

She found herself exhausted. She'd foregone sleep for her escape, moved more than she'd done in days, and had pain seeping into her very bones. Particularly that of her right arm, which was now somehow both an oddly dull and sharp pain simultaneously. Clarke thought about what she could do. A fire wasn't going to happen in this weather, even if she had all of her limbs to work on it. And unfortunately, she'd need somewhere dry if she was going to mix together a batch of medicine to combat the pain. That wouldn't be happening here, either. Resignedly, and vaguely hoping she'd be no worse for it later, she rested her head on the bark of the tree behind her, damp hair sticking to everything, and closed her eyes.

- - -

LEXA

The chieftain's eyes went wide, hazel confines filled with fear. Her commander was mere inches from her face, holding her up so the tips of her toes barely met with the floor beneath them. The commander's eyes boring into hers, laced with a fury more fitting a story of legend than present in an actual human being. "No, heda, she was here! Blonde hair, blue eyes, speaks gonasleng! She didn't trust us, I could see it, but she was here!" The woman was practically pleading with Lexa to believe her. And for the moment, Lexa decided that she did, lowering the woman back to the floor. The question is, then, where did Clarke go?

An elderly woman exited the room behind her, awake and dressed, unlike when Lexa had peered into the room. Her eyes gazed at the empty cot as she slowly moved in its direction, entirely ignoring the mess made of her floor by the two women. "She has gone? That was why the poor thing turned down the medicine..." Her fingers came to rest on a bowl sitting on the table by the bed.

Lexa now believed them completely. A different variety of fury flowed through her veins as she imagined Clarke injured in the wild, body torn, and damp, and lying still, encased in mud. She stormed from the building, yelling over her shoulder, "Where has she gone?!" Her guards, outside the door, backed away slightly, preparing to let her pass and follow. A very young teen seemed to have stopped in his tracks, staring at her with shock and fear. Lexa turned to one of her guards and growled out, flecks of water flying from her face with the ferocity of her delivery, "Find her."

He responded in the affirmative, and sprinted off toward the village edge, leaving boot-shaped puddles in his wake. The teen seemed to be overcoming a great degree of nervousness as he approached hesitantly, running a hand through the wet sandy brown hair pasted to his head. "Wanheda?" he asked, his voice little more than a whisper over the storm.

Lexa looked him up and down, softening her gaze. "Do you know something about where she went?" she asked, as patiently as she could manage.

The boy nodded, eyes cautiously meeting hers. "I was in the forest, keeping watch in the night. She came and I tried to ask where she was going." He furrowed his brow, water changing its path down his face, the boy seemingly confused. "I had to ask in gonasleng, but I don't know it well. All she said was... awai? She just kept walking."

Lexa nodded at him politely, a braid coming lose from the rest over her shoulder and plastering itself to her cheek. "Thank you for telling me. You've done well." That certainly does sound like Clarke. Reckless and determined, and a little bit rude when she hasn't got what she wants. Lexa had no idea what it was that Clarke wanted. It was apparently not her own health.

Lexa turned back to the chief, who was waiting, worriedly, just outside the door to the hut. "I wish to speak to everyone who saw her," she demanded. She noted from the corner of her eye, her other guard asking the teen a question. The boy pointed and her guard gave him a smile and nod before running off to find his compatriot. Best if the poor man knew where to start, though tracking the sky girl though mud should be quite simple. Lexa returned her attention to the woman before her.

The chief nodded and merely gestured for her to re-enter the dwelling. "Grandmother was with her nearly the entire time." She beckoned the teenager forward and ushered him into the building. "And my cousin found her in the forest. We are the only ones who saw her, barring a few that glimpsed her when she was brought here." Lexa leveled a disapproving glare in her direction as she passed the threshold, certain something was being withheld. The woman responded by holding her hands up. "The others, the villagers, they know she was here, but they did not see her. They were excited, many were hoping to hold a celebration once she returned to health, a thank you for taking down the mountain."

"Did Clarke know this?" Lexa tried not to show the added worry in her face. Clarke was not a selfish being, and a celebration of herself could have contributed to her running away.

The woman glanced at her grandmother, who shook her head slightly. "No. She chose not to speak to us. She barely answered one question and left me with more."

"All of you sit," Lexa sighed, pointing at the empty cot, blanket strewn haphazardly across it, not concerned with wetting the material with their collective dampness. She waited until all three of them had sat before taking a chair for herself, sitting with her back perfectly straight. "I want to know everything about Clarke's time here. Start at the beginning." She looked pointed at the teenager, knowing he had been the one to find Clarke.

The teen looked to his chief and elder, almost as if seeking permission, before beginning, "I was in the woods, hunting. I heard yelling. I wasn't sure what was going on, but I ran toward it, and then when I saw Wanheda, she was...yelling at nothing? And then she just fell over. I ran toward her, but her head hit the rocks by the river." The boy gulped, flicking his eyes up to that of his commander. "I tried to wake her, but she wouldn't. She was bleeding and her arm was broken, but everything was wrapped up, like a healer treated her. I just picked her up and carried her to komfoni. Her skin was very warm..." He trailed off, obviously not sure what else to say.

"And when she got here?" Lexa turned to the other two, slightly heartened that it seemed Clarke had at least tended her wounds.

"My cousin called for help from the forest, and I helped to carry her in," the chief said. "It wasn't far. We brought her to komfoni and laid her on this cot." She gestured to the bed they sat on.

"They came to me, asking to help the girl. She was unconscious and fitful when I first saw her. She had a fever, sweating and hot. I had to treat that, first."

"She had been trying to!" the boy interjected. "I found her with the red seaweed komfoni uses to treat infection!"

His grandmother shot him a look before she continued, though Lexa's mouth twitched in the want of a smile, "Yes, her fever was from an infection. Her wounds, though treated, weren't clean. I had -"

Lexa cut in, "What wounds? Describe them." Any sense of ease erased. It was not like Clarke to leave a wound only partially treated.

"Well, her arm was broken, like the yongon said. The right arm. The other had deep punctures, like something large had bit her. Or maybe she'd been stabbed in the arm several times." Lexa couldn't help but worry more. She'd be much happier if the wounds were something Clarke could not have done to herself. "Deep gashes in the back of her left calf, and in her rear. Some lighter ones just above those." Lexa could almost feel herself relax. Those were unlikely to have been done by Clarke. But then, what had Clarke encountered? And why was she so determined to leave? "I had to clean the wounds. It wasn't pretty. They were quite infected. The infection had gotten to her blood -" Lexa tensed again. "- but fortunately, the girl had found enough seaweed already, that treating the infection was easy. Then I merely re-bandaged everything and let her sleep, changing them and applying ointment when necessary."

There was an awkward pause, but it was obvious that Lexa expected more, so the woman continued. "She woke more than a day later. She looked at me like she was looking through me, and wouldn't respond. I gave her something for the pain, then left to inform our chief, my granddaughter."

There was another pause as the woman seemed to consider what was important before continuing, "She slept when I returned, but the medicine does that. Much later, my granddaughter came and woke her."

The chief seemed to understand that she was expected to fill in this part of the story. "I asked if she was alright, in Trigedasleng. It did not occur to me at first, that she might not know it. I came back the next day to try again." No one else in the room seemed to think that anything important had occurred between the two visits, and they let her continue. "I started in Trigedasleng, but then switched to gonasleng. Her shock was obvious, but she answered me. Said she was mostly feeling better. Then I sent the messenger to you. Only, she seemed to tense up right after. I told her she'd be fine, that komfoni is a great healer. She said that wasn't what worried her." The woman looked at Lexa with a look that said that she didn't understand what worried the girl.

"Clarke is a healer. I expect she knows your grandmother was treating her just fine," was all Lexa supplied. "What else? All of it."

The three on the cot all glanced at each other. The teen let his eyes drift up to hers and mumbled, "I tried to talk to her. But I don't think she understood. I was late, anyways. Komfoni yelled at me."

The chief laid a hand on his shoulder, before looking up at Lexa, herself. "I don't think he knows anything else. I'm not even sure that I do. Grandmother?"

"The girl watched me more openly after you sent messenger off." Her eyes swept over the table at the other wall. "If she is a healer, I expect that's why she made off with the ingredients I was using on her." She seemed to think for a moment. "Other than that, and treating her wounds as usual, I told her stories she didn't understand. It seemed to relax her, anyways, and I enjoyed it. She might have been like another daughter to me, in time. But last night, she turned down the last dose of medicine. She planned to leave, that's no mistake."

The room was silent as Lexa thought to herself. At what point had Clarke decided to leave? Had she known she would from the moment she woke up, or had she decided later? It was hard to know. She leveled her gaze on the chief. "You said she tensed after you sent the messenger to me? That she admitted worry over something. Were you in the room when you told the messenger to leave? Was he?"

"Sha, heda. I thought nothing of it. I spoke in Trigedasleng, she didn't understand."

"You're wrong." Lexa lowered her eyes to the puddle beneath them all, her own green eyes reflected back at her. "You said my title. She left because of me." Lexa knew she wasn't mad at any of them. They were kind people, and had treated Clarke well. It was all Lexa could have asked for. In fact, Lexa was mad at herself. The mere mention of her had scared Clarke out of the care of these fine people. Nevertheless, when she raised her eyes, they were hard. She stood quickly, her decision made. She placed a hand on the young teen's shoulder and he looked up at her. "Come with me."

- - -

LEXA

The boy followed her from the little hut, apprehension etched in his features. Lexa spared a glance over her shoulder, "What's your name?" She spoke softly, refusing to let her own fears darken her voice and scare the young man further.

"Ander," he answered, a small smile replacing the worry.

A small smile of her own twitched at the edges of her lips. "Good. Ander, I need your help." They walked through the village toward her horse, now lashed securely to a post. The skies above were still dark, but the rain had stopped. Wetness still dripped down from roofs, and the ground still squelched beneath them, but the wild sky had calmed. They reached the horse and Lexa reached inside a saddle bag, retrieving a moderately sized, empty leather pack. She turned to face the boy. "Ander, go to your grandmother." She extended the leather bag toward him and he reached out to accept it. "Work with her to pack anything she thinks Clarke may need. Medicine, bandages, clothes. Don't worry about food, just try to think of all the little things, okay?"

The boy's eyes were wide, like she'd handed him a golden egg instead of an ordinary bag, but he nodded and darted off back to his grandmother's. "And send your cousin to me!" she hollered after him, a smile edging into her features. Lexa very much enjoyed seeing young people with purpose, and knew she had a great amount of power to allow them to have such purpose when she wanted. The young always found a way to make Lexa smile.

Alone again, Lexa's mind turned to what she'd learned. Clarke had been injured, so greatly that she hadn't been able to completely tend her own wounds. And Clarke was so mad at Lexa, presumably for the events of the mountain, that she didn't wish to be anywhere near her. Again, Lexa wished that what had happened at the mountain could have gone differently, but there was no world in which she was commander that it could have. It was not worth dwelling on. The chief walked up behind her, clearing her throat hesitantly. "Yes, chief." Lexa returned herself to the present. "I need you to pack food for Clarke. And find a spare tent or something. I'm going to go after her, as soon as my guard returns."

"Won't he bring her?"

Lexa huffed, "He'll try. She won't let him." Lexa narrowed her eyes and glanced around the village, more full now that the rain had abated. Where was her guard? He should have found her by now. "Bring me the supplies when you have them, and let me know if you see my guard before I do."

Chapter Text

CLARKE

Clarke woke to the sound of hooves on soft ground. It was a steady, light plodding with the occasional damp squick of squelching mud. She lazily opened her eyes and rolled her head on the log toward the direction the noise had been in, once it came to a stop. The warrior who'd held her earlier, and attempted to take her to Lexa was standing a few feet away, holding the reigns of a massive chestnut-colored horse.

The man was still, looking at her with something that amounted to mild shock. "I'm surprised you're still here."

Clarke sighed. "Honestly, I probably should have left, but you know what? I'm exhausted, I'm injured, and it wouldn't have taken you much longer to find me wherever I had managed to get to." Clarke was too tired to even bother putting up a front. "So what now? She send you back with a horse, so you can strap me to it and drag me back that way?"

This dark skinned man let his lips twitch into a lopsided smile. "Naw. I'm here to help you. Unless you didn't mean it when you said that you'd let someone."

Clarke cocked an eyebrow, curious. "So you're not going to drag me to her, and you're also not going to kill me?" Clarke dropped her head back against the fallen log against which she rested. "I don't want to have meant it, but I think I need to have meant it."

The man's features scrunched together, confusion obvious. "What?"

Clarke rolled her head in his direction again. "I don't want help, and I really don't want Lexa's help, but I'm pretty sure I need help. That clear enough?" The confused vanished. "Yeah, I'm letting you stick around and help me."

That half-cocked smile graced his face again, white teeth gleaming beyond the upturned lip. "Good. So..." Suddenly the smile vanished, replaced by a myriad of expressions that Clarke could only process as uncertainty. "Uh...what are your plans for today?"

Clarke couldn't help but to offer up a smile of her own at the awkwardness of his questioning, a light chuckle escaping her, causing her to wince at the discomfort of the action. "No idea. If I could, I'd probably just stay here in the mud by this log and sleep until it isn't actually sleep anymore." The man didn't seem to notice the morose nature of the humor, or the humor itself. "Just...sit down for a moment, we'll figure it out."

The guard walked the horse to a nearby tree, and lashed the reigns around a low-hanging branch, lean muscles evident through a thin black jacket, studded strategically with bits of metal. He then hopped over the fallen log to take a seat upon it, just above and beside Clarke herself. Clarke scanned over him, appraising, as much as she could without bothering to move. The man was thin and dark, lean but muscular, rather average but in good shape. His hair was shaved away from the sides of his head, and what remained had been teased into braids from the top of his head down the back of it, and ended just at the base of his neck. It was far less hair than Clarke had seen on most grounders, as his face was clear of stubble, as well. A black tattoo snaked its way up from somewhere hidden by clothing and around part of his neck. As with all the tattoos she'd seen on grounders, she wondered what his meant. Eventually, Clarke caught notice of the deep brown eyes, staring back at her patiently. "What's your name?"

"Zik," he responded minimally.

"I'm Clarke." She held up her good arm, bent at an angle backward over her head, offering something of an upside-down handshake, on her part.

His lips twitched as he grasped her about the forearm. "I know."

"Well, I would hope so. It'd be rude to try and kidnap someone you don't even know. Even if your boss did tell you to." She closed her fingers around his forearm in return.

"She didn't, Clarke."

"Don't care." She gently pulled her arm out of his grasp. "Got anything to eat while we're thinking about what we should do today?"

An odd look flickered on his face. "Probably..." He jumped up onto the log, before stepping off the other side and walking over to his horse. A bag was strapped in place of where a rider might normally sit. He pulled it open and dug around for a moment, before returning to her with something wrapped in cloth. He sat back down and unfolded the parcel in his lap, before extending to her a piece of dried meat. "Here."

"Thanks." She accepted and started chewing on one end of the strip. "Why didn't you know if you had food?"

He hesitated a moment before responding, "I didn't pack the bag. It would have been strange for food not to have been packed, but you never really know unless you did it yourself." He picked up a piece of meat for himself.

Clarke looked away from him. Part of her wanted to ask if it had been Lexa who had packed the bag, but she wasn't sure why it mattered to her. Except that the commander rarely did such menial, simplistic tasks herself, and this man was more than capable of packing a bag himself. It shouldn't matter to her, except that it meant Lexa had been meaning to come find her herself. Clarke almost groaned to herself. If it hadn't been for the betrayal at Mount Weather, she would say that they both knew each other too well, but truly, Lexa knew Clarke better than the reverse. Lexa had known her soldier wouldn't be able to return with her, and she'd already been preparing for it. Clarke wondered if anything she'd done had been a shock. Her victory at the mountain, against all odds, her leaving her people, her getting terribly injured and not being a good enough healer to fix herself, her running away from a perfectly good village, her begrudging accepting help so long as it wasn't Lexa herself. Something had to have been a shock, she hoped. If Lexa knew her own moves before she knew them herself...well, Clarke wasn't sure what, but it was not a pleasant thought.

Clarke shook herself out of her reverie. "So we've got food. Got water, too?"

"Probably."

"So we just need shelter. And fire. Great, the two things I'm worst at."

"Those are both pretty simple."

Clarke couldn't resist glaring at him. "Trivialize my failure, why don't you? You know what, doesn't matter, teach me and we're good."

"Teach you?"

Another cocked eyebrow. "Yes, teach me. How to make fire, for starters. I tried and-" She paused, remembering her hallucination telling her she'd been close to managing it. "-it, uh...it didn't...it hasn't worked yet. And then shelter, what makes a good shelter, where should I not sleep if I'd prefer not to be eaten."

"Easy enough."

"Good. Then hunting and stuff."

His eyes snapped to her broken arm before returning to her eyes. "No."

"No? Okay, then go back to Lexa."

"What? You'd said you'd let me help. And you said you were letting me stay!"

"Are you afraid of returning to your commander as a failure?"

"In some ways, yes. It is never good to fail your heda, but she would forgive me." He paused, an unspoken 'I hope' lingering in the gap. "If you wish for me to leave, I will, but why?"

"If you're going to waste all your time helping me out while I'm healing, it would be less of a waste if you were also teaching me how to not end up in this position again."

His eyes dropped to the ground before him, a frown set into his face. "Sha, you have a point. But I don't know how much I can teach you with a broken arm."

"Good, then you can stay. And two things, I'm left handed." She raised the indicated hand and wiggled her fingers. "And you'll teach me what I can manage."

His eyes darted sideways towards her again, but the frown slowly disappeared, and his sigh of relief wasn't quite as quiet as he may have hoped.

"Now help me up. Have you got something in mind for shelter? The mud is soft, but I'd prefer not to add pneumonia to my problems."

He got up off the log quickly, and bypassed the arm she'd held out for him to grab to instead grasp her under the arm and pull her to her feet. "I have no idea what that is, but yeah, I know a place we can go."

He nearly cowered at the gaze Clarke sent his way. "With people?"

"No, no people. Just us. Is that okay?"

Clarke nodded. "Which way are we going?"

Zik rushed over to his horse and began to untie the reigns. "You can ride and I'll lead the horse. It isn't too far."

Clarke eyed the horse as he led it over to her. "I am not getting on the horse."

"You're injured. Your pants-" He gestured down at what now amounted to shorts on her. "-don't hide that bandage on your leg, which we should clean soon, since it's covered in mud. And you already said you were tired. Just get on the horse, it'll make this easier."

"No. I know full well that I'm injured - and you're probably right about that bandage, got anything with you for that? - but I'm not getting on the horse. I haven't had anything for the pain in a day, and every step that thing takes is going to hurt my arm." She neglected to mention that the claw marks in her rear wouldn't make such a ride pleasant, either. "So I'm walking. After we change this bandage."

Zik went around the horse to the bag and dug for medical supplies, smiling a little when he returned from its depths with a rather comprehensive stock. "Here we go, sit on the log." She did, and he knelt and began to unwrap the muddied layer around her calf. "And it's fine, you can walk. It's starting to seem like I shouldn't argue with you. I'm just not sure we can make it if you're limping the whole way." A look of anger graced Clarke's features, and he noticed. "Make it to where we're staying, not like...die. Sorry. I think there's a tent in the bag, we can stop on the way there, we'll be fine."

They changed all of Clarke's bandages before they took off, walking side-by-side as much as they could with trees all about, Zik leading the horse, and Clarke limping determinedly. Although Clarke wanted not to like the man, because Lexa sent him, if for no other reason, she found it very hard not to like him. Even in silence, the man was more expressive than any other grounder she'd met.

- - -

ABBY

Abby was confused as she found herself waking on a bed in the Camp Jaha med-bay. She didn't recall having fallen asleep, but that had become quite common for her, lately. Her eyes wandered the room as she tried to figure out how she'd ended up asleep here, and what time it was. Raven rested in the next bed over, propped up against some pillows, attention focused on a book, one of the few that had survived both time on the Ark and the return to the ground.

Abby groaned as she sat herself up, ignoring the aching protest in her hip, and dangled her legs off the edge of the bed. At some point during the day, the usual flood of people seeking her out after injuring themselves or requesting their birth control implants removed must have calmed enough for her to pass out here. Despite the fact that there were fewer people in Camp Jaha than there had been on the Ark, the populous still managed to provide her the same amount of work. There seemed to be no shortage of smashed fingers, skinned knees, and other maladies.

Raven laid her book against her chest, having noticed Abby's waking. "Morning, doc."

Abby sighed, and rubbed at her temple with her left hand. "What time is it really, Raven?"

"Bout dinner. What are ya bringing me? Or are you finally going to clear me to get the freak out of here?"

Abby gave her a pointed look. "You're not going anywhere." Of everyone who'd returned from the mountain, Raven was the only one Abby had yet to clear medically. She wouldn't even let her out of medical. Abby knew this annoyed Raven to no end, but she also knew that the events of that night had exacerbated the damage to Raven's leg. If she were to let Raven go, she would push herself and end up hurting herself. "And you know I have to go to the caf to find out what we'll be eating. Do you know how long I was asleep?"

Raven shrugged. "Like, two hours, maybe. And why won't you clear me? It's been two weeks, you let almost everyone else go after only one."

Abby pushed herself out of the bed, standing. "Raven, you might think you're doing a good job of hiding the pain, but I can see it. It's literally my job to see it." There was a knock on the door frame of the med-bay entrance. "One of my jobs, anyways." She sighed. "Hold on." Abby turned to face the door. "Come on in."

Marcus Kane entered medical, Sinclair following just a bit behind him. Sergeant Miller, behind them, stopped in the doorway and stayed there. "Hello, Abby. How's the patient?"

Raven glared at Kane. "The patient is just fine. She's also really annoyed to be stuck here. What's for dinner? I've been patiently waiting for this one-" She jerked her thumb toward Abby. "-to wake up and feed me."

Kane smirked a bit. "Good to know you're getting at least a little rest, Abby. And dinner is a kind of rabbit stew thing. Could do with more flavor, if you ask me, but one of the guards has been having good luck with some little traps."

Raven grinned. "I'll take it! Now are we going to let me actually go get it, or do I need to wait for you all to ramble on about things happening outside this room?"

Abby shook her head, and placed a hand on Raven's shoulder. "You're still stuck here, sorry, Raven. I'll try to make this quick."

Abby ushered the rest of them over to other end of medical. "What's going on, Kane? Is it Clarke? Did someone find something?" She couldn't help the little flicker of hope in her chest. When they'd first returned from Mount Weather, Clarke was with them. Or at least, she'd thought that Clarke was with them. Abby had been hurt in the mountain's attempt to extract bone marrow from her, and had been inundated in medical, trying to take care of everyone else who'd been hurt with Jackson. Clarke had been distant with her since they'd come to the ground, and more often than not, away from camp, so Abby didn't immediately notice that Clarke was gone. However, two days after their return, just when she'd been starting to wonder where Clarke was hiding, and how she could help pull her out of wallowing in self-pity, Bellamy had approached her. The young man had admitted to her that Clarke hadn't entered camp with them, that she'd said goodbye to him and left instead. Abby was confused as to why this boy got a goodbye and she didn't, but she's a mother. She wouldn't have wanted to let Clarke go. Bellamy had insisted that he'd thought she would return after a few days, but he was starting to get worried about her. They had let the assumption lie for a few more days, but when it had been a week, Abby had had it. That was her daughter out there, alone, in the wild, with, as far as they knew, no supplies. She had ordered the guard into wider patrols, with orders to keep an eye out for Clarke. Still, they'd heard nothing.

"I'm sorry, Abby. It's not Clarke. No one's found anything." Kane was still largely in charge of guard duties and rotation, even if Abby did have the final say in things around camp. "We were actually thinking we could go to Mount Weather." Sinclair nodded behind him. "If we clean out the bodies now, it can be done with. Then we can look for what we can use."

"You want to go to Mount Weather?" The thought was somewhere between baffling and frightful, for Abby. She didn't want to go back there. She still limped from what had been done to her there. "What are you going to do with all those bodies? There were hundreds of them."

"We can burn the bodies outside. It won't be pleasant, I know, but if we get it done now, that'll clear up the place for us to search, or to use."

"Marcus, we are not going to use that place. I'm certainly not going back there, and think what the grounders would think we started living there! Generations of their people were killed there!"

"Abby, at least let us use what we can."

"We lost a lot of our technological systems and resources when we had to bring the Ark down. Some of what's in the mountain could really help us," Sinclair added.

Abby glanced aside, eyes catching Raven's form across the room, back to reading her book, before sighing and returning her gaze to the men before her. "Okay. You can go. But take a radio, check in at least once a day with camp. And don't take anyone who was kept in the mountain with you, especially not Jasper or Bellamy, no matter what they tell you. And try not to stay too long. I don't need the grounders getting the wrong idea. They haven't done anything since the mountain, but we're also not in an alliance anymore."

"Thank you, Abby," Sinclair stated before turning and leaving medical with Sergeant Miller.

Kane stayed behind a moment. "I know it's hard to think of going back to that place, but you don't have to."

"Marcus, it's not just me they hurt. It's not just that the grounders wouldn't like it. You know what Clarke did for us. We can't be there. I can't be there. So you can gut the place if you want, but none of our people will be living there, and that is final."

Kane nodded. "She'll come back, Abby. She just needs time." He turned to leave.

"Time for what, Marcus? It's been two weeks! She could be dead already, and I won't know! We could help her, help her deal with what she did. What's any better about being alone? She'll just dwell on it!" Tears sparked at the corners of her eyes, threatening to fall free.

Kane glanced over his shoulder. "Here, there are living reminders. Out there, she at least has the chance to forget, Abby. I don't think our help is what she's needing right now. We'll still keep an eye out for her." He left the room.

Abby swallowed around the lump in her throat, trying to breathe and calm herself so that she wouldn't cry as she walked back over to Raven's bedside.

Raven glanced up from her book, though after the single glance, she immediate set the book aside. "Hey, doc, it's okay. She's strong. We'll find her when she wants to be found." The tears in Abby's eyes left and trailed down her face. How did Raven know, without even hearing the conversation? "Hey, come here. Don't cry." Raven held her arms open, and Abby sat beside her on the bed, letting Raven pull her into a hug. "You're worried, I get it." Raven patted her back, holding her tightly. "But Clarke is fine, I'm sure of it. And I'm the genius, so don't go questioning me!" She smirked as Abby pulled away, giving her an amused look. "Good. Now go bring me some damn food, I'm starving."

Abby gave a small smile and stood to go bring them both some food as a loud belt of thunder sounded from outside. Abby's face, and spirits, immediately fell. "It rained this morning, and it sounds like it's going to again tonight. How can you be so sure she's okay, Raven? No one's seen her in two weeks. She didn't take anything with her. She might have pneumonia, or a cold, or be hurt, or... or..." Her lip quivered and tears threatened to flow again.

Raven sighed. "Okay, yeah, she could be any of that. Or she could not be. She probably found a cave or something, nice and dry, anyways. Clarke always does what she has to. Survival is just a simpler version of that. I'm sure she's fine. She's Clarke." Raven sounded completely confident, like what she spoke was nothing more than a fact. "Now food, Abby, food."

Abby chuckled, though the laughter didn't reach her tired eyes. "Okay, okay, I'm going. Be back in a few." And with that, Abby headed toward the caf.

- - -

CLARKE

Clarke generated a lot of noise as she walked though the forest. Sure, she wasn't normally quiet when traversing the woods, but this was louder and far less voluntary than usual. They had been walking, or more accurately for Clarke, limping, for hours. Her entire left leg was so sore that instead of being able to lift it, the best she was managing was to slide that foot along the ground, rustling leaves and catching on branches, thus the unusual amount of noise. Zik, to his credit, had kept quiet about the problems she was obviously having, but seemed a little on edge, as if it were distressing him.

Despite the cloud cover that remained overhead, beyond the trees, it was obvious by the darkening skies that night was coming. When a belt of thunder sounded from overhead, Zik finally broke the silence.

"It's going to rain. We should find somewhere to set up the tent."

Clarke tilted her head. "Why not just set up here?"

"We're in a valley. The rain."

"That does not make it more clear why. Teach me, Zik, I don't know the answer already," she extolled dryly.

"Well... generally you set up camp on the high ground. Or high enough ground, not as high as you can. That would mean the enemy, you know, if you have one, could see you. But if you camp at the bottom of a valley, at least don't do it when it rains. Trust me, you wouldn't like the sensation of waking up in a puddle."

Clarke chuckled, "Okay, see, that makes more sense." She thought for a moment as they began walking again. "But then... towns and stuff are in valleys, aren't they?"

Zik gave her an amused look. "Yeah, sometimes, but those are villages and towns. Where houses have walls and usually floors, and the bed is usually at least a little bit off the ground. You're not going to have that in the tent."

"Okay, okay." They could hear little drops of rain start sprinkling onto the leaves above them. "Let's just find somewhere quick."

It wasn't long until Zik deemed a spot suitable and hastily set up the tent before ushering Clarke into it. Clarke settled herself onto the ground under the covering, aching from the day. After a few moments, as the sound of the rain became louder, Zik came ducking into the tent himself, carrying the bag under one arm and the horse's saddle under the other. He tossed the saddle as far away from the door flap as the tent allowed, before settling onto the ground and opening the bag. He pulled out a fur and tossed it to Clarke, who was caught by surprise and had to uncover herself. She laid the fur between her and the ground, then pulled her own bag off of her.

"Hey, can you help me?"

Zik glanced up, another fur in hand that he'd just pulled from the bag. "What with?" He started laying the fur out on the ground beneath him.

"Well, for starters, do you have a bowl in there somewhere?"

He looked puzzled, "Yeah." He started digging through the bag again.

Clarke started pulling stolen ingredients out of her own. "Good, then can you mix these together? You have the grind up these ones first, though." Clarke held a bottle of small leaves up. "I could, but I'm pretty sure it would take a while. I'd like some relief from the pain sooner rather than later."

Zik pulled a bowl from the depths, smirking. "Pretty sure this is one of the reasons I'm even here." He collected the ingredients from her and started putting it all together. After a couple of minutes, he passed the bowl to her without a word.

"Thanks. Get some food ready. This stuff seems to knock me out pretty good, and I should probably eat before it does." She accepted the bowl and started sipping on its' contents. Zik did as was asked of him and produced some more dried meat and piece of fruit she didn't have a name for. Clarke set the half-drunk bowl aside to accept and took a bite out of the fruit. Clarke grinned at the sugary taste as juices flowed over her chin. "This is good. What is it?"

"A plum, I think. I wonder where they got it. Little villages usually don't have much in the way of fruit unless it grows nearby."

"Well, doesn't change the fact that it's good. It's the best thing I've tasted in a long time."

He smiled and chewed on a piece of meat. "How's your leg?"

Clarke frowned. "Not great, but I think you knew that without asking." He merely nodded in response. "It hurts. Quite a lot. When the medicine kicks in, it won't matter."

"It'll still matter."

"I won't feel it."

"That doesn't mean it won't matter, Clarke. You opened the wound, I could see the blood seeping through the bandage when we were still walking." He paused. "Or mostly walking, because you were really pushing yourself. Too hard. You couldn't even lift your leg to not drag through the leaves." Clarke glared at him. "I'm not being mean Clarke, it's just... bad. It means you're in pain and ignoring it, and also, all that noise you make makes it hard for me to hear if we're being followed, or if something is nearby. I also probably wouldn't be able to find any food to hunt if I needed to right now."

Clarke bit her lip, refusing to let the tears pooling in her eyes free. "I've been in pain the whole day, Zik! More than just the leg! You think that's what hurts most just because it's obvious? It doesn't. It's hardly anything compared to how my arm feels, and I can't even move it!" She growled out at him. "So excuse me if I ignore some minor pain because I'd rather keep moving, keep busy, get somewhere I can finally take the damn medicine that helps but puts me to sleep!" She bit the inside of her cheek, tears still threatening her. "I'm doing the best I can."

Zik looked absolutely taken aback, and more than a little frightened. "I never... I never said you weren't. I just, I want you to care, and to take care of yourself. Or to let me. Heda said-"

"Don't. Don't you dare tell me. I don't want to know."

"Well... you said I could take care of you. And I think that means not letting you hurt yourself. I also need to be able to hear and keep lookout for us. I was going to suggest again that you ride the horse the rest of the way, tomorrow. Would it be any better with the medicine?"

Clarke softened her glare. "No. It'll wear off, and I'll be in just as much pain. If I take more, I'll be asleep almost all of tomorrow." She picked up the bowl and drank more of its' contents. "If I'm asleep, try whatever you want, there's no way to put and keep me on that horse without hurting my arm."

Zik leaned over to drag the saddle next to his fur blanket. "You're right. At least we can take it slower, right? We're a lot closer."

Clarke finished the bowl and laid it down, then finished a strip of dried meat and laid herself down on the fur beneath her. "Yeah, we can take it slower." It was silent for a minute before she heard Zik shifting on his fur. She glanced over to see that he was laying down, his head resting against the saddle. "Goodnight, Zik," she murmured sleepily.

"Reshop, Wanheda."

"Leave her out of this," Clarke mumbled in retort.

Zik gave her a confused look. "Who?"

"Heda, Lexa, your commander?"

"Wanheda, Clarke, not heda. Wanheda is you." However, the effects of the medicine had already begun to take effect, and though she wanted to ask, Clarke instead drifted to sleep.

~*~

KANE

Marcus Kane had woken early the day after he'd received permission from Camp Jaha's current Chancellor, Dr. Abby Griffin, to go to Mount Weather. Everyone who would be traveling with him had been informed the night before, as quietly as he could manage. The group would be gathering within the hour to coordinate supplies for the trip, but Kane wanted to check on Abby first.

Since their return from the mountain, he had found himself worrying more each day for their Chancellor. The woman had been fine at first, if completely and obviously exhausted. She'd had her hands full in medical. Things got much worse, however, when Bellamy had told her that her daughter had left. Kane had no way of sympathizing with what Abby was feeling, and suspected he never would until, or if, he had children himself. When she had been told Clarke was gone, her first instinct had been denial. She had ordered the entire camp searched. She worried more each day, he could tell. She had been sleeping less and less, and forgetting to eat more often as the days went by. Marcus wasn't often sure where to find her, either, as she tended to fall asleep in medical, her quarters, or even the caf, once, at seemingly random. When she wasn't, she could be found in medical, tending to the sick and injured, or bickering with Raven about keeping her medical, or she was staring at maps of the surrounding area. More than once, Abby had sent guards to survey the land around the crash-site for more accurate maps, and in hopes they would find some sign of her daughter.

Kane entered medical, hoping to find Abby there. Jackson looked up from the sole desk tucked into one corner of the room, and gave him a tired smile. "Good morning, Kane. Looking for Abby?"

Raven groaned and rolled over on the bed she occupied, facing them. "Do you not know how early it is? I can't even see the sun, and I know!"

Kane offered up a small smirk, "Sorry, Raven." He turned back to Jackson. "I am looking for Abby, though, yes. Have you seen her?"

Jackson shrugged. "No. She was asleep on the bed next to Raven when I left yesterday. Not here this morning. Didn't see her at mess, even."

"Raven?"

"Yeah?"

"Know where Abby is?"

"Maybe I would if she'd let me leave this damn room. I'm lucky she lets me piss on my own!"

"Raven," Kane admonished.

Raven sighed and pulled one of the pillows from under her head and pulled it over her one exposed ear. "Probably Chancellor's quarters. She brought us food, we ate, she left to take our bowls back and I haven't seen her since. If she's not, maybe she fell asleep somewhere else. She said she fell asleep at mess once. Coulda done that again."

Kane let out a sigh, himself. "Thanks, Raven." He turned to leave.

"Or maybe she went looking for Clarke." Raven mumbled. "She was really worried, what with the weather." The sound may have been lost in the pillow she held to her head.

Kane made his way to Abby's quarters. The door was shut, and he gave a succinct knock. There was no reply, not that he expected one. He keyed in the door code, and lock hissed open. Kane pushed his way through the door and didn't even have to glance around to spot Abby. She laid spread on the only couch in the room, a large hand-drawn map partially underneath her, draping over the edge of the couch onto the floor. At least she had gotten some sleep, again.

He quietly crossed the room to the opposite of the couch, and crouched near Abby's head. Kane shook her shoulder gently, though Abby's reaction was as if he had slapped her. She jerked upright, eyes unfocused, "What? Found something?!"

"No. No, Abby," Kane sighed. "We're going to head out to Mount Weather in a bit. I just wanted to check with you before we left."

Abby brushed her hair out of her face. "Oh."

"Need a moment to finish waking up?"

"No."

Kane frowned. "So when are you going to let Raven go? You can't keep her cooped up in medical forever."

"I want to help her, Marcus." Abby burrowed her face into her hands. "She's in so much pain, and the more she uses that leg, the worse it will get. You know Raven, she isn't going to just sit still. She'll want to be in the thick of it, with everyone else. She won't let pain hold her back, even if it's in her best interest."

"So then help her?"

"I can't, Marcus. We don't have the equipment. We don't have half the equipment."

Kane closed his eyes, thinking. "The mountain might have something. It might be a bit outdated, but they were constantly performing procedures and testing. I can have Sinclair take a look while we're there, if that's okay?"

Abby looked up from her hands. "Yes. If we're going back to that place, finding something to help Raven might make it worth it. Do you need someone else? You could take Jackson? He might be able to identify what we need."

He shook his head. "No, I don't want to leave you in medical alone. We'll have the radio, we can describe it if we need, right? Or we could make another trip, bring Jackson or you after the bodies are... disposed of."

Abby nods. "If you're sure, but I don't want to-"

"You're going to Mount Weather?!" a voice yelled, the sound of feet stumbling into the room at the same time. Kane and Abby both turned to look at the intruder. "I should go! I should get to get to!" Jasper hollered at them.

Abby stood. "No, Jasper."

"I loved her! And I don't get to go?! I can't even say goodbye? I have the right!"

"Jasper, you held Maya's body in your arms. Seeing her now won't make it any easier. It's not even her, she's gone."

"I could bury her! Or burn her! Like a funeral, I should get to!" He tripped over his own feet and smacked his chin on the arm of the couch as he fell.

"Are you drunk?" Abby asked, incredulous. "It's hardly morning. This is precisely why you're not going, among other reasons. It's going to take you time to heal, Jasper, but seeing a corpse isn't going to make it any faster. Now leave my quarters and go sober up!"

"I'll take him to the caf, see to it that he has something to eat," Kane offered. He received a nod from Abby.

"Do. Remember to check in, Marcus, and be safe."

With that, Kane dragged Jasper off the floor and out of the room. He'd make sure the boy was fed, and then meet with Sinclair and the rest to make sure they had enough rations for the trip.

- - -

CLARKE

She felt cozy and warm as her brain began to wake from the drug-addled slumber of night. Part of her wanted not to move at all, and she kept her eyes closed just a little longer. When Clarke did open them, it was to a heavy brown cloth above her, dimpled with tiny pricks of sunlight working their way through the material. She shifted, stretching her lower back while still remaining prone and glanced around. Zik smiled down at her from a few feet away, where he had presumably slept through the night. He was very much not asleep anymore, however. He sat with his legs pulled up, his arms wrapped around them, and the saddle resting against his shins. His long fingers toyed with the edge of the saddle as he gazed at her. It took her pushing herself up with her good arm and glancing down at herself to realize that the fur he'd laid on when going to sleep was now draped over her.

"Awake now? Ready to go?" Zik seemed as if he had more energy than was reasonable for what she assumed was still morning.

"Uh, yeah. Just let me... relieve myself?" She tried to phrase it delicately, not sure she cared for him to know what she had to do, even if it was a basic bodily function.

He just nodded, grin still plastered on his face. "Yup. I'll just tear down the tent while you do."

Clarke stood and ducked through the tent flap into the outside world. Everything in sight was damp and soggy from the overnight assault. She wandered far enough away that she was out of sight, but she doubted she was beyond Zik's ability to hear. She did as was necessary and returned to the temporary camp. She was surprised to find that everything was already packed away, and Zik was strapping the large bag onto the horse's saddle. He held her own bag out to her. She silently admonished herself, for forgetting and leaving it behind.

"Did you want to carry it still? Or I can strap it to the horse. I'm sure it doesn't hurt every time the horse takes a step." His smile was just so large and full of energy.

Unbidden, she found herself thinking 'Mockery is not the product of a strong mind.' That was, however, an unpleasant reminder of another time. Of another companion. Instead, she reached out and grabbed the bag, slinging it around herself. "I'll take it. Lead on." Her tone flat and disinterested.

He seemed almost to have a skip in his step as he took up the reigns and started off. "Just remember, go as slow as you need. It's not far. I mean, it might still take us most of the day, but we'll get there. And then we can see about your leg, when you can actually rest it, okay?"

Clarke merely nodded and followed along.

- - -

OCTAVIA

Octavia was packing a small bag as Lincoln ducked into their tent behind her. The two felt uncomfortable when in the Ark proper for too long, and as such, had set up a tent near the fence. Lincoln observed her actions and asked, "You're going with them to Maun-de?"

"Yeah. Chance to get out of here and do something." Octavia's voice was gruff and to the point.

"You can leave the camp anytime. Are you sure you want to go with them?"

"Yeah, I can, Lincoln, but you can't. You're stuck here until someone can convince the Commander to drop the kill order against you." She was fully dressed for travel or for war, whichever came sooner, and strapped the bag to herself.

Lincoln felt guilty. "You don't have to stay in the camp just because I'm stuck here."

Octavia turned, leaned up toward him, and kissed him gently on the lips. "I know, Lincoln, but I prefer to be where you are. I love you." Her lips quirked in a cocky grin, she didn't need him to say it back to know that he loved her, too. "But I am going to go and help out, get a workout lugging bodies around. Plus, not many eligible people were jumping at the chance to touch dead people."

Lincoln gave her a confused look. "Eligible?"

Octavia shrugged. "They're basically not letting anyone who was in the mountain go back there. Including my brother. Smart call, if you ask me."

"Ai hod yu in, Octavia. Ste klir."

Octavia nodded, a smile still on her face as she dashed through the flap of their tent.

- - -

CLARKE

For all that the pace had been slow, Clarke still ached. Like Zik had insinuated, most of the day had passed, and Clarke found herself hoping that they made it to their destination sooner than later. They seemed to be skirting around the base of a mountain, at the moment. The changing elevation as they traversed foothills and spurs did her leg no favors.

Zik had seemed much calmer as the day wore on, as if he simply had too much energy in him when he woke. The man had refrained from attempting to start conversation, as if he knew that Clarke wasn't in the mood to foster such a social endeavor. He'd strolled easily, making the whole trek seem easy, though that certainly wasn't what Clarke's body was saying. He seemed to be picking up speed, again, however.

"Zik, slow down. Please." Her tone sounded very much like that of an order, and she shuddered a bit at the thought. She didn't want to be in charge of anyone.

"Moba, wanheda. We are near." He offered up as apology and explanation.

Clarke wrenched her eyes shut. She wasn't sure what she felt more strongly; elation at nearing their destination, or disdain for that unknown word. Disdain and curiosity, if she were honest. She sighed, "What does that mean?"

"I said sorry, for walking too fast?" Confusion was evident.

"No, the other one. The one you said last night."

"Wanheda?"

"Yes. What does it mean?"

Zik looked away from her, "It is a name my people call you. Only since the fall of the Maun-de."

"Since..." Clarke blanched. "...the mountain?" She wasn't so sure she wanted to know what it meant, anymore.

"It means 'commander of death'."

Clarke stopped walking. "No. I'm not."

Zik turned around. "But you are. The mountain killed our people for generations. We have tried to fight back against them before. We could not. We left you-"

"Don't! Don't talk about it!" Clarke started walking again.

"Clarke, you have to understand." He gave the reigns a gentle tug to get the horse moving again. "We left you, and you still entered the mountain. All your people live and none of theirs."

"I know," she spat out through a clenched jaw.

"Clarke, they also know of our three hundred warriors you killed of a blaze of fire."

"So they fear me?"

"Some. Some are in awe of you. Those who you do not like die. Wanheda is a fitting title. Many believe you're stronger than the commander, herself." He gestured to an opening in the mountainside that she'd nearly walked past. "This is it."

Clarke shuffled into the cave. "Just call me Clarke from now on." She didn't know how she felt about the name - or title? - because she had killed so many people in her short time on the ground, and it was fitting, but Clarke didn't want to remember those deaths. Maybe forgetting isn't the right choice. Maybe I need to accept what I've done. Maybe I need to become Wanheda, Clarke thought to herself as she swung her bag off and deposited it by one of the walls of the cave.

She was still standing, silently, as Zik entered a few minutes later, with the big bag and saddle. He dropped the saddle at the opposite wall and pulled the furs from the bag, tossing one to her. "Sit down, Clarke. Let's change that bandage."

She dropped onto the fur and began to undo the bandage around her left calf, appalled at the amount of blood, mud, and other muck coating it. "Do we have enough water to clean my wounds?"

Zik pulled the medical supplies out of the bag and reached for his canteen, giving it a shake. "No, but I can get more." He placed the supplies next to her as she continued unwrapping the bandage. "I'll be back soon." And with that, he left the cave.

Clarke pulled away the ruined cloth and grimaced at the sight of her calf, dried blood, and mud, and red protesting skin all trying to occupy the same place. She pulled the set of vials for making the salve out of her bag before crawling to and from Zik's bag to retrieve a bowl. She balanced the bowl in her lap, working with only one hand to mix together the ingredients into the thick white-ish paste.

Zik returned soon enough and gave her his canteen. She shuffled just far enough off the fur blanket and tried to wash the leg wound. Her lack of a second arm was hindering the process, as she couldn't both pour the canteen and clean the wound. Her companion knelt down and assisted, before also slathering the salve on for her, and wrapping the gouge back up in new cloth. He did the same for her arm, and then her lower back, despite the unspoken awkwardness.

~*~

ABBY

Abby was at her desk in medical, reading over reports that weren't so medical in nature. Although they hadn't had problems yet, reports from those she'd tasked with managing their food supply indicated that as the weather got colder, they most likely would. And by 'most likely' these reports meant 'only some of us may starve to death'. Abby sighed.

She was distracted as Kyle Wick swooped into the med-bay, a tray of parts balanced on one hand. "Hello, Wick. Here to see Raven, or did you manage to affix yourself to that tray?"

He gave an exuberant grin. "Can't it be both?"

Raven quite visibly rolled her eyes, halfway across the room. "Just get over here. Sorry, Abby. What'd you bring me, Wick?"

Wick gave a mock salute with his unoccupied hand and moved over to Raven, passing her the tray.

Raven had been begging to, if she wasn't going to be released, at least be allowed to do something. Abby had finally consented that she could work on non-explosive things that didn't require a welding torch in her medical bay. Raven had plucked a radio from under her pillow with a smirk on her face, Abby still at her bed and said, "We're a go. No explosives, no welding. Bring me something to work on."

So Abby had been expecting Wick. She hadn't even seen fit to confiscate the radio, as it seemed Raven hadn't used it to violate her medical restrictions.

Raven was frowning down at the contents of her tray, and hesitantly picked up something small. "What the heck, Wick?"

"What?" Even Abby knew that was feigned ignorance.

"This capacitor has a hole in the insulation. A literal hole. I don't even need to try it to know it won't work!" She dropped the thing back onto the tray, and picked up two even smaller items. "And look at these diodes! Wick...did you find every broken electrical component you could?"

"Give me some credit!" He schmoozed. "This is only half."

"Ugh. I asked for work. You're useless, you-"

Abby was distracted from the bickering across the room by the radio on her desk sounding out. "Mountain to camp. Mountain to camp. Anyone listening?"

Abby picked up the radio and pressed the button to transmit. "Chancellor Griffin, here. What's your status?"

Kane's voice came through along with some minor intermittent static, "Sinclair found the backup generator. We're lucky it was just out of fuel. They're pouring more in the tank right now." Kane had radioed in the previous night to check in on arrival. They'd found the power out in the entirety of the facility. For the most part, they'd held off on extracting bodies until they could get power up and see. Octavia had apparently been hauling bodies out despite the lack of light.

"Good. How long do you think it'll take?"

"At least three days, Abby. Maybe more, we don't have that many people, and there's... not sure, more than three hundred, for sure."

"Don't stay longer than is necessary. You know the grounders will already know you're there."

"I know, Abby. We'll be as quick as we can. I'll report in later, okay? Mountain out."

Abby sighed and set the radio back on the desk. She glanced around the room, noticing that both Wick and his tray of apparently-broken parts was gone. She moved to go over and sit on the bed next to Raven's.

"Broken parts, doc. What am I supposed to do with that?"

"Fix them?" Abby hazarded as a guess.

"No, those are the things you replace when you're fixing something else. Most of those can't be fixed without breaking them down and remaking them."

"And you can't do that?"

"Not in here, Abby. And not easily." She sighed. "He thinks he can joke around, but I'm not joking about needing something to do." She cast a look over at Abby. "Why are you keeping me here, Abby?"

Abby ducked her head, "Because I'm hoping I can fix you."

Raven quirked one side of her face, frowning. "Can't fix what ain't broke, doc," she joked, but then in an almost whisper, "You already tried, Abby."

"I know, Raven." Abby sighed. "It wasn't my best work. But the Ark had just landed, and we didn't have much to work with."

"Do we have more? Is it going to really matter?"

"I'm working on something, just...trust me?" Abby implored.

Raven set her jaw, and glanced around the room before responding, "How about we make a deal? What would it take to let me out of here while you work on whatever you're doing?"

- - -

CLARKE

She could tell that Zik was getting ready to leave the cave. He had a bow waiting for him by the entrance, and a quiver on his back. He was searching through the bag for something. He pulled away with a confused look and a bundle of cloth in hand. He unfolded it and it became apparent that it was a pair of pants. He chuckled and tossed them toward Clarke. "Someone knew you don't have real pants."

She grabbed them from where they'd landed and held them up. "I'm glad, because I agree, these aren't real pants."

Zik stood and made to leave the cave when she was getting to her feet, to change, excited for clean, dry, whole trousers.

"Wait, wait! Can I come with you?"

"No."

"Do I need to send you back to Lexa?" she halfheartedly threatened.

"Not yet, Clarke. I'm going to hunt and you scare the animals away."

She sighed. "Fine, that's true, but soon?"

"Maybe," he conceded. "Why don't you take more of the medicine and rest?"

"Because there's only enough left for about three doses. I'd rather sleep at night, anyhow."

"Have you looked through my kit for stuff to make more?"

"Yeah, there isn't enough. I think they knew I already had what I did."

"Do you want me to get more?" he offered.

"Around here?"

"No. I'd have to travel to a village, but I can take Chess."

"What?"

"The horse."

"Oh. Well, no. I'll deal with the pain. It's going to be a while until my arm heals, anyways."

Zik frowned, but nodded and exited the cave.

Chapter Text

CLARKE

Clarke jerked her head away as water splashed her yet again, before turning back and examining the water before her. She pulled her makeshift spear - a long stick sharpened into a point - out of the water and glared at its' empty point. Spear fishing, she thought. How did we decide on this again? 

But of course, Clarke knew the answer to that. It had been five days since she and Zik had arrived at the cave they were staying in, and she had been itching for an opportunity to get out of it. Zik had fairly easily brushed off her attempts at tagging along, but last night, after he was back from hunting and skinning the second of a pair of rabbits he'd caught, she started up a conversation with the sole purpose of finding something she could learn.

"How'd you get the rabbits?" her start was casual.

"Bow and arrow," was the succinct reply.

She frowned and leaned over for a better look at the odd-looking rabbits. They looked quite different without fur. "They don't look like you shot them with an arrow."

"Through the eye. Quick into the brain, they don't even feel it."

Frown still on her face, she leaned back into the curved wall of the cave, "Well, I can't exactly shoot a bow. I'm pretty sure that requires two arms." She gave a pointed look at her own disabled limb, despite the fact that Zik couldn't see her face at the moment.

"Nope." She could hear the smirk in his voice.

"Maybe I could just watch? Learn something that way?" she suggested, hopeful.

"You scare the animals away." It was his stock response for her requests to come along.

"So teach me not to, then."

"When your leg is better, I will."

"So what, like, a week from now?" That was her estimate, at least. She was being optimistic. The wound in her leg had been quite deep, and she'd made things worse by not only letting it get infected, but also by using it so much, but in a week, she expected that she'd start to see most of the muscle knitting together and scar tissue developing. She'd probably still limp, and it'd certainly be sore, but it would be much harder for her to tear it open again just by walking.

"A weak what?" he questioned.

"A week? It means seven days..." she trailed off, not having considered that grounders might not have the concept of a week.

"Seven is an odd number to give a name to." He sliced though the center of one of the rabbits.

"Yeah, but how about you answer the question. Seven days from now, good enough to teach me how not to scare the whole forest away?"

"Sure," was the non-committal answer.

"So... how about a sword? You could teach me to use a sword!"

"No."

"And why not?"

"Honestly, I'd rather not hurt your arm by hitting it or knocking you down on it," he glanced over his shoulder to see if she was going to protest that argument.

"Okay, fair enough. Knife throwing?"

"Would be much easier with both arms. The other one counterbalances your actions."

"Can I start a fire with one hand?" She was getting desperate for ideas, at this point.

"I've never had to, so I wouldn't know where to begin on that. Probably by trying it one-handed, myself..." he let the sentence trail off and turned back to the rabbits, whose innards were now exposed as he peeled the meat away from the bones.

"I can't hunt. I can't walk, or so you say. I can't fight. Is there anything I can do?" She needed any excuse to get out of this cave and feel like she was more than an invalid. Plus, she'd run out of pain medication, and she needed a distraction. "Please, Zik, I need something. I can't keep being in this cave doing nothing but wasting time!"

He sat back on his heels and seemed to think for a minute, "How about fishing? It's easier with two arms, but I'm sure you can do it with one. And you'd mostly be still, so that wouldn't be a problem for your leg." He turned to look at her again. "That's my offer."

She nodded immediately, sitting up away from the wall, "Yes, yes, please. Tomorrow?"

"We can start tomorrow," he returned to the rabbits, sliding the meat onto pointed sticks.

She relaxed, excited for the first time in a while. Then she had an idea, "And since you're so hesitant to teach me, new rule." He quickly turned to her, eyes narrowing in suspicion and fear. "From now until we part, every night will have a new topic. You'll answer my questions, or demonstrate or something for the things I need to know."

He had relaxed and agreed, glad that it was a rule that wouldn't force him to abandon her or get her injured. Now, however, Zik sat on a nearby rock, seemingly not paying much attention to her attempts at thrusting a spear into the fish below her.

"Fish are always moving, Clarke. Put the spear where they will be, not where they are." He was calmly sharpening the point of another stick with his knife.

Clarke frowned at the water, watching the fish swim in arks and loops around and between her bare feet and calves. She watched, trying to pick up the pattern, but every time she thought she knew it, the swish of a flipper caused the fish to unexpectedly change direction, or speed, or both. She narrowed her eyes and focused on just one fish, following it, before adjusting the grip of her hand on the spear and shoving it into the water with another splash. No fish.

Zik chuckled and she turned to glare at him as a spear hurdled into the water right in front of her, impaling the exact fish she'd been aiming for and embedding itself between the stones lining the bottom of the stream.

"That's... that was my fish!"

"Well, then you can be the one who gets to eat it, but I'm still the one who caught it." He stood and casually yanked the spear out of its' place. "Don't feel so bad. When I was learning to spear fish, I didn't catch anything for the whole first year." He returned to his perch on the rock nearby, casually twirling spear. "My big sister made fun of me every day, she thought it was so amusing. It was frustrating and embarrassing, but I think she was more jealous that our dad spent extra time with me trying to teach me."

"You have a sister?" Clarke had never thought to wonder. No one but the Blakes had had siblings on the Ark. They simply weren't allowed. On the ground, there weren't such restrictions, but she'd never thought to wonder about families on the ground. How many of Lexa's warriors had families to go home to? How many of those that had been freed from the mountain had families who thought them dead? Her stomach clenched at the thought. She would never know what it felt like to have a sibling, or know the kind of worry that came with them going off to war.

"Two sisters. I have a younger one, also." He smiled, yanking the fish off the spear and tossing it into a wooden pail, something she was sure he'd put together that morning before she woke. "Do you?"

Clarke's face hardened and she returned her eyes to the water, "No." Clarke followed another fish with her eyes and gave spearing it a shot. She'd missed again, before huffing and sloshing out of the water and planting herself on the rock next to Zik. "No, I don't have any siblings. I only know two people who do, and they're each other's sibling." She softened and let herself open up just a little. "Having more than one child was something they would kill you for on the Ark."

She knew he was frowning without looking to see, "Killed for having a child? Children are the future. They are precious and to be protected!"

"I would agree, Zik, I would. I think that's true, down here." She tilted her head back to gaze at the bright blue sky. "But knowing what I do about life up there... there was a reason."

"Why wouldn't they want more children, Clarke?" He was confused. She figured she would be too, if she had no idea about the conditions on the Ark.

"We didn't have enough oxygen - that's the breathable part of the air - for everyone who was already alive. And even if we had had enough, there weren't enough ships to get everyone who was alive back to the ground, either."

"So you killed people so that others could live? I suppose I understand." He gazed up at the sky also. "But I can't imagine there not being enough air. You lived in the sky!"

Clarke chuckled softly. "We actually lived in space. It's a place beyond the sky, where there is no air."

Zik turned to look at her, eyes wide in shock, "No air?" She merely nodded. "Well... I don't know how you lived with no air, but I'm glad you came to the ground."

Clarke raised a brow, simultaneously frowning. "Why? We landed in your territory, we accidentally burned down a village we didn't know about, starting a war with people we didn't know existed. And I've killed at least three hundred of your people myself. Why would anyone be glad that I, or any sky person, is here?"

Zik shrugged, an easy smile on his face. "I don't know about the others, and I've never been to the skaikru camp, but I do know you, Clarke. I like you." Clarke scoffed. "I do, Clarke. You can be scary, and you are fierce, but you are also caring - as long as it isn't for yourself - and determined, and you know what you want."

"No I don't."

"You know you want to learn. And you know what you want to learn. I'd wager that what you know you want doesn't stop there." He gestures at the stream before them. "Done for today? We can come try again tomorrow."

"Yeah. Let's go back to the cave." She stood, leaning on her spear in doing so.

"So what's the topic for tonight?" he asked, standing as well, and fetching the bucket from the ground.

Clarke glanced around, eyes catching on the stream, "....water."

"I'm pretty sure you know what water is, Clarke."

She rolled her eyes and poked him with the end of her spear, "I do, but I have some questions about the safety of drinking it."

- - -

LEXA

Lexa sat on the ground adjacent the fire pit that was near the center of the small village, though there was no fire at the moment. She was surrounded by the village yongon. It had been six days since her arrival and she'd spent every day but the first surrounded by the children. In the mornings, she would play fight with them, then she would have the mid-day meal with them. After they'd eaten, she would ask for them to tell her stories, and after that, they would always ask her for stories. Eventually, Lexa would transition from stories into teaching them lessons.

The children were all enamored with her, though not all of them were old enough to grasp the concept of who she was, as heda. The village only had five children, six if she counted Ander, who was old enough to take on guard duties. There were three-year old and six-year old boys, a four-year old girl, and a pair of eight-year old twin sisters. Lexa loved the company of children, who were simple, and excitable, and a welcome distraction from thoughts of Clarke. Usually.

At the moment, the children were telling her stories, and the four-year old led with, "I saw the pretty blonde lady hurt!"

Lexa's heart stuttered in her chest. "You mean you saw Clarke?"

"She was pretty, with pretty hair. It was gold or like...like the sun!" The child's grin morphed into a frown. "But she was hurt and asleep." She looked up at Lexa with big eyes. "Who was the pretty lady? Nomon said she left. Why did she leave?"

Lexa looked around at all of the children, their eyes all on her curiously waiting for answer, as if they'd been dying to ask. Lexa's heart felt heavy in her chest, but she told them anyways. "She is the prettiest lady in the whole world, yongon. Her name is Clarke, and her hair is golden like sunlight. Her eyes are blue like the ocean, too. She is a leader of her people, strong and determined. Our people also call her Wanheda, because she saved us from the mountain."

"If she's a leader, why is she away from her people? And how did she get hurt, heda?" the six-year old ventured.

"Perhaps if you'd asked her, yongon, we would know. She was gone before I could ask her."

"I wanted to ask her!" the six-year old pointed at his own chest proudly. "Lea-" That was their village's chief. "-said no one should bother her before she got better. But then she left!"

Lexa tried to search herself for the right words, "Sometimes, to lead is difficult. Clarke led her people to Maun-de and won, but I do not think she liked how she won."

The twins frowned, one of them asking, "She won. Who doesn't like winning?"

"If you were sparring with your sister, it is a good feeling to win the fight, sha?" They nod in unison, then give the other a look. "But if you are sparring with your sister and you win because she is sick, is that a good feeling?" There is a hesitant shaking of heads. "Not all winning feels good." She was proud of the understanding looks around her. "Clarke won, but not in the way she wanted to. Our people left her to fight the mountain alone, and so she does not like me, either."

"Are you sorry you left the pretty lady?"

"I cannot be sorry. I saved our people. She also saved our people."

Thoughtful frowns creased little faces, "Maybe you should thank her? If you're not sorry..."

"I would very much like to, yongon, but I do not think I'll get the chance for quite some time." Lexa stood gracefully, "How about we go berry picking? I bet you guys know the best places, right?" She asked with enough excitement to get them going, and achieved the desired change of conversation and they stood and began debating which berries were best.

Behind her, there was the clearing of a throat. "Heda?" She turned. "Titus has sent me."

Lexa gave a nod, "Yongon, I will be back soon. Decide where we're going for the berries, sha?"

Lexa led the messenger away from the children and into the hut she has been staying in. "What does Titus have to say?" she did not look forward to dealing with her sometimes overbearing mentor.

"He received word from Indra, in Tondisi. The skaikru have returned to the mountain." The boy paused a moment before continuing, "He is curious if you have made any progress in negotiation with Wanheda, and wonders why you... waste... your time with her, since she is not leading her people."

Lexa growls, "Inform Titus that she may not be leading them, but is their leader. Or don't, Titus doesn't matter. Inform him that I will return to Polis in five days, and that if I see fit, I will continue to Tondisi to deal with Skaikru. You may go." She gestured dismissively, and the messenger was out of her hut promptly.

She began to pace the room, reigning herself in so she doesn't punch anything. "This would be so much easier if Clarke were with her people!" She adjusted the set of her jaw. "What was she even thinking, coming all the way out here?" She stopped and closed her eyes, head turned to the side. "Maybe there is a perfectly logical reason for them to return to the mountain. I'll have to demand that they tell me, since Clarke isn't with them. Then, perhaps, I can think about dealing with Skaikru's current leaders. Clarke probably isn't going to return to them until she's healed, at the least." She punched the wall by the door. She was not at all happy with the state of affairs. She was in love with someone who hated her. She had abandoned both love and an effective ally at the mountain, and managed to make her people, particularly Azgeda, question her strength in the process. On top of all that, Clarke was injured. That fact alone hurt her more than any of the rest of it. She would let Clarke hate her a thousand lifetimes, so long as she was healthy, but that wasn't a bargain the world would take.

Her fist hit the wall again. She will have to set Titus straight at some point. Love may be weakness, but she's stopped caring. She is weak for Clarke, and Clarke is strong. Those are facts. "Clarke made love something more than weakness." A thump has she hits the wall again, "I'm done denying that I love." The wall may tire of her assault if she keeps this up, "I am heda, and I will choose as heda must..." Tears slid down her face as her fist punctuated the statement, "...but I will never choose myself over Clarke again. Even if she never returns my feelings, she will know what they are." One more assault against the wall before heda draws herself back up and makes herself presentable, before putting on a smile and returning to the children.

- - -

OCTAVIA

Octavia was probably a mile or two ahead of the rest of the group that had gone to Mount Weather in returning to camp. Two guards in the tower by the gate glanced around the area, obviously confused by her lone presence. One of them, she could tell it was Bellamy by his gait and the dorky bob of hair that needed a cut, hopped out of the tower. She paused by the gate, waiting as Bell pulled it open. "Hey, Bell."

Bellamy glanced around, "Hey, O. Where is everyone else?"

Octavia rolled her eyes, something she excels at. "They were slow."

Bellamy chuckled and pulled Octavia into a hug. "So how was it?"

"Fun, but if you'd asked before hugging me, I might have suggested you let me wash the smell of dead bodies off first," her tone joking, but the words true.

Bell grimaced as he pulled away and gave a hesitant sniff, "Not as bad as I thought it would smell."

Another eye roll. "Okay, so it doesn't smell that bad, but I feel like it's on me. Three hundred-something bodies, and I probably hauled out a third on my own." She smacked Bell in the shoulder and started walking toward her tent, Bell following beside her. "Hey, what do you think of the name of camp?"

"Camp Jaha?" Bell scrunched his face up. "Not a fan of being reminded of the guy I shot. I mean, I understood when everyone thought he'd died to send them down, but then he found a way down here. Didn't even bother to stick around and see how things turned out with the commander and the grounders. Why?"

"Oh, just been thinking it's a shitty name." They neared her tent. "See you later, okay?"

"Yeah."

Octavia ducked into her tent, where Lincoln sat on a pile of furs, sketching in his notebook. She wrapped her arms around him in an embrace, kissing his cheek. "I missed you, but I smell like dead people. Come to the lake with me."

- - -

ABBY

There was a sharp pain in her side. It was enough to demand she wake and inspect the cause. Abby slowly opened her eyes, wondering where she fell asleep this time. It was her own quarters, thankfully. She glanced around, her eyes settling on Raven, who sat on the couch next to her, casually looking as though she hadn't just elbowed Abby in the side. "How did you get in here?"

"Abby, the door is tech. I do tech. You couldn't keep me out of here if you tried, I'm a genius. Plus, I figured you'd be here."

Abby sat up straighter, "Well, I am, so you were right, I guess. Why did you need to find me?"

"Hey, Abbs, you were the one who set the terms, I'm just trying to keep my side of the agreement. Not my fault you fell asleep and missed our appointment in medical." She rolled her eyes with a smirk, "Not sure why you need to check up on me every day, anyways."

Abby leveled her gaze at the younger woman, "If anything gets worse, we'll know it immediately and minimize the harm. I already told you that."

Raven shrugged casually and shifted so her back was against the other armrest, stretching her legs out toward Abby. "Shame. I thought maybe you liked being around me. Or liked something you saw."

Abby began to run her fingers up Raven's left leg, probing near the knee, "I do like being around you, Raven." There was silence for a few minutes, as Abby continued her examination. "That should do."

Raven smirked, "Nothing wrong, eh? Why were you so worried about letting me out?"

Abby pointed at the crutches that leaned against the end of the couch. "Nothing wrong, because you're sticking to my restrictions, Raven. I'll be nice, since nothing seems to be any worse, you don't have to use the crutches when you're in engineering. You can lunge around on one leg all you like, but crutches everywhere else."

The smirk transformed into a smile, "Aww, thanks, Abbs!" She swung her legs back off the couch and reached for her crutches. "Hey, before I forget, the crew from Mount Weather are back. I'm pretty sure they want to talk to you, or they expect you to want to talk to them, I'm not sure. Someone should do some talking." She pushed herself up and settled the crutches under her arms. "See you tomorrow in medical, or should I plan to track you down again?" She winked at Abby.

"I'll plan to be there, Raven. Doesn't mean I will be." She stood as well, and they walked and/or navigated over to the door of the Chancellor's quarters, Abby opening the door for Raven.

Kane stood poised, hand raised, ready to knock, "Raven, you're out of medical?" She just chuckled and muttered her assent. "Feel better?"

"I feel the same, Kane. I'm gonna go get back to work, if you could just..." She gestured for him to stand away from the doorway, and he shifted. "Thanks. Later, Abbs!"

She exited and Kane entered. Abby shut the door. "Glad to see you're back from Mount Weather. I was starting to get worried at how long you were there."

"I know, Abby. We started burning the bodies last night, but there were, obviously, a lot of them, and we thought we should stick around and make sure we didn't burn the forest down."

Abby nodded, "Probably for the best. Everything okay, Raven said you might want to talk about something?"

He moved to sit on the couch, "Yeah, everything's fine. It's just, we had a lot of time to talk, hauling those bodies around. We're not all Octavia, most of us had to work in teams of two."

"And I take you talked about something that's of importance?"

"It's about the name, Abby. The name of camp. Octavia brought it up in passing, and then everyone was talking about it. Everyone hates the name of camp."

Abby sat down on the other end of the couch, thinking for a moment, "Well, we never had a vote for it. It just got named when we all thought he'd sacrificed himself. I'm not opposed to a change, especially if there's already support for it. A name's a simple thing to fix, not like our food shortage."

"We have a food shortage?" Kane shifted toward her, eyes widening in alarm.

She sighed, "Not yet, but we probably will. The colder it gets, the worse it'll get. It's nearly our first winter on the ground, and it's been a long time since I took Earth Skills, but most food doesn't grow in such cold, and a lot of animals hibernate or migrate." Kane questioned her with just a look. "The reports," she gave in answer to the silent question.

Kane looked thoughtful for a moment. "I may actually have a way to help with that... but it'll mean a trip back to the mountain." Abby opened her mouth to protest. "And before you protest, we'd have to go back anyways for the medical equipment and to strip what we can from the place."

~*~

CLARKE

They were back at the stream, which she'd been told led into a lake not far away. "So could you teach me to swim? Y'know, when I've got two arms?" Clarke asked. Zik merely nodded.

Clarke stood barefoot in the cold water of the stream, pant legs rolled up to her knees. This was her third day attempting to spear fish, and she was really hoping she caught on before the year it took Zik to learn. "Hey, Zik?"

"Mhmm?"

"How old were you when you learned to spear fish?" She paused her tracking of the motions of the fish and glanced over at him.

"Four." He glanced up from sharpening his knife with a whetstone. "Hey, no, don't compare. You said you didn't even have places to swim in the space beyond the sky...so...you're one. You're a one-year old learning to fish," he attempted defiantly.

"I'm eighteen, Zik." She sighed and returned her attention to the fish. "But I get your point," she mumbled gruffly. "I wonder who I'd be if I'd been born on the ground."

She could hear the smirk in his tone when he said, "I think you'd still be Wanheda. A fierce and respected warrior. Probably a general."

Clarke planted the spear in the water before her and leaned on it. "I wish I could say I would have been a healer, like my mother... but I think you're right."

"Fisa are well-respected. And pri rare." He had started slipping more Trigedasleng words into conversation with her, and she was picking up on most of them through context, though she would question him when she was unsure.

"Pri?"

"Somewhat, pretty much." He shrugged. "Focus on the fish."

She sighed and pulled the spear smoothly out of the water and began watching the fluid motions of the creatures beneath her. The cold of the water was pleasantly numbing for her leg, but her toes were freezing. Clarke grit her teeth as she focused in on one fish, and tracked it with her eyes. Where will the fish be? she asked herself, as her eyes scouted ahead of the fish. She decided, and thrust the spear down.

The ripples cleared and she saw beneath the surface, that her spear had found a place within the fish. "I... I got it. I got the fish!" Clarke pulled the spear up and held it out toward Zik, triumphantly.

He smirked as he leaned forward and plucked the fish from the end of the spear, tossing it into the makeshift bucket, "Good. Now catch another."

"That's all? 'Good, another'?"

"Sha, can't have you feeding yourself be up to luck." He was already back to sharpening his knife.

She grumbled, but turned back to the water, readying her spear.

- - -

RAVEN

Raven perused the plans before her one last time, before setting the pencil she'd been toying with aside, and rolling the large paper up. She glanced across the room at a clock she'd built from scraps. "Shit, I'm late."

She hobbled around the table and fetched her crutches. "I'm really going to have to convince Abby I don't need these if whatever she's planning doesn't pan out..." she sighed and awkwardly clutched the roll of paper in one of the hands that also held onto a crutch, as she maneuvered out of engineering and through the halls of the Ark.

As she entered medical, Abby looked up at her with tired eyes and an expression to match. "You're late, Raven."

"I know, I know," Raven rolled her eyes, "but I've got those plans for you." She tossed the roll onto the desk before making her way to the nearest bed and sitting down on it. "You know how I am; work is work, and time isn't real." She gave a casual shrug as she leaned the crutches against the bed.

Abby stood and walked over to Raven. The limp seemed to be getting better, or so Raven thought, as it was hardly noticeable. "It's fine. At least you didn't make me chase you down."

"Like you could catch me," Raven joked with a smile.

Abby chuckled and knelt by the bed, "Fair enough. How was your day?"

Raven let out a sigh and rolled her head back as Abby's fingers gently probed around her knee; a knee she couldn't feel anything in, "Wick was being an annoying idiot, so I got Sinclair to send him to work on something outside. And with all the stupid out of engineering, I was able to actually get some work done."

Abby moved her hands up the leg, where she knew Raven still had feeling, "You like him, but he annoys you that much? How's this feel?" She probed the leg.

"Like you're poking me, Abbs. Who said I like him? He's nothing more than a distraction. Sure, we had sex, but... it really didn't mean anything." She rolled her eyes yet again. "I mean, he said he wanted it to, but it wasn't that for me. He was just someone showing a broken girl that she's still sexy, and I am damn sexy. I don't his reassurances. Ow!" She looked down at her leg. "What are you doing?!"

Abby frowned, "That hurts?" Her thumb was at the joint of Raven's hip.

"Yes, Abby. I don't just say 'ow' for no damn reason!" She pried Abby's hand away from her hip.

"Does that hurt normally? Without me pressing it? Did it get worse at some point?"

"I dunno, it aches normally. It's been like that since the explosion at the dam."

"Wait, you were caught in the explosion?"

"Yeah, the guards from Mount Weather showed up before we could get all the charges set and armed. Then things went boom. I like making them go boom, but this was a little close for my tastes. That's how Wick and I ended up captured with the rest of you."

"Why didn't you ever say so?"

"I didn't think it was a big deal, Abby! They drilled into my hip right after that, I figured the explosion was small stuff in comparison." Raven shrugged. "You looked me over pretty thoroughly, shouldn't that have caught anything?"

"I did, Raven, but we don't even have an old-fashioned x-ray left working, here. You could have shrapnel in you, and given how much of your leg you can't feel, that is genuinely concerning."

Raven groaned, "Fuck, you're gonna keep me locked in here again, aren't you?"

Abby clenched her jaw, stood, and looked away. "No... for now. But if I catch you so much as thinking about not using those crutches, I will."

Raven casually reached over toward said crutches and pulled them toward her, then changed the subject, "So those plans... where are you going to get the-"

"Mount Weather."

"You're sending people back there so soon? Even with the grounders?"

"I'm going. And you're coming. And some others."

"Geez, Abby, that's one hell of a journey you want me to make on crutches."

"We'll figure something out."

"So who's building it? I should probably talk to them, in case they don't really get my notes..." Raven pulled herself up on the crutches.

Abby started walking over to her desk, "What do you think about Monty and Jasper?"

"Love 'em, mostly. I get Monty, he was almost an engineer, barring the whole imprisonment thing, but why Jasper?"

Abby sat at her desk and sighed, "Because this isn't the Ark anymore. And instead of a hundred prisoners, we have a hundred teenagers with no jobs and incomplete schooling. We have to figure out something to do with them all. Monty's the obvious choice, because he'll be able to read your plans, and he's the only one determined enough to try being around Jasper. We can't stick Jasper anywhere of his own until his act shapes up. Sinclair will be overseeing, so hopefully Jasper won't be able to cause much harm."

Raven nods, "Okay, but seriously, don't let that drunk fuck up my elegant design work," the grin gave away the fact that she wouldn't be too hurt if it happened. "I'm going to mess, you want to come?"

Abby shook her head slowly, "No. I've got some reports to read, and I want to look over your design before I pass it off."

Raven frowned, but nodded. "Okay, but eat soon." She maneuvered herself out of medical and toward the cafeteria on her crutches. She sidled into the line for food right behind Bellamy. "Hey."

"Hey. Here to watch the wreck?" He gestured across the room at Jasper, apparently trying to swim across the floor, and Monty desperately trying to pull him to his feet.

"No, but I'll watch anything implode." She chuckled for half a second before dropping it and frowning, "I can't believe they're letting that disaster work on my stuff." She elbowed Bellamy after they took a step forward in line. "Who do you think's worse off? Jasper or Clarke?"

Bellamy looked her up and down before stating, "Isn't momma Griff trying to replace Clarke with you?"

Raven just raised a brow and stated, "I am no one's replacement. So?"

Bellamy shrugged, "Depends."

"On what?"

"On if Clarke is still alive," Bellamy sighed.

Half a smile from Raven, "I suppose you're right. So long as Clarke is alive, she's got to be doing better than that wreck." She jerked her thumb at Jasper, whom Monty had found a bucket for him to vomit into. Monty currently crouched beside him, patting Jasper's back dejectedly. Bell grabbed a tray of food, and stepped aside. Raven raised up two fingers at the person doling out food, then said defensively at the look Bellamy gave her, "Hey, I'm taking food to doc so she eats. That doesn't make me a replacement. I'm better."

~*~

CLARKE

Two days later, Clarke woke to the sound of shuffling around, which she found odd, because normally Zik would wait until she was awake to really make any noise. Clarke pushed herself up off the fur beneath her drowsily and moved the hair out of her face. Zik had seemed to stop mid-motion, saddle in hand.

"Where are you going, Zik?" she muttered, still feeling half-asleep.

"I must deliver a report..." he paused, and closed his eyes before continuing, "to heda."

Clarke's eyes snapped the rest of the way open. "So you're a spy I just welcomed into my company?" she accused.

"No, Clarke. I truly am here to help you. Beja, the commander just asks that she know that I am doing my job, that I am keeping you well."

Clarke clenched her jaw, "Go."

"Clarke-"

"Gon we, natrona!" she demanded, in his own tongue.

Chapter Text

CLARKE

She sat with her back to the cave wall for several minutes after Zik had obeyed her command to leave. She was awake and furious, and when she was certain he was on his way to the commander, she got up. She grabbed her bag, and the spear that had become her constant accessory in recent days, and left the cave.

At first, in the dim early light, she had wandered toward the stream. It was the only place she knew near the cave, as even though she'd begun successfully spearing fish, Zik had not yet agreed to teach her anything else. However, when she got to the stream, she didn't want to fish, not in the slightest. What she wanted to do was forget, forget everything that had led her to this point in her life. So instead, she turned and walked along the stream.

As she'd been told, there was a lake that the stream led into, not far downstream from their fishing spot. A mountain led right up to the water on the far side, and around all edges, trees encroached the watery territory. Clarke sighed, a heavy exhale, she had nowhere to go; she hadn't a clue where she was. So instead, Clarke sat at the edge of the water.

"Someday, I'm going to have to face Lexa again," she mumbled to herself. "She sends help that has to check in with her and tell her how I am. What kind of enemy is she if she gives a fuck how I'm doing? And what kind of ally is she if she left me alone to fight the mountain?" She idly played with the sand in front of her. "Maybe Mount Weather would have been easier if I'd been raised that killing is a part of life..."

It wasn't long that she pondered that thought, however, before she realized. Death is as much a part of our culture as it is the grounders'. We killed people for the smallest things. For having another child, for stealing medicine for a kid, for growing some recreational drugs, for being born. We killed people for almost nothing. We were just conditioned not to think of it as killing them. We even called it 'float' instead of murder, or execution. Clarke chucked a little stone into the water and watched the ripples spiral out from the point of impact. "Fuck, we're actually worse than the grounders. At least they have reasons like trying to poison the commander or massacring a village of innocents." She sighed at the thought of Finn, finding that it no longer hurt. There were so many bodies piled on top of his. "Well, there goes my fucking reasoning." What she'd hoped, what she'd really wanted at the mountain, was for all of the inhabitants of the mountain to die. She'd even demanded it, after they had dropped a bomb on Tondisi. She just had wanted the grounders to do the killing for her. I didn't actually want them all dead...but our allies inside...it would have happened, anyways, to most of them. And if it was them or us...I'd always make the same call.

"None of that helps me know what to do about Lexa. Fucking Lexa." She hurled another small stone out over the placid water of the lake. "Maybe I'll just let Zik feed her reports on me and live in the woods for the rest of my life." She was practically pouting, as she drew a knee up and rested her good arm on it, her chin on top of that.

- - -

LEXA

She stood rigidly in an attempt not to pace incessantly. Her hands clasped behind her, feet shoulder-width apart, dressed like a commander going to war, war paint and all, but she did not expect to have to fight. She faced the children, who were currently sparring with each other, but her mind was focused elsewhere.

Lexa was well aware of the fact that it had been ten days since her arrival, since Clarke had left, since she had sent a warrior to live with and assist her. Zik was due to return to her with a report on Clarke's well-being today, but she had no idea when he would arrive. Her horse was already packed and ready for the return trip to Polis. She had almost turned the children down this morning, when they had sought her out, but had ultimately decided that the distraction would kill time better than doing nothing at all.

She caught the sound of approaching hooves well before their arrival in the village, and gained the attention of the children easily, "Gonplei os, yongon. Kep yu in flou thru. Ai gon we." The children nodded and waved their farewells. Lexa turned and walked toward the village center.

The sound of hooves grew louder until finally the sound of rustling leaves joined in, and Zik burst through the trees at the edge of the village. He slowed the horse near the fire pit and dismounted while the creature was still in motion, tying off the lead to a nearby post and turning toward Lexa. "Hei, Heda." His tone was succinct, flat, uncharacteristic.

She gave him a nod, and then gestured for him to follow, "Komba yu raun." She led him toward the hut that had accommodated her since his leave, and had him enter before her. She shut the door and turned to him, becoming rigid and composed once more. "How are her wounds?"

Zik's head dropped, seemingly to look at the floor, his back toward her, before he raised his head back up and turned to face her. "They are well enough. They are healing."

Lexa tried to search his eyes, but they looked anywhere but at her. "Has she been hurt?"

His eyes firmly averted, he responded, "Only in walking. She pushes herself too hard."

She caught herself and schooled her expression before the small smile she felt could present itself on her face. "That is like Clarke. Have you learned how she was injured?"

His head dipped slightly, though it was not a nod. "No, heda. She has not spoken of it. I only know that the wounds look like they are from an animal. Tooth and claw."

She narrowed her eyes, though since Zik was avoiding eye contact, she doubted he noticed. Something was wrong. "Find out. I need to know if it was intentional or not."

"Sha, Heda."

This was very unusual behavior from this particular guard. He had only been in her direct service a short time, but she had selected him for his personality, in addition to his skills as a warrior. Normally, he was excitable, talkative when others were receptive to it, and energetic; a ray of sunshine in an otherwise bleak world. She felt none of that. He was always respectful and observant of her position as heda, but today the man was uncharacteristically devoid of emotion. She took a step closer to him, willing him to meet her gaze. "What has happened?"

"Nothing, Heda." Only a slight twitch, almost unnoticeable.

She took another step forward, bringing herself inches from his face. Two of her fingers on his chin raised his eyes to meet hers. "Do not lie to me, Zik." Her tone was calm, but the words had an edge to them, they were a warning.

The man's eyes seemed to fill with fear and worry and... despair? He swallowed noticeably, and Lexa was fairly certain he was biting the inside of his lower lip. "She...Clarke, she called me natrona, a traitor. In our own tongue. I didn't even teach her that word!"

Lexa felt her gaze soften as she dropped her hand and took half a step away. "For returning to me? For telling me about her?" He nodded. "She knows someone who has been branded such. If she used the word, I would believe she knew its' meaning." Lexa turned herself halfway away from Zik. She wanted to pace. She wanted to let some of the torrent of anxiety within her out. "I am sorry, Zik. I do not know if she will forgive you. What else have you learned?"

Zik relaxed. Everything about him spoke of sadness, but having divulged what bothered him allowed him some calm. "They are not from the sky." Lexa gave him a look, one that spoke of an accusation of lies. "Clarke says they lived in a place beyond the sky, where there is no air. That's why they came to the ground. There wasn't enough air. Did you know they killed people for having more than one child?" Lexa's brow furrowed and she shook her head. She had not heard of this. They had scarcely discussed family. Bellamy and Octavia were siblings, though, right? She wondered if this were true, and fought the desire to hate the rest of the sky people for such an atrocious stand. She couldn't imagine life without air, but perhaps she would have decided the same for her people, had she had to live that way. "Clarke is eager to learn. Or was." His expression darkened. "It was hard to think of something to teach her, with only one arm."

Lexa nods, "Teach her anything she wants to know, if it does not harm her further. What have you shown her?"

"Spear fishing. She is good, for having only one arm. She has us talk every night about things she can't do yet. Water, and fire, and hunting, and animals..."

"You've done well. Return to her before her anger leads her to leave you behind." She let out a heavy breath. "I return to Polis today. I plan to remain there until your next report. When you come, not a word of what you've been doing to Titus. Speak only to me of Clarke." She waited for him to nod his assent. "You may go."

"Heda?"

"Yes?"

"May I request..." he took in a breath, as if what he about to request were a large favor. "...a jacket for Clarke? Or maybe a warmer shirt? She shivers in her sleep, and colder weather is coming."

Lexa didn't bother to contain the small smile she felt, "Of course. See Lea before you leave, she will find you both." He nodded and left, a small hopeful smile of his own in place. The man had merely been the nearest guard at the time, but he was also probably the best person she could have sent after Clarke. She wasn't sure if it was that he felt it was his duty, or if he genuinely cared about Clarke's well-being, but it was obvious that he was doing a good job.

Clarke was doing as well as she could have hoped, at this juncture. She had been accepting help, healing, and she showed curiosity toward her own survival. She could only hope she wouldn't refuse now that she knew Lexa would be privy to her status.

- - -

CLARKE

She was still sat by the shore of the lake when she noticed the sound of footfalls on the slightly damp ground nearby. She didn't bother to look, but said, "That was quick. How'd you find me?"

She felt Zik settle onto the ground next to her, "Tracking."

"How do you do that?" she was still unsure how she felt about his trip to tell Lexa about her.

"Look for little things. Things that changed, things that aren't right. Flattened grass, broken twigs on bushes, shifted rocks." She could feel the accompanying shrug, eyes still on the lake.

"What did you tell her?"

"How you are." His tone bore an undercurrent of trepidation, worry.

"She stayed in that village, waiting, didn't she?"

"Sha."

"She should know I'm not coming back." The air around them was still and thick with the tension that ran between them.

"She does. She left for Polis today."

Clarke finally turned her head to look at Zik. The worry the man felt was obvious in his eyes. "This isn't the last time you'll tell her about me, is it?"

Zik turned to look out over the water, before dropping his head to his knees, "No."

Clarke let out a sigh, "You know if I could take care of myself, I would leave you right now, Zik."

"I know," the sadness is his voice felt real.

She searched his features and found no indication that it wasn't real, "You don't like having to tell her about me, do you?"

He shook his head, "I do not mind telling her. She is heda and she asks it of me, and truly seems to care to know. What I do not like is your desires being misaligned. What I do not like is for you to think of me as a traitor, Clarke."

Clarke looked away, "I'm...I'm sorry, Zik. I'm mad and I obviously feel a bit helpless about this whole situation. You could have told me before you were sneaking out to talk to her."

"I could, but you would not have liked it any more, Clarke."

She tipped her head to the side, "Well...that's true." She pushed herself to her feet with the help of the spear, then poked Zik with it's end. "Come on, let's go back to the cave. I'm not ditching you today." He stood. "And cheer up. At least a little. If you break your arm, then you earn the right to mope around."

~*~

MONTY

There was a panicked scream from behind him. Monty dropped the tool in hand and quickly turned to see what had happened. The noise had already abated by the time he saw Jasper, dangling upside-down in his harness, slowly rotating at the end of his tether.

"You idiot. Are you drunk, or still just hungover from yesterday?" Monty questioned the boy, carefully sliding down a support beam to rectify his friend's orientation.

Jasper grinned, "Hmmm, both?" He continued a slow rotation, his entire body relaxed, resigned to the influence of gravity. "You should try this, man."

"Maybe after work, okay? And maybe you could hold off on the drinking until then, too." Monty found footing on the compartment of the Ark that was directly below his hanging friend, and un-clipped himself from his own harness. "Do you even know how important this project is?" Jasper just giggled. Monty grumbled, "You wouldn't even care if you did."

Monty reached out and undid the clasp that connected Jasper's harness to the rope that tethered him to part of the Ark's support structure, letting him fall onto the compartment Monty stood on.

"Ouch! What the fuck, man?!"

"Don't come to work drunk anymore, Jasper."

The boy in question rubbed the back of his head, "Maybe don't kill anyone else I love, then."

Monty brought one hand up to hide his face in, "I'm sorry, Jasper. I really am. I liked Maya...but we did what we had to."

Jasper stumbled as he got to his feet, "Yeah, whatever. Wasn't like I was a step away from slicing open Cage when you did so."

Monty dropped his hand to glare at his friend before walking over to a ladder and beginning his decent, "Cage wasn't the only one who wanted our marrow more than our lives, Jasper. Bellamy and I have both been over this with you." He paused, head just above the top rung. "We're sorry, but that doesn't change it, Jasper. Go over to the center connection and get that disconnected before I get back up here...with the wrench that you made me drop." He continued his climb down the ladder.

Stepping off the bottom rung, he noticed Harper and Miller look up from their spots, casually seated on the grass several paces from the ladder. "Sorry, guys, we don't have that one unhooked, yet."

Harper held up the wrench he'd dropped, "We figured. What happened?"

Monty walked toward them to retrieve the tool, "Jasper fell and was dangling from his harness." He sighed, "I wish he could get over Maya. I just don't know what to do about him."

"None of us do. At least you're trying." Miller shrugged.

"I don't think it helps that I'm one of the people who basically killed her." Monty shook his head. He had never once doubted that it was something they had to do. He had made it happen. He hated that their allies had had to die, but he could also see the larger picture. And the larger picture that was that their bone marrow was a known success for the mountain people. It was their one known avenue to life above the surface of the ground, something they had wanted for decades. The larger picture was that Cage Wallace was not the only person in that mountain who was willing to do anything to get out, and until every one of them was dead, all of the Arkers and 100 were at risk.

That was without the added dilemma of what might have come to be once they had obtained access to the ground. The crashed Ark was the nearest facility with comparable modernistic capabilities, and they had left people here. People who may have been slaughtered just to clear the way for the mountain men. And even that was without considering the complications that the bone marrow not being a permanent fix might have brought. Or what wars and destruction new fights instigated with the grounders for territory might have done.

So Monty had never felt the overbearing remorse that Bellamy, and presumably Clarke, felt. Monty was aware that the finality of the act was the more peaceful route, even if he didn't like that it had had to be done.

He accepted the wrench from Harper and returned to climb back up the ladder, calling over his shoulder, "Hopefully we'll have the next beam down soon, so you guys have something to do."

He was glad for the distraction of having a project to work on, and even more glad that it was something to distract Jasper from drinking the entire day away.

- - -

CLARKE

She was entirely still, straining her ears, listening. Hesitantly, she moved one foot forward, wincing when she heard the crunch of leaves as her foot descended toward the ground.

"You can hear it, I can hear it," a voice whispered into her ear, breath tickling, causing Clarke to shudder. She hadn't imagined Zik was so close.

She sighed and pushed up the cloth blinding her eyes with her one good hand, "I'm just not getting it. Explain how this is supposed to work again." She wanted to cross her arms, but the action would have jarred the break in the right one. Instead, she adjusted the high collar of her new jacket and waited for Zik to explain.

After Zik's return and Clarke's apology for her outburst three days earlier, they had headed back to their cave. Rather, Zik had escorted her to the cave entrance and then left to find them food. After the events of the morning, she hadn't felt like asking to be brought along, as she normally did. She was certain he would turn her down again, anyways. Instead, she entered the cave and made to rest on her pile of furs. She had been woken unusually early, after all. However, folded neatly atop the pile were two new garments; a light gray woolen sweater, with minimal tearing, and a jacket. That jacket was what she wore now, and she was glad for its' warmth in the chill of the wind-blown air snaking thought the forest. The garment was a gray so dark it could have been mistaken for black, an extra coating of stiff fabric sewn over each of the shoulders, and the interior lined with a thin layer of fur, which currently tickled against the skin of her neck as the wind rustled by.

"So, I already had you listen to the sounds you make as you step on different kinds of ground, sha?" She merely nodded, she had not forgotten the events of the previous day. For the first time since she'd been injured, she had woken abruptly to images of the mountain taunting inside her head. Zik had not questioned her, but instead chose to offer her a distraction, by way of agreeing to teach her something new. "You know what they look like, and how they sound, but you need to learn to always walk with little noise." He gestured around himself, "You look at where you are. Memorize the land. Walk without making noise. Three steps is all I'm asking of you." He reached out and tugged the blind-fold back over her eyes.

"Is this how you learned?" she was curious, but focused herself and tried to remember the area around her.

"No."

She flipped the blind-fold back up, "Then why am I doing this?"

He sighed at her, "Because I grew up on the ground, and because hopefully it will help you learn to walk silently before you are five earth-years old!" She almost chuckled at the memory of him trying to say she was a one-year old, but did not. She no longer felt at ease around him as she had before the knowledge that he was Lexa's eyes. "You will not learn by always watching your feet. A warrior is constantly moving, with hardly a glance at the ground. Practice is always."

She raised a brow, trying not to argue with him, but still questioned, "So what, I should constantly memorize the ground around me everywhere I go?" He nodded, his own arms crossed before him.

"Just learn to match the sound and look, but look sparingly. Soon, it will come naturally."

Clarke sighed as she took a single glance around her, before tugging the blind-fold back over her eyes.

- - -

LEXA

Lexa's return to Polis two days prior had not been without incident. Her adviser, Titus, was always stoic and respectful before prying eyes, but the moment the doors shut the two of them alone, he questioned her every action. Lexa was growing tired of his insolence. The man had raised her, had a hand in training her, and had been by her side though many battles; but Lexa could feel things changing. The changes had begun the moment the skaikru had touched ground, and were affecting change throughout her entire world. Titus, a man of strict adherence to the enduring ways of their culture, did not like even the hint of these changes. Lexa saw them as opportunity.

In addition to their fundamental discord, Lexa herself had begun to change, she had begun to cast off some of his teachings, like a snake sheds its' skin. She had been stoic and impassive, and every bit the commander she had always been for her people, but beneath the surface she felt the stirrings of a desire for something more. For a girl who'd been raised to feel and know that her life was not her own, that she lived for the betterment of her people, the whispers in her soul that she deserved something more, something more than just survival, were simultaneously tantalizing and paralyzing. Titus had ingrained it into her, as well as the other novitiates of her group, that to be commander was to be alone, because to love was to be weak.

But the whispers sounded within her with Clarke's voice, speaking quietly, taunting her, keeping her from sleep at night. Did she deserve more than this life? Perhaps it was the peace that was still lingering between one war and the next, but Lexa suddenly felt that her life was entirely empty. The disputes that demanded her attention were meaningless, easily settled. The city ran itself. The clans were largely autonomous, unless they stepped out of line, as Azgeda was beginning to do. Even the prospect of war did not make Lexa feel that her life had purpose.

Perhaps it was that Lexa had already admitted to herself her desires. Whatever the sky girl felt for her, Lexa loved her. Lexa was torn between the teachings that love was weakness and what her heart demanded. If Clarke never returned her feelings, would she constantly feel this emptiness, this ache?

Lexa stood on the balcony, just outside her room, gazing out over the expanse of Polis beneath her. The setting sun cast the sky with pinks and purples and the city itself with an orange glow. She wished, not for the first time, that she could share the sight with Clarke.

Upon her return, Titus had, of course, requested to know of her dealings with Wanheda. Were the sky people to mind their place? Had Wanheda agreed to return to her people and keep them in check? The questions had not ended there.

Lexa had not answered any of his questions. To admit her failure would be to expose her weakness to Titus. It was one thing to be aware of it, and another to share that she loved Clarke and was weak for doing so. So Lexa told him nothing. She did not say that she had not spoken a single word to Wanheda, she did not say that Wanheda was injured, she did not say that the girl would not return to her people anytime soon, and she most certainly did not say that she had left a guard to care for and watch over the girl. Neither did she say that she preferred to call her Clarke rather than Wanheda.

Titus had assumed her failure, anyways. Always, he reminded her of what her people thought of her, of what Azgeda was telling people to think of her. He suggested that she kill Wanheda to prove her strength. She did not dignify that with a response. She had instead raised a hand and commanded Titus to leave her.

That had not stopped him from returning to the suggestion every moment they were alone. She had observed him, wryly noting the fear and apprehension behind his actions. He was only concerned that Azgeda would move to strike against her. They would, she was sure, but Wanheda's death was not a solution she was willing to consider, and that was finally how she had responded to his demands for her consideration.

And so there Lexa stood, on her balcony, dressed softly in a nightgown before the setting sun. Titus was paces behind her, just beyond the curtain separating this space from that of her quarters, dressed in the traditional garb of Fleimkepa. He whispered softly though the cooling air, just loud enough to reach her ears, "You care for her, don't you?"

Lexa turned her gaze upward, eyes catching the crescent shape of the moon reflecting the glow of the setting sun, visible before full night, and responded in kind, "Which is a greater weakness, Titus? To have the feelings, or to admit them?"

She could practically hear the man swallow, and feel the tension of a restrained growl on his part. "Remember Costia. To be commander is to be alone, Heda. If your enemies - if Azgeda - were to know, you know what would happen."

Lexa gulped and restrained herself, refusing to shed additional tears for what had happened to her last love. "I remember."

Titus took a step forward, brushing aside the curtain between them. "Be rational. Clarke would not return your feelings after what happened at the mountain. Hide your feelings and she will stay safe, Heda."

Lexa turned her back to the beautiful view of the sun setting over Polis, and rested herself against the railing, eyes dipping toward the ground, "I will." Lexa raised her eyes to meet those of her mentor, "She could not love me, I know. And I will hide my feelings from all but her, should she let me show her, but reciprocated or not, I will still feel them, Titus." She watched his eyes settle with harshness, preparing to berate her again. "You do not dictate this part of my life, Titus. Go."

He bowed his head and backed silently through the curtain and out of her room. Lexa returned herself to the last moments of the setting sun, and to the beginning twinkle of starlight above.

~*~

CLARKE

She blinked rapidly, trying to get her eyes to work properly in the harsh light that accompanied dawn streaming sideways through the forest. Her eyes felt tired and hollow. She stepped forward silently, knees bent slightly, coming to an abrupt halt at the hand gesture before her.

Zik lowered his hand to point at the ground before them, then traced a finger along an invisible path before them. "Trail that the animals use. It can be useful. Also dangerous," he whispered.

Clarke shook her head slightly, trying to clear away the fog that filled the space behind her eyes. She had not slept well in nearly a week, waking constantly from the mental assault that was her dreams. It was no longer only the mountain that plagued her. The images had morphed from those she'd known dead to those who might now be dead, and to all the blame they may feel toward her. She had been away from her people for a month now, and had no idea what may have befallen them in that time. The rest of her people could be entirely extinct by now. She recognized the irrationality of such thoughts, but it did little to soothe her when she did not know for certain, and when her dreams showed her their corpses.

She looked up and down the game trail he'd pointed out, silently noting the slim line of barren ground and the flattened grass surrounding it, something she wouldn't have been able to see a week beforehand. "Useful how?"

Zik dropped to a crouch, and she did the same, silently tucking the sling of her broken arm in closer to her body to avoiding knocking it with her thighs. "Useful to find animals, or for travel. They know the quickest ways, the easiest. They use them, so if you wait, an animal may come by. Or you can follow and hope to find one."

Clarke nodded, trying to ignore the burgeoning headache in her mind, "And danger?"

Zik gave her a wry look and pointed at her arm, the bitten one, not the broken, and said, "Some of those animals may like to eat you." He paused for a moment, a strange look crossing his features before he continued, "What kind of animal was it?"

She frowned, trying to understand the question beyond the fog and pain in her head. Slowly, it occurred to her that he didn't know what had attacked her when she'd been injured, and was asking. "Panther."

She could see him swallow as he shifted his weight and looked up and down the game trail for anything nearby, "How?"

Clarke lowered her left knee into the grass beneath her to ease the stress the crouch was causing in that calf, and gave him a one-shouldered shrug, "Didn't see it 'til it was too late. It chased me, caught me."

She felt more than saw his brown eyes silently appraising her, "The broken arm?"

"Fell." She was tempted to leave it to that, knowing it was an unsatisfactory answer, but after a pause, continued, "Off a cliff. During the fight."

Another interesting look from him, something like shock and disbelief, but also...pride? "And the cat?"

Clarke averted her eyes, trying to distract herself with following the game trail as far as she could before the rolls of land and towers of trees blocked her sight, "Killed it. After." She felt herself grunt somewhat involuntarily.

She noticed the edges of his lips twitch. Whether it was a smile or frown he fought off, she did not know. He gave a slight nod and moved out of his crouch, following along the game trail silently. She followed.

Despite the fog in her mind, she was consciously examining the land around them as they moved, adjusting her stride and foot-falls accordingly. For all that his method of teaching her had been unusual, it had also seemed to work, and now every moment that she was outside of the cave was also practice. However, the training hadn't accommodated for loose boots with no laces, and some minutes later, she felt herself stumble and trip over her own boot, careening toward the ground.

The panic was instant, and so was the instinct to throw her arms out before her to catch herself. The left moved fine, the right despised her for attempting to move it and made that known by way of pain. She bit into her lower lip and groaned instead of letting out any louder sound of distress. However, before she met the ground, strong arms dipped beneath her and caught her by the shoulders, only her knees coming down hard on the packed ground of the trail.

She shook off his assistance as soon as she was righted, and he backed away respectfully. "Thanks," she muttered, tugging her boot back onto her foot. "Maybe on your next trip you can come back with boots that stay on my feet," she joked bitterly.

The small smile on his face wasn't missed. She knew he would bring her boots. They'd probably be the right size, too.

He turned and continued along the trail. Some time later, he dropped into a crouch, and gestured her down. He gestured before him with a jerk of his chin. She looked, and it took her a moment to find what had caught his attention.

A fair distance away, partially obscured by a copse of trees and a leafy bush was a deer. This was only the second one Clarke had seen [alive] in her time on the ground, and when this one turned its' head, there was only one.

"Trilipa." She needed no translation. "We're downwind. Upwind, the animal smells you and runs." He pointed, moving slowly so as not to draw attention. "Between the ribs, three and four or four and five is the heart, near the bottom. Best place to kill trilipa. If you hit the lungs, it may still die, but it will also make you chase it a long way." She nodded to show her understanding. "See how close you can get."

She gave him a perturbed look, "I'll scare it away, you know that. Just kill it."

He shook his head, "I'm not going to kill it. It's too much meat for just us, it would be a waste." He paused a moment, "But it could be good practice. Trilipa don't bite."

She felt like telling him off, and saying that of course they don't, they're herbivores, but she felt quite certain that that was a word he wouldn't know. Instead she nodded and slowly began to move forward and around the bush before them.

She crept forward until, just twenty paces away from the animal, it's head shot up and looked around before leaping off into the forest. She was sighing with her head in her hand as Zik walked up beside her. "You did well."

She glanced up at him from where she was crouched, "You're kidding, right?"

He frowned, "How can I be a child?" She just rolled her eyes, "There is more to sneaking up on an animal than quiet feet. It smelled you."

"I thought you said if we're downwind, it couldn't."

He smiled gently and gestured for her to stand, "You did not notice when the wind shifted. Yu ste don os. You did well."

Clarke couldn't help but to feel like a little bit of a failure, but she steeled herself. She may have done well, but she would do better. They turned and headed back toward their cave, keeping quiet mouth and open ears, still searching for breakfast.

- - -

 LEXA

She was a patient whirl of warrior and blade as she dueled with one of her younger novitiates. The young nightblood fought well, stance strong and well-balanced, but was slow and hesitant to strike her. With a deft turn of her blade, she sent the other's weapon sailing across the mossy grounds of the private practice area at the edge of the nearby forest, reserved only for the use of the Natblidas.

"Your enemy will not wait to strike, if given an opening. Nor should you." She intoned, as the girl rushed to retrieve the blade. "Do not restrain yourself from attempting to hurt me merely because this is practice." She gestured for the girl to attack her again.

The younger girl approached and dropped into a fighting stance, Lexa kept her eyes on the girl as she slipped into step around the girl. She dropped the point of her blade, just slightly, intentionally, creating an opening. The other wavered only slightly before driving her blade at Lexa's exposed left side. Lexa, in turn, flicked her wrist upward as she raised he sword back up and caught the encroaching metal upon the flat of her own. "Your hesitation makes your moves obvious."

The girl pulled her blade away from Lexa's, simultaneously dropping her stance lower, to avoid the automatic slash of Lexa's blade, as it rebounded from the sudden lack of force keeping it in place. Lexa eyed the girl, for once uncertain of what she was doing, drawing her blade toward herself defensively, then the girl was driving at her, though not from the direction she expected. The pommel of the other's sword drove into Lexa's side, as Lexa twirled her body away, catching the hilt of the other sword on her blade to prevent the object from driving into her further.

She gave a soft smile, a twitch of amusement reaching the shine of her eyes, "Better." The footsteps behind her could only be one person, "Go train with the others again. Do not go easy on them."

"Sha, Heda." The nightblood walked reservedly over to the rest of her group.

Lexa turned toward Titus, patiently waiting behind her, hands clasped behind his back, "No word from Indra on the activities of Skaikru?"

"None, Heda."

"Perhaps there is nothing of import to note." She returned her blade to it's place at her side. "I will go to Tondisi, and the sky people if necessary."

"Now, Heda?"

"No, Titus. There is something that needs my attention before I can leave Polis again. Prepare a compliment of guards to accompany me in four days." Lexa began a slow walk back toward the tower, "The number doesn't matter. Select guards that have building experience, or family in Tondisi." She could feel his gaze upon her, he wasn't following, his duty was to the nightbloods. "We will assist in rebuilding the city while we are there."

Chapter Text

CLARKE

Something cold had touched her foot, and she'd tried to jerk it away. Then the something clasped her gently about the ankle. That's odd, was as much as her sleep addled mind could manage. She opened one eye to the sight of a shadowed figure at the foot of her makeshift bed - a pile of furs on the floor of a cave.

She groaned as the flat of a hand was pressed to the bottom of her foot, "Boots?" she mumbled sleepily. She felt the nod of a response, "Zik, this is weird. The is literally the weirdest time you could have picked." She wished very much that her arm was not broken and that she could roll over and sullenly burrow her head into the soft shirt she was using as a pillow.

"Moba, Clarke. I'd almost forgotten you asked for stepas. I'm leaving now. The trip to Polis is-"

"Longer, yes." She sighed, extremely annoyed that she was confined to sleeping on her back at this point. "You'll be gone for days. We went over this last night while you were smoking enough food to last the time, Zik. I'm not that tired."

The shadow shifted and lengthened, he'd stood. "Beja, Clarke, just... just stay well."

She had sleepily nodded and waved him away with a flick of her wrist.

Now, she lay awake in the dark of early morning, the events of the previous morning running through her head. It was the first time she'd been alone for a whole day in weeks, and she found the silence both comforting and disconcerting. There was no steady breathing, soft puffs of air clouding like mist in the chill of the morning. There were no shuffling feet, or the slide of fabric across furs. There was no occasional knicker of a horse outside the cave, or the intermittent stamp of hooves on ground.

Everything was silent.

Clarke had woken to the constricted chest, and the welling tears, and a strangled gasp that sometimes accompanied her encounter with the nightmares, and the silence was everything she didn't need. It filled her brain with too much space to think, and not enough distraction to return herself to sleep.

For the first time since she'd left Camp Jaha, she felt herself wondering if it was time to return. She let herself wonder, but she also knew she wasn't ready. If her mother saw her in this state, she'd never be let out again, and that wasn't something Clarke wanted to risk. If she returned, it might ease some of the more recent nightmares, the ones where her friends were dead, and not just the mountain men, but returning might also make some of the other nightmares, the ones about the corpses of the mountain coming to life and doing unspeakably frightening things to her, worse.

So Clarke knew she couldn't return, not yet. But maybe seeing the camp, knowing her people weren't picking fights with the grounders, would help her.

- - -

RAVEN

Raven made her way across the flat grassy clearing outside the Ark on her crutches. She hated the things, and was growing more frustrating at having to use them each day, but she also knew that Abby wouldn't hesitate to confine her to medical again, and she knew that would be worse. She glanced around, looking for something, for someone. She had hoped to find Monty near the area that had been set aside for what she had designed, and they were to build. Instead, there were only stacks of old support beams stripped from the ark.

She groaned and decided to maneuver around the Ark to a recess that led to a ladder providing access to the parts of the Ark that were still dangling above. As she neared the area, Monty came into view, holding one end of a heavy beam. "Hey! Monty!"

The boy was breathing heavily, obviously the weight of the beam was a bit much for him. As Raven got closer, she noticed Jasper holding up the other end. It didn't take a prolonged survey to see that he was tired, eyes looking dull and lifeless. It was possible that, for once, he was sober. Behind him, further in the recess, Miller was preparing to hoist another support to transport over to the build site. "Hey, Miller! Can you grab this for Monty? I need to talk to him," Raven called.

Miller smiled as he took the weight of the beam from Monty, muscles handling the load much easier than Monty's had, and began to move, with Jasper, toward the build site.

"Hey, Raven. What's up?" Monty questioned, glancing over his shoulder as Jasper and Miller slowly moved further away.

Raven released one of her crutches, holding it in place with her armpit, and held a roll of paper toward Monty. "I have some-" She quickly glanced around them. "-some updates to the plans."

Monty frowned as he unrolled the paper, perusing quickly. "It looks the same, Raven. What changed? Dimensions? Wiring?"

"Well, a little bit of the wiring, to be honest, but that's not the import part. Look at the west end." Raven gestured with her free hand over the edge of the sheet. She couldn't see the drawing, but she might as well be able to, she knew every detail of these plans.

There was silence for a few minutes as Monty inspected that part of the drawing, before questioning, "It just looks... hollow? I don't get it, Raven."

Raven looked around them surreptitiously, again. "It's space for a little something... extra." She shifted forward with her crutches. "Here, room for a still, no need to hide it somewhere in the woods. And no one will even know it's there, except us. Except, seriously, don't tell Jasper. I want there to actually be some to be had when I ask." She makes eye contact, letting him know she's serious, before continuing, "And then here," she points to a place very close to the first. "Room to grow a little something. If you catch my drift?" The grin on Monty's face was reassurance enough. "And maybe you can tell Jasper about that part. It might cheer him up. I'll let you decide, though."

The grin faltered, but didn't disappear entirely, "Why'd you do this?"

"Well, hell, we all need a distraction, don't we?" She displayed a patented carefree grin for a moment, before letting it fall. "Can you keep a secret?"

Monty's brow knit together as he frowned, "I can. Not sure I want to, though."

Raven rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath, "What's the worst..." before she slowly admitted, "The pain's a bit more than I let on, Monty." She dropped her eyes to her left leg. "I don't even think doc knows, and she checks every day." She raised her head back up, but pointedly kept her eyes from meeting his, "Look, maybe a distraction would be nice. And maybe I saw an opportunity. What you and Jasper were in for isn't a secret." She shrugged, "And I was known to partake, now and then, in the good 'ole days in the sky."

"Have you told Abby?"

"About this? Are you crazy? Why do you think I'm delivering these drawings myself?"

"No, about the pain, Raven. I can definitely do this for you. You know Jasper and I won't mind, and we'll get fair use of it, but you should probably talk to Abby about your leg."

"Look..." Raven groaned, throwing her head back, eyes catching on the one cloud in an otherwise blinding blue sky, "I see doc every day. She has some plan to fix me, if we can get the medical equipment from Mount Weather." Raven jerked her eyes away from the sky, before the brightness could cause her eyes to water. "I'll just... let her try, okay? And then we'll see."

"We'll see what?" a voice laced with a dose of sarcasm from behind her.

She glanced over her shoulder, to see Wick walking toward them, a compliment of tools lining his waist. "Nothing. What are you doing over here? Shouldn't you be gluing your eyebrows back on?" It was no secret that Wick had - apparently on accident - started a small fire while working on a generator a few days prior. She had had to reset half the doors on the Ark manually so that they would open again.

The smirk on Wick's face never faltered, "Hey, my eyebrows are-" He tilted his head to the side a bit, pausing, "-were - beautiful." He pointed at the ladder around the corner, "I'm going up. Supposed to bring down all the solar panels that aren't currently feeding into our supply."

"Okay, well just don't break any of them," Raven joked, "Or light yourself on fire again."

"Yes, Wick, please don't." Raven twitched at the new voice, Sinclair, "Reyes hates cleaning up your messes."

"Yes, sir! I'll try not to disappoint," Wick said with a mock salute before he made for the ladder and escaped from the conversation.

"Reyes, I didn't expect to see you out here. Shouldn't you be in engineering?" Sinclair questioned her.

"I just-"

"She's just here to see me, sir." Monty interrupted her. "I had some questions about the plans she drew up."

Sinclair moved a couple steps closer to them and draped his arms around both of their shoulders, "You know you can ask me, Monty, right?" Monty gave a hesitant nod. "But thanks, Raven. Probably explained better than I could." He smiled, "Back to work, now?"

Both Raven and Monty nodded simultaneously, Monty ducking under Sinclair's arm and moving toward the pile of detached support beams. Raven mumbled, "Yeah, yeah. I'm on it," and turned on her crutches back toward the Ark.

- - -

LEXA

Lexa didn't dare leave her throne room. She had been there for the entire day. When Zik arrived, she wanted to know immediately, and the throne room would be the most likely place for him to come. Or to be escorted.

She had dealt with the minor quarrels of her civilians during her wait. A homeless boy had stolen food from a vendor. A shepherd had had a member of his flock unknowingly wander into a nearby farmer's winter food storage and eat of it. A pickpocket had had his hand removed. There was nothing unusual, except that Lexa dealt with these infractions with much less patience than she normally displayed, and far too soon, there was nothing that remained for her to do.

That left Lexa to wonder about Clarke. How was she? Did she remain safe? Would Zik arrive? Had something befallen them in the past ten days?

Lexa shut her eyes and cleared her mind, letting those thoughts drift away. They did her no good. The only feeling that remained was an anxiousness, tentative excitement. She wanted to know about Clarke.

Her breaths were measured and slow. Calming.

The sound of the door to the chamber opening distracted her, and she opened her eyes, surveying the new arrival.

Zik stood tall and still halfway between the door and the throne. His chin held high, eyes met hers, a trace of tiredness sitting just beneath the surface. Small curled wisps of facial hair darkened his normally smooth face. The man gave a brief nod of greeting before his eyes darted to Titus, at her side, and back.

Lexa stood and stepped down from her throne. "Titus, see to the nightbloods. I'm sure they have a lesson to learn."

She felt his eyes on her, as he moved toward the door, his jaw clenched and a scowl coloring his features. He was, for once, holding his tongue.

Once Titus was gone, she relaxed her posture slightly, before moving toward the door herself. She gestured for Zik to follow. "Come. I need to get out of this room."

Zik was by her side as they entered the forest at the edge of Polis. It was only then that she broke the silence that had beset them on the journey from the tower. "Clarke?"

"She is well. Nearly healed, aside from the break."

"And other than her wounds?" Lexa questioned. They walked seemingly aimlessly into the trees.

"She has been more... distant, Heda." He stopped walking for a moment, "She has not slept well, and often wakes in a fit."

Lexa frowned. She knew what it was like to be plagued by nightmares. Now, she had had many years to learn to cope with the decisions she had to make as Heda. Clarke had not had the same time to adjust. She wished that Clarke would let her help. There was much she could say about clearing one's mind of nightmares.

Zik resumed forward movement, stepping over a fallen branch, "She has not spoken of them. I have not asked. Instead, I took her into the woods and taught her to walk like a warrior, with silence and... as much grace as Clarke can manage."

Lexa looked over at the young man to note the small smile on his face. She, herself, frowned. Clarke is very graceful!

"Now, she follows me when I hunt for us. You should have seen her try to sneak up on a deer. She was so embarrassed when it ran away! She didn't notice the wind had shifted." He chuckled aloud.

Lexa halted herself and turned away from Zik. She wished very much that she could have seen that. The desire burned like a hot-bladed knife. She would have liked to see Clarke do anything - or nothing. She would simply love to see Clarke at all. She hesitated before admitting to this guard, "I do wish I had seen." She remained facing away from him, "Did you learn of how she was injured?"

"Sha, Heda." He waited very patiently for her to turn around and actually look at him before continuing. "Clarke said it was a panther." He was looking her in the eye, watching her reaction. "She didn't see until it was too late, and she ran, but it caught her. They fought and at some point while fighting, they fell off a cliff and that's how she broke her arm. She said she killed the panther, after the fall." A look of awe was evident on his face.

Lexa merely nodded. She did not know what else to do. She was thankful that Clarke hadn't hurt herself, but still saddened that she had been hurt at all. She was intrigued as to how Clarke had killed the panther with a broken arm, but she was not all that impressed. They were predictable creatures, and Lexa had killed many in her youth. "Anything else?"

"Clarke asked for boots. That fit, and stay on her feet."

"She asked? What is wrong with hers?" Lexa was, for the first time that day, shocked. Clarke had actually asked for something of her. Maybe not of her, directly, but she had to have known that in asking Zik, it was Lexa she was asking. Her heart fluttered inside her chest with something that was a little too close to hope for her comfort.

"The bindings of her boots are holding together her broken arm. I've seen her trip over herself many times. It's a wonder she hasn't fallen on her arm."

Lexa swallowed carefully, slowly, hoping that it wasn't noticeable, "Yes, we'll get her boots." And the words inside her head, though unspoken, were very loud; I don't want Clarke to get hurt. Lexa shifted her jaw back and forth, a habit she was not consciously aware of, before broaching the next subject, "Zik, you have spent some time with Clarke." He nodded. "Do you wish to continue to watch over her? I can have someone replace you if you need a break, or if you have matters to attend to..."

Zik's face was full of confusion, before it resolved and faded into something more neutral. "I wish to return to Clarke, Heda. I enjoy our time together, and I do not think she would take well to a replacement."

Lexa felt herself flood with a mild relief. This was, indeed, the best possible choice she could have sent after Clarke. She was no longer concerned that it was duty that swayed him. He genuinely cared for Clarke's well-being, as Lexa herself did. "Good." She offered a genuine smile. "In ten days, I should be in Tondisi. You'll report to me there."

Concern knit his brows, "Heda, that is a long distance from where we are camped. Are you sure?"

Lexa paused to give it thought, "I will be there. I am to help rebuild, and to attend to matters with Skaikru. You can find a way for Clarke to survive that time alone, or you can try to convince her to relocate." Lexa turned back the way they had come from, "Come. Let us see the tailor."

Zik nodded, and returned to his place at her side. They'd taken several steps in silence before he asked, "Heda, do you think I should ask about her nightmares?"

Lexa's lips twitched involuntarily as she pondered, "I would. But I would also not press very hard to know. However, Clarke does not like me very much. You must make your own choice." They continued their exit of the forest.

~*~

ABBY

"I'm still concerned about our food supply, Abby." Kane was currently sat at the far end of the couch in the Chancellor's quarters.

"Pfft, Kane, Monty and company are working as fast as they can on the greenhouse," was Raven's casual response, from a chair that sat facing the couch.

"I know. And I know it was my plan, but I've been running the numbers. By the time it's ready to go, we still have to plant and wait on grow times. It'll nearly be spring by the time it adds to our food shares." His arms sat crossed before him, back resting partially against the arm of the couch, as he angled to face towards both Abby and Raven.

"Hmm." Abby was thinking to herself, hands placed on Raven's left knee. Raven had insisted mornings worked better for her daily examinations, and Abby didn't mind having the genius mechanic privy to the difficulties approaching their settlement. Abby ran her fingers over the back of the girl's knee, somewhere Raven couldn't feel, repeatedly. Something felt wrong. "Perhaps we shouldn't put all our eggs in one basket. The greenhouse will help for next winter, but we need to find a short-term solution to get us through this winter..." Abby trailed off as her fingers felt that notch again.

"Is there anything else at the mountain that might help? They had to have had some kind of food source," Raven questioned, glancing down at Abby's hands on her.

Abby noticed the curious gaze and moved up to inspect the rest of her leg. "Kane?"

"Yeah. Some kind of internal grow facility. A lot like a greenhouse," Kane offered with a shrug. "We can check when we head back there, if the crop is still alive, we can harvest whatever they had."

"Hopefully they had an automated watering or nutrient system set up, otherwise those plants are toast," Raven sneered. She obviously had little faith in the engineers of the previous century.

Abby looked up from her - somewhat more thorough than usual - inspection, "We're not moving into the mountain, even if it does help with the food shortage. I do not want to have to be Chancellor for a war with the grounders!"

"No one suggested that, Abby."

"So... there's always a fix. We just have to find it," Raven's good foot tapped on the ground and Abby pulled her hands away from Raven, settling back onto the couch.

"We could talk about setting up trade with the grounders," Kane offered.

"Do you really think it best to be reliant on them for our food supply after they abandoned us at the mountain?"

"Abby, how many of the hundred do you still need to find jobs for?" Raven intervened.

"Well, of the..." She paused, trying to remember, "...eighty or so alive - it's over there in a file somewhere -" She gestured to an overcrowded desk, filled with charts and paperwork. "- we have probable assignments lined up for less than half. Unfortunately, most of them had little to no interest in school, or were arrested well before they got to some of the more useful classes."

"So, Monty and crew aside, you've got, say, seventy-five teenagers with nothing to do at the moment?" Raven's eyebrow quirked upward as she asked. "How would you feel about handing out some temporary assignments while you figure out something more permanent for them?" Kane and Abby both nodded. "Okay, so hear me out. Pair them up with each other. Assign them territories and have them hunt every day. What is it, dawn and dusk when most animals are out? Just have them hunt around those hours. Then have another group of them who just salt and preserve, or whatever... the food."

"Well, more bodies hunting might mean more food. If any of them are remotely successful," Kane states cautiously. "But we'd be putting untrained kids out there to hunt alone. We still aren't sure about the grounder's stance on us after the events of Mount Weather."

"So assign each group a guard. Someone with a gun." Raven shrugs.

Abby finds herself smiling just a bit, "Actually... I think this is a good idea. But they're going to have to learn to hunt without guns. Which gives me the perfect temporary assignment for Octavia and Lincoln." There was a pause, no one had any objections they were voicing. "Kane, can you write up assignments? Groups of two, territory, time, and work it in with the guard schedule so that each group has someone?"

"Yeah, of course."

"Thank you." There's another silence. No one seemed in a rush to go anywhere. "Kane, if you could please leave, I have something to discuss with Raven."

"Right, sorry." He stood and straightened his guard jacket. "I'll get right to work on that, and meet up later to work out the details." He made for the door, shutting it behind him with a click as he left.

Abby returned her attention to Raven, meeting her eyes. There was fear behind the brave front on the surface. Abby brought her fingers back to Raven's knee, feeling the underside. "Raven, do you feel this?"

Raven frowned, the fear still present, if hidden, "No, Abby. You know I can't feel that far down."

"Here." Abby grabbed Raven's hand and moved it into place where her's had been. "Do you feel that?"

Frown still firmly in place, Raven's brows slowly moved closer, "Feel what?"

Abby sighed, "I'm not entirely certain, Raven, but I think that's shrapnel. Embedded in your knee."

Raven rolled her eyes up toward the ceiling, and swallowed, "What does this mean, Abby?"

Abby grabbed Raven's hand and held it in her own, looking down at it, "I'm assuming you don't want me to lock you away in medical."

Raven bit her lip as she nodded, "I don't want to do nothing, Abby!"

Abby nodded just slightly, "Right. So... you're going to keep on using those crutches. Even in engineering. Even in your own room. Don't... don't bend your knee much, if you can. And we'll go to Mount Weather as soon as we can, and get it out of you."

"And that's going to fix it?" the question sounded so fearful and hopeful.

"No. It's not." She shook her head sadly. "It'll keep it from getting worse, hopefully. And hopefully it hasn't already severed any nerves or tendons. We'd see pretty obvious bruising if it had cut any veins or arteries."

"So all that and I still might not walk again?" The tone was cynical and ridden with derision.

"I'm going to do everything I can, Raven. I promise."

- - -

LEXA

"Good," Lexa stated as Titus entered the throne room.

She was perched on her throne, leaning forward toward the nightbloods that surrounded her, seated on the floor. She had just praised the answer given to her by one of the younger nightbloods, who often seemed hesitant to speak up and answer questions, despite an obvious intellect.

However, with Titus' arrival, she knew it was time. "That is all, natblidas. Do well in your lessons with Titus." She stood an nodded toward the man, who remained near the door.

"Natblidas," was all Titus spoke, as both greeting and instruction. The children swiftly rose to their feet and filed from the room.

"Aden, a moment," Lexa spoke as the others trailed from the room.

"Sha, Heda."

Lexa stepped down from her throne and towards the boy, affectionately dusting her hand over his hair as she neared, giving him a small but genuine smile, "Watch Titus in my absence, Aden. Azgeda grows restless and bold, and it would do well for you to see how they are handled."

"Of course, heda." He nodded just slightly.

Lexa frowned, wishing she were allowed to show more affection to the children in her care. "You may return to the others, then, Aden."

Aden turned on his heel to leave, but paused as he reached the closed doors, and turned back to her, "I will miss you."

Lexa crossed her arms behind her back as she strode toward the young man, offering only the hint of affection to shine through her gaze, "And I you, Aden." She reached past him and held the door open for him, following his exit shortly after.

She made her way to the defunct elevator, guards dragging the doors apart for her as she entered. The ride down was as slow as it had always been, driven by human labor. As the doors parted on the ground floor, held open by another pair of guards, she strode forth and out of the tower.

At the city's edge, her mount - a black stallion with only a white diamond on its' head, and white fur tufted around one of it's four hooves - was waiting and saddled. She easily swung herself up onto the beast, a couple heads taller than herself.

Lexa jerked at the reigns and the horse turned toward the readied guards, on their own mounts, ready to accompany her to Tondisi. Seventeen was an odd number to escort her, but these were the soldiers that would work best to rebuild a village; safety was not her first thought. "Gon oso we." And with that, she dug her heels into the animal beneath her and flew from her home.

- - -

CLARKE

It was very late in the night - or early morning, it was hard to distinguish between the two. Clarke sat awake with her back to the cave wall. Sleep had not yet come for her, and her patience was wearing thin.

Instead of continuing a fruitless wait, she stood and left the cave. She wandered, with spear in hand, not sure if she was trying to tire herself, or clear her mind. Neither was happening.

She was uncertain how long she had been meandering through the woods when she heard her name. It was soft, at first, but grew louder on each repetition. She turned and made her way back toward the cave, the tense and tired form of Zik greeting her there.

He dropped his head, seemingly exhausted, "Clarke." His voice seemed out of breath. "I am so glad you're still here."

She nodded and walked past him into the cave, offering up a one-shouldered shrug, "I just couldn't sleep. I went for a walk."

He followed her inside, dropping down next to the cold bank of ashes where a fire normally lit the dwelling during the dark hours of night. "Do you..." He seemed to hesitate, before asking, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," was all the answer she offered. And it was true; she didn't want to talk about why she was having trouble sleeping. She didn't want to talk about her nightmares, about who was in them, or about thoughts of returning to her people. She didn't want to talk about the fact that all of those things scared her. Instead, she watched his actions. Normally, he'd have a fire sparked and roaring in nearly no time, but today something seemed different. She watched in silence. "Are you... trying to start that fire with only one hand?"

"Sha."

"Why?"

He let out an audible sigh, and slumped in his posture next to the ash-darkened portion of cave floor, "The next report to Heda is much farther."

So she's not in Polis, anymore. Where is she going? Is it my people? Have they managed to screw things up already? Thoughts rushed through her mind, but she didn't dare speak them out loud. She didn't want to care what the commander was doing. She only cared that her people were okay, she tried to convince herself.

"So you're trying to learn to make fire with one hand, just so you can leave me alone more?" she questions. "You know, you're not really obligated to babysit me."

He looked at her, aghast, "Is that how they kill second-born children? They sit on them?!"

Her eyes widened, "No. Not that at all." She tried to think of how to explain, "Babysitting is like... watching children. Make sure they don't get into trouble."

His agitated state relaxed and he returned to the cold fire-pit before him, "Oh. That's much more reasonable." He picked up a new stick and started trying to rotate it against his boot. "I know I'm not. The commander even offered to replace me if I wanted."

She waited for elaboration, but none ever came. She sighed and shifted to lay down on her furs, "Reshop, branwada, you look like you haven't slept the entire time you were gone."

A stick bounced off her arm harmlessly, "Not nice, Clarke." He shuffled over to his own pile of furs muttering under his breath, "And after I brought you new boots..."

Chapter Text

RAVEN

Raven crutched her way into the mess hall. She was not entirely surprised to find the room nearly packed. Her eyes caught those of Abigail Griffin, who, just for a moment, seemed to let a smile play across her face before her eyes dropped down to a paper in hand. Raven maneuvered over to an empty stretch of wall and and leaned back against it, holding herself up with the crutches while examining the room.

Kane stood a few feet behind Griffin, off to her left side. He looked considerably more tired than he usually did, although working out a schedule for seventy or so people and editing the guard schedule to match in only two days would do that to a person. Well, to that person, Raven mused. I wouldn't have broken a sweat.

She zoned out as Abby explained the new duties to the remnants of the hundred that filled the room. Raven didn't need to listen, she knew. It was her brilliant idea. She was only here to wait out the speech until Abby was free and she could get her daily checkup out of the way.

A little over half of the hundred would be assigned hunting duties at either dawn or dusk, the remainder would be assigned food preservation duties in shifts. The obvious exceptions were Monty and Jasper, who would continue construction of the greenhouse.

Raven sighed to herself and glanced at Abby, who looked like she needed a good night's sleep more than anything else, as she rattled through pairs of names. After the past couple days, Raven felt she could use some more sleep, too, but whether she wanted to admit to it or not, it was a fact that she'd lost sleep worrying over her leg. It was a wonder the people near her quarters managed to sleep through her outbursts when Raven expressed her anger by way of crutches unceremoniously meeting surfaces at varying velocities.

"Teams sixteen through nineteen, instead of hunting, you're going to focus on making, placing, and checking traps." That's new, Raven thought as Abby continued, "Guards Rogers and Sampson have agreed to hold a couple classes on trapping, so make sure to check the schedule. You'll be docked rations for missing your duties."

Raven snorted under her breath. Docked rations made sense given their circumstances, but some lazy bum was bound to starve or start eating leaves.

"Hunters, Octavia and Lincoln-" The two in question nodded uncomfortably from the wall off to Abby's right. It didn't take more than a glance to see that they were both already unhappy about being indoors for this meeting. "-are going to join you at their discretion and teach you..." Abby paused, obviously looking for the right words to explain, "...about hunting. They have your schedules, and they'll replace the guard assignment for when they join you. Please do as they say. I don't want to have to dock rations for insubordination, kids." Abby let out an audible sigh.

"I know hunting and preserving food isn't what most of you want to be doing. I'm going to be honest, though. We need you to do this, or there's a very real possibility that not all of us will survive winter." Abby's arms crossed before her, the paper folding into the crook of her opposite elbow. "Permanent assignments are being considered for all of you. I'll post the positions we're considering each of you for outside of my office, okay? These are not final, and there are many of you we don't know where to place. We're willing to apprentice you to someone in the appropriate field, since most of you didn't complete your schooling. If you have any requests for your job assignment, please speak to myself or Kane." Kane nodded briefly before turning to exit the room. "That's all. Hunting duties begin just before dusk tonight, trappers you have a class this afternoon, and the food preservation crews start tomorrow morning. Groups one and two, I think Octavia and Lincoln plan to tail you, first. Don't leave camp without them. You're all dismissed."

The noise level picked up as the teenagers began to mull about and discuss with each other. Abby stalked across the room toward the door.

Raven pushed herself off of the wall and began to chase after her, "Abby!" The sound was lost to the noise of the crowd, however, and Abby exited the room.

With a grunt, Raven hastily crutched forward and out into the hall. "Abby!" The doctor was about to round the corner at the end of the hall. "Abby! For fuck's sake, don't make me chase you!"

Looking mildly startled, Abby halted at the junction. "Raven. Sorry, I'm sorry. What do you need?"

Raven rolled her eyes as she approached Abby, nearly panting, armpits aching. "For you to tell me I'm still broken, so I can get on with my day."

Abby seemed to look sad, as her mouth dropped into a frown, "Do you want to skip it, today?"

"Would you seriously let me?"

Abby turned the corner into the next hall, walking slower than before, but nonetheless forcing Raven to follow her, "Yes."

Raven didn't understand, "Why?"

"There's nothing more I can learn without proper equipment. We already know something is wrong, and it's obviously stressing you out to have me poke at you every day." Abby was facing forward and Raven couldn't see her expression, what she was thinking.

"Well...I mean...Abby, it's not you. It's my leg. I don't like the thought of being broken, and I fucking hate these crutches!"

"I know," Abby admitted with a sigh, nearing her quarters. She punched the code into the keypad next to the door.

"Just, when are we going to the mountain? Get the damn equipment and at least get that shit out of my knee, even if I don't get fixed. Then I could at least bend my knee. Do you know how exhausting it is to only stand or lay?"

Abby pushed the door ajar and beckoned for Raven to follow as she entered the room, "Not from experience." She let herself sink down into the couch. "Come here, you can lay your leg out across the couch."

Raven did so and lowered herself awkwardly onto the couch while keeping her leg straight, shifting sideways to stretch both legs out before her across the couch cushions. Then she uncomfortably kept her back straight, as it was partially facing Abby, and leaning back into her might be inappropriate.

"Raven, are we friends?" Abby questioned from behind her.

"Uh, yeah? At least I think so." Raven resisted the urge to let herself joke that of course, everyone wants to be her friend.

A hand on her shoulder pulled Raven back into Abby's side, "Then relax." Although, from the feel of it, Abby didn't seem to be taking her own advice. There was silence for a minute until Abby hesitantly shifted and wrapped her right arm around Raven. "It was uncomfortable," she explained quietly. Raven smirked, but settled herself into Abby. "We can go to Mount Weather anytime we're ready. We just don't know how to get you there."

"What?" Raven tilted her head back, trying to look at Abby. "You're telling me that we're waiting on me?"

Raven felt Abby's shrug. "Sort of. We could take you there on a litter?"

Raven groaned, "I've already been hauled around on a litter twice since I've come to the ground. And I'm much more conscious now. Do we have any less embarrassing options?"

"I'm afraid that's all we've come up with. On crutches, it would take you days to get there." She felt Abby shift behind her, "We'll figure something out."

- - -

LEXA

The ride to Tondisi had been uneventful, as expected. Two nights camping under the stars and eating huddled around a fire was all there was to note. Now, the sun passed its' zenith as the entourage rode into the village.

Indra stood, back straight, one hand resting on the grip of her sword, awaiting their arrival. Scouts had obviously informed her of their impending approach. Lexa swung down from her horse and casually passed the reigns off, before approaching Indra. The two clasped each other about the forearm in greeting. "Heda."

"Indra." Lexa cast her eyes about as she released her grip of Indra, taking in the state of the village. Much of the surface-level rubble had been cleared away, piled into a makeshift wall at one edge of the town, but much remained where the buildings with underground levels had collapsed in upon themselves. Including the building Lexa had been in shortly before the bombing. Most of the remaining buildings were in shambles. A caved in roof, one collapsed completely sideways, others beyond recognition. The few habitable dwellings sat along the eastern treeline, appearing newly constructed or repaired. "It appears you could use some assistance."

"If you think it necessary, Heda," was as far as Indra was conceding. "We can reconstruct Tondisi ourselves."

"There's no need, Indra. I didn't bring so many guards with me for fear of my safety." She gestured with an open hand toward the compliment of soldiers that had accompanied her. Some stood patiently tending the reigns of their mounts as the others erected a simple post and lintel to lash the animals to. "We're here to help." Lexa paused and stepped toward the southern boundary of the settlement. "I had Titus select those with experience building."

Indra adjusted her placement to stand beside the commander, "Mochof, Heda."

Internally, Lexa felt that there was no need for the thanks, but she merely nodded imperiously in acceptance. "And we will converse with Skaikru." Lexa darted her eyes to the side, noting the lack of response on Indra's part. Perhaps that was a good sign. "What can you tell me of their activities?"

"They left the mountain."

"I suspected as much when you didn't send an update. What happened?"

"The scouts counted thirty-three, that went to the mountain. They slept outside, and hauled the dead outside for five days. Then they set the bodies ablaze and left when flames died." Indra was factual, abrupt in her delivery. "Funeral rites for their victims? The Skaikru would be so foolish," she scoffed.

"If that is their way, what harm has it done us, Indra?" Lexa questioned, disapproving of her general's rash dislike of the Sky people's customs, if that was what they were.

Indra merely grunted her displeasure.

"What else have our people observed of the Skaikru's actions?"

There was the noise of jovial greeting from behind them. Lexa spared a glance over her shoulder, noting that those soldiers who have family here have officially been noticed. She was quite happy to do this small thing for her people.

"We're not sure what they're doing. Lots of climbing about on their...sky thing." Indra spat out the words like they were poison to her.

Lexa raised a brow, "Sky thing?"

"The thing they all live in!" Indra exclaimed, fingers twitching noticeable as if she'd rather use her hands to explain.

Lexa nodded slightly. I think Clarke calls it a ship. That's what she called that tin can that came down first. "Why does it matter that they climb their ship?"

Indra gave her a look, as if to say 'I'd rather you not know what it's supposed to be called'. "It's the only thing out of the ordinary we've seen them do. They take parts of it down and to a different place in their camp."

It seemed innocuous to Lexa, but she would have to question the sky people when she talks to them, anyways. "I'll speak to them in a few days. In the meantime, we have a village to rebuild." She turned and a simple gesture with her hands had half of her guards scurrying out into the woods. "How about we provide the evening meal?" Lexa offered a smirk in Indra's direction.

- - -

CLARKE

Zik was sitting before the fire pit again, glaring at the cold, empty space before him. "I'm not sure it can be done."

Clarke shrugged, instantly regretting that she does so with both shoulders, and wincing. "Me either." She leaned back against the cave wall, absently poking at her broken arm with her other hand. "I have this friend. Raven." A deep breath in. "She would have made some machine that starts fires by now." She felt a smile tug at the corners of her mouth. "Or she would have just blown something up to start a fire."

Zik looks up at her, dark eyes wide, "Can we do that?"

"You want to blow something up?" She chuckled. Raven might like this guy.

"No. Build something that starts fires."

"I've thought about it. And if I'd thought of something that would work, I would have brought it up already."

"Oh," was his dejected reply.

"I can't help that I'm not the mechanical genius of the bunch. I'm just Clarke." She'd been calculating how to start this conversation for a while now, but she's never going to find a perfect opening, "Anyways...if I wanted to survive alone, what would be the best way to do that?"

"Planning to leave me already?" He scooted back to sit on the wall opposite her.

"Maybe," her response was honest enough.

"The best way is not to."

Clarke felt herself frown and her eyes narrow into a pointed glare, "But if I wanted to?"

"The best way is still not to."

"I'm not going to just die because you think that's the best way, Zik."

He tilted his head to the side, "That's not what I mean." She let her glare demand an explanation for her. "The best way to survive alone is to not do it alone."

"You're just avoiding the question," she huffed.

"No, I'm not." He pulled his knees in toward him, "There's plenty of ways to survive on your own, but the best way is to make limited use of other people." He shrugged and dropped his eyes to the cave floor, "It depends on how you want to live."

"Well, what are my options?"

"If you're really alone, you have to constantly be working. You find food, find water, make fire, cook. Everything you need to survive, you do yourself. You can't hunt too big or the food goes bad, you can't do too little, or you starve. If you get sick, things just keep getting worse." She saw his eyes carefully dart up toward her. "Or you can make use of trading posts. You can trade away food for other things you need or want when you have too much, or trade for it if you don't have enough. Could trade for medicine or clothing, too."

"That's not an enormous difference, Zik," she stated drolly.

He shrugged, "No, but it's a difference you feel when you live it."

"Have you?"

"Yes. Every warrior has, for a while. It's part of our training," he offered as explanation. "It all depends on how you want to live, Clarke. You have to think about your needs. Shelter, how far is it from food and water? How defensible is it? How does the weather effect it? Water is mostly a distance problem. If you find shelter nearby, you're set. Food can be a big problem in the winter. The plants die, animals burrow and sleep through, some animals move to warmer places. The rivers freeze over and you have to break through the ice to fish. Everything about finding food is harder in winter. Between food and the cold...I'd rather you just stayed with me, Clarke."

"Hey, I never said I was leaving you during winter. For all you know, I'm just asking to know." It wasn't entirely a lie, but Clarke did know she was planning to leave. She just didn't know when. "So about these trading posts, how does that work? How do you find them?"

He had one eyebrow quirked, questioning her. "How about I show you?"

"Okay. When?"

A sly smile dropped onto his face, "After my next return."

~*~

CLARKE

Clarke kicked at the presence trying to wake her. "Ugh, Zik, I was sleeping," she grumbled. The simple flesh wounds from the panther's claws and teeth had healed, leaving pink tender scars in their place. Itchy, but healed.

"Sorry, Clarke. I just wanted to bid you farewell before I left for Tondisi."

Clarke's eyes popped open. "Tondisi?" He nodded hesitantly. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He settled back onto his heels. "I wasn't sure you would want to know." His eyes refuse to meet hers.

"I..." She didn't know what to say. It could be exactly what she's been needing to ease her newest nightmares; a reason to move closer to Camp Jaha, and to peak in on her people. However, she was not sure if she wanted to say as much out loud. There was every possibility she could lose that desire the closer she got to her people. "We'll...talk about it when you get back."

Zik's brows drew together and his eyes finally met hers, searching. "Are you mad?" She shook her head tiredly. "Be safe, Clarke. Don't starve while I'm gone."

"I won't." Clarke scratched at her broken arm, growling under her breath at the annoying sensation of itchiness. "Might freeze, though. I'm gonna steal your furs the moment you're gone."

She saw his lips twitch up into a lopsided smile, much like the very first he gave her. It was her favorite expression on him, and in that instant, she had the urge to draw it. He bounced off his heels to stand, "Ste klir." And with that, he waved awkwardly and backed out of the cave.

Clarke sighed up at the stalactite above her, "Yu seintaim."

- - -

MONTY

Construction of the greenhouse had begun two days ago, though progress seemed slow now that all of their friends had been assigned other duties.

Monty balanced himself on a ladder, welding mask shielding him from the blinding sparks he generated as he worked to join two beams into a point at the apex of what would become the roof. Somewhere beneath him, there was the whir of a drill as Jasper worked on securing a newly cut plastic pane into the wall of the new structure.

The windows, like the rest of the greenhouse, had been scavenged from old parts of the Ark. Because the craft had had to endure the vacuum of space, every window of the Ark had been triple-paned. It had been an easy matter to remove a couple layers from each of the ground-level compartments. Maybe someday, they would need to ascend the structure to take from compartments still lofted in the air, but for now, what they had was enough.

Monty turned off the welding torch and descended the ladder, sighing as he placed the torch, then his mask on a wooden crate they were using as a table. He needed a break.

He settled to the ground, glancing over at Jasper, who was carefully measuring the next vacant space so that the pane could be cut to fit as tightly as possible. Jasper was sober, Monty knew. He had been steadily improving since they'd been assigned this project, and the longer it went on, the less Jasper seemed to need to drown his thoughts in moonshine.

It wasn't until Monty had casually mentioned Raven's design alterations that they had truly begun speaking again. Monty assumed that it had to be because the two of them, planning some illegal entertainment, felt like old times. At least that was how Monty saw it, he couldn't be certain how Jasper did. He was just glad to have his friend back.

Because of the time their work was taking up, they'd agreed to enlist their friends into the search for a sample. They wouldn't be able to grow until they had something to grow. Harper had had the misfortune of being assigned to the food preservation crew, but Miller and Monroe had been assigned together as a hunting team. It had been a simple enough matter to ask. They were all criminals in some capacity, after all.

Monty looked away from Jasper and caught sight of Miller and Monroe walking toward them. Monroe had something green in hand. He got to his feet, patient, but with a tiny flutter of excitement.

The excitement died as they came closer.

"Hey, Monty, I found something for you!" Monroe seemed proud, though she shouldn't be. Miller, to the side, just shook his head silently.

"Well, I'm not taking it," he said.

"What?"

"That's not what you think it is. It's poison ivy."

Miller burst out laughing, "Ha! I knew it wasn't, but you just kept insisting!" He turned toward Monty, "I told her it wasn't what you were looking for. Didn't know it would be poison ivy, though!"

Monty refrained from rolling his eyes as he shook his head slightly, "You need to go to Abby." He took in her expression as she seemed ready to toss the plant away, "And you might as well take that with you. Abby will know how to dispose of it properly." He leaned over and picked up his welding mask, "Maybe take a good look at it, memorize it, because trust me, you'll never want to touch it again."

Miller, still laughing, clapped Monroe on the back, and turned her toward the Ark. Monroe, herself, looked distraught.

Monty pulled his mask back on, and grabbed the welding torch. Their day might be over, but his wasn't.

- - -

LEXA

It was pure coincidence that Lexa happened to be doing something quite similar at that very moment.

The state of Tondisi had much improved in the four days since her arrival.

Three new huts sat near the southern edge of the village, though not quite completed. Two gona worked together thatching the roof of one.

Elsewhere, a large group was excavating the wreckage that remained of the underground levels, digging and making way a new building, and a new level.

Lexa, herself, examined a beam she was to slot into place in the frame of a gathering hut. A place of meetings, meals, and camaraderie. The corner joints were carved with notches, to slot into one another, the surface between planed smooth. Or it should be smooth. Lexa stared at the imperfection of a nodule of knotted wood raised beyond the rest. Without much consideration, Lexa retrieved the dagger at her thigh and smoothed the material with an abrupt flick of her wrist.

The dagger was sheathed and the beam hoisted into place for Lexa to lash into place with rope.

Maybe soon Tondisi would feel like a home again.

- - -

LINCOLN

The sun had just barely set as Lincoln returned to his tent within the Skaikru's camp. The particular group of two he had trailed that evening had impressed and surprised him, downing a buck by the time the sun met the western horizon.

Lincoln sketched the image of a flower into his notebook as he waited for Octavia's return.

The two had decided, together, that due to the kill order still in place on Lincoln, he should only work with those groups assigned to territories south of the encampment. That had left Octavia to deal with the northern groups. Lincoln found himself absently wondering when Octavia would return, as he shaded detail onto the leaves of his sketch.

At some point, he had fallen asleep. His notebook lay open against his chest and the charcoal pencil he'd been utilizing had rolled away onto the ground. Despite his slumber, the sound of Octavia's voice cut straight through him, demanding his attention.

Something had sounded not too right about her call, but perhaps she was merely frustrated with the group she'd had to mentor tonight.

Lincoln opened his eyes and sat himself up abruptly, notebook falling from him to the ground beside his bed furs. A quick glance determined that Octavia was not in their tent. Had he dreamed her voice? It wouldn't have been the first time.

"Lincoln! Come out here!" No, he hadn't dreamed it. That was Octavia demanding his presence outside their dwelling.

He felt a flash of muddled panic. Octavia could take care of herself, as she'd proven time and again. However, that didn't mean that something hadn't happened. But still, the fact that Octavia was back in camp should have been relief enough. Nothing too terrible could have occurred.

He pushed his way through the flap of furs at the exit of their tent, blinking to hurry his adjustment to the artificially lit compound. Beyond the bright lights the sky people were so fond of, the sky itself had blackened into night, the twinkle of brighter stars shining where heavy clouds did not obscure the sky. His eyes darted to find his only source of companionship in this world, Octavia. What he found was, at first, confusing.

The girl leaned forward against the right flank of a horse. The beast had no saddle, though it was bridled, the lead for which Octavia clutched onto tightly. The horse looked a dark brown, with dapples of some lighter color that was hard to make out in the shadows cast by the harsh lighting.

Where did the horse come from?

"Octavia?" he spoke gently, questioningly.

When he got no response, he moved closer to her, gently resting a hand on her back. There was a slightly flinch. Lincoln's eyes narrowed, she'd been hurt. "Octavia, what happened?"

She growled, before forcing herself to relax, visibly, turning toward Lincoln. She shrugged off the left sleeve of her leather jacket, exposing half of the sleeveless shirt beneath, and one arm. Blood dried down the length of her bicep, from a laceration just beneath her deltoid. He reached out to tenderly run his fingers around the wound, but she grabbed his hand, "No, Lincoln," and moved it toward her other arm.

Confusion rifled through him, but he turned his attention the other arm, eyes catching on the shaft of a broken arrow. "Who shot you?" This was why she'd only removed one sleeve of her jacket. The arrow secured the other to her forcefully.

Octavia bit into her lip and grunted as Lincoln grabbed the shaft of the arrow and shoved it through the rest of her arm. She took a deep breath in after the arrow left her before starting, "I was with Smitt and Reuger in sector eleven. In the northwest." She jerked her head in the general direction. "We were trailing a doe. It startled just before the first arrow struck a nearby tree."

Lincoln brought the bloodied tip of the arrow to his mouth and licked the end cautiously. No poison, that's good. He tossed what remained of the arrow aside carelessly, and began to gingerly remove the rest of Octavia's jacket.

"I told the others to run back to camp, and I fought our attackers. Three of them. They're dead, that's where I got the horse."

He nodded as he peered into the hole left by the arrow, unable to discern anything in the shadows. "We should get you to Abby. Who attacked you?"

Octavia swatted his hand away as he moved to guide her toward the Ark, "No. You can do it." She stalked toward their tent.

Lincoln had no choice but to follow after, ducking into their tent behind her. He pried open a chest of their belongings as she continued, "I don't know who. White face paint. Lots of weird face scars."

Lincoln felt all the muscles along his spine contract, tension rampant throughout him. He retrieved his medical supplies and turned toward her, "Azgeda."

She had seated herself on their furs, "The Ice Nation?" He merely nodded as he moved toward her, flicking on a lantern as he did so.

He began to carefully treat her wounds, flushing the wound with alcohol that had Octavia hissing and then opting to sew rather than cauterize the hole left by the arrow. "The commander needs to know."

"You can't just tell her, Lincoln. There's still a kill order on you."

He shook his head slowly, dismissively. "She needs to know."

Octavia seemed pensive as the needle made passes through her skin, "We'll tell Abby. We need to know." He knew this was not the imperial we, it was not just the two of them; she meant to reference the sky people as a whole. "She can decide if we tell the commander." And it was settled; arguing with Octavia was not something he felt like doing.

Chapter Text

ABBY

Abby watched from afar as Octavia and Lincoln helped Raven up onto Octavia's new horse.

It was hard to believe that it was only two days earlier that she had woken, startled, to pounding on the door of her quarters.

She had gotten up from the couch and glanced toward her bed. It wasn't made, but for the life of her, she couldn't remember the last time she'd used it.

"Abby! Are you in there? We need to talk." There was really no mistaking Octavia's voice for anyone else. The girl had an underlying rage that seeped into her words regardless of what she was speaking about, and surprisingly little patience for someone who had spent the first sixteen years of their life hiding under a floor panel.

Abby pulled herself out of the tired daze of wondering when she'd last touched her bed to walk toward the door, depressing the handle and pulling it open, "Octavia, what-"

She was cut off by Octavia shouldering her way into the room past her, before her grip on the door was knocked away and Octavia shoved the portal shut with a booted foot. "Last night, the group I was with was attacked."

Abby watched, shock contorting her features, as Octavia strode over to the couch and sat upon one of its' arms. "What do you mean they were attacked?"

"We were attacked," Octavia placed some emphasis on that pronoun. "We were on the trail of a deer. Getting close, too. Then there were arrows flying at us."

Abby shook her head, still standing, though she took a few steps closer to the couch, "Are you sure they weren't after the deer?"

"Abby, you may not have seen a grounder hunt, but they don't usually miss what they're aiming for," Octavia rolled her eyes. "Plus, after I told Smitt and Reuger to run back to camp, they didn't hesitate to fight me."

Abby felt her eyes widen, and a flutter in her chest as everything constricted slightly with the fear she was feeling. She wasn't certain whether she should be more concerned for what this meant or for the kids' safety. "Are you - are they - are you all okay?"

Octavia shrugged off her jacket, revealing her bare arms and a dark sleeveless top. "Yeah, Abby." She held up one finger in a warning to stop as Abby took a step closer. "I know you'll pester me until you see, I'm just getting that out of the way, but Lincoln patched me up when I got back."

Abby cautiously stepped even closer, willing Octavia not to get upset with her or prevent her from examining the wounds. The laceration to the left arm looked superficial, but the puncture in the right extended through the arm and out the other side. Lincoln's stitches looked a little ragged, but served the purpose for which they were intended. "Just keep an eye on that puncture. Arrow wound?" Octavia gave a sharp nod. "If it turns any weird colors, or has any drainage, then come see me, okay?" Octavia didn't offer any response to that, but Abby knew that all she could do was tell the girl what to look for and leave it at that. She was a stubborn one. "So what happened?"

"I killed them." Octavia cracked her neck, before continuing, "I mean, not much else I could do. Lincoln said, based off my description, that they're Azgeda. Also known as the Ice Nation. I guess I don't really know the extent of what's going on there, but they were definitely in Trikru territory. Lincoln says the commander has to be told about it, but I told him we'd tell you and you could decide if we tell the commander."

This fact surprised Abby a little, as the girl before her was practically half-grounder. And that was no surprise, as the girl had lived more on the ground than she had had the opportunity to in space. Abby moved around the arm of the couch to take a seat. "Are we sure the commander didn't send them?"

Octavia shrugged, "I get the impression that the Ice Nation are kind of the least trustworthy clan in the coalition. At least, the way Lincoln tells it. I don't see any reason the commander would send them instead of Trikru warriors. We know they keep tabs on us, anyways."

Abby furrowed her brow and turned toward the younger girl, "We do?"

"Yeah." She shrugged and then looked at Abby, obvious confusion in play, "You do know that, right? They haven't done anything but watch, but I thought it was obvious."

Abby frowned, "I suppose we had accepted that they were, but we haven't actually seen any evidence of it." She sighed at the thought of being so clueless as to their collective surroundings. "Are there more of them around, these Ice Nation people? Is it something we need to worry about?"

Octavia shrugged yet again, "I don't know. I haven't seen any others. The white face paint and the facial scars are kind of distinctive. But I think you need to tell any of the guard that are going outside the walls to keep an eye out. I don't know how it would have gone if it wasn't me with that group." There was a pause, as she thought, "Actually, I haven't seen them since I've been back, and who knows what else might have happened last night. You should probably make sure everyone is accounted for." Abby nodded, as she'd come to the same conclusion the moment Octavia admitted she hadn't seen the group since. "As for telling the commander or not...I don't know, Abby. That's why I brought it to you."

Abby leaned forward, elbow on her knee propping up her head as it came to rest on her hand. Telling the commander could go many different ways. They could be called liars, either by Lexa herself, or by these Ice Nation people. They could be attacked before even getting far enough to mention them. They could be laughed at, told it's completely normal for a group of foreign warriors to be there. Really, anything could happen. It would take more than a quick thought to come to a decision. "Anything else, Octavia?"

Octavia leapt off the arm of the couch, reaching the door in a few quick steps, "Nope." She ducked through the door, only for her head to pop back in a moment later, "Oh, I have a horse, now. The dead won't be needing it."

A horse! A mental puzzle piece, just the right size and shape, slotted into place in Abby's mind, "Octavia, wait!" She pushed herself up off the couch and moved toward the door, though Octavia hadn't made it far, as her form repopulated the doorway. "Can we borrow the horse?"

It didn't take much convincing at all to get Octavia to lend them the horse for the trip to Mount Weather, especially since Octavia hadn't had the time to form much of an attachment to the creature.

Octavia stood by as Lincoln strapped Raven's crutches securely to the side of the horse.

Reluctantly, Abby turned her attention to something much nearer - Marcus Kane - who'd been telling her something, though she didn't really have a clue what. "I'm sure you'll be fine while we're gone, Marcus. Jackson can handle medical for a few days. You still have plenty of guards. Our food stores are actually looking decent. You don't need me around here."

He gave her a concerned look, "You didn't hear a word I said, did you?"

She gave a guilty smile in response and conceded, "Maybe not all of it."

"I said I'm worried about you guys, and that you aren't taking enough guards. If there really are rogue grounders out there, you could be attacked on the way there. Or even once you are at the mountain."

"Marcus, it's a risk we have to take. We had to go back for the machinery, anyways. I'll radio in when we get there, alright? If you don't hear anything by dark, and we don't respond to the radio, you can come looking, okay?"

His response was merely a resigned nod.

"May we meet again, Marcus."

"May we meet again."

Abby took her leave of him, and made her way over to Raven, who sat atop the large horse now, left foot hanging beside the stirrup, not within it, leg immobilized by a new brace. The moment Abby had Octavia's consent to use the horse, she'd gone to Raven about the news, and suggested she make an immobilizing brace for the journey. It hadn't even taken Raven a whole day to make something that simple, the interior lined with strips of what looked like an old shirt, to keep any edges from digging into her, as a simple, slightly bent rigid metal sleeve encased her leg on three sides, strapping tight in the front.

"We finally ready to go?" Raven distracted her from her preoccupation with the current state of the other girl's leg.

"Yeah." Abby grabbed the reins of the horse, and started to walk toward the gate, "Are you ready?"

"M...mostly. Maybe?" Raven turned her head away from Abby as Abby glanced over her shoulder to look at the girl. "What if I can't be fixed, Abby?"

Abby stopped and turned back toward Raven, placing a hand over her knee, "Then I'm still going to do the best I can. And you are still going to be a beautiful, smart, whole individual."

Raven rolled her eyes, but snarkily retorted, "You think I'm beautiful?"

Abby shrugged, turning away and tugging at the reins, "Who doesn't?"

She felt a pull on the reins as Raven tried to tug them away from her, "Give me those! I'm not an invalid!"

Abby found herself chuckling and dropped the lead, letting Raven take over, "Just don't leave me in the dust, yeah?

- - -

LEXA

Thwack!

The sharp end of her blade sunk through a layer of bark into the living hide of the tree beneath.

Lexa stalked toward the dagger, that still vibrated slightly, stuck in the tree, retrieving the weapon and examining it as she returned to where she'd been, several paces away.

The blade tapered to a sharp point - very good for piercing - and was beveled toward each edge. It would slash and cut, but that wasn't what the blade excelled at. The metal of the blade was laced with curiously wavy patterning between light and dark - many careful reforgings done to produce the pattern in the metal. The hilt was a simple wood, polished just enough, but not so much that it escaped one's grasp, the handle flaring into a mock decorative hilt where it met the set of the blade, and pommel flaring out just beyond where a fist would grip tightly around it.

Lexa twirled the blade between her fingers. This blade was not made for throwing, despite how many times she had done so. This blade was the very one that had pierced Quint's arm as he dared to assault Clarke. It was the same knife Anya had given to her when she became her seken. It was by no means a special weapon, as for all that Lexa had taken good care of it, it was no more than an average blade. Except for what it meant to her. Memories had been forged on the sharp point of that blade. Memories with and of Anya, lessons learned, and battles won. She could have replaced it any number of times over the years, but it was pure sentimentality that led her to keep it by her side. And although the item overflowed with memories of Anya, someone she would never see or speak to again, it was the one memory of Clarke and this blade that had her mind enraptured now.

As the weapon had torn through Quint's arm, it had been a promise to protect Clarke. She'd said as much, in her own tongue, just after. Attacking Clarke would be like attacking her; at least to her. She'd even felt that pain, in her choice at the mountain, choosing her people and her head over her heart and her feelings for Clarke. Despite the lack of control over the choice that had to be made, it was very much like attacking a part of herself.

But that betrayal, that choice, that war aside, it didn't change the promise she'd made, the desire and will to protect Clarke.

She was not waiting for Zik.

He had come and gone already.

The only thing left on Lexa's mind was Clarke's safety.

Zik had not gotten the girl to come closer to Tondisi, and consequently, she'd been left for three days - six by the time Zik got back - without a means of warmth other than blankets and her own body heat. As if that were not dangerous enough, Zik had expressed concern over Clarke showing interest in going off on her own. More than in a temporary way. Clarke had asked questions about how to survive without the help of anyone else at all. And, if Zik was to be believed - and Lexa didn't have reason not to - Clarke had reacted poorly to news that she was in Tondisi.

All of this left Lexa in a poor mood. She loosed the dagger again, listening to the noise it made as it sunk into the wood of the same tree.

There was only so much Lexa could do to protect and help Clarke from so far away, and none of it felt anything like close to enough. She wanted so badly to be in Zik's place, and if she could be, if it were allowed, she would give up her position in a heartbeat to do so. If only Clarke would let her. And after this report from Zik, it seemed Clarke was reaching a limit on just how much she would accept from Lexa, though Lexa had hardly done more than send a few articles of clothing. The rest had been entirely Zik, though at her request.

Lexa moved toward the tree to retrieve her blade once again.

"Do I want to ask what has angered you?" Indra made her presence known.

Lexa adjusted the set of her jaw, fighting with herself internally. If Indra were just to berate her, it would be best for her to keep her mouth shut. If she could actually sympathize - well, wouldn't that be too much to ask? Lexa never got to be just a person, just a girl, just Lexa. She was always heda, no matter how much it might be nice to have someone to confide in, to converse with, to speak outside her own mind with. These days, it seemed to only be Zik whom she did so with, and then only because he was privy to her secret, and even then, not the whole secret.

"It might be best not to ask, Indra."

Indra sat herself on a fallen log halfway between the penetrated tree and the origin of Lexa's throws, "Might be." Indra seemed to muse for a second, watching her, "The boy knows something. Something that makes you both scared and angry, heda."

Lexa leveled a glare in her direction.

"I have eyes, heda. Your reaction to his presence is no secret, though you can rest assured that the contents of his report are.

Lexa yanked the blade free from the tree and stalked back across the woods, twirling the blade between her fingers. "I am at arm's length from a problem I would rather be immersed in. I go on with duties such as rebuilding Tondisi - for which we both know my attention is not required - and dealing with the current leaders of Skaikru because the problem I want to handle won't handle me."

Though her back was to Indra, she could practically feel the older woman's eyes narrowing in her direction, "The current leaders? That boy knows where Wanheda is, doesn't he?"

Silently, Lexa cursed herself. Indra was an astute mind, who had been by her side through more than one battle in the past and knew how to read her well. She tore her eyes away from the faint shine of reflected sunlight bouncing off the dagger in her hands, setting her jaw once again, "Yes."

"Then why don't you kill the girl, claim Wanheda's power, put an end to this Azgeda uprising, and be done with it?!" Indra questioned her furiously.

Lexa whipped around, loosing the dagger, which returned to the tree, striking the same spot as the last two throws, slicing deeper into the trunk of the tree, "Because that is not what I want to do!" The words were somewhere between a growl and a yell, though she tried to keep her volume low enough to avoid attracting attention. "Because whatever anyone else thinks or wants of me, killing Wanheda does not benefit my people!"

"If it stops a war amongst ourselves, is that not beneficial?" Indra was now the one spouting practicality.

"If we fight among ourselves, we aren't doing so because of her. That is a choice we make."

"So you choose not to kill her because it is only a belief that she is stronger than you that causes rebellion, and not something more?"

"Does it need to be more?" Lexa was growing increasingly frustrated, being backed into a corner. One more strike and she may have no options other than admitting the truth or shutting the conversation down altogether.

Both their heads turned as a branch snapped.

"Moba, heda. Skaikru kamp raun Maun-de," a scout announced.

Lexa heard Indra's growl as she stalked toward the tree and yanked her dagger free, "They're going back to the mountain? When did this happen?"

"I came from their camp as soon as I confirmed their direction."

Lexa leapt over a fallen log and a root cluster as she started off toward Tondisi, "Several hours' time. Indra, I'll be leaving as soon as I've gathered warriors, before the Skaikru have a chance to do much of anything."

~*~

ABBY

Abby helped Raven to slide off the horse, since she couldn't dismount properly, carefully taking on the girl's weight, as she pulled her good leg over the back of the horse and lowered to the ground.

Two guards were already pulling the heavy door open. She left Raven to unstrap her crutches herself and began to walk toward the door. Pointing to two unoccupied guards, she said, "You two guard the door. Radio if you see anything suspicious."

There was a compliant nod from the pair and she turned toward the door and the two who had just opened it, "You two, bring the rations in. Set them up in the dining hall on level five, then search the level. We're looking for food sources, preserved food, or any machinery that looks interesting."

Raven hobbled up beside her, "And for fuck's sake, don't rip it out of the walls, just note it down, and I'll take a look at it."

Abby felt a small smile quirk at the sides of her mouth, "What she said." She pointed to three more pairs of guards, "Level four, six, and seven. Same thing. Food, tech, don't break anything." She waited for them to enter the building and clear the way for her and Raven, jerking her head to the side, gesturing at the open door, "You and I have got medical and level three."

"Playing favorites, eh?" Raven joked. They both knew the truth; no one else would be of any use on that level.

"No - ah-ah-" Abby brought her hand up beneath her nose to try to stop the urge to sneeze as she took her first steps back into the mountain, but it fought its' way out anyways, "Achoo!" She let out a long, slow breath, hating the way sneezes felt, "Must be all the dust..."

Raven didn't disagree. They moved further into the mountain, which opened onto a level just above "level one", and made their way toward the elevator.

As it turned out, the elevator wasn't working. Raven took one look at the level display and told her, "It's not getting consistent power. Look, you can see it flicker. Better go for the stairs."

They did so, though Raven had to pry the panel open, connect a battery, and override the lock to get the door to the stairwell to open. The pair then stood back to let the three pairs of guards head off to their respective floors before them.

"Hey, Raven?" a voice called out from below them as they entered the stairwell.

"Yeah?"

"I think you're going to have to do that to all the stairwell doors. This one is locked, too."

"Ugh." Raven sighed in exasperation. "Everyone come back to my level, it's too many damn stairs if you make me do them all."

Abby watched as she pulled out several small battery packs from a bag and explained how to use them to force the doors to unlock. Mostly, it sounded like all that had to be done was connect the wires to the right colors, though Abby knew she'd have Raven with her and wouldn't need to memorize the process. As soon as Raven was done, they were on their way.

The two took their time descending the long, narrow stairs to level three, Raven making snide remarks about stairs when she wasn't huffing to catch her breath. A couple of overridden doors later, they were in medical.

They both ignored it when Abby sneezed again.

Abby walked toward the center of the room, glancing around. "I'm going to need one or two of those," she pointed to the blood transfusion machine on the wall, "but definitely not all of them." She pushed a door to an adjacent room open, trying to flick on the lights. "Raven, the lights aren't working."

Raven hobbled toward a breaker panel and opened the door, "Well, it's not the breaker. Might be a fuse somewhere. Or the generator might need more fuel."

Abby pulled out her radio, "Hey, the group on level five, when you're done, check the generator on level two to see if it needs more fuel."

"In the meantime, show me what we've got." She tossed a flashlight toward Abby from the bag she'd brought and set the rest on the floor.

"Well - oh!" Abby was surprised, shining the light into the room, "Well, I won't say no to an MRI machine, but it's not going to help with your leg." They tried another room, this one set up with a CT and a traditional x-ray machine. "These. These are what we need to figure out what to do with your leg." She pointed toward a radial telescoping arm attached to the ceiling, "That one will be the easier one to remove, transport and set up. Assuming we can't get power...but..."

Raven gave her a funny look, "But what, Abby?"

"But I'm thinking maybe we want to go back to Arkadia before we work on you anyways, so maybe it's not so bad if the power isn't working here."

Raven shrugs, "I'd rather recover there than in this forsaken place." She peers up at the ceiling-mounted device. "I can get that down, but I think I'm going to make you climb up on the table and do it. I mean -" she gave Abby an amused look, "- you wouldn't want me hurting myself, would you?"

Abby repressed the chuckle she felt, but gave a slight nod before looking up at the device herself. Privately, she was glad Raven wasn't in a rush to endanger herself, and she was quite right that climbing up on the metal table beneath it with a bum leg and crutches wouldn't be the smartest idea. Abby clapped her hands together and then promptly let out another sneeze, turning red with embarrassment, as she tried to ignore it, "What, uh - where do I start?"

"Climb up, I'll grab my tools." Raven moved back into the other room.

It took a while with Raven directing her actions, but the two managed to disconnect the device.

Power had still not been restored to the level, so as the two ascended the many stairs of the complex, they split ways at level two, Raven heading to look at the generator. Abby continued up to level one, sneezing yet again, and wiping a stray bit of moisture from beneath her nose.

Level one, as it turned out, was where all the agricultural projects were. Lights flickered off and on as Abby moved from room to room. Anything that had once been green and growing no longer was. Brown and dried husks of plant life remained in their place.

As she opened a door at the very end of the hall, she found herself instantly gagging at the affronting smell. She peered through moisture-laden eyes just long enough to make out a few corpses of what she assumed were some large mammal as she pushed the door shut again. She staggered away, dragging in breaths of fresh(er) air and trying to not to heave. Abby slumped against a wall, trying to recover.

Whether it were the smell or the horror, her head now throbbed with the beginnings of a headache and the unpleasant drip of her nose made itself known more frequently.

"Chancellor?" a quavery, questioning voice came through over the radio. No one called her by her title, and that was all she needed to know something was wrong.

She didn't have time to answer before the voice spoke again, crackling through the radio speaker, "You should come up to the door. We have company."

Abby leapt to her feet, and jogged toward the stairwell. Fortunately, the door was only one flight up, at this point. She navigated the halls back to the door and arrived just as a crack of light began to shine through. The door was opening.

She stood there as the opening widened, rooted to the place in shock as the door past the centerpoint of its' arc and revealed the grounders' commander, a guard by her side.

The commander, confident stride, warpaint in place like black blood dripping from her cheeks stepped forward bringing herself right up into Abby's face.

"Would you care to tell me what you are doing here?" The words spit from the commander's mouth, carefully enunciated with a perfect pause between each, dripping with authority and a dash of anger.

It was all Abby could do to prevent herself from swallowing nervously. However, as she opened her mouth to respond - to claim their innocence, their desire for medical technology and food and nothing more - since she didn't have the gall to tell the young leader that she had no business asking, instead, she sneezed. Right into the commander's face.

Abby could see the clench of her jaw, and the visible spark of anger in her eyes as she watched, mortified. However much she might be angry at the woman for what she did to her people, and to her daughter, it was never gratifying to have your sickness - or allergies? - fly literally in the face of your enemy. Lexa's arm extended to the side to block the approach of a furious guard.

She swallowed nervously after all. Abby could only hope that the woman wouldn't take the action as a personal affront.

Chapter Text

CLARKE

Clarke had lost track of how many days Zik had been gone. Was it four, five, was he supposed to be back already? Clarke no longer knew. What she did know was that it was dark outside. However, she knew this because she lay half inside, half outside their little cave.

She was bundled in every fur blanket they had, for all that it didn't stop her from shivering so hard her bones ached. Clarke didn't know how long she'd lain there, either.

Some days ago - or had it been only hours? - it had started with a cough. At first, she didn't think much of it, she just needed some water. However, a trip to the stream and thoroughly quenching her thirst didn't prevent the cough from returning, and her throat had begun to feel raw from the repeated expulsion.

Soon after, she felt too hot. Or too cold. It was difficult to distinguish which, she just knew she didn't feel right and that her body ached from repeated shaking, while her brow dripped of unwarranted perspiration, wetting her blonde hair to her scalp.

She'd been woken from a feverish sleep by an unpleasant churning in her stomach. The kind of rebellious feeling that made one certain they would not be able to eat for days. The kind of twist that spoke of an imminent and undesired vacancy. She had frantically rushed to the mouth of the cave as best she could, tangled in a mass of furs with only one good hand to keep them from beneath her feet. She had fallen to her knees and expelled the contents of her stomach only a step beyond the threshold. Was it the fish? Had her food supply gone bad so quickly?

Clarke had then fallen to her side, the left side, still cognizant enough to avoid placing her weight on a broken arm, and laid there.

And that was where Clarke still remained in whatever time had passed since.

She was a feverish, sweaty, dripping slip of a human tangled in a mass of tan and brown furs that lay shaking noticeably on the ground next to a pool of sick. Between the exhaustion and the ache, she had no desire to attempt to return to the interior of the cave.

Something about the cool breeze, the rustle of leaves, and the chorus of insect life calmed her. If she was to die of spoiled fish - or whatever this was - this wouldn't be the worst place to do so.

She wasn't quite conscious enough to dwell on the fact that she was so accepting of her potential death, and the ramifications it might have. So she didn't consider the fact that she may never see her mother again, or her friends, her people, or even Zik. She didn't ponder the fact that no one would know she had died. Or at least, no one but Lexa, when Zik inevitably told her. Would Lexa tell her mother? Not a question Clarke answered, or even thought. Her mind was a mass of pain and ache, and a strange numbness toward anything that wasn't physical.

She thought, at first, that the pounding was a headache - or at the very least, inside her head. The noise certainly seemed to reverberate within her skull. Though the ground shook as well, that was just her pounding pulse in her own ears, right?

It grew louder, and louder, and with a spark of panic that dulled to resignation, she thought to herself, Is this what dying sounds like?

Abruptly, the sound, the pounding, the echo in her head was gone. Am I dead?

But no, if Clarke were truly dead, the pain would go as well. Wouldn't it?

"Clarke?" the voice sounded worried and far, and almost like it slurred into her mind. It didn't sound right. She was hardly conscious of the fact that it was her name, and the recognition was gone in a flash.

There was a different sort of pounding, something softer, but just as hurried. "Clarke?!" Her body rocked. Was she moving? Was that a hand on her, or had the blankets matted to her sweat?

She opened her eyes. Or she thought that she did. Everything was still dark, and her eyes burned with the strange tensile stretch of their orbs rolling into the back of her head.

Suddenly, she was moving. She was either moving very rapidly, or death was a strange rush. She was hoisted into the air, and only vaguely aware of the furs pressing into her behind her shoulders, and beneath her knees. Her head rolled freely to the side and met with something firm, like a wall, but not as hard and unforgiving.

Then, she was being lowered, and she felt the cool stone of the cave floor through the blankets around her. Clarke startled and an incoherent mumbling escaped her - what was she even trying to say? - as a cool hand - was it even a hand, it was so cold - pressed against her forehead. As suddenly as it came, it was gone.

A slurry of strange, quiet noises echoed throughout the cave - or was the echo in her head? Then, an entirely different noise - the clink of glass upon glass - and the noise came closer to her again.

Half of her was lifted upward, something sliding beneath her head and shoulders. "Clarke? Clarke, listen to me." Something brushed against her cheek before she felt her mouth pried open. "Clarke, I need you to drink this. Please just, beja drein daun." Something cool and smooth met her lips, but a cough wracked through her and it was drawn away as her body shook violently. "Beja, Clarke, beja nou wan yu op." The cool material met her lips again, and a liquid worked it's way into her mouth, sticking at the back of her throat.

She wasn't sure if the urge her body felt was to cough or to choke, but a pressure at her throat, a careful stroke forced her to take the liquid down.

One more wracking cough made its' way through her on the tail end of the drink, her throat burning less than it had for the last hundred or so coughs, before whatever tenuous consciousness Clarke had was ripped from her and her mind plunged into darkness.

- - -

She woke briefly at the crackle of fire, and the radiant warmth accompanying it.

Though heavy and resistant, Clarke managed to open her eyes, rolling her head toward the fire, eyes unfocused and threatening to shut on her again.

Vaguely, she could make out the figure on the other side of the flames. Though their face was lit and free of shadows, her eyes refused to focus enough to give the figure an identity. But who else could it be other than Zik?

"T-t-told..." She swallowed at absolutely nothing, before continuing to stutter in time with the shivers in her body, "T-told you I...I m-might f-fr-freeze..."

"More like you might die." The voice was smooth and warm, but filled with sadness and a hint of anger. "You're sick. Rest."

"Wah...what happened?"

The figure shifted, and something was sliding beneath her head and shoulders again, "Clarke? Do you not remember?" All the anger gone, and most of the sadness morphed into worry.

"F-fish?" Had it been bad fish? What was there to remember? She turned her head toward the face that now seemed to hover over her.

"No, the food is fine. Rest, Clarke, please. I'll be here."

- - -

Clarke felt fingers card softly through her hair, a gentle tugging on her scalp as the result of tangled strands. She could feel the repeated ministrations, slowly untangling what must be an unruly mop of blonde by now. The shivering had seemed to have subsided, though the ache it had brought remained in her bones.

It was an odd feeling - being weak, sick, and tired enough that she didn't feel the slightest urge to move, but also being taken care of. It was relaxing, but to some mostly dormant part of her, also frustrating. Though she knew it was a lie, she was so certain she could take care of herself.

She struggled to do so, but opened her eyes, confirming Zik's presence above her, her head apparently in his lap. As his hands were focused on their actions untangling her hair, his eyes, already turned toward her, noticed quickly that she was conscious again. "Heya, Clarke." She felt him shift slightly as he reached for something, and a canteen was brought to her lips. "Drink."

She did so, without complaint, noting how the moisture soothed the abrasive interior of her throat.

Slowly, the canteen was taken away. She felt searching eyes upon her, probing into her own, "What happened, Clarke?"

She shut her eyes, the question itself was exhausting. She didn't know the answer, and if she'd had the energy, she would have let out a sigh at having to think at all. "I don't know," she almost whispered.

He shifted once again, and she opened her eyes again in time to see him swallow and look toward the ceiling of the cave, biting into his own lip, before continuing, "Clarke, I came back and you're half-dead by a pool of sick, out in the open! What did you do?!"

She swallowed, feeling her own teeth bite into her tongue slightly, "Nothing unusual..."

"Clarke! Really, you just-"

"Stop," she groaned. "I'll...I'll try to explain what probably happened." A long, slow, tired blink in the pause, before she questioned, mumbling, "How much do you know about biology?"

His brow furrowed, and he shook his head slightly, "I do not know this word."

"The...the human body. The way it works..." she let herself trail off. This conversation would be taxing even if she weren't exhausted.

A look of consternation covered his features, before he said, with a shrug, "Probably not much, in the way you mean it."

Healthy, Clarke would have rolled her eyes. Instead, she just said, "I figured." She struggled internally, about how to boil down years of biology, virology, and epidemiology into something simple enough to understand without all the extraneous knowledge. "Bodies...they're really good at fighting off sickness, usually. But usually, that's because people get sick with stuff the body has already seen. Do grounders tend to get the same kinds of sickness every year?" She waited for a nod. "So, I mean, some of that could be allergies, but probably most of it is a virus. It's a...a kind of thing that attacks a creature, but also changes a lot. Because it changes, the body doesn't always think it's the same thing, so it doesn't know that it knows how to fight it off already." She paused, before asking, "Does any of this make sense?"

Zik shrugged, "Maybe? I'm really not sure that I understand."

This time, Clarke actually did sigh, "When you get sick, your body learns how to fight that sickness, and then it makes these proteins - " She sighed again, " - we call them antibodies, but just...it makes things where the only job is to find and remove that particular sickness." Clarke could feel the exhaustion gaining on her, willing her back to sleep. A slight sheen of sweat broke out on her forehead.

Zik, without interrupting, reached for something, producing a damp cloth that he wiped her forehead with, before continuing onto the greasy strands of her hair that were long overdue for a wash.

"So the things, they're like warriors for a specific illness. They stick around, and if it comes back, they wipe it out. But if you've never been exposed to the sickness, you don't have any. That's why kids, the yongon, when they get sick, sometimes it's worse and they're more likely to die."

There was a slight nod of agreement, so that much must have been true for grounders.

"Us - the sky people - we lived in space. The only sicknesses we had were what managed to get there 97 years ago when we left the ground, or what mutated - er...changed - while we were up there. All the sicknesses that the ground had - has - that didn't come with us, we've never seen, and they would have changed differently than ours." He set aside the rag, sensing that her explanation was coming to a close. "So probably...what I think happened was just that I got sick. My body hasn't seen it before, so like a child, it was worse. My body just didn't know how to fight it."

There was silence as Zik's fingers moved through her hair. He seemed to be thinking, but it felt like he was braiding her hair. "I think I understand...enough of that." He seemed to shrug, "Ground sicknesses are new and dangerous for the sky people, sha?"

She tried to nod, but the attempt at effort was too much, "Sha, mostly. It's actually quite surprising we haven't gotten sick before now. Although...I guess I wouldn't know about the rest of them..." And she couldn't really bring herself to willingly give them more than a passing thought at this moment, either. She knew, if she did, the spark of worry would evolve into something much greater and more consuming.

"What did you give me?"

Again, there was movement as he reached for something beyond her sight, letting a half-done braid fall from his fingers. "This." He held a half-empty glass vial of a thin, yellow-tinged liquid.

"For the fever?"

Zik nodded.

She struggled against the wad of furs around her to release her arm, and beckoned, with an air of exhaustion, "Give me the med-kit." Instead of passing it to her, Zik simply pointed toward her side. Clarke looked to see that the kit lay there, open, beyond his current reach, but not hers. She tugged it toward herself and up onto her lap, blindly fingering the vials within. She tugged one from the worn elastic loop that had held it in place for who-knows-how-long. She brought it into her line of sight and peered at the contents. It looked like a very fine sand colored purple, though she doubted that it was actually sand. "What's this one for?"

He turned his head and squinted at the contents, perhaps the fire had cast a glare upon the glass, "That one is the cure for a particular poison the Azgeda are fond of."

"Azgeda?" she questioned.

"The Ice Nation," was the succinct answer. "They are a large nation. Cover most of the northern wastes, and extend south to the Trikru border."

She blindly tucked the vial back into its' slot, and pulled another free. This one contained a liquid, slightly blue if her eyes weren't playing tricks on her. "This one?"

"Cough."

She produced another vial, this one appeared to have small brownish oval seeds within, she held it up without voicing the question.

Zik leaned over her toward the med-kit and pulled another vial free, holding it where she could see. This one contained tiny green leaves, with seven points each. "Crush and mix these two with a little bit of water. Good for burns."

The pattern continued until there remained no unknown contents of the medical kit. Zik returned to braiding her hair, and Clarke shut her eyes.

"Tell me a story."

"What about?"

"How about your family. What do they do?"

There was silence for a moment, and Clarke began to wonder if it hadn't been a bad idea to ask, when Zik seemed to sigh and began, "Nontu is a hunter. A fisherman, if the weather is fair. Biga sis laik gona. Warrior and in charge of our village, now. Strisis makes clothing. A tailor? I think that's the word in Gonasleng."

"Yu nomon?"

There was another sigh, and Clarke opened her eyes to see Zik biting into his lip, staring straight across at the opposite wall of the cave, "Nomon was a warrior, also. She - she was-"

Clarke reached up to place her hand on his shoulder, "You don't have to tell me."

Zik merely shook his head, "If anyone should know, it would be you." Clarke furrowed her own brow in confusion, but didn't interrupt, "Ai nomon was in the second battle of Maun-de. We had tried many times to defeat the mountain before your people fell from the sky. Ai nomon lost her life to it."

Despite her fatigue, Clarke felt the words sink into her like a punch to the chest. This man - this kind, patient, loyal warrior who had been with her for more than a month - had lost his own mother to the very people she lost sleep and tormented herself over destroying. Of course, she had known that the mountain had been a problem for the grounders for decades. She had known that they had lost thousands of people to the mountain. But never before had she been faced with someone whom it had directly effected. Not that she had known about, at any rate, aside from Anya, who had only been in the mountain as long as herself.

Clarke was startled as she finally felt some realization. She had ended that threat, permanently. The grounders extorted a philosophy of 'blood must have blood,' but for all that they had tried, they had not brought their justice to the mountain. They had not managed their revenge on people who lived by stringing up their people as blood bags with a pulse.

Suddenly, it was no strange wonder that the grounders revered her. Thousands of their own people gone through the years, and Clarke had brought down their foe so entirely that not even the next generation could continue their work. Clarke had annihilated them, and left with every single one of her people, where the grounders had tried and failed for decades just to end the threat.

Lexa. Yes, Lexa had sacrificed her, and all of her people - or at least she'd been willing to. But Lexa had done it in exchange for the return of what people were still alive, and an assurance that there would be no more. Clarke wouldn't have made the same choice for her people, but Clarke hadn't been raised in a world where the mountain was an untouchable foe, where to be taken by the mountain was something worse than death. Clarke hadn't lost thousands of people to a looming and impenetrable threat. But if Clarke had, if Clarke had seen friends and family and even passing acquaintances vanish, never to be seen again as anything other than dehumanized monsters, then she might have. If Clarke hadn't had Raven and Monty, and Sinclair, and even Wick, to prove that the mountain's defenses were just another wall, she might have.

Killing the innocents, and the children of the mountain, that was still bitter. But what she had done would never measure up to the atrocity the mountain and its' inhabitants had been; and that was something of a small comfort. They couldn't ever come back and be a threat to her people again, or to Zik, or to any of the grounders. The days of children being told their parents would never return, and that if they did, they'd be monsters, were over. For the first time, Clarke felt almost a sense of pride at being Wanheda. It was a guilty pride; it was still tinged with regret and sadness, but it was something more than she'd had the day before - or whenever she'd last been conscious enough to think.

"I want to go to Tondisi," she felt the words tumble out of her mouth, and her eyes slowly widened in realization at what she'd said.

Zik's expression flickered between amazement, confusion, and concern. "You do?" he asked, incredulous.

She chewed into her lip, and then licked them rapidly, and nodded slightly, "Maybe not to Tondisi, but closer. A lot closer." She found herself swallowing nervously.

"You...you do?" Zik shook his head in disbelief, fingers losing yet another braid, "Are you sure? I thought you were mad at me for going...but you said you weren't...is this...is this the talk you wanted to have about it?"

"Yeah." Clarke averted her eyes slightly. "I wasn't sure I really wanted to...but I think...I think I can."

"You know you don't have to," he was reading the apprehension she unwillingly exhibited in her every expression. But as that was precisely what she felt, there was nothing she could really do to hide the feeling.

"I know. I want to."

He nodded in acquiescence. "When?"

"Soon," was as accurate as she could place a time frame. Delaying the journey would only make it harder to go, or make her apprehension regarding the status of her people worse.

He gave her a wry expression that was half frown, half cocky smile, "You need to heal. And should be resting, for that matter. We should see how you feel tomorrow."

If she'd had more energy, Clarke would have rolled her eyes yet again. "I am resting." She gestured to her prone position, "See, laying, hardly moving, letting you do all the work. Textbook resting."

"Sleeping, then?"

Clarke offered a pitiful one-shouldered shrug. "I'm tired. I'll sleep when it happens. Tell me another story. Maybe not about family this time, though."

She found herself smiling a bit as Zik hummed while thinking about what to tell her about. "I grew up with someone," he began hesitantly. "She makes pottery now. Really beautiful stuff. It's really popular in Polis, but she refuses to live there, still lives in our little village." He glanced away, wistful expression in place. "When we were goufas we got to play together a lot. We built this little cot in the forest out of fallen branches. We could go there and pretend anything-" a goofy smile lit up his face "-anything we could imagine, anyways."

A tired smile still in place, Clarke questioned, "Like what?"

"Like...being grown warriors on a mission. Or traveling across the ocean. Or living in the sky," he gave her a pointed little nudge.

"Where I was, not all it's cracked up to be. I bet what you imagined was better," Clarke said, smile twitching up into a grin, "Does she know?"

Instantly, his brows knit together in confusion, "Know what? What life was really like in the sky? I would think not, we were just-"

"No, no. Does she know you like her?"

Zik's eyebrows darted upward, and even with his dark skin and the the glow of the fire, she could make out the blush in his cheeks, "Umm....no?"

Clarke let out a soft chuckle that morphed into a cough, and Zik passed her the canteen. "Just don't wait too long, sha? Tell me more."

Zik chose not to answer the question, and continued with a story, "So one day, we had to sneak out of the village because we'd gotten in trouble for-" and as the story went on, interested as she was, sleep eventually overtook Clarke and she fell into what might have been the most restful sleep she'd had since Mount Weather.

Chapter Text

CLARKE

When Clarke woke the next morning, she felt much better. Not perfect, by any means, but certainly improved. Her throat was still sore, though water helped to sooth it, and her muscles all ached as if she'd exerted herself a great deal.

Looking around her, she found the cave to be empty. Zik had undoubtedly gone to get food, as she couldn't imagine him leaving her so soon after being ill just to tell Lexa when he could wait until the next time he was supposed to check in.

Sure enough, Zik came striding through the opening, carrying a pair of the fluffy-tailed creatures she'd seen in her trap the same day she'd fought with the panther.

"Hey, I feel better. We can leave today."

Zik gave her a look, but settled down next to the fire, pulling out his knife to begin preparing the animals to cook. Finally, he spoke up, "You do seem much better. We'll eat first, then leave." He looked up at her, right in the eye, "But only because I know you'll argue until you get your way, anyways. And no pushing yourself. We're in no rush."

The corners of her lips quirked downward into a frown, but she nodded nonetheless. Except that maybe I am in a little bit of a rush. It's been a month and a half since I've seen them, or even heard about them. I just need to know they're alright. But just as Zik knew when not to argue with her, she knew not to push him on this point, either.

She watched his actions carefully, as he skinned these creatures that were new to her, silently cataloging the process as she did so. When he was finished, the meat was diced and placed on a flat rock near a bank of ashes on the far side of the fire. This was fairly normal, as he'd explained weeks ago, when asked, that if placed directly in or over the fire, the meat would cook unevenly and burn at the edges. Cooking in this way was by no means a speedy process. Clarke could recall that many of the hundred's first few meals had, indeed, been fairly charred and tough to stomach, when still at all palatable.

Zik then retrieved the largest bowl they had and emptied two canteen's worth of water into it, placing it next to the fire so that one side was licked by the flames there. Greens of some kind were produced from his pockets, and shredded with the point of his knife after he let the flames eat at the blade for a moment, killing whatever may cross-contaminate between the last task and this. Clarke did her best to try to memorize the look of these greens. They weren't the first he'd brought back for them to eat, but he didn't do so often, mostly relying on meat to feed them.

The greens were then steeped in the boiling water, and Zik stirred the pot absently with the blade of his knife. As the meat finished cooking, it, too, was added to the watery mix. The concoction simmered for a while, until Zik pulled the bowl away from the flames. The mixture was doled out into two smaller bowls, though they only had one spoon. Of course, the spoon was offered to Clarke, and Zik sipped the cooling stew from the edge of his bowl, tipping it farther to let the chunks of meat and green flow into his mouth.

Then Zik packed away their furs, spare clothes, and everything else but the dirty dishes as Clarke finished her meal.

"Ready?" he questioned as she handed him her bowl. She nodded. Her bowl was placed with his and all the other dishes in the largest bowl, which he passed to her, implying that she was to carry them.

They both stood as Zik shouldered the bag of their belongings, grabbed up the saddle in his other hand, and stamped out the fire.

They exited the cave and Chess, Zik's horse, was saddled and burdened with the bag. With Clarke still carrying a pile of dirty dishes tucked between herself and her good arm, Zik pulled the horse by its' lead and they all journeyed to the river. Dishes were done in short order, Zik washing, Clarke drying, and Chess lapping at the near-freezing water of the flowing river. The dishes were packed away into the large bag, and they set off, Clarke now bearing only the meager burden of her small satchel of personal belongings, which at the moment contained only a gun and a knife she'd stolen.

They carried on through the forest, and a thick bank of drying brown and red leaves that had fallen from the trees, crunching despite the fact that Clarke did her best to walk as quietly as possible. Though, with Chess's plodding hooves, and disregard for where leaves and sticks lay, the noise she made was negligible in comparison.

Eventually, Zik spoke up, asking, "Do you want to talk about something?"

"Sure." She shrugged, "Your pick. Pretty sure I did all the asking last night."

A lopsided smile graced his features. "You usually do," he joked, thought it was certainly true. "How about your family? I know you don't have siblings because of the whole...air thing. Yu nomon en nontu?"

Clarke bit into her lip, maybe it had been a bad idea to let him ask, but she quickly schooled her features. "My mother is in charge of our people." Clarke paused pensively, "At least, she was when I left. And she's a doctor. Fisa."

The silence sat for a minute, as Zik waited for her to talk about her father and Clarke refused to do so before he ventured, "Yu nontu?"

"Stedaunon." It was somehow easier to say her father was dead in the other language. She felt Zik's eyes turn toward her as they continued walking, her own focused away from him, on anything else in sight. "Ai nomon frag em op."

"Moba, Clarke," he offered. It helped in no way, but that wasn't his fault. Nothing could bring a dead man back to life.

"It's not your fault, Zik."

"Is there anything you'd rather talk about?"

"How about those trading posts you're supposed to show me?"

"We should reach one tomorrow. I'll still show you. Is there anything you want?"

"Hmm," Clarke hummed as she thought of what might be a useful addition to their supplies. Or to her supplies.

- - -

RAVEN

When Raven had finally kick-started the generator back to life the other day, she'd wanted to radio her success, only to realize that Abby had her group's radio and she wasn't entirely sure where the woman had gone. By the time Raven had hobbled up to level zero, knowing the guards they'd left at the door had a radio, she was in time to see Abby flanked by a pair of grounders, their commander in the background wiping her face with the long red cloth of her pauldron.

The four of them walked toward Raven, who'd stopped in shock and - if she were completely honest - fear. Abby had looked tired, flushed red, perhaps with embarrassment, or maybe all those sneezes had been the beginning of some illness. Of course, now, days later, Raven knew that Abby had been both sick and embarrassed. Her nose was red and even without getting too close, she could make out the moisture gathering on the tip. Raven had been distracted from the observation by the commander.

"Sky girl, where is the nearest bed?"

Raven had felt a measure of shock at being addressed by the woman, concern for her friend, held lightly between two guards, and fear at what the sudden presence of the grounders meant. But Raven was not the kind of person to let any of those emotions show, if she could help it. Instead she had responded defiantly, "I have a name. It's Raven." She'd looked the other girl up and down, taking in the rigid stance, but otherwise lack of aggression. "Why are you here and why do you want to know?"

The commander had visibly straightened enough to give her the impression of even more height, but responded evenly, "Your leader is ill. She will be put in a bed and remain there until she is better. I have already called for a healer." Cold, calculating green eyes had focused on Raven. "As for my presence here, it is my duty to assure that your people do not become the next mountain men."

Raven had sighed. That made all the sense in the world, and it was precisely the reaction they had expected from the grounders upon their return. Despite the expectation, their being here still did not sit right with Raven. Unlike most of the hundred, however, her quarrel with the grounders was not about the mountain - she would have been captured in the explosion at the dam, anyways, and she hadn't known anything more than stories of the people who'd lived the mountain and helped their people. Instead, her displeasure with the grounders - and more specifically the woman before her - was at having been framed and tortured for something she hadn't done. Why the grounders couldn't even pause in their justice long enough to figure out who'd actually tried to poison Lexa, she couldn't understand. And it had resulted in a great deal of pain for her, and a litany of scars that covered her body in the aftermath.

On the other hand, if Abby really was sick, and Lexa had called for a healer...that could only be a good situation. A good sign. The woman wasn't striking them down for simply being here in the mountain. Biology was far from Raven's best subject - though she wasn't actually bad at any subject - but she knew that the stress and lack of sleep Abby had been suffering for the past month and a half would have made her prone to catching something.

And as long as her people had no ideas of actually becoming the next mountain men - and Raven had been included in enough conversations above her station to confidently say that they didn't - they should be fine.

So for the time being, she would oblige the commander, who had been growing visibly impatient as Raven had mulled over the situation. "Nearest beds are probably the quarantine ward on level three."

"Where is this 'level three'?"

"Eh...think of this level as level zero. The number increases the deeper you go in the mountain." A brief look of confusion flashed on the commander's face, so quickly Raven wasn't sure she'd truly seen it. "Come on, let's go see if the elevator works now."

Raven had led the way on her crutches to the elevator and jabbed at the button on the wall as Lexa observed curiously. After a moment of awkward silence, Raven had thought to look at the level display again, to see if the machine was actually working. In doing so, she saw the same flickering display they had the first time they'd tried to use it. Raven had rammed one of her crutches into the door angrily, "Fuck! I just fixed the damn generator, too!"

For the first time since her arrival, Abby had spoken up, "You'll figure it out, Raven. You always do. Just show them the stairs."

Raven had observed as Lexa gave the older woman an approving look. So Raven had done just that, shown them the stairs, pointed down, and told them that the third door they passed would be the right one. That had been roughly a day and a half ago.

Raven wrinkled her nose awkwardly beneath the face mask she'd found in medical as she hobbled toward Abby's temporary room. Raven had found a whole pack of the face masks, and had already passed them out to almost everyone who wasn't sick. Which, as it turns out, was just her and the grounders. Or most of the grounders - one had caught whatever Abby had. Most of the grounders had looked at her with amusement or mild dislike when she'd given them the masks, but she'd shrugged and said that if they didn't wear them, it would be their own faults when they caught "sky sickness." Calling it anything they were unfamiliar with was apparently a scary enough motivation for them to don the silly looking papery masks.

She opened the door to Abby's room without much concern for noise - Abby startled noticeably out of her sleep as the door slammed into the wall. The commander merely glared at her from a chair.

Raven ignored the silent rebuke and shuffled over to the bed, propping her crutches against the wall before dropping onto the mattress next to Abby, her back against the headboard, in the space created when the older woman shifted over.

"Here. So you don't get sick." Raven held a mask out toward the commander.

Lexa shook her head slightly, eyes narrowed.

"Look, I already argued with all of your stupid people to get them to wear them, and you know you can catch this, you already have one sick guy. Just wear it." There was no concession from the commander, so Raven decided to switch tactics. "Do you have any warpaint?"

Lexa looked skeptical as she withdrew a small jar from some inner pocket and passed it to Raven, eyeing her in such a way that conveyed a warning. A warning of what, she wasn't quite sure.

Raven opened the jar and dipped a finger in before proceeding to finger paint on the unused mask. She painted the scariest maw, fangs and all, one could finger paint onto the thin papery mask.

With a pointed look, and a bit of an unspoken challenge, Raven passed both objects to the commander.

The warpaint was tucked away, and the mask was given a very long look before the commander finally pulled it on. Raven bit her lip to avoid the temptation of laughing, knowing the commander would remove the mask if she did so.

Abby stirred next to her, tapping her arm, "We need to go. We need to go, Raven."

Raven quirked a brow upward, questioningly, while turning toward her friend, "Abby, you're still sick. That's probably not the best idea."

"It's just a cold, Raven. I'll be fine."

Abby said that, sure, but Raven wasn't entirely convinced. She knew if anyone could identify the illness, it would be the doctor, but that didn't mean Abby wasn't trying to downplay the severity in order to get out of here sooner. The symptoms matched. Abby had the runny nose, that occasionally decided it wanted to be congestion instead. It made her heart clench watching the woman struggle to breath through a snot faucet, and although the congestion couldn't feel good either, it sure seemed to be the preferable option; not that either of them had any control over it. She also knew, through observation, that Abby had a headache on and off, and that muscle aches had set in practically the moment they had gotten her to a bed. She was fairly certain the woman's throat had to be sore, too. Though, while all the symptoms matched perfectly, their severity didn't. Or at least, it felt like it didn't. The common cold was one illness that had found its' way into space, and everyone had had it at one point in time.

This looked worse. Abby seemed completely drained, although, she supposed, some of that could be due to how run down the woman had let herself get.

Before Raven could voice her doubts, Abby continued, "We've been here too long. The grounders-"

"The grounders are right here, Abby kom Skaikru, " Lexa interjected. "And as long as you are sick, you are staying in that bed. And as long as I am here, I am confident you will not turn into the mountain men before my eyes." Lexa got to her feet and moved to the end of the bed to look at Abby more directly. "Unless you wish to tell me that that is your purpose here."

"No. We just need food and-" Abby sneezed in such a way that Raven winced. It seemed painful. "And we need some of the stuff from medical."

Raven gently rubbed Abby's arm. She wished that she wasn't sick, that none of them were sick. It made being stuck here longer and worse. And with the grounders hovering about, it made them all very anxious. Granted, one of their healers had come and helped them as much as they could, but there wasn't much that could be done for the common cold.

Although Raven's eyes were on Abby, she could practically feel Lexa's eyes narrow in their direction, "You will not touch the weapons?"

Abby struggled to sit somewhat upright, "We'll take the guns. That's no different than what we already have. I promise we won't touch the missiles, though. I can even have Raven disable them if you want."

Lexa glanced between the two of them, "This is acceptable. You can disable the missiles?" Raven nodded. "Could it be undone?"

Raven tilted her head to the side, thoughtful, "I could make it so that it certainly isn't easy."

"And you will not attack my people?"

Abby wiped at her wet, dripping nose with a tissue before stating, "If you don't attack us again, no, we won't."

They watched as Lexa drew herself up to her full height, "It is unfortunate that that had to be our meeting, but the murders had to be answered for."

Raven felt her heart clench. Finn may have cheated on her, and fallen in love with someone else, but Raven had loved him. The boy had been her only family, even if that hadn't felt as true in his last days.

However, Raven was surprised when Abby objected, stating, "No. One of our hunting groups was attacked in the night a few days ago. By your people." Raven was surprised she hadn't heard about this sooner. Who had been attacked? Obviously someone had survived, if they knew what had happened. "And for all I know-" Abby's voice cracked noticeably, "-my daughter was killed by them, too."

Rage consumed the commander's features, although Raven wasn't sure what at - the accusation of her people attacking theirs? "I authorized no attack on your people, Abby kom Skaikru. And your daughter is not dead."

Both of their heads whipped toward the commander, Abby jerking upright in the bed, "She isn't?!" Tears escaped from her eyes and Raven wasn't sure if she should hug the other woman right now. "What do you know?"

Lexa's jaw shifted side to side, the motion not hidden despite the mask on her face, before she demanded, "Tell me of this attack against your people, first."

Abby glanced at Raven briefly, although Raven had no idea why. Was she not supposed to know the details of the attack? Should she excuse herself? But before she could offer, Abby spoke, "Octavia was with them. She killed the people that attacked them, but they were definitely trying to hurt my people. Octavia said that - and this is based off of her description of them to Lincoln - that they were...Az-something. Ice people? Does that make sense?"

An audible growl came from the commander, as she turned away from them and took two tense steps toward the door, "The Ice Nation!" She whipped back around, her cloak furling out around her with the motion, "Where? How many?"

Raven dropped an arm behind Abby to brace her as she noticed the tension and struggle the other was having in remaining upright, "Three. Northwest of our camp somewhere. You'd have to ask Octavia to be more precise. Now what do you know about my daughter?"

Raven noticed the flash of expressions as Lexa visibly reigned herself in at Abby's aggressive demand. The woman did surprisingly well at refusing to rise to the challenge, though that might not have been the case if any of her own people were in the room. "I know that Clarke is alive. A small village found her some time ago."

Raven could feel Abby shaking in her arm, "Where? When? Was she okay?!"

Lexa's face dropped from the stoic expression to something that spoke of consideration, though only her eyes were visible, and she began to pace the width of the room. At her third pass of the bed, she stopped and turned toward Abby, "Consent to negotiations and a treaty of peace between our people."

"And?"

"And I will bring you someone who has seen Clarke personally."

"When?" The note of excitement from Abby twinged with apprehension. What kind of person would they get? Someone who had seen Clarke in passing? Had she stayed at the village? Lived with someone? How much knowledge could just one person have about Clarke? If the trade had been for anything more than something they already wanted, Raven would have expressed her concern over the arrangement.

"Five days. Provided you are well and returned to your camp."

Nothing in the rest of Raven's day could compare to the importance of that moment.

Instead of working on fixing the power problems - which were strange, something was shunting all available power to level five - she had to disable a silo of missiles. With Lexa hovering over her shoulder, personally asking questions about what she was doing, and why. Raven wanted to tell the girl to piss off so she could do her work, but for Abby's sake, for her getting to finally find out how Clarke is, she resisted the temptation to upset the grounder leader.

Taking a break from the missiles, the two had discovered a motor pool, filled with military grade vehicles. Raven would have leapt in excitement if her leg had allowed for it. The commander had confusedly asked if they were weapons. She had explained it to the woman as a kind of horse that didn't get tired and had no mouth to feed, even though Raven personally thought that that explanation was a horrible disservice. Later, she would find out if any of them still worked.

~*~

CLARKE

The cold air nipped harshly at the tips of her ears and nose. She was sure they'd turned a bright pink by now, as she and Zik tromped through the forest alone. They'd left camp that morning without Chess and the bulk of their belongings.

Clarke would have been baffled, if she hadn't just outright asked her companion for the reason. And the reason was a simple and delightful one; they needed to find something to trade.

The two placed their feet with care and kept their ears tuned to the noises around them. Clarke couldn't help but be mildly distracted by her own excitement at the prospect of going to a trading post and seeing how things worked. Although she hadn't seen anyone but Zik in over a month, and maybe human interaction should be something she was interested in, it wasn't. In fact, if anything about the upcoming lesson unnerved her, it was having to interact with someone she didn't know. Instead, what excited Clarke was partially the prospect of learning something new, but also the idea that this knowledge might be what she needed to be able to live out here alone.

She was distracted from her own thoughts by Zik's motion for her to stop. Clarke had to quickly survey their surroundings to understand why. What she saw was a large buck behind a strand of trees several yards from them. She observed as Zik positioned himself where he had a clear shot and drew back his bowstring, before loosing an arrow to pierce into the side of the animal. Just as he had once told her, the pointed weapon sunk into the animal's chest between the fourth and fifth rib. Clarke could just barely make out the sound of a rasping panicked breath the moment before the large animal dropped sideways to the ground in a heap of limbs.

Clarke took a step toward the animal and addressed Zik without looking at him, "Why did you kill it? You didn't kill the last one, you said it was too much for us to eat."

Zik passed her, moving toward the animal, a fallen branch - when had he picked that up? - in hand, "Too much to eat, but not too much to trade." He gave her a silly grin over his own shoulder. "You remember where we left Chess?" he said as he knelt next to the deceased deer. "Go bring him and our belongings. I'll prepare the trilipa to take with us."

So Clarke had had to find her way back to their camp from the previous night. She felt exhausted. Although Zik had enforced them going slowly, preventing Clarke from exerting herself too much, she still felt utterly drained from the past day of travel. For what was not the first time, Clarke second-guessed leaving the safety of their cave so soon after being sick. At the pace they were moving, there was no way they'd be reasonably close to Tondisi by the time Zik had to leave her again.

She found her way back to Chess with relative ease. The constant memorization of forest landscape enforced upon her by Zik's methods of teaching her to walk quietly had done much to improve her navigational abilities. All she had to do was retrace their path, even if it was a bit circuitous, it got her where she needed to be. She retrieved the whickering horse, who was already laden with their gear, and led him back to Zik.

By the time she arrived, the deer had been loaded onto some kind of makeshift litter. How he'd built something so quickly escaped her. Zik gave her an approving look, either at not having gotten lost or not having to be found, before he trussed up the litter to the horse, to drag along behind it.

The trading post was far closer than Clarke expected, although she suspected that Zik did that on purpose so that they wouldn't have to transport the deer far. As they approached, Zik stopped them before they could leave the treeline into the small clearing that held a single building, a small stable, and heaps of crates and random gear scattered about.

Zik pulled a worn old cloth from the bag of their stuff and passed it to her, stating when Clarke looked at him with confusion, "Cover your hair."

"Why?"

He gave her a sort of sympathetic look, before offering an explanation, "Everyone knows Wanheda has golden hair. And while I think all of my people are happy to be rid of the mountain, there are those who would fear you enough to act against you. It would be better if they didn't know where you are. Or for others not to know who you are."

Clarke looked down at the cloth in hand. She had considered, long ago, shortly after leaving her own people, that the grounders may want to kill her, but it had never been stated so bluntly. Unfortunately, it made sense. If she were honest, she feared herself and what she'd proven capable of - why should it be any different for others? She wrapped the cloth around her head, tucking the ends and her hair into the collar of her jacket.

"Anything else I should know?"

Zik nodded, turning toward the building before them. He pointed to a sign above the door, painted with what looked like greek symbols. "That is the mark of a trading post. Inside, you are my seken. Let me talk, and if you must, use only Trigedasleng, sha?"

Clarke scrunched her face in something between confusion and derision, "Why are we pretending I'm your second?"

Zik held up a finger, "It gives you an identity other than Wanheda." A second finger joined, "It gives us reason to be together." A third finger, "And it excuses your injury as one of training." He pointed to her still-slung arm. "Are you ready?"

Despite the mulling, turbulent anxiety within her, she nodded sharply. They made their way into the clearing. Chess was lashed to a post and relieved of the burdensome weight of the deer, which Zik dragged on the litter toward the door, which Clarke held open for him.

Once inside, Clarke was overwhelmed with the sights of the trading post interior. The walls were lined with shelves, each stuffed full with various items. A long table ran the center length of the room, surface covered entirely. Items were even piled on the floor along the walls, in some places so much so that to walk, one would have to step over them. There was so much here, that Clarke was certain she wouldn't ever know what all of it was. The items varied from bones and antlers to rusted blades, a big round shield was mounted on one wall, and an abundant variety of plants were sorted into piles. Some of what she saw certainly looked like it had survived the old world - a coiled length of rusty barbed wire, a dusty circuit board that Raven would probably have snapped up in a second.

She was snapped out of her reverie by the sound of Zik conversing with someone new. In her distraction, she'd failed to notice the young man - who honestly looked to be her own age - entering the room.

She listened as Zik listed off the things he knew they needed, a series of grounder words that, as the items were produced, she recognized as what must be the proper terms for the missing and depleted contents of their medical kit. The younger man tried to start a negotiation about how much of the deer they would trade for the medicines, but Zik cut him off, saying something to the effect of "We only want to keep enough for dinner." The trader looked surprised, but expressed that they should get more for their trade, then. Zik laughed, and patted the young man on the shoulder, saying, "I never said we weren't trading for more."

Zik left the litter and, consequently, the deer, with the young man, who dragged it off to another room, ostensibly to remove the meat they'd be taking with them without damaging the precious hide of the creature. Zik walked around the table to a pile of weapons, examining the contents of the disorderly pile with care. Clarke rounded the other side of the table, stepping over something large and wooden in the process and coming to Zik's side.

She observed as Zik extracted a short-sword from the pile and extended it to Clarke, who had no choice but to grab at it with her good hand. "What do you think?" Clarke just looked up at him in confusion. "For when your arm heals, and I can teach you."

Clarke felt understanding, and even excitement flood her. She glanced at the blade. As she would expect from Zik, he'd picked one truly free of rust, though she wasn't sure the blade was very sharp. Though, Clarke thought to herself, perhaps that's for the best if I'm to learn with it. She hefted the blade carefully, feeling the weight of the blade. It didn't feel bad, though it was heavier than it looked. She wasn't sure what one looked for in a blade other than how sharp it was, to be honest. She returned her eyes to Zik, "I think it's okay. I don't really know what to look for."

Zik nodded and took the blade from her, balancing it in one hand and then giving it an experimental flourish. He placed it on the end of the table behind them, and added a scabbard to what would become a pile of their desired trades. He then picked up a length of tough leather, and Clarke startled as it was wrapped around her waist, before she realized that the item was a belt and he was making sure its' length fit her. She blushed, realizing that he had either noticed the ill fit of her pants, or it was simply something to attach the sword's scabbard to. One of those would be more embarrassing than the other. The belt, too, was added to their pile. An odd stone was plucked from a precarious stack of them and added to their growing mound. Clarke vaguely recognized it as a whetstone, like she'd seen Zik use on his knife time and again.

They rounded the table, but Clarke stopped as they passed something that caught her eye. It was a shirt, a blueish-charcoal color, almost like the sky after a heavy rain. She couldn't resist as she brought her fingers to touch the soft fabric, the only visible hole one at the cuff of one of the long sleeves. Clothing had never been something she'd had much of. Clothing was rationed like anything else on the Ark, and the moment something was outgrown, it was returned for someone else to use. But even then, Clarke had had a few options. More than she'd had for the past few months, at least.

She was about to move on and rejoin Zik when she noticed he was looking at her, a soft smile in place. He gestured silently for the item, and she obliged. He held the shirt up before her, silently evaluating the fit. Clarke was certain it was a bit too large, but that had never been a real problem. It was better than the alternative. Apparently both the fit and the shirt were deemed good enough, as it was added to their pile, just in time for the young trader to reenter the room.

Zik seemed to have very little trouble negotiating the trade, as the trader was quite happy with the leather, antlers, and meat he was gaining. At times, Clarke found the Trigedasleng hard to follow, as for all her practice with Zik, they'd never really made an effort to increase her fluency with the language. She did briefly hear a reference to her being his second, and if she wasn't mistaken, a new one at that. She couldn't really argue. Being his "second" was certainly new news to her, at the least, and it did explain the supplies they traded for rather well.

Not long after, they left with their dinner and their new possessions to return to their journey toward Tondisi.

- - -

ABBY

Abby was fed up with being stuck in bed. In the quarantine ward, no less, where everything was sickeningly white. There was an old adage that doctors made the worst patients, and as much as Abby didn't want to live up to it, she couldn't help but squirm and argue at being kept in the room. Both Lexa and the healer she'd had come to the mountain were oddly good at ignoring her complaints.

Most of the time, Abby was alone in the room. She wasn't happy about Lexa having the run of the mountain, but it was almost as bad when the girl was in the room with her. The younger girl seemed completely at ease in an endless awkward silence, seemingly thinking, or just staring at Abby. If she'd been any healthier, she'd have had to fight off the desire to physically eject the girl from the room.

Lexa entered the room, interrupting the respite Abby had had from the other leader.

"Abby, I think we have found food."

Abby pushed herself up onto her elbows, "What do you mean might?"

The look on Lexa's face was odd as she said, "Well, my people are not certain it's actually food. There's a room full of it on level two."

"I guess...send Raven to have a look at it, if no one else is healthy."

Lexa poked only her head out the door and she could vaguely hear a commanding tone before she reentered and shut the door.

Abby observed for a moment, grabbing a tissue and wiping at her nose as Lexa took up her normal spot in a chair by the wall, crossing her legs. "Why did you do that?"

The younger girl turned her head toward Abby, "Do what?"

She slumped back onto the bed, "Look for food. For us."

"It would be a waste of my time to do nothing, Abby. You expressed your people's purpose here, and you are indisposed. The sooner your people leave the mountain, the better for all of us."

"Well...thanks, I guess...if what you found was actually food. And edible."

A long, uncomfortable silence settled over them as Lexa ignored the thanks.

When she could take the tension no longer, she spoke, "Why did you betray us at the mountain?"

Of course, this only made the tension in the room multiply, as Lexa grew visible stiff and the silence pervaded. Finally, Lexa said, "My duty, first and foremost, is to my people. The offer was for all those alive to be released and no more to be taken. All I had to do was leave the fight."

The quiet reconvened for a few long minutes before Lexa again spoke, "The mountain...was not supposed to be a war we could win. I thought the offer itself was a victory. If my people had found out I had sacrificed any of them when I didn't have to, they would have my head."

Surely she didn't mean that literally, right? But everything she knew about grounder culture backed up the statement. Abby found herself considering what she might have done in the same situation, but it just seemed so...impossible. "But the mountain could be defeated. It was. Clarke proved that."

Lexa nodded slightly, her eyes focused on some point near the foot of the bed, "She did. And now my people think me weaker than her. This belief allows dissenters within my coalition the opportunity to revolt. This allows those like Azgeda to step into my territory and attack you."

"Do you wish you'd fought with us instead?"

Lexa paused and seemed to consider for a long moment before she shook her head slightly. "No. In fighting, inevitably some of my people would have been lost. I made the right choice for them."

Abby propped herself back up onto her elbows, "So why should we negotiate with you if you won't stand by your word?"

A piercing gaze was fixed upon her, "If ever my people are pitted against yours, there is no choice. I will choose my people, as I must, and next time you will know to expect this. In all other matters, I vow to keep my word."

She nodded, exhausted, "Okay. We never wanted to have to fight." She lowered herself back onto the bed and rolled onto her side, away from the room's other occupant. "We thought the world was empty, and that no one was alive down here. We were wrong."

There was something odd in the tone of the other's voice as she responded, "We never thought that people lived in the space beyond the sky."

Abby rolled over and gave Lexa a questioning look, "Figured out that it's not really the 'sky' we're from, huh? How?"

The younger woman shifted her gaze to something at the other end of the room, so Abby could hardly see a sliver of her eyes, "I have read books of the old world. Many idealized travel and life beyond this planet. My people may not be familiar with the concept, but I am."

Lexa stood, abruptly, and began walking toward the door, "I am going to gather my people and return to Tondisi. When you leave the mountain, you will do so with all of your people. I will come to your camp in four days, Abby kom Skaikru."

Abby had no time to protest or respond as the girl moved beyond the threshold, and instead pondered how odd it was that the grounders would just leave like that. Although, with Raven having disabled the missiles already, it wasn't so strange. Their major source of concern was gone, so they must think there was little left to worry about.

Then she turned her mind to the promise of four days from now. Who would come with Lexa to Arkadia? And what would they know about Clarke? For that matter, what was there to know about Clarke? She had been alive 'some time ago', not that the commander had ever specified when that was, but what if she wasn't anymore? Or what if she was and all this time, she'd simply refused to come home? Was this even home to Clarke? Abby exhausted herself endlessly with questions about Clarke, and despite her tiredness, despite her aches, her restless mind kept her awake.

Chapter Text

LEXA

Lexa found herself pacing along the west end of Tondisi, just past the makeshift wall of rubble, boots wearing a muddy rut in the half inch layer of white fluff that covered the ground. The sun had already begun its' decent through the sky, and with each passing moment, it grew slowly darker.

The first snow of the season had fallen the previous day. In some respects, of course, it made her worry about Clarke. Everything seemed to make her worry about Clarke. But what also concerned her was how the rebuilding of Tondisi would progress (or not) if more snow fell. The half inch that lined the ground was hardly anything, but it could still become a problem. The moisture in the ground, if it were to melt, could destabilize what they'd managed to excavate in the way of new underground levels. They would have to reinforce the earthen walls quickly with proper building materials if they wanted to avoid problems.

Everyone else was gathered around a fire enjoying food together on the other side of the town. Their laughter could be heard faintly, even as far away as she was. This left Lexa alone with her thoughts. Not that she would be good company, anyways. For one, she was never allowed to just be herself, and relax among common people. The stress of that, and the knowledge of it, had been getting to her lately. Or perhaps, it was the added stress of her mounting anxiety about Clarke that had led her to be more forthright than was wise with Clarke's mother.

By all rights, the woman was supposed to be her enemy. Not an enemy Lexa wanted, but one she had. For now. Perhaps that would change when she entered into formal negotiations with the sky people.

And yet Lexa, instead of refusing to justify her actions at Mount Weather, had instead done just that, and explained to Clarke's mother her reasons. Lexa kicked at a stone in the path of her pacing, hearing it strike a tree as it sailed away from her. Perhaps Abby was simply the closest thing Lexa had to Clarke. Perhaps she had felt the need to explain to her because she could not explain to Clarke.

Whatever the case, it had been inappropriate for her to do so. She had recused herself from the conversation, and from the mountain, shortly after. Before she was tempted to reveal anything more.

Because, of course, there was much that Abby kom Skaikru did not know. Namely, things that involved her daughter.

And that was the reason, of course, that Lexa was alone and pacing at the edge of the village. And the other reason she would not make good company at the moment.

She was waiting for Zik. And as usual, doing so was a moment in time when her apprehension and worry for Clarke came to the forefront. The time in which she waited to hear about Clarke felt like the rest of the world was standing still. There was nothing that felt so important as the knowledge that Clarke was well and taken care of, and if the world wasn't literally burning around her, the rest could wait.

Normally, the man was punctual, wasting no time. He arrived early, made his report, and left again with any mucking about. Today was not the norm, and that worried Lexa. A great number of things could have happened in the past ten days, and she just had to hope that Zik was merely running late.

She heard the galloping hooves before they were in sight, a modicum of relief flooding through her, and Lexa freed her horse of its' tether and mounted in preparation for the arrival.

Zik slowed as he neared, the sound of hooves dulling. Even in the shadows cast by the trees in the dying light of day, Lexa could see the slight confusion he had. Lexa merely said, "Come with me," as she dug her heels into her steed and started off into the forest.

For several minutes, Zik followed on his horse in silent acceptance. However, it must have struck the man as odd that they continued further and further from the village, far beyond what one could expect prying ears to cover. He spoke up, asking, "Heda, where are we going?"

Lexa didn't spare the glance behind her, but answered, "We are going to see the Skai leader, Clarke's mother."

It was a few long strides of her horse later that she noticed the absence of noise from the second set of hooves. She stopped and turned her animal to see what kept Zik from continuing, only to find the young man perfectly fine, mounted on a still horse, gazing toward the ground. "Why have you stopped?"

He refused to meet her eyes as he said, "Heda, there is something I need to tell you."

Lexa felt the stutter of her heart as fear swept through her, a chill setting into her very core. Her emotions demanded she find out what it was he had to share, to find out how Clarke was, but her more logical self wanted Abby to hear what the man had to say without any censorship or moderation. She kept her face impassive as she said, "Anything you must tell me tonight, you can tell me with Abby kom Skaikru."

The other dismounted his horse, feet snapping a twig in two as he impacted the ground, then stepping across the distance between them. Still mounted, Lexa had to look down at the man as he approached. "Heda, I am not certain that this should be said before Clarke's mother..."

The emotion within her surged up, threatening to overflow and rule her actions. What had happened to Clarke? What could be so bad that they might keep it from the girl's mother? Clarke couldn't be... dead? Could she? Would she? No, Lexa refused to believe that. Clarke was too stubborn to die so... quietly. But the tone from this man was one she had never heard him speak. It was grave, and low, and somewhat fearful, and far too serious for the temperament she enjoyed from him.

Lexa slid from her own steed into the space between her horse and Zik, finally giving in to the emotional demand to know. The sooner she knew, the less time she had to spend in agony wondering. "Then tell me quickly."

Zik wet his lips, before beginning, "When I returned to Clarke, she lay half out in the open with a fever so high she was nearly dead." And that was when Lexa felt her heart clench, so painfully strong that for a moment she thought it might never beat again. "She was so... out of it." Zik shook his head, his eyes unfocused, mind obvious playing back the memory of what he had seen. "I hardly got mumbling and coughs from her shaking body, as if she didn't even know I was there, as I took her into the cave and gave her something for the fever." Lexa could feel her own body shake, as she tried to hold herself together, to hold the sadness and fear and rage inside. "I was so afraid-" Though no tears fell, wetness was now visible in Zik's eyes.

She wasn't - was she? She couldn't be. He said was, past tense. But then... what was there to fear anymore when it had already come to pass? Lexa could take it no longer. Fear was overrunning her, and that was not something she could accept. "Is Clarke okay? Is she alright... alive?"

Zik swallowed as his features dropped the remembered fear and worry, although concern remained. Concern for her. "Sha, Heda, Clarke is well."

Lexa's head fell back as she gazed up, reigning the threat of tears in and letting a long breath escape her, "And since?"

"Clarke wants to come here. To Tondisi, or nearby." Lexa couldn't believe her ears. Clarke knew she was here and she wanted to come closer? "We had already started the journey, but she is still weak from the sickness. I had to leave to make our meeting."

Lexa nodded, almost wearily, feeling the emotional drain, and had to let herself pace just a moment to vent what little she could. "Right. Anything else, you can tell me with Abby kom Skaikru. You will answer her candidly, though it is your choice if you tell her what you have just told me." Lexa grabbed the saddle horn and pulled herself back up onto her mount. "And you will speak as if we have not already discussed Clarke. We're already very late, let's go."

Zik returned to his own horse, and they continued the journey to Arkadia in silence with no additional interruptions. By the time they neared the gates, the sun had long since set behind the earth's edge.

As they made their approach, there was a glint of metal, and the two found blinding lights focused upon them, despite the darkness of the night. A voice called, "Stop! What are you doing here?!"

Lexa straightened herself in the saddle and responded authoritatively, "I come to see Abby kom Skaikru. She will expect me."

A different voice, one Lexa recognized this time, "Yes. I am expecting you. Although I didn't expect your arrival so late." The lights were turned away from them, and Lexa could see again. Through the fence, she could see Abby pacing. She must have been waiting impatiently most of the day, not that Lexa blames her. She does the same for news of Clarke. "Open the gate! Let them in already! I said I was expecting them!" Abby barked at her insolent guard.

The gate parted slowly, creating an opening for them. She glanced back at Zik, who was eyeing the facility with trepidation, though when she caught his eye, they shared a look and a nod. He understood that he was under her protection here.

The two passed through and dismounted, and Abby had the mentally deficient guard take their reigns. As the man walked away leading their horses, Abby turned toward Lexa and said in somewhat hushed tones, "You couldn't have told me that you'd be here so late?"

Lexa observed her surroundings surreptitiously. A few of the sky guards eyed her with distrust, though their distaste had nothing on what she felt radiate from Octavia. Surely she'd be dead if looks could kill. Otherwise, the area outside the sky people's structure was empty and quiet. Nonetheless, Lexa gestured toward the Ark, "Take us to where we may converse."

Abby gave the younger girl a scowl, thinking her question avoided, but led the trio into the Ark. The air was strangely still within, as if it forgot to breath with nature, and the metal floors echoed uncomfortably. Hallways were navigated, and soon they were ushered into a room with a round table and several chairs around it.

Lexa observed as Abby dropped herself into a seat with a huff, clearly agitated. Lexa extracted and took a chair of her own, finally answering the older woman's query. "Zik-" She gestured toward her guard, who had not yet taken a seat, "-is not exactly on a schedule. He knows what days to report to me, and where. Normally, he is quite early with his reports. And we had to travel from Tondisi, where he was to meet me."

Her guard had remained standing, and now Lexa gestured somewhat impatiently at a chair across the table. Zik took the hint, and the seat.

Abby looked between the two of them, obviously picking up on something, "So you meet... regularly? What, exactly, does he do?"

Lexa merely gestured with an open hand for Zik to answer freely. "I am... I have been looking after Clarke since she was found. I-" He glanced at Lexa momentarily, before remembering his instruction to speak candidly. "I report to Heda every ten days, to prove that we are both still alive, well, and that I am performing my duties."

The older woman's eyes had gone wide, Lexa watching her expression as it sunk in that there was no other person Lexa could have brought her. This person would know anything there was to know about Clarke since she'd been gone... anything Clarke hadn't hidden entirely, anyways. Abby rubbed at her face, and Lexa was not sure if it is an expression of emotion or tiredness.

Voice shaking, Abby asked, "Clarke's alright?" Zik nodded and Abby let out such a large breath that she visibly drooped closer to the table before them. "How did you find her? What's happened? How is she? What - why - why hasn't she come back?" They could hear the woman trying to keep the tears away, and her voice level.

Zik glanced at Lexa again, as if uncertain where to begin, so Lexa started, "Word was brought from a village far to the west of here that they had found Clarke. Zik was with me when we traveled to the village to see her, but she'd left by the time we got there." She paused a moment. "Zik was sent to find her while I asked the village people what they knew." She gave a pointed look at Zik, hinting for him to pick up the tale.

"It was raining, but I found her without much trouble. Only, she refused to come with me, and hurt herself trying to escape me."

"You hurt her?!" Abby interjected furiously.

Zik held up his hands placatingly, "Not intentionally. She was already injured and aggravated her wounds trying to get away."

Abby's hands moved to cover the gasp that escaped her mouth as a borderline sob, "What - how... how was she hurt?"

"It took time to get her to tell me, but she had been in a fight with a panther. The animal had bit and clawed her. She broke her arm going over the side of a cliff, but she still managed to kill it."

The two did their best to ignore the tears now streaming down Abby's face. Lexa added a small detail she wasn't sure Zik knew, "Her wounds had gotten infected. A boy from the village found her unconscious with the remedy while he was hunting. She must not have had time to treat herself."

"So... so when she wouldn't come with me, she sent me back to the village with a message. She wouldn't come back, but she would let someone stay with her while she healed. So when I told Heda, I was sent back immediately."

Abby nodded at the same time as she looked disbelievingly between Zik and Lexa. The news must have been quite a lot to hear all at once. Her daughter was well, but had also been through so much since she'd left her people.

After a long pause, Zik continued, "Then Clarke and I traveled two days to a cave. We've been there most of the time since."

He was about to go on, but Abby asked, "How long? How long ago did you find her?"

Zik scrunched his features, thinking, but Lexa answered easily, "Zik has been with Clarke for forty days. She was in the village for a few before that, and presumably a few days in the forest between being injured and found."

There was a nod of agreement from her fellow grounder, "I've taken care of her as best I can. With the broken arm, there's much she needs help with."

Lexa thought to herself a moment. It had been quite a while since the arm had been broken. "How long do sky people let broken bones heal?"

Abby shook her head slightly, biting her lower lip lightly, but answered, "Umm... between six and eight weeks, depending on how bad it is."

She was unfamiliar with the concept of a 'week'. "What is a week?"

Surprisingly, it was Zik who answered her, "Seven days, heda." She raised her eyebrow at him questioningly, and the small blush on his face did not escape her notice as he explained, "Clarke told me."

Seven was such an odd number to name. "So forty-two to fifty-six days of healing?" Abby looked at her incredulously, obviously surprised by the quick response. Numbers had always been exceedingly easy since she had received the spirit of the commander, so she ignored Abby's expression and continued, "So Clarke may already be healed." She turned toward Zik. "Does she seem healed?"

Expression pensive, Zik sat in silence for a moment before he offered a shrug, "She still wears the sling and splint. She hasn't mentioned it."

Lexa let her eyes meet with Abby's as what she assumed was a similar thought hit them. Maybe Clarke didn't want Zik to know when she was healed. And maybe the questions about living alone were just preparation, and she planned one day just to leave when Zik was gone. She found the thought unsettling, but there was little she could do other than warn Zik, and make his travels as short as possible.

Abby stood and walked to a cabinet on one wall, extracting a sheet of paper, which she unfolded across the center of the table before looking at Zik, "Where is Clarke?"

Lexa leaned forward. The large paper was a map of the region, though she didn't quite recognize this version of it. It seemed just slightly... wrong.

Zik looked at the map, eventually standing to get a better view, and surrendering with a shrug, "I don't know."

Abby leaned over and pointed to one area, "This is Arkadia." Another, "Tondisi." And another, "Mount Weather. Does that help? Do you know, at least close?"

The map was given a long stare, and eventually Zik pointed to a valley between two mountains north of Mount Weather. "Here, I think."

Some writing implement was produced by Abby, and she marked the spot before settling back into her seat. "What's Clarke been like? Her mood? How is she dealing with... what happened?"

Zik returned to his own chair, "We don't speak of it much. At first, she would shut down the conversation if I mentioned the mountain. She doesn't always, anymore. Clarke can be... moody, and stubborn, but she mostly seems okay. She does... she does have nightmares, but she never speaks of them." A knowing look was exchanged between the three. For Lexa's part, she knew what it was to dream of choices made. She did not know the other's understanding of it. Zik had been by Clarke all this time, perhaps he was just empathetic. The Skaikru leader, she could not begin to anticipate her knowledge. "Mostly we talk about survival, and living in the wild. Clarke is very curious. After she got sick, she asked about all of medicines we had in our kit."

Lexa anticipated the question, though Zik must not have realized the opening he'd made, as Abby's brows drew together in concern, "What do you mean she got sick?"

Zik's own eyes widened then, and he gave his leader an apologetic look before answering, "When I last returned to Clarke, it was a long journey. We couldn't figure out a way for her to make a fire with only one arm. When I got back to our cave, she was sick."

She could make out the clench of Abby's jaw as her teeth bit into the inside of her cheeks, "But... Clarke is okay?"

"Yes. Clarke has recovered. We began to travel closer so I would not be away for so long."

Abby's head bobbed as she nodded, though Lexa could see the mix of tired and agony hidden behind her eyes, "Can I... can I see Clarke?"

Zik's expression immediately solidified into an impassive wall, "I will have to ask Clarke."

"I'm her mother!" Tears began again from the sky woman, accompanied by the audible noise of swallowing, "I'm her mother, and I haven't seen her in months." Abby stood, hands placed on the table before her, "I'm her MOTHER! I deserve to, I need to-"

Lexa interrupted, stepping in, "It is still up to Clarke. He has said he will ask, Abby. That is the most we can do." She would not have the woman's needs forced upon Clarke. She had respected Clarke's every wish up till now, and she would not stop just because her mother demanded so.

Abby faltered before she dropped herself resignedly back into her chair. She turned towards Zik, "You'll ask her?" The man nodded. "Just...tell her that I love her, and that I miss her. And that I'd really like to see her, even if she doesn't come back here." The expression on her face was one of defeat, and Lexa knew that feeling all too well when it came to Clarke. The woman's words are ones Lexa herself would speak, if she could allow herself to be so vulnerable.

The Skaikru leader let out a hefty sigh, "It's late. And I'm not sure what else to ask. I don't even know what else there is to know..." There was a short, but definitive pause before she continued, "If either of you would like to stay the night here, you're welcome to."

It was not a question, exactly, but it implied one. Lexa shook her head slightly, "I will not. It would be... unwise for me to remain in your camp alone." She turned to look at Zik, "Zik, the choice is yours. If you'd rather stay in Tondisi, you would be more than welcome."

Zik stood from his chair, moving behind it and gently pushing it back beneath the table, "I will not stay. I would much rather return to Clarke, especially after my last long absence." His eyes flicked up to meet hers' and Abby's, "I hope you understand."

"Of course," Abby spoke before Lexa could, so she just added her assent silently with a nod. Abby stood and moved toward the door, the pair of grounders following with little hesitation. "You do take good care of her, don't you, Zik?"

A half smile graced his features as Lexa hazarded a sideways glance at him, "I assure you, I do my best."

The trio continued toward the gate, Abby sending a guard off to fetch their horses. As they waited, Lexa asked of Abby, "I am sure you want to be privy to the next report, to know Clarke's answer and reactions?" The older woman's head barely moved, but her eyes screamed 'yes'. Lexa turned and rested a hand on Zik's shoulder, "Ten days, here at Arkadia. If that is alright?" She looked toward Abby for approval, which she was not denied.

Their horses were returned to them and Zik mounted his, bidding them both a hasty farewell before riding off into the dark of the night.

The two women stood side by side, the reigns of Lexa's horse held lightly, as they watched their connection to Clarke disappear into the darkness.

Once Zik had gone from sight, Lexa let out a sigh and made to climb onto her own steed. She felt a hand, gently on her shoulder. She glanced over that same shoulder to see Abby, fear in her eyes, silently pleading for... something. What, Lexa wasn't sure. It was a bold move to place one's hand on the commander, but here, alone in the dark, the touch light and precarious, Lexa let the desire to reprimand slip away.

She turned to face Abby as the woman asked, "Do you think Clarke is alright? Do you... do you think she'll come back?"

Lexa bit into the interior of her cheek and let her eyes drop away from those of the other leader, before admitting, quietly, "I know as much as you, Abby kom Skaikru. I believe Clarke is better than she was, and she will improve still. As for her return..." Lexa paused in silent contemplation, "She has come this much closer. Someday, she will come the rest of the way. To you." The last two words, added almost bitterly from Lexa, may have sounded like a comfort to the other leader. To Lexa, they were an expression of her fear that Clarke would never return to her.

"Are you sure you won't spend the night, Lexa?"

Lexa almost snorted at the repeated offer, but restrained herself. "I would rather not. I'm sure many of your people hold a grudge against me. You and I still must find time for our negotiations, however."

"I'm going to be busy in medical for a few days, doing what I can for Raven." Lexa nodded, she knew that some of why they'd gone to the mountain was to find the tek to help fix Raven. "After that's done, we should be able to find time."

Hesitantly, Lexa ventured, "Could I observe this 'Skaikru medicine'?"

Abby's face scrunched into something that resembled, somehow, both a frown and a smile, simultaneously, "As long as that doesn't mean grounders all over medical, I don't see why not." She watched the older woman's brows pull together, and the smile drop from the hybrid expression on her face, "Actually, why was it only you and Zik here tonight?"

Lexa forced herself not to let her posture stiffen. Yes, normally she did have at least a few guards anywhere she went. Any matter pertaining to Clarke was different, though. The fewer people that were privy to her feelings and interest, the better. "It might be better if my people did not know that I have someone taking care of Clarke. Particularly while there is no formal alliance between our peoples."

Abby's eyes widened almost imperceptibly, but the myriad of expressions that flitted across her face, Lexa could hardly begin to parse. It was obvious that something in what Lexa said had triggered a great deal of thought in the other woman.

In the end, Lexa chose to ignore the confusion she felt from the other. There was nothing she could do, and it wasn't worth her time to try, if she wouldn't speak up and ask her questions. She pulled herself onto her horse, "I'll return tomorrow to see your medicine at work."

The confusion melted into a hesitant smile from Abby, as she nodded. "May we meet again, Lexa kom Trikru."

Lexa dug her heels into the sides of her steed and galloped away, letting the small smile at Abby's efforts slip onto her face once the shadows masked her features. It would take much more than that small gesture for their peoples to come together, but it was a start. Perhaps, someday, there was a future in which the Skaikru could be her people, too.

Chapter Text

RAVEN

"Just about done up there, Wick?"

The ratcheting noise of a socket wrench echoed through the med-bay. "Yeah, Raven. Just making sure all the bolts are tightened so it doesn't fall and squash you later. Unless you'd like that? I'm sure there's more pleasurable weights you could be pinned under, instead." The insinuation was as veiled as it got with Wick, but it was there, nonetheless. And no, she didn't want to be pinned under his weight. Not sober, at any rate.

Raven groaned and rolled her eyes, not that Wick saw the action from where he stood on a metal table, head next to the ceiling. "On second thought, make sure it can support your weight, and your enormous head before you finish up there." She glanced around medical to see the somewhat unwelcome visage of the commander of grounders entering the room with their chancellor. She turned back toward Wick before directing, "Double-check the ground wire before you come down, too. We don't want to burn out anything in there on accident. I'll be back in a few."

Raven walked over to medical's sole desk, which Abby and Lexa were conversing next to and slumped into the chair there. Abby gave her a tiny smile and the commander a typical imperious nod, while her eyebrows twitched in the expression of unasked questions.

"So, what is wrong with Raven's leg that you are going to fix?" Lexa had returned her attention to Abby.

"Well, that's what we'll have to figure out today. We'll have to do some x-ray scans. That'll give us some limited data to work with." Abby's expression turned more pondering, voice quieter as she continued, though not to anyone in particular, "I really wish we'd been able to transport the CT here."

Raven's own curiosity was piqued now, "What do you mean, Abby? Are you going to be able to fix my leg?"

Abby held up a hand, "Of course, Raven! At least, it's very likely." There was a long pause, as Raven waited for the 'but'. "It's just...the x-rays will give us some limited data, enough to remove any shrapnel. But probably not enough to fix your leg."

Raven tossed her head, slumping back into the desk chair from where she'd been leaning forward in anticipation, "Then what the freak are we doing, Abby?!" Raven's hands flew through the air, in an expression of resignation.

"Hey, now! Don't doubt me like that! I said I could fix you. And I stand by that." Abby defended, as Lexa looked on with poorly hidden confusion in her eyes. "Look, here's what's going to happen. We're going to do the x-rays and get rid of any shrapnel and foreign bodies we find. Then, you'll heal up for a bit. We won't have to worry about anything getting worse with your leg, because there won't be anything in you to potentially slice into anything important, so long as you take care of yourself and don't push yourself while you're healing. Then you'll be more able to help us disconnect and transport the CT here. Especially if you finish repairing one of those vehicles from the mountain like I know you want to." Abby gave her a knowledgeable look before continuing, "With the CT, we'll get finer images. Because I suspect we're going to find the problem is in the nerves. Maybe a tendon. But the point is, we'll be able to actually see the problem, then. And if we can see the problem, there is very little chance that I can't do something about it, Raven."

Raven's head dropped onto the back of the chair, "So I have to heal twice? Ugh, Abby, couldn't you have mentioned this before today?"

Abby shrugged in acquiescence, "I could have. Wouldn't have changed the process." She turned back toward Lexa, "Now, Lexa, unless your people have far more technology than we know about, I'm guessing that was a bit... hard to follow."

"That's putting it lightly," Lexa stated bitterly, before the woman noticeable calmed and began questioning, "What is an ex-ray? And a see tee?"

Raven chuckled to herself as Abby began explaining, looking around the room before pointing toward Wick, "See that machine over by Wick - the man on the table? That machine emits x-rays, when we push a button to tell it to, but x-rays can't be seen. In fact, some creatures can see them. It would be like a whole new color to us, nothing we've ever experienced. Umm... point is, visible light, colors and the sun and such, are really just tiny waves of different lengths. These particular ones aren't visible, but when we direct them to pass through a body, they expose a kind of image of what they passed through onto a special sheet." She paused and looked at Lexa, who wasn't visibly displaying any confusion. "It'll be easier to show you those after we've taken a few of Raven."

"Heh, at least my torture will be educational..."

"You know I'm not torturing you, Raven. You have until Wick finishes to accept that." Abby rolled her own eyes, a rare expression from the older woman, "Anyways, Lexa, a CT...well, CT stands for computed tomography. And it's actually very similar to an x-ray. It emits them, also, but instead of from one direction, it emits them from every direction around the person, and instead of sheets, little tiny....machines...detect the amount that passed through, and a computer generates an image of a thin slice of the body based on that. It can get much finer details than the radiographic film, which is why we have to wait until we can use that machine before I can get Raven walking again."

"Hey, I can walk!"

Abby's head tilts to the side, "Okay, you can walk, but not without a brace and a limp." Abby gives her a look, as if to say, 'stop giving me shit with the commander right here'. Like Raven would let that be a reason not to do something.

"And these things, they let you fix anything?" Lexa interrupted the stare-down.

"Well, no, not anything. We're not exactly equipped for brain surgery, for example, except maybe something really minor. And some more complex issues might require the MRI, which is another machine the mountain has. And other things may be hard to determine the cause at all, or we might not have what we need to make the right medicine, or something like that." Abby thought for a moment, "Or if something healed wrong too long ago, there's really nothing we can do to fix it."

Lexa looked thoughtful, and Raven could only imagine the injuries the woman was trying to see a cure for, "But most things, you could fix?"

"Most, yes."

Lexa turned her head and pointedly looked at Raven, "I guess I'll see."

It was a little bit ominous. Was it a threat? Medicine was probably the Skaikru's best bargaining chip with the grounders, and if Raven was to be the proof - she swallowed nervously - if she couldn't be fixed, that might be a big problem for all of them, not just her. But really, it wasn't on her. Her body was what it was, and she wasn't going to get any easier or harder to fix anytime soon. It really all came down to their Chancellor, Abby, who Raven had learned to trust since before they'd even touched the ground. Abby had been willing to be floated to let her go to the ground to see Finn and make sure Clarke was alive. Trusting Abby was just a step beyond second-nature, and that was only because sarcastic defense was her second-nature.

"Hey, I'm all done, here." Wick spoke, interrupting Raven's thoughts, "I'm gonna head back outside, I was helping to hook up the irrigation for the greenhouse. Let me know if anything blows up."

"It better not!" Raven hollered at his departing rear.

"So..." Abby said on a long sigh, "Are we ready to give this a go?"

Raven glanced at Lexa, apprehensive at having the grounder around for this, but pushed herself up from the chair using the desk and nodded, "Yeah. Let's do this."

She hobbled over to the metal table that was now vacant with Wick gone, for the first time in a long time moving without her crutches. She pulled herself up to sit on the table and began to undo her pants.

Lexa's eyes grew concerned and she cast a nervous glance at Abby, "What's she doing?"

"Taking her pants off. We need images of her leg. X-ray can go through fabric, but we'll get clearer images without it."

The response from the grounder was a mere suppression of that previous concern and nervousness, though something told Raven that it was still there under the surface. Meanwhile, Abby readied a slab with the radiographic film and walked toward the table.

Raven sighed, unable to entirely ignore her own nervousness, then laid herself down on the cold, smooth metal table. Abby slid the slab under her left knee and maneuvered the arm of the machine to sit above the same area, needlessly stating at the same time, "We'll start with the knee, okay?" Although, Raven supposed, the commentary might not be for her benefit.

She shut her eyes and tried to ignore the discomfort she felt - at being half-naked, at being near the commander, at the strikingly cold stainless steel surface beneath her, at the seemingly pervasive quiet between every spoken explanation and the next. She could hear Abby directing the grounder out of the room, "Lexa, come here."

"Why are we leaving?"

"We're not, we're just going behind the wall."

"Why?"

"So that we're not exposed to the radiation."

"But Raven's in there-" Somehow Raven managed to find a way to roll her eyes with them shut, "-is that bad?"

"Well...not so much, really. It's only bad if you're exposed to a lot of radiation, or to it often. I mean, honestly, one of these days, we should do some tests....everyone alive on the planet today is much more resistant to radiation than our ancestors.... Anyways, it's just standard procedure, so every time we take an image of Raven's leg, we'll leave the room then come back."

A slight buzzing noise emanated from the machine above her, and Raven could only assume that Abby had finally managed to drag Lexa out of the room and activate the remote. Sure enough, Abby came back a moment later, replacing one slab with another and directing Raven to roll onto her side to get a profile of the knee.

The procedure was repeated again for her hip and her lower leg, since Raven couldn't feel anything below the knee and there was no telling what might have struck her during the dam explosion.

And just as soon as it was done, Raven slid herself off the table and was pulling her pants back on before Abby had even returned for the last film.

The three of them clustered around a wall-mounted light at one end of medical, adjacent to the room's desk, Abby pinning the prints in place before flipping the light on.

Raven found her left shoulder uncomfortably close to the commander. She couldn't believe she was standing in the same room as someone who had once ordered her execution. Although, she mused, if the grounder's process didn't have torture built into it, she would be dead instead of scarred.

Before her, the images of the interior of her leg were shown in black and white. Biology may not have been her favorite subject, but she could still pick out some basic irregularities. The glaring example being the roughly triangular white area on the profile view of her knee, behind the joint itself. So Abby had been right - that had been shrapnel she'd felt. In some senses, Raven figured she should be grateful to the older woman's persistence, but in another, she was simply apprehensive about being cut into and the final outcome after all of this.

Abby pointed toward one of the images, finger tracing over the relief of the lower part of Raven's femur, "Lexa, this is what a bone looks like on an x-ray. The white areas are places the radiation from the machine were absorbed, or couldn't pass through, like bones or-" Abby's finger shifted to point at the triangular shape Raven had noticed before, "-this piece of shrapnel in Raven's leg. The grayish areas are where the x-rays passed through soft tissues, like skin and muscle. Some of the radiation gets absorbed, but not much." Abby's weight shifted from one hip to another as she brought her hand back toward her, posed thoughtfully, examining the series of images before them. "So, Raven, there's that piece, glaringly obvious, but there's also a smaller one near your hip and some fragments in the ankle. It's a wonder you're alright, but probably a blessing, for the moment, that you can't feel the knee or ankle."

"So wait, is this why my hip hurts so much?"

Abby's left eyebrow arched upward, "I knew you were hiding how much it hurt." The woman let out a quiet sigh, "Yes, Raven. This is most likely why."

"What happens now that you have images of the inside of Raven?" Lexa asked.

One finger tapped on the opposite elbow as Abby crossed her arms, still focused on the images, "Now I make a plan. I need to remove as many of these as possible with minimal incisions - erm...minimal cutting into Raven. And while avoiding anything important. That one in your knee is going to be tricky, Raven."

Raven felt her lips pull into a half-hearted smile, she wanted to be reassuring, but this was her leg and her life here, "You've got this, Abby. I trust you'll do your best..."

"Mmm," Abby grunted a response. Her mind was now elsewhere, most likely in the future. It was strange seeing Abby so focused for the first time in months.

"Eh...come on, Lexa, I'll walk you out. I won't let her cut me open until tomorrow, okay?" Raven casually grabbed Lexa by the shoulder and directed her toward the door of medical, grabbing her own crutches and following. "Wouldn't want you to miss getting your kick outta watching me bleed again, would we?"

Lexa's eyes visibly narrowed as she stopped and turned toward Raven, her hand dismissing the guard who waited for her right outside of medical to who-knows-where. A moment passed in silence before Lexa glanced over her shoulder, ensuring they were now alone. Her jaw slackened from its' clench, and her eyes softened. A hand came up toward Raven, and she could spot the hesitation in the motion before Lexa placed the hand on Raven's shoulder in something that felt oddly familiar. "Raven, I am sorry." Green eyes stared directly into her own, and if she wasn't mistaken, the hint of remorse in them was quite real. "It has always been our way. If it had been anyone else whose life had been threatened, time may have been allowed to discover the truth. But it just so happened to be my life at stake, even if it was never truly at risk, and even if I do not place any more value in it than anyone else's. I regret that it happened. I know it does not make up for it, to understand, but surely you see how we saw it. Invaders crashed into our land, started a war, proved themselves deadly, and only came to us for peace when their people had been taken by the mountain. The alliance was new, your people still unknown and unpredictable. And poison finds its way to my cup at a table shared with you? Even if the boy Finn deserved his punishment, you had motive, and we no reason to doubt it, finding the poison on your person." The eyes drifted away, and almost seemed to cloud, slightly, "Had Clarke not found the truth, no one would ever have known it was not you. And I'm sorry that you paid for a crime you did not commit."

Raven swallowed. She had no idea what to think. An apology from this woman was the last thing she had expected. In fact, she had expected to be yelled at for her snide insinuation. And, yes, Raven did understand the grounder's misconceptions about what had happened. If it was one of them who'd been poisoned, they would have been hard pressed not to place blame on the unknown party. Despite her own understanding, Raven had still never expected actual remorse. "Why?"

Another glance was cast around, to ensure they remained alone, "Many reasons. Prominently, that you still bear the marks of that punishment, and that you did not deserve it."

Raven's eyes dropped to the boots of the other, "Got any reasons I wouldn't expect?"

Out of her peripheral vision, Raven noticed the twitch of lips into a small smile, "The mountain wouldn't have fallen without your help. You are a friend of Clarke's. You are quite smart, and make choices that reflect that. And you are, occasionally, amusing."

Her own eyes narrowed and she tilted her head to glimpse the visible mirth in Lexa's eyes, "That's...not at all what I expected. Why are you....? Why are you sharing with me? Why are you sorry? Why - wait, why would being Clarke's friend even be a reason?"

For a moment, panic flitted over the commander's expression, but Raven's brain was faster. "Oh! You and - you and Clarke? What the? How does that even? What?!"

The expression on the other schooled into neutrality, "No. There is nothing between Clarke and I. I... can we go somewhere people might not hear us?"

Raven's insides were a muddle of anticipation and something akin to fear. She wanted to know what the mysterious grounder was hiding, but she wasn't so keen on being alone with the woman. "Umm..." Curiosity won out, "Yeah, we can go to my quarters."

Raven led the way, waiting until their arrival and she was shutting the door to ask, "So what are you hiding? What's with you and Clarke?"

Lexa paced the length of the small room, before whirling toward her, voice low and dangerous, "You must give your word that you will never speak of this to anyone! If you do, I will run you through with my sword and forget that I ever regretted your undeserved torture."

"I guess as long as you're not hiding the fact that Clarke's dead or something, I won't tell, okay?" Raven moved to her bed and sat on its' edge.

A loud breath left the commander, "I have...feelings for Clarke."

Raven's brows furrowed together. It was strange to have confirmation. It made sense, it was really the only reason being Clarke's friend could be considered a reason to regret her torture, but it was still so strange. This was the commander of all grounders, the most revered person in twelve clans, always so stoic and reserved, and...had feelings? Except, when Raven paused to think over the few encounters with the woman since the events at Mount Weather, it made a sort of sense. Absolutely no move had been made against their people, despite the precarious alliance they had had before the war, and the grounders breaking their end of it. When Lexa had turned up at the mountain, they hadn't been killed, they hadn't been harmed, they'd been taken care of. Lexa had listened, understood, made concessions, and helped them find food. Lexa had offered to bring someone to Abby who had seen Clarke. Did Lexa know more than just a passing acquaintance of the girl?

She shook her head, clearing away her thoughts, returning to the matter at hand, "Feelings? You're going to have to elaborate. I mean, hate's a feeling."

Lexa stilled before moving toward the bed and sinking onto it, her head in her hands, next to Raven. "I do not hate Clarke. Quite the opposite. It is...inconvenient."

"We all have feelings, Lexa."

"Heda is not typically allowed such a luxury." Her face tipped upward to rest her chin on a closed fist.

"Having emotions shouldn't be considered a luxury! For fuck's sake. So what exactly happened at the mountain if you like Clarke?"

"I made a choice with my head, not my heart. I have a duty to my people, and that had to come first. I made the choice I had to, even if I wish I could have made a different one - for Clarke."

"Ugh. You know, you grounders make things so hard. We knew we could win, and we were right." But there was no good in dwelling on trying to change the past. "So what exactly is going on with you and Clarke since the mountain? Wait, does she even know how you feel? Shit, how did she react to that? Did she punch you? I bet she punched you."

"Clarke did not punch me. She has refused to even see me. I have a warrior living with her, and I consider myself lucky that she allows him to make occasional reports to me, and has not abandoned him to spite me." A quiet sigh from her, "And she does know how I feel. Or she did."

"What do you mean?"

"Before the mountain, we shared a kiss. She said...that she was not ready. Now, I expect she never will be."

Raven felt as if her eyes must be wide as saucers, "Whoa." Somehow, brilliant or not, her brain had a hard time parsing that. "Well...I don't really know what to tell you."

"I do not expect anything. The feelings and the secret of them have been getting to me. In all honesty, I should not have shared with you, but I no longer have anyone alive in whom I can confide."

"Well that sucks. Look...you maybe..." Raven found herself hesitating, what she wanted to ask was a risk, but it could also be one hell of an interesting opportunity, "You maybe want to be friends? Look, I never thought I'd ask, or want you to be my friend, you did kinda authorize my torture, but I believe you when you say you're sorry about it. And you - I think you need a friend. And maybe someone who's Clarke's friend too isn't a bad choice, because I'll understand. Eh, point is-" She awkward rubbed at the back of her neck, "-point is, you need a friend, I'm offering."

"I do not need a friend!" Lexa stood and walked toward the door, before her shoulders dropped slightly and she turned back, "What is a friend?"

"Oh boy...uh, someone to talk to about anything, mostly. Without being judged. Like, you could tell me all about those feelings for Clarke, and I won't tell anyone else, or, I don't know, use them against you or anything." Another pause filled the room, as Lexa's eyes fixated on the floor between them, "Look, just think about how often you've let things about Clarke come bursting out of your mouth, lately. I'm sure you didn't mean to tell me. I'm pretty sure I caught a couple mentions when you were at the mountain. And that's just around us!"

"You may be right. Are you sure you will tell no one?"

Raven chuckled to herself, "Ugh, I'm going to have to teach you what being a friend is, but yeah, I'm sure."

~*~

LEXA

Lexa was somewhat more nervous than she cared to admit. She was currently on her way into the Ark. She'd made it past the gates, with the one guard she'd brought, without any issues. The sky people may not all like her, but they had learned not to be suspicious of her presence.

What had Lexa's nerves abuzz was that she had just the day before made a new friend in Raven, or so she'd been told. Lexa knew what a friend was supposed to be, in her youth, she'd had people she had considered friends. Unfortunately, those people were other nightbloods, people she'd had to kill during her conclave, to claim the position of heda. It had put a sour sting on the thought of friendship since. And since becoming heda, her position had kept her at a distance from everyone else. Clarke was the first person in a long time who'd sparked any kind of interest from Lexa. They had much in common, were in similar places of leadership, Clarke had been someone who could understand. But Raven, she was a girl who didn't care much for formality, barriers, or tradition. She generally did what she wanted, and that was something Lexa rarely experienced from those around her.

So Raven was an interesting choice of friend, but she had been right. Lexa had been quite literally bursting at the seams with her anxieties about Clarke. The girl already knew more than was wise, so it wouldn't take long to discern if she'd truly meant that she would keep Lexa's secrets.

It was the mere thought of being in the presence of someone she could [possibly] consider a friend that had her anxious, though. Would she be expected to divulge more? Probably not this day, if only because Raven would also be operated on.

And that was the other thing that made Lexa nervous. Not, actually, that her new friend was having surgery, but how little she understood about the process. The previous day had been full of exceedingly technical explanations - from her point of view - and she was sure that they had been trying to make it simple. Of course, she understood the basics. That machine that had been attached to the ceiling had been able to produce images of the inside of Raven. Abby had somehow known how to interpret those images. Beyond that, she really didn't feel like she had much of a grasp on the way the machines worked. She wondered, briefly, if seeing how a see tee worked would make it any easier to understand, like seeing the ex-ray images had.

Her boots echoed in the hallways of the Ark on the way to medical. She instructed her guard to wait outside the room.

Raven lay in a bed already, in some kind of thin robe, Abby leaned over her, marking the other with some kind of writing implement.

Not understanding how the Skaikru's medicine worked wasn't her largest concern. Granted, she was concerned if her own healers could learn to replicate the processes, but more importantly, she was anxious to if the sky people's medicine could do all that they claimed it could. If it could, that could mean a great many things for her people. It would prove the sky people had something she wanted. She had already had a small taste of the difference between healing in their two cultures, with the resurrection of Lincoln after his death as a ripa. If more could be offered - think how many lives could be improved.

The three exchanged brief greetings as Lexa stepped up beside them. Abby then explained some medicine that she administered to Raven. Sure enough, as described, the girl's eyes fluttered and shut, soundly asleep.

Abby made an incision into Raven's hip as she needlessly explained that they were starting there. Another skayon, someone Lexa vaguely recognized as the other sky fisa joined them, dressed similarly to Abby, in gloves, some kind of garment that covered their clothes, and one of those silly masks from the mountain.

Lexa looked on curiously as blood spilled from the wound. Many things about Skaikru were strange, but surely intentionally harming their own was not the plan. A two-pointed object was inserted into the wound, and a shard of metal extracted from inside of Raven. And almost before she realized it was happening, the other sky healer was sewing the wound shut.

The ankle took much longer. Every time the two-pointed object dipped into Raven, it did not always return with a fragment of whatever was inside. Abby even paused the operation to examine the ex-rays that had been taken the day before briefly, before continuing.

The last wound tackled was the large, and very obvious - even to Lexa - metal shard in Raven's knee. The girl had to be turned to access it, and momentarily, Lexa assisted. That final shard was extracted, from a cut much larger than the ones before had been, and Raven was returned to her upright position after the wound was tied shut.

The other healer - Jackson - took all of the used, bloodied tools, and left while Abby stripped herself of the medical coverings.

"And her leg will be better? Cutting her open improves her condition?"

Abby gave her a small smile, "I don't think it will work any better - not yet - but I expect she'll hurt a lot less. It'll be a lot more work to get her leg fixed, but I'm going to do what I can."

"And problems like these - could you teach others to fix them?"

A shrug from the older woman, "If I had to, and they had the mentality to learn it."

Lexa, herself, was frowning. How was she to know if the healing had done anything?

"Did you want to wait until she wakes up? It'll probably be a while."

She glanced over at the unconscious form of her friend, pondering, but ultimately, she had to at least know what she could of the immediate results of the Skaikru medicine. "Yes, I think I will wait."

- - -

RAVEN

The world felt...tickly. Like it brushed at her edges just slightly, and left her with overwhelming amusement.

The world was not, in fact, any different than it normally was. Raven was simply experiencing it through a haze of painkillers and subsiding anesthetic.

She giggled well before she could find the strength to open her eyes. She smiled as the fuzzy image of Lexa floated into view.

"Hey! It's my newest friend!"

"Yes... I am. How do you feel?" The words from Lexa sounded strange, like they clicked along with some invisible metronome, each syllable perfectly spaced.

"Like 'm floating. Not dead but like...space walk. Weightless." Raven eyes rolled backward and she shut them, a contented sigh leaving her, "But also really heavy. I don't wanna move."

"I meant your leg. Is it better?"

There was a long silence as Raven tried to figure out the answer, "I dunno. Feels like the rest of me."

There was a chuckle from someone else, "She'll be a bit more coherent in a few hours, Lexa." Abby, that was her voice.

"Shh. I wanna sleep," Raven demanded tiredly, before drifting back to sleep.

Chapter Text

LEXA

Lexa and her customary single-guard accompaniment arrived at Arkadia early on the third day after Raven's surgery. This was the day that had been set aside for their negotiations, and not having had good reason, Lexa had stayed away in the days in between. She was curious just how much Raven had improved since, and was not certain she would get the opportunity to find out today. However, if she managed to complete negotiations with Skaikru, surely she would be allowed to visit if she wished, right?

To that end, Lexa knew both what she wanted from the sky people, and what she needed for them to do. The difficult matter would be coming to a mutually beneficial agreement without too great of concessions on her part. After all, she still had twelve clans worth of people she, in some way, answered to.

The camp of sky people had seemingly become used to her presence among them, as hardly a person, guard or otherwise, gave her a second glance. She wondered, if she were to ask the common sky person, what they thought of her. Did they still hold resentment over her choice at Maun-de? Did they fear her? Although, her concern wasn't quite what they thought of her, but the seeming disparity between how they treated her, and how she expected they would treat any of her people, if they were to come here unaccompanied by herself. She sighed, that was another matter to ensure in negotiation.

Abby met her at the entrance to the Ark proper, grasping her about the forearm in what was traditional greeting for grounders, but not so much for the sky people. The action was not lost on Lexa.

"Hello, Lexa. Ready for this?" Abby gave her a look over her shoulder as she led their way into the Ark and through the metal hallways.

"Of course. Are your people?" One of Lexa's eyebrows tipped upward, questioning.

Abby stopped outside a door, turning back toward Lexa, one hand on the door handle. "As ready as we're going to be."

The door was opened. Lexa and her guard entered the room.

Two others sat at the round table, one she recognized from her last meeting with Zik, here at Arkadia. Or perhaps it was another room with the exact same furnishings.

One of the two, she recognized as Marcus Kane, stood and held his arm in welcome. She joined her arm with his in greeting, as he said, "Good to see you again, Lexa." Their grips were released and Kane took his seat again.

Lexa sat herself down, her guard positioning himself near the wall behind her.

"Lexa, you know Marcus Kane. He's here as an adviser to myself, and as the head of our guard. Next to him-" Abby gestured to the other man at the table, "-is Sinclair. He's here as our technology specialist, and a trusted member of the community. Is there anyone that should be joining us?"

"No. I am familiar with the needs of my people."

Abby finally took a seat to the left of Kane, who cleared his throat before speaking, "Well, where should we begin?"

"With what we both want." Lexa was not one for wasting time when it wasn't tactical to do so, and the sooner talks began, the sooner they could be completed, and the sooner both of their peoples could feel secure.

She noticed as Abby's brows drew towards each other in an expression of confusion, "And that is?"

Lexa's fingers laced together gracefully with those of her other hand, elbows on the table as her joined hands came up beneath her chin, "I do not want to go to war. If you-" Her eyes were focused on Chancellor Griffin, "-are anything like your daughter, neither do you. Is that a fair assessment?"

Abby's eyes darted briefly toward Kane, as if the answer was not hers alone to decided, but she nodded, "Yes, that is fair."

"So, what does Skaikru need, to avoid being pushed to war?"

Kane spoke, "We need food and, obviously, to be able to live without fear of being attacked."

That was the whole point of these negotiations, was it not? She supposed, perhaps, an agreement between them did not necessarily equal safety in their eyes.

"And we need access to resources. Preferably by having the right to the land they are on, but if not, by fair trade," Abby added.

"You wish for us to supply food to you, or you require access to areas in which you can find or grow food? There is a large difference between the two."

"Access," Abby supplied quickly. "It would be best if we could support ourselves in that area.

Lexa nodded slightly, "What I and my people need is for your people to abide by our laws. Not to kill my people. And I will need assurances that you will not encroach on my territory, or other acts that are clear intentions of war, such as use of the mountain."

"Well, what exactly are your people's laws? Do we have to follow the same punishments?"

She tapped the tips of her fingers together, thoughtful. Now, that was an interesting question. "I can have a scribe provide you the full details of our laws. I expect they are similar to your own, bar the types of punishment we use. And, I suppose, if the crime happens among your own people, you may punish them as you see fit, but if the crime is committed against any one of my people, it must be punished by our laws." She could only hope that that was acceptable.

"And...your people?"

"A crime against your people will be treated as a crime against one of our own."

Kane leaned toward Abby and whispered to her, before the two of them straightened, and Abby said, "I suppose that is acceptable, but I want to read through your laws before we agree. I want my people to know what they are not allowed to do, and what will happen if they do."

"That is fair."

"As for the land-" Kane picked up the conversation, "-we will need either access to your land for hunting and gathering, or land of our own. I know we'd much rather have our own land. How can we be expected to live if we don't have land to hunt or farm?"

Lexa narrowed her eyes, "I have already been generous in allowing you to keep the land you fell upon. All of this land is mine." Of course, Lexa didn't mean any hostility - she merely had to remind the sky people that the land was one of her bargaining chips.

Abby visibly bristled, but Kane laid a hand on her shoulder and she calmed. Being the more level-headed, he asked, "Is there anything we can do in exchange for more land?"

She fought to keep the smirk from her face, knowing there was. "I could make a consideration in exchange for something." There was a silent moment, as they awaited her elaboration, "We could benefit from your medical knowledge. I have not seen the full results of Raven's healing, but you skillfully extracted the metal that was in her. I would like for you to consider training some of our healers, and reproducing some of the machines you used and will use to help fix Raven." She paused, if only to avoid becoming breathless, eyes taking in the sky people's reactions, which were largely neutral, perhaps some apprehension from Abby. Not everyone enjoyed being a teacher, but she'd already asked and knew the other woman would if she had to. "It would be advantageous to have a well-trained healer in Polis, and perhaps each of the other clans. Additionally, the communication devices I have seen Clarke and Raven use - do they work over long distances?"

For the first time in the meeting, this Sinclair person spoke, though, she supposed, if technology was his area of expertise, it made sense for him to handle the question, "If the signal is strong enough and no one is jamming it, like Mount Weather did, yes."

"I would like to implement some of these communication devices. In Polis and among the clans. I could have a personal device with me?"

Sinclair's head tilted to the side, "You'd need spare batteries, or a reliable way to recharge it... but yeah, I guess we can do that."

Abby and Kane pulled Sinclair toward them, and the three had a whispered conversation. Lexa could imagine, as a tactician, their concerns. It would significantly speed up communication times between the clans, between wherever she was and Polis, and any orders she could possibly give. It would enable her to be consulted on matters without being present. If she were to renege on an agreement of peace, it would place the sky people with a disadvantage they did not previously have. Although, she admitted, they understood the tek better, and could jam them if they needed, like Mount Weather had done to them. So ultimately, the trade did not gain her any advantage over the sky people, she merely benefited her own. She hoped these three would be able to see that.

Kane turned away from the group, "You don't intend to use the radios against us in any way, do you?"

Lexa let one eyebrow flit upward, "No."

"So how much land would we get for that kind of trade?"

"For teaching my healers - at least one per clan and one for Polis, medicine machines, and the communication tek-" Lexa paused, thinking. Giving up physical land was never an easy trade. Land was so much more than soil and trees. It was the other plants that grew in the soil, what could grow, the animals that walked upon it, places to be lived in, water to be drunk. Land was a great many resources in one, but this was also why the sky people needed a land of their own, so they'd not feel pressured to expand and claim what was not theirs. "I could allow you to claim the land south until the dead zone, and east to the sea, in addition to what is currently yours." She held up a finger in caution, and to prevent them from speaking quite yet, "But, you must allow my people the freedom to pass through and hunt on your new lands. There is also one village in the area I'm offering, and I will not force my people to relocate. You must live peacefully with them."

Kane glanced toward Abby, "I think that will be acceptable."

"We'll need you to send your healers here to learn. I can't exactly travel to all of your clans, and it would be easier to teach more than one at a time."

"Of course. May we send the ill, as well?"

Abby nodded, "Yes, of course. But you've seen how much space we have to work with in medical, so take care in who you send. We can set up some more space in a tent if we have to, but it would be best if you only send those you don't know how to cure."

"Sha, of course. And the tek?"

Sinclair spoke again, "We can send Wick with you, wherever you need-"

"No," Lexa interrupted him. "I want Raven."

"She's still recovering." Abby defended, "And I'll have to operate on her again to fix her leg."

Lexa raised a hand passively, "I can wait." The hand descended. "Can she provide the smaller devices while she recovers?"

Abby's lips twitched into a smirk, "Well, yeah. She'll probably be thrilled to have something to do. What are you planning to use them for?"

Her eyes met with Abby's, pointed speaking to the older woman, "I was thinking we could give one to Zik, for starters." She unlocked her eyes from Abby's, "I may also want to leave one with Titus, in Polis, should I have instructions for him while I am away."

She noticed Abby's eyes dart sideways to Kane and Sinclair, who, she assumed, did not know about Zik, "Yes, of course. When will the land be passed to us?"

"Give me a... week?" She used the sky person term, "I will send riders to the village in the area, and to all the bordering villages before then."

"Can we trade with the clans?"

Lexa's chin tilted upward a fraction, "I suspect that may be easier once the communication devices are in place and you can ask for what you want directly, but in the meantime, you can send an envoy to Tondisi. I will make sure Indra knows and will be prepared to make arrangements for trade through their village."

"And we won't be attacked again?" Lexa knew Abby was expressing concern over the recent move by Azgeda.

"Any attack my people make will be punished as if they have attacked one of our own, so long as your people abide by our laws. Your people will not use the mountain? Beyond retrieving the medical machines?"

Abby nodded, then turned toward Kane and Sinclair, "You two can go, I think we're all settled."

They stood, and left. The negotiations complete, Lexa stood and made to exit the room herself.

The elder woman stood as Lexa turned toward the door, "Wait, Lexa. Thank you."

Lexa signaled for the guard to wait outside the room for her, something that was becoming quite common when conversation began with any skayon. "I have done nothing special."

Abby gave her a look that was almost...sympathy was what it looked like, "You didn't fight us. You understand what we need, and you want to do what you can to help us live in peace. And - and you're looking after Clarke. Which is so far beyond... beyond anything you had to do. Thank you."

She offered only an imperious nod. "You are welcome, Abby kom Skaikru. I will return in five days to await Zik's return with you."

"Do you want me to show you out?"

A small smile tugged at her lips, "I know the way."

~*~

RAVEN

"Hey, Raven. How are you feeling?"

Raven was startled from her focus on the book in hand. The same exact book she'd read the last time she'd been confined to this bed. Their selection wasn't large. She rolled over slightly to glimpse her visitor, but she already knew by the voice that it was Abby.

"Fine, I guess." Abby sat on the bed and Raven pushed herself up, reorganizing the pillows behind her, "My hip hurts, but hey, not feeling two out the three places you're cut open is pretty awesome."

Abby chuckled, "Yeah, I thought it might be. Do you know if it's just the incision that hurts, or does it feel like something else?"

She offered a shrug, "Probably just the cut, doc." She closed the book and tossed it onto the adjacent bed. "So what's up? Figured you'd have been all over me since cutting me open. I think I've hardly seen you since! Not losing interest, are you?" Raven quirked her eyebrow, expression playful.

The smile that graced Abby's face seemed genuine, and likely the happiest she'd seen the woman in months. "There was a lot to figure out, deciding how to approach negotiations with Lexa. But now that's done-"

"Wait, you already negotiated? I wasn't out for like...a few days longer than I know about, was I?"

"No, she met with Sinclair, Kane and I yesterday."

"And she didn't even pay me a visit? Rude." Raven crossed her arms. Though, perhaps the grounder wasn't familiar with the fact that one generally should visit friends when they're sick or the like.

Confusion colored Abby's face, "Should she have? She didn't ask...well, not about that."

"Well, I offered to be her friend, and she accepted. So...y'know, I'd say she should have. Plus, you know how bored I get in here, doing nothing!"

Abby chuckled again, lightly, as the corners of her mouth drifted upward in a smile, "Well, she may, actually, have helped you out on that matter."

Raven let the upturned eyebrow ask the question of what for her.

"The grounders get some technology out of our agreement. She wants radios, and specifically for you to be the one to set them up."

A smug grin, "What can I say, the girl knows genius!"

"I'm sure she does. Anyways, I told her she'll be waiting for you to heal, from the next surgery, before you go traveling to all the clans, having a good time, but in the meantime, you can build as many handheld radios as you want for her."

"Nice! Make sure Wick doesn't bring me his tray of broken stuff when I ask for parts. And I'm gonna need a soldering iron." Raven still had a grin plastered on her face, "So what else went down in the big negotiations?"

"Well, they get radios, some medical tech, and I have to train some of their healers-"

"Ha! Knew she was interested in our healing!"

"Well, it was rather obvious, Raven, even to people who don't have your brilliance. That trade was for some land. So we've got more that's actually ours. Although, we do have to allow them to hunt on our land, and there's a village in the area...but if peace holds, that should work fine. Oh, and of course, we had to agree to abide by their laws..."

"By their laws? Abby, why? Their punishments, too?"

"Well, yes. Only if the crime was against one of their people. If it's between our own people, we can handle it our way."

Raven frowned, "Guess I'll just have to not get framed for any murders on grounders that I had nothing to do with..."

"I know, it's not the most ideal, but we're getting the full docket on what their laws are, and the punishments, and I think if everyone knows the facts from the beginning, we won't have many problems." Abby shrugged, a little sadness creeping into her expression, "I think that's about it. Besides peace, which, thankfully, we both want. Oh, and for us not to use the mountain, other than taking their machines."

"Sounds too easy. But hey, who am I to complain?"

"I think Lexa made it easy for us. She found something we had that was valuable enough to her and her people to warrant the trade of a sizable portion of land. I think she knows us not having a place of our own would lead to resentment and eventually arguments over territory. And if the goal is peace...well, Lexa's a smart leader, I'll give her that. She may not have said so, but she came to that meeting with a plan."

"So...do the grounders even know how to use radios?"

Smile twitching at her lips, Abby answered, "Probably not, but it's obvious that Lexa recognizes their potential. She wants to give one to Zik, which she knows wouldn't just help her."

"Who is Zik?"

Abby's eyes widened, turning to look more fully at Raven, "I haven't told you?!" Abby's eyes darted toward the ceiling, her head lolling back slightly, before leveling herself, her eyes meeting Raven's again. "Zik is one of her guards, but he's been living with Clarke. She brought him here to talk to me, to share what he knew about Clarke."

"Oh? So 'warrior living with Clarke' has a name now." Raven chuckled to herself, "So? What did you find out?"

"She told you about him?" Expression thoughtful, Abby ignored her own question and continued, "So Clarke got hurt in a fight with a panther not long after she left us. She broke her arm, so, you know, you're not the only one with medical problems."

Raven used her right foot to lightly kick at Abby's lower back, "It's only a problem if you let it be. You see me letting this stop me?"

"No. Of course not. Anyways, some of her wounds got infected, but a village found her. Only, when Clarke found out Lexa was going there, she left. Lexa sent Zik after her, and they've been living together since, in a cave."

"Remember when I told you she was probably safe and dry in a cave? Who's right again?" Raven pointed to herself, cockily.

"Well, right on the cave part. Every ten days Zik goes to wherever Lexa is and lets her know what's going on, that they're alive. Last time he was gone, Clarke got sick. But it sounds like she's better."

Raven knew she couldn't speak of it, but it sounded like there was so much more to the situation than 'I have feelings for her, she won't let me see her, but my guard can.' This was some relationship by proxy, with long distance thrown in there. She rolled her eyes at herself. She might need to deal with Clarke's side of this whole thing someday, too. And what was she supposed to say? Commander over here loves you so much she can't keep her mouth shut about you even when she thinks you hate her? Ugh, I'll deal with that when it happens.

"So she's helping Clarke?"

Abby expelled something like a chuckle, but the sound wasn't quite as joyous as the word warranted, "As much as Clarke is letting her. Which isn't much." A frown found its' way onto Abby's face, "I honestly don't know how I feel. There's something more going on there. And Clarke has been hurt so much, just in the time she's been away from us. But she's healing, too. Just not here. It's been two months since I've seen her, and every day feels like I'm just trying to numb myself to it, avoid thinking about it, or burying myself in work."

"Well, you do kinda do that. I mean, you even forgot you'd finally gotten news about Clarke for like, a week. Busy focusing on me and my broken parts."

"Would you rather I wasn't focused on what I was doing?"

"Oh, no!" Her eyes widened slightly, "I don't need the medical equivalent of Wick operating on me!"

"And we're in agreement on that."

Raven reached out to touch Abby's arm, "You know, it's okay to forget Clarke every now and then. So long as it's temporary. That's what Clarke is out there doing; forgetting about the stuff that stresses her out, and healing. I think we all have the right to that, if we're not making things worse."

"Hmm, I didn't know your back-up career was as a psychologist."

"It wasn't. Back-up was engineering. Thankfully, I didn't have to resort to that." Grinning, she said, "I'm just a genius at everything."

Chapter Text

ABBY

There was a knocking at the door, and her response was to groan.

As Abby opened her eyes, it was to a room poorly lit by what little natural lighting came from the small windows of the Chancellor's quarters. It was either a very overcast day, or still very early. And in the latter case, who thought it was appropriate to bother her this early?

The knock came again, and with a sigh, Abby pushed herself up off of the couch and shuffled sleepily toward the door. When she opened it, it was only a fraction of the way, growling out, "What do you want?"

Sergeant Miller, who stood visible through the slit of open doorway, cleared his throat, eyes casting about with some degree of what was likely nervousness, "Sorry, Chancellor. The commander is here."

Instantly, Abby was more alert. What day is it? How could I have forgotten? "Right. Yes. Show her to the conference room. I'll be there after a shower and a change of clothes."

The door was shut rapidly, and Abby rushed toward her quarters' bathroom. Leave it to Lexa to arrive at an ungodly early hour after having the previous meeting late at night. Is Zik here already? Hopefully he can be spared from Clarke for a while. Oh, Clarke! I hope she agreed to see me...

Freshly showered, and dressed, Abby made her way to the conference room to meet Lexa. The woman was sat at the table, Sergeant Miller standing by the door, in what was no doubt an uncomfortable silence for at least one of them.

"Good morning, Lexa."

The younger woman eyed her carefully, almost questioningly, "So Zik has not come yet?"

"Does he normally come this early?" He certainly hadn't ten days earlier, but she'd also been told that that was atypical.

"He prefers not to waste time. For most of our meetings, yes, he has arrived quite early in the day."

"Well, I haven't been told of any arrivals other than your own." She paused, looking at Lexa. The younger woman certainly seemed to be awake. Perhaps early mornings were no problem for her. "Would you like to wait here? Have you eaten, yet?"

"I will wait here, with you. No, I have not eaten."

"Do you want to come eat with the people? It might help for them to see you as a somewhat normal person."

Lexa's expression was placid as she stated, "I am not normal. I am heda."

Abby wasn't sure if she wanted to smile or frown. On the one hand, it was sad to see this young leader with so much rigidity thrust upon her. On the other, what she had to offer was a brief freedom, however little it was. "Yes, you are heda. But that is what your people need to believe to stay in line. My people need to see that you're real, that you have thoughts and feelings that aren't all about wanting to kill people."

She watched as Lexa's eyes drifted up to meet hers, and she stood. The chair was pushed back under the table as she said, "Usually, my thoughts are about how to avoid having to kill people. But I understand; your people value different things in a leader than my own. I will eat with the people."

And that was when Abby allowed the smile, "Come on, then. I have no idea what they're eating for breakfast, though."

It was a short trip to the caf, but their arrival proved to be not quite as inconspicuous as she expected. Only a few heads turned right as they passed through the doorway, but by the time they had joined the end of the line for food, the effect had rippled out as people nudged their neighbors and pointed.

"Is it common for your people to so blatantly discuss someone without involving them in the conversation?" Lexa questioned as she casually glanced around.

"Uh... bad habit, you could say. Usually, they're more subtle about it." She passed an empty tray to Lexa, "Just ignore it. The more they get to know you, the less it'll happen."

"I'm not concerned. It's just considered rude among my people. I wondered if it was the same." She peered around Abby, who was holding her tray out to someone as they spooned a slab of meat onto the tray.

"It is. But it's also an expression of curiosity. Like I said, the more they know you, the less it'll happen."

Lexa held the tray out stiffly toward the person doling out food, staring at the wet slab of meat that hit the tray, "What is this?"

Abby glanced over her shoulder, "Pretty sure it's deer in gravy. It's kind of gross with gravy, but deer is the majority of the food we have. They keep adding stuff to it to try to switch up the taste. Here, try some of the potatoes. They're from that room you weren't sure was food."

Lexa glared at the mushy white mixture that joined the slab of meat on the tray, "I'm still not sure it's food."

Abby led them to a table at which Kane already sat, sitting down next to him. Lexa took the place across from her. A couple people from neighboring tables stood and left.

"Hello, Abby. Good to see you at a meal. Monin, Lexa." Kane nodded toward their guest. Secretly, she was a little jealous of how much easier Kane seemed to pick up the language.

"Os monin, Kane," Lexa replied casually, poking at the potatoes with a utensil.

"Hey, guys!" Surprisingly, Harper sat down right next to Lexa, "It's been so long since anyone's seen you at a meal, Abby! And you're the commander?" Her voice dropped lower, "You're not planning to kill us, are you? I don't think so, but some people. You know, they're worried."

"I do not have plans to kill any of your people." Lexa spooned some of the mash into her mouth, expression curling into mild disgust before it was very quickly schooled into apathy, "Who asks?"

"I'm Harper." She held her hand toward the commander.

Abby watched as Lexa considered the gesture. The thoughts were fairly transparent. Who is this girl? I'm supposed to be showing the sky people I'm normal. Eh, fine. Or at least, that was Abby's interpretation at the flicker of brief expressions on Lexa's face before she took the other's hand and shook very succinctly.

"So, what brings you here today, Lexa?" Kane asked, cutting into his own slab of nearly unidentifiable meat.

Lexa and Abby shared a glance, and an almost imperceptible nod, "She's here for a discussion about Clarke..." Abby paused, as she tried to figure out how much to divulge to her colleagues. No one in Arkadia besides herself and Raven knew about Zik and Clarke. "She's been sighted in their territory, and we were going to discuss a way to find her."

She ignored the slight narrowing of her counterpart's eyes. She did not approve of this lie. Nor did she argue against it, and she figured Lexa's own people still didn't know about her involvement with Clarke. Lexa merely returned to the food, slotting a slice of meat into her mouth. If expression was anything to go buy, it received a better rating than the potatoes.

"Hey," there was a thunk as Octavia noisily sat down on the other side of Abby, "Commander."

Lexa's eyes drifted upward to make contact with Octavia's, "Yes, Octavia?"

"Lincoln's kill order, is that still a thing?"

"Yes."

Octavia's eyes rolled emphatically before she growled, "Well, make it not a thing anymore!"

Expression still utterly impassive, Lexa responded, "Fine. Tell Lincoln that there is no longer a kill order on him, but he is no longer of my people. That is the price of his disobedience."

Lips pursed, Octavia responded, "You know, he was the only one of you grounders that did right by us. You all turned and ran. You're supposed to be such fierce warriors, but you just gave up. At least Lincoln believed in us."

Lexa's eyes narrowed into a glare, "It is not cowardice to choose to preserve the lives of my people." The expression softened, "But Lincoln did choose well. I, however, have to do what I must. Lincoln will understand this."

Octavia elbowed Abby in the side, "Did you forget you were supposed to take care of that in negotiations? How fucking hard was that? One fucking minute and asking, to save Lincoln's life. See if I help the next time you need something." Octavia pushed off the table as she stood, walking away from them, "Thank fuck someone told me she was in here."

Abby gave Lexa an apologetic look, "She's right, we were supposed to bring it up in the negotiations."

"It is alright. My response would have been the same. Lincoln does not need to die for siding with you in the battle against Maun-de, but he cannot be one of my people if he is disobedient to my orders." Lexa ate another bite of the meat, "His life is all that I can offer him."

Across the table, Harper was smiling to herself. Abby could only imagine what thoughts were going through the younger girl's mind, but she was certainly the first of many to see that Lexa could be reasonable.

Before long, the meal was done, and Abby left the room with Lexa, "Let's take a trip to the gate, make sure they know to expect Zik."

A few turns later, they were out in the fresh air, the day much brighter with the sun rising over the horizon. The stroll across the Arkadian lawn was brief and largely quiet, most of the work duties just getting started for the day. As they approached the gate, it was open, a pair of teenage hunters hauling a deer in from their morning duties.

"Good catch, kids, but could we snag something other than deer sometime? I'd take rabbit, or even that gamey panther meat, just to have a change," Abby said in a mixture of compliment and attempting to joke with the young hunters.

The guard shut the gate after them before approaching Abby to see what she wanted. "Chancellor? Is something going on?"

"The commander and I are expecting a visitor today. We're not sure when he'll arrive, but make sure everyone on duty knows, and that the information is passed on at shift change. His name is Zik, he's a grounder, but he has news about my daughter, so make sure no one gets trigger happy." Abby tried to hide her frown. Most people in camp, she knew, but names were tricky when they weren't on a patient chart an arm's length away. She felt slightly guilty at having no clue what this guard's name was.

"Um, yes, Chancellor. I'll take care of it."

The pair returned to the conference room, settling into both the silence and their seats. Abby was absently tracing the lines on the ceiling in her mind while trying to think of something to break the silence when Lexa did the job for her.

"What are the sky people's beliefs?"

"Like, religiously?" There was a brief nod from Lexa. "Uh, not much, I guess. There were lots of religions before the bombs fell, but up in the sky, that all kind of turned into a belief that we would someday come back to and live on Earth. And here we are, finally on Earth again." Abby shrugged, "What we believed came true, and I guess there isn't much else to believe. Mostly, we focus on the facts. Science, medicine. Knowledge." She paused a moment, "Jaha was the closest thing we really had to religious, and I honestly think he was going a little crazy after his son died."

"That is... interesting." Lexa's response was not telling.

"Okay, what about your people?"

"They believe that the spirit of the commander can save and protect them." Her expression was impassive, arms folded across her chest, leaning back into her chair.

"But you're the commander?"

A slight nod. "Until my death, I am the current host to the spirit of the commander."

Was reincarnation a thing that the grounders believed in? Or was it something more? Abby was curious, but honestly uncertain of how to ask.

"The first commander, she fell from the sky, like your people."

Curiosity again piqued, Abby questioned, "She did? When?"

"Many, many years ago, but after the world exploded. There have been many commanders since. She was called Bekka Pramheda. Did your people ever hear of her?"

Abby shook her head, "No. I certainly haven't. I wonder where she came from. She could have taken a small shuttle or something. It might even have been before the stations joined together."

Lexa nodded only slightly, "I was curious if your people had. Our capital, Polis, is named after the craft she landed in."

"Polis, huh? It sounds a little familiar. I'll look into it and see if I find anything. There might be something buried in the ship data." Abby tapped the fingers of one hand on her opposite elbow. "It must be some burden."

"What?"

"To be the commander, to have everyone think you'll keep them safe, protect them."

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the slightly drop of Lexa's head, eyes casting downward, "It is, but I do my duty as I must."

Abby felt her own expression twist into a mix of frown and smile, one lip turned down, the other up, "You never have a day off?"

"Do you have days where you do not have to do your job?" Lexa's eyes raised, curiosity brimming in their green shimmer as they met Abby's.

She allowed a chuckle, "No, but that's mostly because I have two jobs, as a healer and a leader. Some days it would be nice to only be one of those things." Her eyes drifted away from Lexa's. "I'll give up the leadership some day. I just can't bring myself to do it while Clarke is still out there."

"You would give up the leadership to Clarke?"

"It doesn't have to be Clarke. I sure wouldn't wish it on Clarke. She's young, even with all she's done since we've come to the ground. I just can't bring myself to give up control when I'm not sure if Clarke's okay."

There was a small but visible frown from the commander, "I wish I could understand. Giving up my position is not an option."

And to that, Abby could only add her own frown. She couldn't understand being stuck in a position without the option of leaving it. "How did you become the commander, Lexa?"

"In the same way as every other commander since the first. In my conclave."

The frown on her face deepened, "What is a conclave?"

Lexa's eyes refused to come anywhere near her own, her body even turning slightly away from her, "After a commander dies, the novitiates fight to become the next. The one who lives, is."

She felt her own eyes widen. This girl, only slightly older than her own daughter, had had to kill to attain her position, to be a leader. A position from which her only escape was death. She had no idea how long Lexa had been commander, but she certainly didn't seem new to it. She must have been quite young when she'd been forced to kill others for a position she may not have even wanted.

"When we were at the mountain, you said if your people found out you'd sacrificed any of them when you didn't have to, they'd have your head. Did you mean... did you mean they'd kill you?"

There was a slow nod from Lexa, "A unanimous vote of no confidence from the ambassadors would remove me. And the only way a new commander is chosen is with the death of the previous one."

"Why?"

"It is my own law."

And that made even less sense, "Why?"

"So that my people are never again faced with a commander they can do nothing about. And to forge my alliance. In my youth, the clans were not united. That is my greatest victory."

It seemed, now, that it just never ended for the younger girl. How long has she been fighting? Except, Abby figured she knew the answer to that. She'd been fighting for her whole life. It was simultaneously the reason she seemed so resigned, so tired, and so finite. Lexa was a good leader, but Abby didn't envy the girl.

The conversation continued, haltingly, for some time, both silently hoping Zik's arrival would be a pleasant interruption. Eventually, it came time for the midday meal, and when Abby asked if Lexa wanted to join them again, she agreed hesitantly.

"Or, we could grab some food and go visit with Raven in medical. She's upset you didn't visit her, you know."

Lexa glanced sideways at her, eyes slightly wider than usual as they walked through the Ark corridors to the mess hall, "Should I have?"

Abby tried to hide the smile pulling at her lips, "I'll let Raven tell you."

And join Raven, they did, the girl looking up as they entered, expression brightening, before she rendered her expression into an angry (but entirely playful, Abby could tell) glare at the commander.

"Finally come to visit me? Geez, only took you forever!"

Abby passed a tray of food to Raven, who ignored it to instead yank Lexa down to sit on the bed.

Lexa, nervous, eyes wide, looked at Raven, "I should have visited."

Suddenly, Raven's angry expression was gone, a raised eyebrow and frown conveying confusion instead, "Is that a question? I'm just kidding, but yeah, you should have visited! I get so bored in here."

There was a hesitant nod from Lexa, "I should always visit?"

Raven rolled her eyes, and finally examined the tray of food, muttering something about deer meat, "No, not always, but it'd be nice. Good friends visit each other. And even shitty friends know you visit when someone is sick, or hurt, or ended up in medical for whatever reason."

Abby chuckled, attracting Lexa's attention, and just gave her a look that said 'I told you so.'

Lexa returned her attention to Raven, "Well, you're still in medical. Am I too late? Am I supposed to visit every day you're in medical? Do I stay here?"

Raven almost spit out her food, suppressing a laugh, "You don't have to visit every day, or stay here. Unless you're secretly in love with me?" She waggled her eyebrows at the commander, "But usually, at least right after you find out they're in medical."

Looking back and forth between Abby and Raven in disbelief, she argued, "But I was here! I was here when Abby cut you open!"

Raven smirked and shook her head slightly, "Doesn't count if I'm too drugged up to remember it."

Lexa schooled her expression back to it's normal impassive state, "I will remember."

Rolling her eyes again, Raven casually slapped at Lexa's arm, who very quickly shut down her own instinctual glare, turning back toward Raven, "So why are you here? What's going on?"

Sparing a glance at Abby, before Abby could offer any indication that it was okay to share, Lexa said, "I am... visiting. You."

"Well, duh, but what brought you to Arkadia? What's happening?"

"We're waiting for Zik to show up," Abby answered, before spooning some food into her mouth.

"She knows?" Abby nodded at Lexa's question.

"Grounder boy living with Clarke? Yeah, I know."

Lexa let out a long sigh, "He's late. It is worrisome. I find it hard to focus when I am waiting for -" Her eyes darted around, before she finished, "- him."

Raven's expression was somewhat amusing as she punched Lexa in the arm lightly, "He'll show up, yeah? I mean, obviously you trust him."

"Yes. He'll be here," but her tone was not convincing enough to hide her own concerns.

After they returned to the conference room, silence reigned for a long while. Finally, Abby was tired enough of the quiet, though she figured the grounder could go for days without speaking a word, to finally voice some of her own concerns.

"Do you think Clarke will agree to let me see her?"

"You're her mother. Why would she not?"

Abby chuckled bitterly, "There are reasons. I got her father killed." A long pause, before she continued, "I thought she'd forgiven me, but she didn't even tell me when she left. She was just gone, and I didn't find out for days."

"You didn't know?"

She shook her head, "No. I was busy in medical, with everyone who the mountain had... hurt."

Lexa's head tilted to the side, "Clarke may not agree immediately. But I have no doubt that someday she will return here, to her people."

"She's been gone a long time." Curiously, she asked, "Lexa, why didn't you just send someone to take care of Clarke and leave it at that? Why keep checking in?"

A strange expression flickered on her face before the response came, "The warrior may need a break from his duties. Or they could be attacked. In any case, I need to know that my guard is still alive. And letting Clarke die would not further peace." Lexa turned and looked into her own eyes, "Would you rather I not have?"

Abby shook her head, "Of course not! Clarke's alive because you sent Zik after her. I'm just surprised. Still surprised, and trying not to consider what might have happened if you didn't." Abby could feel the wetness brimming in her own eyes, and averted them from Lexa's fixed gaze, "Why care for Clarke at all? You had no obligation. We would never have known she died, or how...?" Her voice cracked on that last word, now fighting to hold the tears back.

She was surprised when a hand reached across the table and gently overlaid her own, "Because it was the right and only thing to do."

"And Zik instead of yourself? Why? And you could have just brought her back to us. Why go through all the trouble?"

The hand hesitantly lifted and drifted back across the table, Lexa's own hands twining together, "I knew, after the events at the mountain, that Clarke would not want me there. She expressed as much. She did not want to return here, either."

So all of it, every little choice made about Clarke was because of what Lexa knew about her. She'd listened and abided by Clarke's every wish, even when it made things more difficult for her. Even when it took one of her people away from her for months, and even though Clarke wasn't one of her own. Abby couldn't help but piece together the signs.

One: Lexa made a choice she thought she had to, because of the position she was in with her own people. Two: Lexa expressed open remorse, at least to them, about that choice. Three: Despite breaking their alliance, Lexa had made no moves against them. Even going so far as to make negotiations easy, and allowing such concessions as letting them take the mountain's firearms. Four: She was taking care of Clarke, without her people's knowledge, and despite having no cause to do so. Five: She'd never seen this rival leader more at ease than the few glimpses she'd seen of her with her own daughter.

This was not, actually, the first time Abby had begun to suspect that there was something more to the situation between her daughter and Lexa. In fact, ten days earlier, after Zik had left them, when Lexa had admitted that her taking care of Clarke was a secret from her own people, she'd been struck with the sudden realization that Clarke meant something to her. Abby wasn't sure what to make of that then, and she still wasn't now.

"You love my daughter, don't you?" she finally asked, turning back to meet Lexa's gaze directly.

Lexa looked taken aback, eyes wide, a hint of fear visible before, too late, she tried to hide both the shock and the fear in her expression, "No. I cannot." Her eyes dropped to the table.

Abby frowned, "You can't?" Not hiding your feelings that well. It's clear your'e capable of it.

The muscles in Lexa's cheeks and neck tensed as she clenched her jaw, "Love is weakness."

And then, Abby understood, "And your people need to think you aren't weak, even in the slightest." It wasn't a question. It was a statement and an accusation.

Lexa hesitantly nodded, "They see it as weakness, as softness. My feelings for Clarke would make her a target. It has happened before."

Brows furrowed, Abby questioned, "What has?"

"Someone killing someone I love because they are mine, and because they may know my secrets." Lexa lifted her eyes to level a piercing green glare her direction. It was no threat. Those eyes held despair far beyond the young years of their owner.

Shock struck her, dread sinking into her, settling into every fiber of her being. This leader, this young girl, had experienced so much loss. Lexa had had to live through so much in this post-apocalyptic world, and it was incredibly unfair, even if nothing could be done about it. And even if the person in question was in love with her daughter. The thought was still hard to wrap her head around. "What happened?"

Instantly, Lexa's eyes left hers, body turning away in the chair, jaw shifting from side to side. There was an audible swallow before Lexa, eyes fixed on the far wall, answered, "Costia was her name. I loved her, and she I. I had not been commander long, when she was taken by Queen Nia of Azgeda." There was a long pause as Lexa policed her reactions, "She was tortured for information that the queen thought she had about me. Her head was removed from her body, shaved, returned to my bed in a box." Only her head turned as she again looked at Abby, "If I act further on my feelings for Clarke, she becomes a target. And I cannot have that."

One of Abby's hands, unbidden, raised to cover her mouth. Slowly, she recovered from the shock, from the horror. If Clarke's head was returned to her in a box, she would never recover. And here, this girl, Lexa, she had lived through that, suffering the guilt of it, and scared enough of it happening again to hide her feelings entirely. "I'm so sorry, Lexa." A tear wormed it's way out of her left eye, and she hastily wiped it away. Even the brief thought of Clarke like that had torn into her. "What happened to the person who killed her?"

Jaw clenched again, Lexa responded, "They are still alive. They are a member of the coalition."

Abby's eyebrows drew together, rage just barely hiding beneath the surface, "You let someone who murdered your girlfriend into the coalition?! Don't you kill people for senseless murders like that?"

Lexa nodded, "Normally, yes. I cannot make a move against her without adequate proof, or reason. She will still meet that fate someday. Costia was more than a friend, though."

She experienced confusion for a moment before she realized the misinterpretation, "Girlfriend is... the girl you date, or court. The person you love. At least for us sky people. Until marriage. Then they'd be a wife. Boyfriend or husband, if they're male." There was a pause, before something from earlier struck Abby, "What'd you mean if you act further on your feelings for Clarke?"

The response was slow in the making, as Lexa very visibly debated just how much of the truth she wanted to divulge, "I am caring for her life as best I can. And receiving updates personally. If she'd let me, I would be there myself."

Abby raised an eyebrow skeptically, "That's all?"

Lexa's eyes finally met hers again, "We kissed. Once." Abby could already feel the niggling of rage building in her, "Before the battle of the mountain. Before I betrayed her." So far, Lexa wasn't diminishing her anger, "She said she wasn't ready to be with anyone, then. After what I did, she will never want to be with me. And perhaps that is for the best. I cannot protect her from every force that would wish her ill."

That final string of statements settled her rage somewhat, but she was still incredibly torn. She kissed my daughter! She kissed Clarke! Right before betraying her! And at the same time, her thoughts also had an incredibly different train. Poor, poor dear. So obviously in love with Clarke, and Clarke is so stubborn. And Lexa did betray her. It's possible she'll never speak to her again. But, in the end, what she thought wasn't what was important. Whatever choice there was to be made, it was Clarke's choice. Sure, she could feel angry, or protective, or disappointed, or like Lexa wasn't good enough (but honestly, is that really the case? She's been nothing but accommodating since the mountain. She's helped us, made negotiations easy, taken care of Clarke. Clarke would be dead if she hadn't sent Zik after her.), but her own thoughts weren't what mattered. Sure, Lexa had a long way to go, to prove that she was trustworthy, to prove that she'd never let them down again, but she had already, very determinedly, started. Even Abby had to acknowledge that it was Clarke's choice.

And to that end, she sighed, and offered, "If you ever see her again, apologize. You can't change what you did, but you did have your reasons, and ultimately, we're all alive. If you ever hurt her again, I'll kill you myself." She punctuated the statement by jerking her thumb toward her own chest. "If she someday chooses to be with you, I'm not going to like that that puts her in danger, but as long as you treat her right, and she's happy, I see no reason you shouldn't." She held up a hand to stop the beginning of Lexa's protests, "No, not even because 'love is weakness.' Love is what you make of it. Yes, love may make you more vulnerable, because loving someone is a whole other being in existence that can be hurt and you feel like it was yourself that was hurt. But love is also strength. It is someone who supports you when you're weak, when you need uplifting. It is someone who you can talk to about anything, and dear, I think you have far too few people in your life that you can talk to if you're opening up to your until-recently-mostly-an-enemy rival leader. You can't deny your feelings, Lexa, because it is clear that you already have these feelings. Accepting them is hardly a difference. Acting on them... that's where you may be painting some targets, but I've lived watching targets shift around on Clarke nearly her whole life." There was a pause before she ended, solemnly, warning, "But Lexa, it's her choice."

There was a great, long, heavy silence, and when it finally broke, Lexa said, quietly, "I've already accepted my feelings. You are right that I have very few people to talk to. That is why I accepted Raven's offer of friendship. However, there is no point in anything further if Clarke cannot forgive me."

Abby sighed, "Give her time, space, understanding, and that apology. It's been two months since what she had to do at the mountain to save us, and she still can't even return here to look at us."

Curiosity flickered in the other's eyes, "How did she kill all the mountain people?"

"You know how the mountain men never left the mountain unless they were in those sealed suits?" Lexa nodded, "That's because they were incredibly vulnerable to the radiation levels here. The whole reason they wanted us was so that they could take our bone marrow so they could cure themselves, and would be able to leave the mountain safely. Clarke had to irradiate the mountain. It killed all of them." She knew she was leaving out details. Like what exactly bone marrow extraction entailed, and the fact that they'd used her to get to Clarke, or the fact that Clarke had had to shoot Dante Wallace when his son Cage refused to listen to their demands. If Clarke ever wanted to tell her, that was her business, but Abby didn't feel like delving into half of what had gone down at the mountain, much less relive the sensation of having herself drilled into for bone marrow without any anesthetic.

"I apologize."

Abby rolled her eyes, "Thanks, but don't do that again. And it's Clarke you owe an apology."

"I didn't realize that if the mountain men got what they wanted, they may have come out of the mountain." Lexa looked thoughtful, eyes adrift in some corner of the room, "I should have stayed. Had I known that, I could have, perhaps..."

"How about next time, if there is one, you actually include us in the decision? You know, it is possible for us to know something you don't."

Still pensive, Lexa's fingers tapped absently on her opposite arm, "Abby, would your people ever be open to joining the coalition?"

"What, as a clan?" Eyes still elsewhere, Lexa offered a slow nod. "Well, we'd be giving up our autonomy. We'd lose the right to punish our own the way we see fit, right? And we wouldn't really have a say in anything."

"Your people, Clarke's people, would become my people. I would never again have to choose between them. And you would have an ambassador, in Polis."

"Yes, but almost everything is ultimately your call, right? So long as it's not something that makes you look weak. I don't know if we can do that." Abby's head shook slightly, "At the very least, I'd have to think about it. And we'd probably have to let the people vote."

"I understand." Suddenly, Lexa was looking at her again, "We should visit your guards at the gate. Zik is very late."

Abby found herself frowning at the possibilities that that fact presented. It wasn't automatically a bad thing. For all they knew, he could be bringing Clarke along with him and it slowed him down. Or they could have lost track of time, or forgotten what day it was. But it could also be something worse. "Yes, let's go do that."

And they did, though there was no sign of anyone at all having come near the camp. The guards had passed on the message to the next shift, as requested. These were instructed to pass it on again if no one arrived before the end of their own shift.

Afterward, instead of returning to the conference room, they made their way back to the caf for dinner.

Dinner was more deer slop, and Lexa adamantly turned down any more of the potatoes. The pair settled down at a vacant table, though it wasn't so for long. Harper, Miller, and Monroe all joined them at once. It was interesting to see Lexa interact with people her own age, and it just served to remind her how little the grounder got to live.

Glancing around the room, though Lexa's reception was already much better than it had been that morning, she did notice a few figures scowling their direction. The most notable of these were Jasper and Bellamy, who sat on entirely different ends of the room. There were layers of additional problems there that she didn't want to go into.

She was surprised when Monty rose from his place by Jasper and came to join their table, despite his friend's leer.

The trio of sky children greeted him happily, and Monty himself smiled shyly.

For the most part, Abby left the kids to themselves, merely listening as Lexa asked what each of them did, listening to what were probably entirely bland descriptions of their jobs as far as the grounder was concerned. She did notice, however, marked interest from her when Monty started to explain building the greenhouse. He even offered to show her, though she said that would have to wait for another day.

After dinner, and a return to the same four boring walls of the conference room, a heavy silence descended upon them. As worry mounted for both of them, the silence became more tense. Darkness came, but Zik had not. Time passed slowly, anxiety rising as it became more and more apparent that, for whatever reason, Zik probably wasn't coming.

They tried to pass the time with minor conversation, but the longer the two waited on Zik, the harder it became for either of them to allay their worries long enough to converse.

At some point, in the still-dark of early morning, Lexa rose and exited the Ark, Abby following along. The two then stood in the chilly darkness, waiting, Lexa pacing incessantly.

Dawn arrived with slivers of light clawing their way up the eastern skyline, each moment brighter than the last, but more unbearable for the two anxious leaders.

Lexa finally broke the long silence, heading toward the gates, "I'm going to Tondisi, to see if Zik showed up there."

Abby called out after her, "You'll let me know?!"

Lexa turned on her heal, and if Abby hadn't known better, she'd have thought the grounder was furious with her, "If he is not, I will find them. And when I do, you will know."

Chapter Text

LEXA

A few strides past the Arkadian gates, Lexa dropped the formal pretense and began to jog toward the treeline. Lithely darting between the trees until she arrived at the location she'd left her horse, she tugged the loosely tied reigns from a branch and leapt astride the animal. With a sharp turn and the bite of her boots into soft hide, she was bolting toward Tondisi.

The trip was made in record time, so far as she knew. Perhaps rivaling the speed at which Clarke had had to ride to warn of the Mountain's imminent bombing of the town.

The clamorous noise of hooves beating hard packed earth had roused enough of the village that several warriors stood with weapons partly unsheathed as she galloped into their presence. Lexa leapt from the back of the horse before it's movement abated, sure it would stop itself at some point before it reached the other end of the town.

"Indra!" Lexa hollered, neck muscles pulling taught with the violent jaw motion.

There was a grunt and Lexa whirled to see the older woman hauling herself out of a nearby excavation pit, "What is it, heda? Did the sky people do something stupid again?"

Lexa ignored the question - the sky people most certainly were, about some things, stupid. "The warrior I met in the woods, twenty days ago, has he been here?" she questioned, all the while advancing toward Indra.

Eyes hard, warning silently of the same thing anyone else would if they knew the news the boy held, Indra answered, "No. Everything has been peaceful and productive in your absence."

Jaw clenching, Lexa closed her eyes momentarily. She could choose to heed the warning, keep her feelings safely hidden. Or she could go after Clarke. And Zik, she reminded herself as an afterthought. And truly, she didn't need anymore reason than that. Her eyes snapped open, turning herself toward the rest of the village inhabitants, arrayed wherever they had happened to be when she arrived, "Eight warriors, on your horses! Waiting for me by the west edge of the village by the time I am done here!" She commanded, silently hoping the volunteers would be those who wouldn't be leaving their families to join her, in however long this expedition may take. "One volunteer to take a message to Arkadia! Here-" She pointed to the ground before her feet, "- now!"

With a sigh felt more than heard, Indra stepped around her, "I'll take the message, heda." Elsewhere, quiet debate could be heard, while others simply headed for the newly erected stable.

Lexa locked eyes with the other woman, staring down the dark brown orbs. Indra, who had expressed dislike of the sky people, dislike for her handling of them, dislike for their living, and dislike for her knowing about Clarke's whereabouts; could she trust Indra? But she had to trust someone; she wasn't going to loose the hours it took backtracking to Arkadia when she could be journeying toward Clarke's last known location. "When you get to Arkadia, speak to Abby. She is Clarke's mother. You know the boy knew where Clarke was, but he's also been living with her. He was supposed to deliver a report on her condition to us yesterday, and has not." Obviously. "All Abby needs to be told is that Zik was not here in Tondisi, and that I have left to find them."

"You know it isn't wise." Indra knew better than to tell her not to go. She would go no matter what, but she was right. This wasn't the smart move.

"Zik is one of my people, and that is cause enough," she retorted, eyes flashing dangerously.

A nod of concession came from Indra, "Yes, heda. I will deliver your message." She then headed toward the stable to gather her own horse.

Lexa's horse, the yelling having abated, was wandering back toward her. She moved to meet it, stroking its dark mane of hair in greeting. Eyes shutting, Lexa allowed herself a moment, face shielded by the neck of her horse. There were no tears, or any other outwardly inappropriate expression of emotion, but she needed the moment, anyways, tiredness tugging at her soul. The weight of the sleepless night sitting on her shoulders. Inside, she was so full of something that felt like a cross between rage and anxiety, and that might very well be what it was. She rubbed a hand across her tired eyes before a precise image of the map on the table of the Skaikru conference room table populated the screen of her mind, and she could see Abby's hand drift silently across the image. Arkadia, Tondisi, Mount Weather. The dark mark added to the map where Zik pointed. Three peaks north of Mount Weather, in the valley on its western side.

Her eyes snapped back open, wasting no time mounting her steed. She directed the animal toward the village's edge. Her warriors should have decided amongst themselves by now. It was time to find Clarke.

- - -

ABBY

She stood near the gate. There wasn't room in her brain to think what else to do. Tears streaming down her face, she stood there, staring out at the vacant tree line, waiting. Waiting for what, she wasn't quite sure. She knew what she hoped for - she didn't know what would come.

The nearby guards did their best not to look like they were staring at Abby, and she couldn't have brought herself to care, even if they hadn't been hiding their glances.

She had only just gotten some news about her daughter. News that confirmed that she was alive, and well, and even possibly on her way back. And now, she felt like she had nothing. Rationally, Abby knew she wouldn't trade the flicker of hope that was burning her for complete ignorance to Clarke's state of being, but she couldn't help but wonder. Many things were easier to bear if you didn't have hope for them, first.

Eyes red and raw, burning with every drop of salty moisture her body somehow managed to gather, Abby's overtired body eventually began to shake and shudder under the combined influence of sleep loss and agony. The sun drifted ever higher in the sky, until, just before its' zenith, a figure burst from the woods.

Abby surged forward, almost forgetting the electrified fence stood between her and this person. Instead, she ordered the gates open, preemptively, voice shaking. She didn't care if this person was an enemy or messenger, or whatever else they may be, if there was a slight chance they bore news of Clarke.

The figure slowed their mount as they approached, and soon Abby recognized their visitor as Indra, though she hadn't seen the woman in quite some time.

Indra drew her horse abreast the open gate, not venturing over the invisible line that delineated the camp's placement. Without dismounting, she eyed Abby obviously. Though she knew she had to look a mess, tears still escaping her eyes, and sleep long forgotten, she couldn't bring herself to care what the grounder thought.

"Zik wasn't at Tondisi. Heda left to find them," Indra delivered impassively.

Abby tried to contain the full-body shake that threatened to drop her to her knees, "Does she know where?"

One of Indra's eyebrows tipped upward, "Where they are? No, or she would have been more calm. Where to look? Probably."

Abby swallowed, "I have a map. I marked where Zik said they were...does she need it?"

"Keep your Skaikru maps. We know this land better than you."

"I didn't say that! I just-"

"Heda will find them. Leida." And without any more than that, Indra turned her steed the rest of the way round and left them.

Abby, however, tears renewed into full sobbing, fell to her knees, body shaking.

She had no idea how long she'd been that way when Kane came to move her so that the gate could be shut, and the scene she was making contained.

KANE

At first, he merely helped her move aside enough for the gate to shut, pulling her into his arms as she unabashedly sobbed. But slowly, he tried to move her toward the Ark, away from prying eyes and abject stares.

"Abby? Abby, can we go inside? Talk about whatever's wrong?" His hand rubbed her shoulder, trying to pull her from an unresponsive state. It didn't work, tears soaking into the shoulder of his jacket, where her head lay. "Abby, what happened?" Glancing around, he again tried to move her toward the Ark, making about as much progress as before. So he tried again, "Abby, could we go see Raven? Would you talk to her?"

There was a long pause, and just before Kane resigned himself to carrying Abby into the Ark, he felt a nod against his shoulder.

"Okay, come on. You've got to help me, walk a bit so we can get to medical."

And Abby did pull herself together enough that the two of them made it to medical, Marcus half supporting his friend the whole way there. As they entered medical, Kane gave Jackson a look and a jerk of his head that said well enough to leave.

Raven looked up from some ancient technical manual to see what was happening. Her signature snark made no appearance, instead, aghast, she asked, "What happened?"

Kane let Abby fall onto the bed and into Raven's arms, before going to close the door to medical. By the time he returned, sitting on the edge of the adjacent bed, Abby's sobs had regained their vigor, Raven's arms wrapped around her upper body tightly, head in her hair. With only her eyes visible, it was still obvious that Raven was just as concerned as he was.

Raven brushed the hair away from Abby's face and asked, "Abby, what happened?"

In between choking sobs, the answer they made out was, "He didn't come." Raven's eyes sparked with some understanding, but he was lost.

"Clarke's grounder pal? He was supposed to come? How long has it been?"

"Y-yesterday..."

"Clarke's grounder?" Kane's brows were scrunched together in confusion. "What grounder? And they're Clarke's grounder? What?"

Raven looked up from Abby, and he could detect a slight grimace typically associated with pain, "A grounder has been living with Clarke. Taking care of her. I think he was supposed to come yesterday, tell Abby and Lexa what's been going on."

He could make out the motion of a nod from Abby against Raven's collar bone. "She's had news about Clarke?"

"Yeah. Last time the guy was here. Things sounded okay. I don't know what happened."

The sobbing grew louder, and Raven frowned, tightening her arms around the older woman, despite the now obvious pain she was feeling.

"Abby, I'm sorry. I didn't know." He frowned at the girls before him, thinking, "We could send out a search party? We might be able to find her."

"L-L-Lexa al-already is..."

"She's what?"

But Raven knew, or she was smart enough to piece together the easiest puzzle in existence, "Lexa went to look for them." She turned back to Abby, and lightly kissed her head, through the mess of hair in her face. "She'll find her, Abby."

There was a moment where the sobbing stilled and Abby looked up at Raven. A look of understanding passed between them, but Kane wasn't sure what about. Perhaps Abby just believed it because Raven did.

"Are we really sure anything's wrong?" Kane questioned, "I mean, this friend of Clarke's... what's the situation?"

Abby pulled away from Raven slightly, dragging a hand through the tear tracks on her cheeks, "Lexa assigned a guard to stay with Clarke a few months ago. Some village found her injured. He's supposed to bring updates every ten days to Lexa. The last time, she brought him here. He was supposed to come to Arkadia this time, but he didn't show up." A shuddering breath was inhaled, "What if something happened to Clarke? What if he didn't come because he can't come?"

"Yeah, but Abby, he could just be running late," Raven offered hopefully.

Head shaking slightly, Abby responded, "Lexa said he's usually punctual. He could be late, but it's been a day already." Her lip worked its way between her teeth, an expression of the worry literally gnawing at her.

"Maybe Clarke's finally coming home? And they're just a little behind?" Marcus tried.

There was just a shrug as Abby settled back onto Raven's collar bone, tears streaming, now silently, from her.

"Abby, I can't tell you that Clarke is absolutely okay. I can't tell you where she is or what's going on. But I can tell you that Lexa will do absolutely anything to try and make sure she is." Raven sighed as the cries against her chest regained their volume. "Just hang in there."

~*~

LEXA

The dense fog seemed to part around her and her steed as they moved through the forest. Although she couldn't see the warriors she had with her, she could hear their horse's hooves echoing through the woods.

Lexa had traveled for a full day to reach the approximate area that Zik had indicated he'd left Clarke. The following day had been characterized by a cold, heavy rain. Despite the weather, and the complaints her warriors dare not voice, they'd searched anyways. Wetness pouring from her, and presumably everyone else around, hair matted to heads, and hooves squishing against the ground, they'd managed to search the valley Zik had identified, and the two nearest it. Eventually, someone had dared enough to suggest, carefully, that they rest and wait out the rain.

They'd sheltered for the night in a cave, though Lexa had hardly slept a wink. Back to the fire, and to her companions, she'd watched through the open mouth of the cave the torrential rains assaulting the earth. Where was Clarke? Where is Clarke?

She wished Zik had been more confident in his identification of their location. Then, she would at least have some gauge of whether they had left the location or not. It was possible that he and Clarke had arrived at Arkadia after her departure. And unless anyone bothered to ask Abby, no one would have any idea where to look for her, if they did have news to deliver.

Despite the flickering flame of hope in her that she had merely missed the pair in their travels, she couldn't help the seed of dread that resided beside it. Even if they hadn't moved camp - and that wouldn't be a good thing - the true location could be anywhere around for a dozen or more miles. And if their camp had been moved, why had Zik missed their meeting? A sigh left her, hidden by the sound of the storm outside, as she admitted she would have to send a messenger back to Tondisi so someone would know where to find her. Because Lexa wasn't going to be going back until she had some idea of what had happened.

The storm had abated in the early morning, and left a dense fog in its wake, which Lexa and her warriors now rode through, searching for any sign of life.

Silently, she despised both the weather and the fog. Between the two, she'd lost both time and efficiency in searching for Clarke. The fog was making her question their effectiveness altogether, at the moment. Something could be right before them, or to either side, and they would be clueless. And yet, somehow, Lexa couldn't bring herself to do the logical and just wait until the visibility improved. Instead, she compressed their ranks and did multiple sweeps of the valley. It still yielded no results.

The fog finally thinned and settled into nothing but the dew on dead grass as they began to explore the next valley over. Searching in this way was almost a shot in the dark. But Lexa wasn't about to give up; there was no way to be more precise without actually finding or speaking to Zik or Clarke again. And to do that, she'd have to find them. So, they slowly spiraled through the valleys around the first, despite the fact that it felt like they were constantly circling through mountains.

Dread had wanted to mount inside of her until some inevitable explosion, but Lexa did have enough control of herself to subdue that. She substituted the pure determination that kept her moving, searching, even though the odds were slim.

It was late afternoon when the silence finally broke, someone far to her left calling out, "Heda!"

Did we finally find them?  We actually found something?  But the yell? Is something wrong?  And that was as far as she got before shutting down the thoughts, because if they were alive, here, and not speaking or coming her way themselves... There was no point, when the answer was only a hundred yards away.

She turned her mount and rode toward the call. Other warriors turned and made their way that direction as well. Maybe she would have rushed, if it hadn't felt like time was slowing to a crawl around her.

Eyes alert and scanning, the first thing she saw between the trees was the point of a tent. Hope stirred beneath the surface, and a sigh of relief waited in her lungs for imminent release. The horse took another step, and more of the scene became visible. A large slash through the side of the tent, clothing strewn around, some hanging half in, half outside of the tent, some barely visible, buried in the mud. That waiting sigh, the hopeful release vanished. For a moment, it felt suffocating, the air from her lungs gone, and her heart simultaneously clenching painfully and sinking into her stomach.

Lexa slid from her horse in a daze, hardly registering the guard taking the abandoned animal's reigns. She took another halting step forward, one last piece of the scene before her sliding into place. Beyond the tent, at the other end of the clearing, lay a slain horse, a pair of arrows sticking from its side.

And for another moment, everything was still. Lexa felt her mouth open slightly, not managing to swallow the gasp of fear. There was no readying herself for this. She was about to find more information she didn't like, no matter what that was. There was also no running away from this. She was heda, and being immobilized by fear was not something she could allow. Even if she weren't heda, Lexa needed answers.

She cast her eyes about, above the scene itself, just a moment of respite, evaluating the reactions of her live companions. What she saw was stoicism, confusion, curiosity, and guarded fear. But no one was focused on her, no one saw her shock, her terror.

Lexa braced herself and strode straight for the tent, pulling it aside from the slashed opening to peer inside. Nothing. Or almost nothing. No bodies - that was certainly a relief, however small it was. But also no gear, aside from some clothing and a fur or two. The bottom of the tent was lined with water - so it had been in this condition since at least the rains of yesterday. Her fingers grasped at the tent fabric in hand, pulling it toward her. The cut was clean, straight. Two cuts - one lateral and one vertical. A sword, most likely, or some similarly sharp and swift weapon with enough reach. Whoever did this hadn't had any opposition. There were no jagged edges from hesitation or interruption.

Glancing around, it became obvious that one of the stakes that held a post of the A-frame tent upright had disengaged its tether, and before her eyes, that end of the tent folded inward, plopping itself on top of the rest of the destroyed tent. Maybe the storm? A struggle wouldn't have left it standing precariously like that...

She turned her attention to the ground beneath her, strewn with garments, some plastered with mud. The presence of the items both inside and outside the tent, as well as the few hanging across the opening itself gave a clear enough picture - someone had hastily reached inside, tearing the belongings out, searching. Likely angry. Angry could be good - could mean someone didn't get what they wanted. Could be bad - could have been Zik who'd been looking. She reached for a garment, pulling it from the mud. This item wasn't Clarke's. Frantic, almost afraid to allow herself any glimmer of hope, Lexa was suddenly digging through all of the garments, even pulling the cleaner ones from the tent interior. In doing so, it became obvious that none of them had been stomped into the mud, they'd merely sunk under the rains, and not too deeply. Whenever this happened, it wasn't yesterday. And of course, that wasn't a good thing. The longer it had been, the worse their chances of finding Clarke and Zik, or of them being safe. She'd finally gathered all the clothes. Only two of the items seemed like they might be Clarke's. But then again, Clarke didn't have much clothing, did she? This might have been all there was that she wasn't wearing, a short sleeved shirt and a torn up pair of pants.

Swallowing down both thoughts and emotions, she stood and made to go examine the fallen horse. In doing so, she noticed something curious. The ground, though muddy and malleable, had great long furrows in it, grass roots pulled away, ground torn haphazardly. Lexa knelt by them. Almost with caution, she held a hand out toward the marks, hovering above it. The size just about matched, though it was hard to tell with it having rained. She glanced toward her own boots, evaluating the possibilities. But the longer she looked, the more it became obvious. No, here - Her eyes traced an anomaly. An elbow. The furrows of fingers and nails may have melded back into the earth, but someone had been clawing themselves away from something, here. Something that had been forcefully dragging them toward the edge of the clearing, away from camp.

Again, Lexa stood and made her way toward the fallen horse. Nothing stopped her this time. Except for the smell. She nearly gagged at both the assault to her sense of smell and the sight before her. The horse lay, skin collapsed onto itself like the meat below was liquefying where it wasn't rotted away, displaying worse horrors to the open world. Despite the cold, flies and maggots still gathered in, on, and around the rotting animal.

Lexa had to steel herself, breathing very carefully to force herself any closer in her examination. The discolored beast's skin, beneath the fur, had shifted from a healthy pink to the black of putrefaction, maggots wriggled noticeably in the open stomach cavity of the animal. And Lexa couldn't stand to look any longer. She was no expert in identifying how long something had been dead, despite the number of battles and bodies she had seen, and looking any longer could only make her sick.

She turned and braced herself against the nearby tree, breathing in the flavor of the bark as much as she could over that of decay.

"Heda?" The voice was questioning, careful, cautious.

She turned back toward the scene, feeling almost hollow. The warrior who'd spoken squatted next to the large decaying animal. She didn't say anything, merely stared, waiting.

"Azgeda."

At first, she didn't understand, but her eyes drifted to the arrows embedded in the horse as the man reached out and snapped the shaft of one in half.

He tossed the feathery end of the arrow at her, and she caught it reflexively, examining the craft. And he was right - the arrow was one of Azgeda make. The bird with these feathers rarely nested anywhere other than Azgeda territory.

And suddenly rage coincided with her terror, and the terror itself grew stronger. For all she'd hidden her emotions, what if Clarke's fate was the same? Would they even think to send her Clarke's head, or would she simply never see the girl again?

Because despite not being an expert, the state of decay said that this had happened a while ago. Clarke - and Zik - had been gone a long while.

Taking in the sights before her, her mind populated the rest, imagining Clarke, or Zik putting up a fight as one, or both of them are dragged off. There's no blood - but maybe that's only because of the rain. What exactly happened?

Without prompting, her mind showed her her greatest fear. A sight in which Clarke was struck down. An arrow, a sword, a blow to the head. The possibilities were endless. She always knew she wouldn't be able to protect Clarke, but she never expected to be this ineffective.

But the rage came boiling back. Because even if Clarke is dead, there's still something she can do. She can find who did this. And when she does, maybe Clarke will be there, too.

Then, before she realized she was doing so, she was yelling at her warriors, who had done absolutely nothing wrong, "You four!" She gestured haphazardly toward one half of the camp, not bothering to specify which of the five warriors in that vicinity she was addressing, "Follow the trail and find who's done this!"

There was an awkward quiet moment before one spoke up, "But the rains..."

Lexa rounded on the man, advancing on him, voice sinking into something deadly and threatening, "Find who has done this." And she turned away again, "Report to Polis when you know whose head I need to sever. And should you somehow fail-" Lexa leveled a glare over her own shoulder, "- one of your number should check in with any updates."

There was no movement for a moment, and just before Lexa could let her rage free again, there was hasty scrambling for horses, and climbing into saddles. Four of the five - and how they decided who wasn't going, no one will ever know - rode off in the same direction someone else had so recently been dragged.

And Lexa was left with four warriors and a mountain of worries. Who would dare to attack a Trikru warrior and Wanheda? Azgeda, of course, but had the queen asked for this, demanded it? Had she somehow known of Lexa's feelings? Or come to that conclusion? Or had this been some rogue band, or bounty hunter?

She felt herself hardening - closing herself off from the pain that is to come. Even the green of her eyes dulled into something harder, though Lexa wouldn't be able to see that.

When she spoke, her voice felt foreign, dull, lifeless, "Two of you, return to Tondisi, and Arkadia." She didn't even bother to dictate which of them should take up the task, "Tell Indra I will not return. Tell Abby kom Skaikru that her daughter's camp was attacked. Assure her that I have set warriors on their trail. She may not yet be dead." And that was true enough. Despite her own imagination, she knew Nia preferred to torture her victims before she finally let them die. And might be alive was all she had at the moment. "Stay together on your journey. Don't split up and let something like this happen to you. Go."

Their leave taken, she was left with only two. Both female. Perhaps they were simply the more tolerant of her emotional outbursts, even if rage is the only emotion she's ever allowed to display. Whether they are or are not any more comfortable with her rage than the other warriors is of no concern, as these two still have enough fear about them that it is visible in their eyes. She can feel their waiting, their fear of what is to come. She's already calmed herself as much as she's going to, but she can see their expectation.

Instead of meeting those expectations, and yelling again, in so misdirected a manner, she sighed and walked toward her horse, pulling herself up into the saddle. "We're going to Polis."

Chapter Text

LEXA

They rode into Polis in the early morning, just as the city was waking, and the people readying themselves for the day. The day and half it took to get there had been pleasant for no one. Lexa had pushed them to ride harder and longer than anyone had enjoyed, only stopping to rest once. A few hours of sleep that she didn't gain the benefit of. How could she possibly sleep with war on the horizon, and her heart missing?

Because Clarke was out there somewhere, and her one connection to the girl had been severed. Whatever had happened, even if Zik were still alive, he wouldn't be bringing her news about Clarke anytime soon.

And this is why it was weakness to love. Even if she ignored the fact that her heart was held by someone who didn't even like her, it was now so far beyond her own control. It wasn't just outside herself, it was gone, missing, lost, and she had no idea where. All she could do was shut out that part of herself, and she was failing to manage that completely. She still felt vulnerable in the aching void of her chest.

The city knew nothing to be wrong. Everything about it felt frustratingly normal. The smells of the first batches of the day cooking at food vendor stalls, the clatter of wares being set out for perusal, the patter of children's feet on cobble stones. The hiss of frying food, the smoke and steam that accompanied them, and the sight of far too many smiles. Her people were glad to see her return, even if they hadn't been expecting it. It showed in the smiles and waves, in the way the children slowed their running as they passed by her, and in the few bold enough to come forward, pet her steed, wish her well.

But Lexa was not in the mood. For her, these were not happy times. Normally, coming home was not so bad. It was comforting, she felt welcome, if distant. But this time, when everyone around her seemed full of joy, and she, herself, felt dread, it almost ached to be anywhere near them.

She didn't snap, she didn't yell, she didn't stop them from their joviality. She simply faced forward and rode toward the tower that lay at the city's center. Her tower.

Lexa dismounted and handed the reigns off to a waiting attendant. She strode into her tower, dismissing the warriors who had accompanied her this far as she continued right past one set of guards and addressing the second as they opened the elevator doors, tone more harsh than she intended, "Bring Titus to me."

The elevator ride itself felt far too long. Alone, in an enclosed space, with too much time to think. Lexa hated it. Every thought in her head was one she'd already hashed over time and again in many variations since the moment she'd known Clarke was missing. Where is Clarke? What happened to her? Who attacked their camp and why? There were no answers. Not yet. And waiting was agony. A permanent ache had taken up residence in her gut, twining itself around the ball of anxiety there. Every moment was some kind of unpleasant waiting game. And the game wouldn't end until she found Clarke, dead or alive.

Lexa shoved aside the elevator doors before the guards on her floor could get to it, striding past them with purpose and slamming through the doors of the throne room. The guards beside the doors exchanged a fearful glance before pulling the doors shut again.

The boiling emotion within her had nowhere to go, for the moment, so Lexa paced before the raised steps that led to her throne. Her own rage seemed to fill the room, like it exuded from her in every breath and motion, producing a stifling heat in air too still.

An unsuspecting Titus entered the room, the door pulled shut behind him appropriately. One glance at her state, and she could feel him planning his condescending speech.

Rather than let Titus take the reigns of conversation, she growled out, "I want all of the ambassadors and clan leaders here in three days."

Finally, confusion colored Titus' features, rather than preemptive contempt, and he queried, "What is it you would bother all the clans with?"

Her pacing ceased immediately, head turning toward her adviser, eyes narrowing into a glare. "Treason." Her tone was calmer than she felt, but no less accusatory. Treason wasn't strictly true, nor was it entirely incorrect. Given what she knew, Azgeda venturing deep enough into Trikru territory that they had attacked members of Skaikru, an attack made without her permission, she had enough to back up the accusation, if only just.

Titus, ever prepared with a rational, if futile, argument, asked, "Why not just the traitors, heda? Some of the clan leaders may not be able to-"

And that was the moment in which Lexa snapped. As she turned and advanced on the man, she interrupted, yelling, tendons tensed in stark relief to the smooth expanse of her neck, "I don't care who's old, infirm, or dying!" By that point, she was in her adviser's face, the odd bit of stray spittle hitting his face in her unadulterated anger, "I want all the clan leaders and their ambassadors here in three days, and standing in this room on the fourth!"

There was a long tense moment as they stared each other down, Lexa silently daring him to question her again. In the end, Titus offered a rather rigid nod and backed out of the room.

As the door shut behind him, Lexa finally relaxed her demeanor, even if her interior felt no calmer than before. She whirled and climbed the shallow steps toward her throne, finally taking a seat in her rightful place. Absently, her fingers extracted her dagger from it's place strapped to her thigh. The blade twirled between her fingers as her mind revolved the same old worries.

If it's who I think it is behind this, if it's Nia, she'll know exactly why I'm upset. And she'll come prepared for a fight.

If it is Nia, I'll have to hope that Clarke still has her head. Maybe Clarke'll hate me enough to give Nia whatever information she can.

Three days to figure out what Nia wants, what she'll do to get it, and how to stop her. How to finally get revenge.

The dagger slammed into the armrest of the chair beneath the force of her clenched fist.

- - -

KANE

Marcus Kane found himself walking toward the gates of Arkadia. The past few days had not been easy ones, and though the camp, as a whole, knew nothing of the situation beyond rumors, it had quickly become apparent, based on their Chancellor's demeanor, that something had happened to Clarke. What? No one had any more idea than them, and that was no surprise, since besides himself, Raven, and Abby, no one in camp had had any accurate news regarding Clarke since Bellamy had admitted she'd left.

And it was because of said Chancellor's demeanor that Kane found himself responding to this particular request, in her place. All requests, lately, in fact.

As he approached the gates, he could hear an argument between the guards on post, and some unknown voices. Kane was silently glad. If there were a real problem, they likely wouldn't hear about it until it was too late.

He was nearly beside them when the guards finally noticed his arrival, and he could make out their visitors. Grounders, no doubt, by their attire, but not ones he had met, he was certain.

"Sir, they claim to have a message, demand to talk to Abby, but-" One of the guards had turned from the argument, frantically trying to explain the situation to him, "-the commander has almost always come herself. No one else has actually demanded to be let in."

Kane felt his face pull into a sad smile, responding, "The commander can't come, I suspect. At any rate, this message is probably important." He spared a glance toward their visitors before continuing, "Do you mind if I handle this?"

Both of the guards back away and without much more than a hint of hesitation the grounder pair approached, "Heda sent us with a message for Abby kom Skaikru. Will you allow us to deliver it?"

Kane had figured the situation as such. And his guess, though he couldn't know for sure, not yet, was that the news is not good. There's a slight chance the commander sent word ahead of her, of her and Clarke's return. But the likelihood is minuscule in comparison to the other possibilities. Much more likely was that they hadn't been found at all, or had been injured. Kane might be a bit of an optimist, but he wasn't irrational.

Nodding slightly in assent, he beckoned for the pair to follow him. The walk to the Chancellor's quarters were silent, and before alerting Abby to their presence, he stopped the them in the hall just outside her door.

"She's not going to like the message, is she?" He asked, banking on the fact that the grounders were probably instructed to speak specifically to Abby.

A look was exchanged between the two before a simultaneous nod was given as answer.

With a resigned sigh, Marcus turned to key the doorway open, pushing the door aside, not quite sure what to expect. However, the sight that met his eyes was not unexpected.

Abby stood before a plexi-glass sheet with a territory map recreated on it, staring. Her eyes seemed dull and lifeless, heavy bags residing beneath them. She looked like she hadn't slept at all since before Lexa's departure. An uncapped marker hung, possibly forgotten, in the fingertips of her right hand, though the map had marks and lines on it from its' application at some point. The other arm hugged across Abby's own torso, like she was subconsciously trying to hold herself together. And it didn't seem to be working. She seemed like little more than a husk of a human being. She had the right shape, the right features, but none of the function and mind that made someone feel real.

Kane rapped his knuckles against the now open door, startling Abby from her blank, fixed stare. "Abby, we have guests. Messengers from the commander."

A brief look of hope flashed on Abby's face, though it was quickly replaced the same familiar worry. "What'd she find?" Her voice sounded horse, like it hadn't known much other than crying in the past few days.

One of the grounders, the male, cleared his throat before stating, sounding somehow both factual and cautious, "We found their camp, but no one was there." His eyes flicked toward the floor, as if he couldn't make eye contact while delivering the next part of his message, "It looked like they had been attacked. The - the guard's horse was dead."

Kane ignored his own flicker of dread as his eyes darted toward Abby, who must have just started visibly shaking. The marker clattered to the floor, Abby the only one not noticing the noise as she pulled her right arm up to join her left about herself, failing to hold her sobs in. Between the gasping sobs, she gets out, "No sign of Clarke?"

The female grounder stepped forward half a step. It almost seemed like the girl wanted to comfort the grieving mother, but instead, she steeled herself and added, "It rained the day before we found the camp, but heda sent half of our group to track whoever attacked them. There were no bodies, other than the horse. She suspects they were taken."

"Then - then she's alive?" Abby asked, somehow sounding both hopeful and desolate.

The slight shake of a head was not missed by Kane, but the words that accompanied them were heard by all, "There is no way to be certain until they are found."

Abby's head bobbed in a hardly coordinated nod, "And Lexa? What's she doing about this?"

"Probably went to Polis. Maybe convene the council," came the deep voice of the male.

He could almost see Abby breaking, and moved toward her, slipping an arm around her shoulder in silent support, voicing a question of his own, since Abby seemed incapable, at the moment, "What will happen if she does convene the council? How does that help find Clarke?"

The shake of a head, "It doesn't. It helps find who took her. If heda already knows."

"Does she know?"

There was a long, long silence, before one grounder said, "Azgeda," and the other adds, "Maybe."

He could feel Abby shaking against his arm and led her to the couch, gently forcing her to sit, "Is there anything else?"

"No. We have to take the same news to Tondisi."

Kane nodded, though he wasn't sure why. Perhaps a reflex, something to fill the space and silence when there was nothing of value to say. "I'll show you out."

After doing so, Kane returned to Abby's quarters, letting himself in without knocking. It couldn't have been more than five minutes that he was gone, but the room seemed to have drastically changed.

The couch was tipped over backward, sheets torn from the bed, papers that previous littered the desk were scattered across the floor of the room. The plexi-glass map had been quite obviously thrown, if not damaged in additional ways, cracks spidering up from a corner, where it must have impacted something. The desk chair had been overturned, much like the couch, the desk itself having shifted several feet, though still upright. Abby sat in the middle of it all, back to the bottom of the overturned couch, knees pulled to her chest, braced there by her arms, sobbing loudly into the space between her knees and chest. Her knuckles were bloodied and the skin there cracked open, bleeding slightly.

With a sigh and a shit muttered only in his mind, he lowered himself beside her. He replaced his arm about her, in an odd half-hug.

"What do we do? What can we do?" Abby cried. "She might really be dead!"

Kane didn't know what to say. What could be said? He tried anyways, "Tomorrow, we'll go to Tondisi. Talk to Indra, see if she got any more information from the scouts. Maybe she'll have some ideas about what we can do? Maybe we could supply troops to help track them down?" He pulled one of her hands away from her knees, examining her knuckles as he pulled it toward himself. "Come on. Let's go to medical and get you cleaned up."

Much like their last trip to medical, he had to support her most of the way there. It was painful seeing Abby so broken, so hopeless.

Upon arrival, sat where he figured Jackson should have been, was Raven, fiddling with some parts on the desk, hot soldering iron in hand, tongue between her teeth, focused on whatever she was working on. "Raven, where's Jackson?"

There was an absentminded shrug from Raven. Kane sighed while sitting Abby down on the edge of the nearest bed.

It's was only while Kane was digging around in a cabinet for disinfectant and bandages that Raven looked up from what she was doing. He could hear the exclamation from behind him, "What happened now?!"

He glanced over his own shoulder to see Raven moving toward Abby, a new brace in place on her knee. "Lexa found their camp. Not them."

"Shit," Raven crashed onto the bed next to Abby, wrapping her arms around the despondent woman, who, Kane assumed, would be chastising her for being out of bed and walking around if she'd been up to it.

He finally found what he was looking for and headed back toward the bed. He dropped to his knees, preparing to dress the wounds when Raven unceremoniously pulled the supplies away from him and pulled Abby's nearest hand into her lap.

At his irritated expression, she said, "Do you have any idea how much time I've spent in medical? I don't spent all that time sleeping and reading. I could probably dress simple wounds in my sleep, even if I weren't a genius."

Kane shrugged and let her take over, moving to sit on the bed on the other side of Abby.

"What if the rain eradicated the trail?"

Kane and Raven were both surprised by the question from Abby. "Rain?" Raven mouthed at him. "Clarke's camp - the trail of whoever attacked or took them." Kane did his best to mouth back. He wasn't sure how easy it was to read lips, but Raven seemed to get enough not to question it further, returning to tending the wounds before her.

He rested a hand on Abby's shoulder, "Someone will know, Abby. Even if there's no trail, someone knows what happened there. We'll go to Polis, make sure the commander is doing everything she can. We'll do whatever we have to."

~*~

KANE

The next morning, the two traveled to Tondisi, as promised.

Before their departure, Raven had shoved a radio and a couple spare battery packs at him, informing him in no uncertain terms that she wasn't staying in bed all day if Abby wasn't around. A part of him wanted to be concerned, but he'd always thought Abby was being more cautious than need be with Raven's healing. And he knew Raven had something in mind. Even if she'd forced herself to be physically idle, her mind never was.

The trek to Tondisi was a long one, without the aide of horses or other accelerated transportation. The two didn't talk much, on their journey, but Abby seemed more put together, if only on the outside. The tears, the terror, the rage was all hiding somewhere beneath the surface, and Kane figured that it was the mere prospect of trying to do something that made it possible.

When they arrived, Indra was waiting for them at the edge of the village. Kane resisted the temptation to look around, figuring scouts had alerted her to their imminent presence.

He was no fool; he knew Indra wasn't the greatest fan of their people. Far from it. She was, however, pragmatic, and could be reasoned with. Kane just had to be careful in how he phrased their questions.

Indra's arms were crossed before her, glaring as they continued toward her, "Why are you here, sky people?"

Abby opened her mouth to respond, but Kane quickly lay a hand on her arm, silently asking for her to let him handle the conversation. Then, he spoke loud and clear, several feet still between them and the grounder, "The commander sent us a message, about Clarke's camp. I'm sure you know that she's Abby's daughter. We came to see if the commander gave you any more information, and to see if there is any way we can help."

Indra's eyes could be felt upon them, appraising, silently. "That depends on what the commander allowed you to know."

"Clarke's camp was attacked. Her friend's horse dead, but no other bodies. Warriors were sent to follow the trail of whoever attacked the camp, but it had rained. And that the commander herself was probably headed to Polis."

There was a subtle nod from Indra, "Then you know what I know." Her arms dropped from their crossed position, one moving to rest on her hip, the other resting on the hilt of her sword, non-threateningly. "I suspect heda will convene the council once she arrives in Polis, if the news we've heard is true." Indra's eyes dragged over Abby exclusively, obviously pondering something she didn't personally understand.

With a quick glance sideways, he noticed the slight widening of Abby's eyes that preceded an understanding look in response to the grounder's appraisal. Kane, himself, was baffled by the silent exchange. Something else was going on with this whole situation. Something he didn't know.

Abby spoke up for the first time, filling the silence that had grown as Kane neglected to continue the conversation, "Is there anything we can do?"

"To help track them down?" he added.

Indra swallowed her instinctual scoff, though it wasn't lost on them. "You'd have to talk to heda to even know where to start, and what to do that might be helpful."

Kane asked, cautiously, "Can we go to Polis? To make sure we're doing everything we can to help find them?"

Eyes rolling, Indra turned away from them, walking into the village. "And I suppose you don't know your way there," she called over her shoulder, one hand beckoning for them to follow.

"Well, no, we don't. We've never been there."

Indra didn't deem a response necessary to that, instead exchanging rapid Trigedasleng with a few other grounders. Within minutes, the two found themselves climbing onto borrowed horses with additional supplies and following Indra onto an old dirt road that led them further from their home on the ground than they'd ever been.

Chapter Text

BELLAMY

He slid carefully out of bed, careful not to wake its other occupant. He pulled on boots and jacket after the normal attire. Bellamy turned and glanced at the girl in the bed, a slight smile on his face. He leaned over the bed, one hand on the mattress holding him up and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. As he pulled back, there was a smile not dissimilar from his own on her face. And with that firmly recorded in memory, he left, heading to the mess hall to start his day.

The mess was quiet at this time of the morning, very few people awake, and half of the hunters already out at their duties. An empty mess was the best mess. No lines for food, no waiting, and no conversations he didn't want to have.

After a quick meal, and swinging by the armory to grab his weapon, he headed outside to take up his post, which this day, was at the front gate. He neared the gate, greeting the guard he was taking over for. The guard grumbled and groaned, complaining about night shifts, and wistfully wishing aloud that he could get switched to days. Because nights, apparently, were really boring.

For the most part, he ignored the man, pulling himself up into the tower. Sergeant Miller was already there. Always early to a shift. Something about setting a good example. A cordial greeting was the extent of their exchange, Bellamy turning his attention to what lay beyond the walls of camp.

He was trying to ignore the cold chill the breeze brought as he stared out and the sun rose. Then something caught his eye. A glint, a flash of metal.

Only, he wasn't sure he'd seen anything. He casually shifted his weapon in that direction, not bringing it to the ready, so as not to alarm his partner.

He stared at that same spot on the treeline. The wind blew and the glint shone again. He tipped his weapon up a fraction.

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"I see something out by the treeline."

"Someone?"

"I'm not sure what it is. A flash of light, like a reflection off of metal or glass or something."

The two stared in the same direction until the flash came again, and Bellamy was hopping down from the tower before the sergeant could say anything, "Cover me."

The sergeant was down by the time Bellamy was pulling the gate open.

He readied his weapon and began to slowly make his way toward the trees. Sergeant Miller's presence could be felt behind him, keeping a carefully maintained distance. Bellamy kept his eyes peeled, prepared for anything.

Only, as he neared the trees, and the flashing light, it became relatively apparent that no one was near. Not near the light itself, at any rate. He gave the area a thorough scan, the whole situation felt like a trap.

"Got you covered," Sergeant Miller called from behind him.

Bellamy quickly slung his weapon and examined the object in question. A handgun hung from a tree, rotating slowly as the wind blew past, and Bellamy stepped closer. The gun was held up by a root, tied at one end to the tree and wrapped around the trigger guard of the gun. It was extremely strange, and Bellamy couldn't help but glance around. Who would have put this here? He reached out and pulled, the small force enough to break the root.

Gun in hand, he felt a sense of recognition. It might not be the same... but the gun was, at the very least, the same model as the one Clarke had had in the battle against Mount Weather. The image of it firing at Dante Wallace was practically burned into his memory. If it's Clarke's... what does that mean?

He flicked the magazine release and pulled it clear, examining it. Empty. Then he pulled back the slide, checking the chamber. Same. Whoever put this here either found it empty, or knew enough about guns to know how to empty more than just the magazine.

Glancing down at the gun in hand, a glint in the grass below caught his eye. He knelt and brushed his hand through the grass. Bullets. The same ones for this gun, unspent rounds.

He quickly pulled the rounds from the ground, slipping them into his pocket, then stood. He gazed again at the gun in hand, mind a flurry with the mystery of how it came to be there.

"Bellamy?"

He snapped back to reality, and moved to join the sergeant. The two began walking back to camp, less guarded than before.

"I don't know where it came from." Bellamy passed the gun off to Sergeant Miller, who frowned at it. "Why was it abandoned and strung up for us to find? I mean, is it one of ours? One of the mountain's?"

"I don't know."

"Who else even has or uses guns besides us?"

"I think the question is who took it. If there had been an ambush waiting, I might suspect something more, but this seems like someone just trying to play a prank."

Bellamy glanced at the gun again. How could I forget the gun that shot Dante Wallace? This was Clarke's gun - and the only thing I know for certain she left with. So what's it doing here? And why? And how?

Somewhat begrudgingly, Bellamy let the sergeant keep the weapon, to turn in to the armory after their shift. For all Bellamy's certainty, he wasn't quite certain enough. What if he was wrong? If he told and was wrong, it was merely another gun of the same model, it would be devastating to Abby. If she knew his suspicions and believed them.

- - -

It was mid-afternoon and Bellamy's shift was already over. He was antsy to start looking into the situation surrounding the gun, but his replacement seemed to be late for his shift. He wanted nothing more, at the moment, than to find his sister and ask if she'd seen anything out in the forest that might confirm his suspicions.

At the sound of panting, Bellamy turned to see the guard replacing him, "Please, please, please don't tell anyone I was late!" the young guy begged. "I really don't want to be docked rations for-"

"It's fine," Bellamy cut him off. "Just try not to do it again. Next guy might not be as forgiving."

Bell slung his weapon and began to cross the lawn toward his sister's home.

Bellamy ducked his head into the tent his sister shared with Lincoln. He wasn't exactly fond of the living arrangement, but given that Octavia had lived almost all her life under the floor in the Ark the rest of them still inhabited, he could understand her aversion to spending time in it. It didn't hurt that Lincoln, despite being a grounder, was a very good guy. Maybe it was being told endlessly that his sister was his responsibility that made him feel protective more in the way of a parent than a brother, but if ever he had to let Octavia go, be someone else's responsibility, be under someone else's protection, at least Lincoln was someone who had already proved himself, having saved her time and time again. And so, though they didn't talk often, Lincoln and Bellamy had a somewhat amicable relationship.

This was fortunate, because when Bellamy poked just his head into the tent, to see if Octavia was there, she wasn't. Lincoln, however, was. The man lay stretched with his back to a trunk of belongings. Between his fingers lay a tiny wooden figure, the point of a knife carefully pressed into it, whittling away just a chip of wood at a time. In the dim lighting, Bellamy wasn't sure what the carving was supposed to be. He cleared his throat and asked, "Hey, is Octavia around?"

Lincoln didn't so much as twitch, and why should he? He probably knew before Bellamy had even touched the tent flap that he was there. "She went for a ride."

He resisted the temptation to roll his eyes. That was just like Octavia; but how was she to know he had something to ask her? Why not have some fun for once in her life in the brief moments where nothing might be wrong? He stepped the rest of the way into the tent, crouching just inside, "You mind if I ask you something?" He paused, out of courtesy, though both of them knew that not only would Lincoln not mind, but he also wouldn't even bother to nod his assent. "You guys go out all the time with the hunting crews. Have you ever seen anything..." He faltered, trying to parse his phrasing cautiously. "...suspicious?"

Lincoln offered a casual shrug, eyes and hands still focused on his carving, "Sure. What are you getting at, though?"

Fingers running through the hair at the back of his head, he sighed, "This morning... I found a gun out by the treeline. Not just like someone had dropped it, but tied up by a root. So someone had to have put it there deliberately. So... have you seen anyone around?"

"No." Lincoln finally looked up at him, making eye contact, "Not anyone who would touch one of your fayogon, at any rate." He set the little craving to the side, shifting the knife from one hand to the other before continuing, "North side of camp?" Bellamy nodded. "Octavia handles the groups that are assigned north of camp. Maybe she's seen something."

Frowning, only slightly, "Can you tell Octavia I want to talk to her when she gets back?" The slight motion of a nod from the other. "Thanks, Lincoln."

Bellamy then exited the tent, unsure of where to go.

Who can I talk to about this? My old crew is pretty much null. Murphy's gone, Atom's dead, Jasper wouldn't want to so much as hear Clarke's name, and Monty's always with him. Miller's the only one who isn't entirely out of the question.

He let out a resigned sigh. It was mid-afternoon, and he had no idea where Miller would be at this time of day. He knew that Miller worked mornings - outside in the forest, so maybe he'd seen something.

He decided to check the mess hall, since he didn't have any clue where Miller's quarters were. Over the past few months, Bellamy had distanced himself from all of the hundred. It had hurt just to look at them. He thought that he could bear the weight of the choice he helped Clarke enact - because it wasn't his choice, he didn't get to choose - but seeing them every day was painful.

The mess was a bust. Hardly anyone ate at this time, and the ones who did, you could probably bet were there more for some alcohol than the oh-so-tasty rations.

As a last ditch effort, Bellamy headed toward medical. Of course, Miller wasn't there either. He wouldn't be unless he'd been injured. Bellamy was just desperate for someone to talk to about this whole mystery.

And though Miller might not have been there, someone else was. Bell found himself leaning against the doorjamb, taking in the scene.

Raven sat on the edge of a bed, pants off, arguing with Jackson, "I'm asking you nicely, take these damn stitches out, or I'll do it myself."

Jackson huffed in exasperation, "Raven, they aren't supposed to come out for four more days."

She twisted her body around, so the stitches in the back of her knee were visible, "Look! Healing, flesh knitting together, it'll be fine. Just take the damn stitches out, they keep catching on my brace." There was a long, silent stare down. "You know if they get pulled out, it'll be worse than just taking them out, right?"

Finally, Jackson sighed and retrieved some medical scissors from a wall cabinet, "Fine, but at least take it easy until they would have come out anyways. And don't tell Abby."

Stitches were snipped and removed from all three of Raven's wounds rather quickly. As she was pulling her pants back on, she finally noticed him standing in the doorway. "A bit late to finally be visiting me. Maybe try again next time they cut me open," an appropriate amount of snark - for Raven - in her tone.

Raven hasn't been outside. She doesn't get outside, even if she has been let out of medical.

There was a tense silence as Raven picked up her brace and started strapping it back around her knee, "Okay, what's wrong?"

He found himself giving Jackson an apprehensive glance, knowing the kind of damage his speculation could do if it made its way back to Abby. "Can we go somewhere and talk?" There was just a slight quaver in his voice as he asked.

Raven shrugged, securing the last fastener, "Yeah, I guess." She hopped off the bed and he found himself following her without questioning her destination.

As they walked into engineering, he figured he should have assumed as much. He glanced around, ensuring they were alone in the work space.

"So what's eating you?" Raven asked.

He swallowed down his hesitation and admitted, "I found a gun."

And Raven actually laughed in response. "Just randomly? Some idiot probably left their's lying around."

A frown furrowing his features and he shook his head slightly. The look in his eyes would have told anyone he was serious. "No, I found a gun out by the treeline. Actually tied to a tree."

Raven's brows scrunched together as the laughter died awkwardly, admitting, "Okay... that's strange."

"And I'm pretty sure..." He paused, not sure if he should say the next part. He wasn't sure. How could he be sure? But how else would it have gotten there? Even if it was Clarke's, that still didn't explain how it got there. "...I'm pretty sure it's Clarke's."

The confusion in Raven's features magnified as she questioned, "What? What would it be doing... and why... to a tree?"

He tossed his hands up in mild exasperation, "I don't know, Raven." He turned away and paced a short distance, "I really don't know. I mean, someone had to have put it there-" Bell made a turn in his pacing, heading back toward her, "-the question is who."

Shaking her head slightly, Raven began to quietly work her way through the information out loud, "Well, the news we just got about Clarke wasn't good news." She pulled herself up onto a stool and dropped her chin forward to rest in her palm, elbow on the table. "And then Clarke's gun just shows up? I don't get it. If someone killed her, why take the gun and basically return it to us?" There was a pause and Bellamy rounded the table, grabbing another stool, "And same if she was captured. If not... I mean... who would even return a gun to us?"

Bellamy shrugged, sitting on the stool, "I have no idea. I went to the tent to see if Octavia was there. Lincoln said she went for a ride, and he hadn't seen anything. Maybe Octavia did?"

Raven tilted her head to the side, shrugging just one shoulder, "Well, if she did, then we'd at least have some idea what's going on."

And just then, Octavia's head poked into the room, followed by her whole body and an exceedingly annoyed expression, "Ugh! There you are! Why are you literally in the last place I look?"

Grinning, Raved joked, "Speak, and she shall appear!"

One eyebrow tipped up questioningly, Octavia asked, "Yeah? What ya saying about me?"

"I found a gun tied to a tree on the north side of camp this morning. Have you seen anything out there that might tell us who put it there?"

Shrugging carelessly, Octavia's response was, "No. Not unless one of Tondisi's scouts put it there."

"Well, what if they did?" Raven asked. "What if something happened to Clarke, or if she just... lost the gun, and they found it... and now that we have a treaty and all, they felt they should return it?"

Octavia chuckled, "Naw, I wasn't being serious about the possibility. The grounders wouldn't touch a gun. They think if they do, one of their own will die because of it."

"Maybe they wanted it away from their people, so they took the risk to return it?" Bellamy ventured. And then he thought about it, "But the chamber was emptied, and the bullets on the ground... Whoever put it there either already found it that way, or they knew enough about guns to be able to empty it."

Raven ran a hand through her hair, "Well... this is strange. What do we do?"

"I don't want to tell anyone what I think in case-"

"Wait, what do you think?" Octavia interjected.

He grimaced, "Sorry, O. I forgot that was before you walked in. The gun, I've seen it before. It's Clarke's, I'm almost certain. But I don't want to tell anyone in case it gets back to Abby. It'll just make things worse for her. And what if I'm wrong? It could just be another gun of the same model..."

"You said it was tied to a tree?" Octavia asked. Bellamy merely nodded. "How?"

"Someone tied a root to a branch and the other end through the trigger guard."

Raven smirked, despite the serious nature of the conversation as a whole, "Well, it didn't just fall out of someone's pocket like that."

"So someone put it there." Octavia said. "Which means they had to be there to do it. Did you ask anyone from the night guard?"

He felt his eyes widen as the realization hit him that he should have thought of that. Groaning and running one hand over his face in exasperation he said, "No. The guy I relieved this morning just said he wished he could switch to days..."

"You should ask around and see if anyone saw anything. I'm going to take Lincoln and see if we can find any tracks to follow. They can't be too far."

And with that, they broke apart, leaving an annoyed Raven with nothing obvious to do in contribution.

~*~

Bellamy had tracked down every guard he could find who'd worked that night shift by the next day. Unfortunately, it seemed attentiveness was not part of the job description. No one claimed to see or hear anything that night, and although Bellamy didn't make an accusations, he was pretty sure that at least a few of them had actually been asleep.

So, with a resigned sigh, Bellamy went back to engineering, only to find it empty. With something of a pout, he sat on a stool. A few minutes later, Raven entered the room, giving him a casual 'hey' and hardly a glance as she dug through containers for parts. Before he could express his curiosity and ask what she was working on, Octavia joined them.

"Hey, so Lincoln and I checked out the area around where you found that gun. Lincoln says we can track who was there, but it's going to take some time. The trail is pretty faint, and whoever left that gun there is just going to get farther and farther away in the meantime."

"Better hope they got careless somewhere and the trail gets more obvious, otherwise you'll be looking all night," Raven mumbled, bent over a tub of components.

Octavia shrugged, "Yeah, but we want to know who left it there, right? Unless you have more information, this is all we have right now."

"Here," Raven shoved a radio at Octavia. "Radio in when you think you're getting close. Or at least find a more substantial trail. We'll come join you."

"We?" Bellamy questioned, somewhat confused.

Raven just smirked, "You'll see."

Octavia left, as did Raven, leaving a baffled Bellamy alone in engineering. With a huff at being abandoned, he left the room as well.

After dinner, Bellamy rejoined Raven, who seemed to have finished whatever she'd been working on earlier, and was lazily toying around with parts, the radio within reach.

"Nothing from Lincoln or Octavia?"

A shaking head, "If the trail is that hard to follow, do we really think it was Clarke? I mean, this is Lincoln and Octavia we're talking about. Lincoln is no stranger to sneaking around in the forest, and they're still out there looking?"

Bellamy took a seat, "Well, what if something happened to them?"

"I put a tracker in the radio. It's not as good as GPS, but I can't really pull that off without access to a functioning satellite. It'll give us a direction and strength of the signal it's sending."

"Ever the showoff, eh?"

"I don't think I really need to show off, but it doesn't hurt."

"Well, thanks." Bellamy ran his hand through his hair, "I don't know what I'd do if I lost her. I mean, she can take care of herself now, but it's just hard... to actually treat her like she can."

"Keep trying and maybe you won't fuck it up. But in this kind of situation, a back up plan isn't a bad idea."

"Yeah-"

The radio had crackled to life, a spatter of static coming through before a voice, Octavia's, said, "Hey guys. We finally got a good handle on the trail of our mystery person. You there?"

Raven and Bellamy simultaneously reached for the radio, Raven reaching it first and giving Bellamy a look that said something to the effect of 'just try me'. "Yeah, O, we're here. Where are you guys?"

"We're west of camp a few miles. A little bit north, I guess. Are you sure you guys can get out here? I mean, how do you plan on catching up with us? We could just keep following the trail."

With a classic smirk in place, though Octavia and Lincoln didn't have the benefit of seeing it, Raven responded, "Oh, I've got little... wheeled surprise."

Bellamy's eyes widened at the implication of what that might mean, "Wait, when did you - we having a working vehicle?"

At roughly the same time, Octavia said, "You've got a car or something? Hold on a few minutes."

Raven and Bellamy exchanged a confused look, and Raven just shrugged.

"So when did we get a car?"

"More of an armored vehicle... I made Wick go back out to the mountain and fix one up enough to get it to camp. I mean, I was hoping he wouldn't fuck anything up too badly, and no one usually knows what he's working on, anyways, so it was easy to just send him... eh, anyways, I've been working on it since I got out of medical. Finished some engine diagnostics and retrofitting it with solar panels this afternoon. Should be all good to go."

Rolling his eyes, Bellamy offered a half-cocked smile and joked, "Showoff."

Raven simply shrugged, grin in place.

The radio then crackled back to life, "Okay, so according to Lincoln, there's a road a little further west of us, and it crosses a stream somewhere just south of us. Think you could manage to find that and meet us there?"

"Yup, we'll see you out there, O. Give us a call if something comes up."

"Will do."

Bellamy frowned, "We should bring some help."

"What, why? Don't fancy a ride with my fine ass?"

Eyes rolling yet again, "That's not it. I'm just thinking, if it isn't Clarke... maybe we want some more firepower on our side. Just in case."

"Okay, well you already said you don't want it getting out that you think it might be Clarke. Who do we trust?"

"Do we have to tell?"

Raven shrugged, shoving off her stool, "You're going to have to tell them something. They're going to ask."

Bellamy got up from his own seat, "Okay, okay. I'll find some people. Where's the ride?"

"Hanger on the north side."

"Meet you there?"

The only response he got was a casual nod as Raven left the room, limping only minimally with her brace in place.

A half hour later, friends (or as close as Bellamy had) in tow, he was approaching a thoroughly bored Raven, leaning up against the side of black, armored military vehicle. She eyed the impromptu group he'd gathered, "So this was your idea of extra firepower?" Behind him stood Monty, Miller, Harper, and Monroe. Plain clothes all, and nothing out of the ordinary but for a rifle each. She eyed Monty in particular, "Taking some time off from Jasper?"

"I just... don't really think he'd want to know."

Raven nodded and pushed off the vehicle, rounding to the driver's side, "Well, get in."

There was the growling rev of an engine as Raven turned the vehicle on, and an awkward jerk as the accelerator was just barely tapped.

"Are you sure you know how to drive this thing?"

"Doubting me?" Raven cocked an eyebrow and glanced in Bellamy's direction. "Of course I do. The controls are just touchy." Then she deliberately slammed her foot down on the accelerator and took off, grinning as everyone else in the vehicle was left clutching onto whatever was near.

As they rode through the gates of camp, the sun was descending behind the forest around them, the darkness growing by the moment.

"Tracking in the dark. This is going to be fun," Monty joked.

Harper chuckled, "Any excuse to get out of camp. I'm tired of salting deer."

"At least you didn't bring back a handful full of poison ivy," Miller teased, elbowing Monroe playfully.

The ride down the road was a long one. Octavia and Lincoln had obviously tracked this mystery person quite a long way. Who would go so far out of their way just to give us a gun? Or to avoid being tracked?

Bellamy hardly registered what was happening as the vehicle rapidly decelerated, bracing himself on the door and the console before him. Looking out the window, it was apparent why'd they'd stopped. In the flood of the headlights before them, a large log lay across the road. Bellamy turned his head over his shoulder to address the others, "We need to move it."

Monty nodded and moved for the door as Bellamy reached to grab the latch of his own, when Raven's hand shot out and grabbed his arm, "Wait. It's been cut down."

"We don't know that." Bellamy glanced out the window again. Neither end of the tree was visible in the headlights. They couldn't know whether it'd been cut down. He turned and pushed himself through the gunner's hatch at the top of the vehicle, weapon at the ready scanning the area. An odd creaking sounded from behind them, and Bellamy turned just in time to see the descent of another large tree onto the road behind their vehicle. As it crashed to the ground, Bellamy pulled himself back inside.

"We do now," Raven's voice more serious than typical for her.

Everyone in the vehicle readied their guns, almost subconsciously, uncertain who was trapping them here, but all certain it wasn't a good thing.

From the back seat, between Harper and Monty, Bellamy worried aloud, "What are we going to do? We're trapped here. Octavia and Lincoln are out there waiting for us."

Raven reached for the radio, "Call them." She depressed the button, bringing to device toward her, "Octavia, you there?"

There was a second before crackling preceded the response, "Yeah. What's taking you guys so long? The trail just gets colder, you know."

"We're trapped on the road. We ran into a fallen log, and someone dropped another behind us. We're not sure who's out there, but it's pretty clear we're trapped."

"Shit. We don't want to start a war, but I can't just let something happen to you guys."

Bellamy beckoned for the radio and Raven reluctantly handed it over, "O, it's okay. Just stay safe. But maybe you and Lincoln can get a view of who has us stuck here."

"Yeah, we can do that."

"Seriously, O, be careful."

There was no response to that and Bell sighed, handing the radio back to Raven.

"This... was not how I pictured my night going," Harper offered into the tense silence.

"I don't think it's what any of us expected," Miller agreed.

Bellamy pushed himself back up to the passenger seat, staring out the window into the small space illuminated by the headlights.

No one was certain how much time had passed, as the four in the back kept up an awkward conversation in the relative silence, Bellamy stared out the window, and Raven leaned against the window, radio in hand, waiting. When they first heard the commotion, they weren't sure what it was. Bellamy pulled the radio away from Raven, pushing the button and asking, a bad feeling already settled in his gut, "Octavia, you're not that commotion we hear, are you?" He let go of the button, pleading aloud, "Please don't be."

There was merely silence, not so much as a crackle of static. Raven pulled out another device, flicking on its power, and pointing it in the general direction of the fighting. A series of lights lit up on the thing, but Bellamy had no idea what they meant. "I'm going to go out on a limb here, and say that that's them. The signal from the tracker is the right direction, and the signal strength seems right for what I assume the distance is..."

Bellamy slammed his fist into the console in front of him, "Shit." He moved into the back, preparing to open the turret hatch again. Monty reached out and grabbed his arm, "Wait, what are you doing?"

He harshly shrugged off the hand, "That's my sister out there! I can't just do nothing!" And with that, he popped the hatch open and popped his head out, weapon at the ready again. No sooner was his head out of the vehicle than an arm wrapped around his throat. The sharp bite of metal pressed uncomfortably to the skin of his throat. He slowly spread his arms, holding his hands in surrender, "They've got me."

A masculine voice sounded from just behind his right ear, "Everybody out or the boy dies." The words sounded so calm, almost inhuman, like their deliverer didn't care if they killed them all or not. And suddenly, Bellamy was jerked up out of the vehicle, flailing at the force dragging him along.

A voice called out from the vehicle, though Bellamy couldn't make out who, as his face was pressed into the dirt beside the road, someone kneeling on his back, holding his arms firmly behind him. He had a badly angled view of the vehicle as the door cracked open. The moment there was an opening, it was swarmed by dark figures, yanking it the rest of the way, and pulling his friends' bodies from inside. Last of all, was Raven, howling as she was manhandled and the weight of someone else placed on her bad leg as they held her to the ground.

"Vehicle secure!" the voice of some female declared.

"Everyone, take out those grounders, now!" the first voice, the cold one. The clash of metal, and the grunts of fighting came from somewhere in the darkness.

Bellamy struggled against his captor, "No!" He bucked and jerked against the weight upon him, "That's my sister, you asshole!" In his thrashing, he looked for anything that could help him. Monty was nearest him, the weight of the person holding him down too far up on his body. He could use his legs, if not against the person above him, "Monty! Some help, here!"

Monty turned his face in Bellamy's direction, and jerked his body around, swinging his leg up and into the side of whoever was holding Bellamy.

Then, a quavering voice, the same female voice from before, asked, "Monty?"

And Monty froze. Completely still, with his leg pulled back in preparation for another kick. In fact, everyone around stilled, and looked toward the woman, though the sound of fighting persisted. Monty included, responding, hesitantly, "Mom?"

The figure of a woman staggered forward into the light of the headlights, pulling off a mask, as the person holding Monty rolled aside, letting him up. The two staggered toward each other, meeting in an embrace, the mother saying, nearly in tears, "I knew it." Monty's relieved sobs could vaguely be heard as well.

The cold voice interjected, "Farm Station, stand down." Bellamy felt the weight shift off of him. He rolled over, sitting up before staggering to his feet, he glanced in the direction of the fighting before returning to the approaching figure, who slipped off a mask of his own revealing the dark complexion of the large, stocky man, "Dropship kids. Out here alone, still?"

Bellamy heard a distant cry from his sister, and jerked in that direction, "Stop them!"

"They're grounders. We don't let grounders live."

"She's not-" Bellamy began to dart in the direction of the fight before a couple of the Farm Station people tackled him back to the ground, and he was struggling all over again with them, "She's my sister!" He jerked back enough to deliver a headbutt to one of the people behind him, and managed to roll free of the other, returning to a run once he found his feet. The trees blurred before him, visible only when he was mere feet from them in the darkness. When he found Octavia, she was bloodied, but still on her feet, back to back with Lincoln, twirling her blade in the way that indicated someone was about to find it lodged in their chest. He lunged at the nearest Farm Station member and kicked at their knee, the unsuspecting man fell quickly to the ground.

"Farm Station, stand down."

Bellamy sighed as he staggered forward toward his sister, panting. He turned toward the large man. "Farm Station made it?"

Harper, Miller, and Monroe joined them, weapons noticeably missing, "Mr. Pike?"

"Pike?" Bellamy questioned.

"He taught earth studies to us before they sent us down here," Miller answered.

"Yeah, so this is your sister... and?" Pike eyed Lincoln, eyes taking in the grounder attire of both, and the tattoos Lincoln sported that were visible. "You want me to believe he's not a grounder?"

There was a growl from Lincoln, although it was somewhat overpowered by the one from Octavia, "Not anymore," he said, head shaking.

Raven staggered up beside them, favoring her knee quite obviously, "He's one of us. Or at least as close as anyone not born in space can be. We trust him."

Pike looked around the ragtag group of kids and young adults, "Okay, then." He finally put his weapon away. "How are you kids still alive? We've been fighting grounders since the moment we landed."

The kids, collectively, offered looks of confusion and furrowed brows, Raven finally speaking for them, "We have a treaty with them. We're actually starting to get along, finally."

"Where'd you land, sir? How many of you made it?" Bellamy asked.

"Sixty-three of us. The rest are camped in the mountains north of here. We landed even further north, in the snow. Softened the landing, saved us. Didn't expect grounders popping out of the snow and trying to kill us all, though." Pike growled, "Won't make that mistake again." His voice shifted into a louder yell, "Grounder killers one and all, am I right?!"

A resounding 'hoorah' came from the Farm Station members all around them, and he noticed some of his friends noticeably pale at the idea.

Octavia stepped forward, "Grounder killers?" She pushed herself into Pike's face. "You should know better than to think everyone on the ground is the same. Just because the Azgeda attacked you doesn't mean you have free licence to kill anyone you want!"

As quickly as he could, Bellamy was holding back his feisty sister.

Raven, leaning against a tree, trying to keep her weight off her leg, added, "She's right, though. They're not all bad."

Bellamy finally let his sister go as she stopped struggling against him and she quickly stalked back over to Lincoln, "Sir, I hate to cut this short, but we have a trail to follow that's only getting colder by the minute. Unless any of your people have already been to Arkadia and it's you we're looking for?"

"Arkadia?"

"Alpha station made it down. We made a settlement around the crash site," Raven groaned.

"Well, we haven't been there, but we're more than willing to join you there."

"Raven, give them the coordinates to Arkadia, and get back to the vehicle. We're going to go move those logs," Bellamy gestured to the rest of his group on the tail end, and began walking back the way he'd come.

Chapter Text

BELLAMY

Still in the dark of early morning, he and his friends trailed along slowly after Lincoln and Octavia. Progress was glacial, but he thought they'd made it at least another mile from where they'd left the vehicle at the road. It was hard to gauge distance at such a slow pace. Most of the group had relaxed, taking turns covering their rear while the others chatted. Most of all, it just seemed that everyone was glad to be out of camp.

Bellamy sighed to himself. Octavia and Lincoln could get away without trailing hunting groups for a couple days. Miller and Monroe were a hunting team of their own, so if they just claimed they went out and didn't manage to catch anything, no one would be any the wiser. And Harper, though someone might notice her missing presence at preservation duties, was inessential enough in the position that no one would really care. And Monty, with the greenhouse built, still had no assignment. He was typically given random duties in association with engineering and mechanics.

He, however, would be missed if he didn't make it back to Arkadia by his next shift. As much as he wanted to follow this trail to the end, to wherever and whoever had had that gun, they had no idea how long the trail might be. It could be minutes, it could be days... as impractical as it was, it could be weeks of following the trail before they found its maker. And he wasn't sure he wanted everyone else out here without him. Yes, they could handle themselves, for the most part, but he wasn't overly fond of leaving them out here, constantly moving further away from a known position.

So he decided, unilaterally, that when he had to turn back, he'd take everyone but Lincoln and Octavia. He didn't particularly want to leave Octavia, either, but he knew she'd put up a fight about it and get her way, anyways. And he trusted Lincoln to protect her, if it came to that.

As the sun peeked above the horizon behind them, the tracking picked up speed. But before too long, Lincoln and Octavia were stopped, giving each other looks that indicated they were having some silent conversation right in front of them all.

"What is it?" he asked.

Lincoln turned toward them, "Well, whoever we're trailing favors game trails. Unfortunately, that makes it hard to tell where their path and the animals' diverge." He turned his back on them, continuing, "The trail splits here."

"So which way is more likely?"

A shrugging response, following by explanation, "Both. There's a trading post that way." Lincoln pointed off toward their right. "But I think this trail is traversed often, in both directions. Most likely by the animals that frequent them."

"Look, I don't have a whole lot of time before I have to head back to Arkadia, or someone's going to notice when I don't show up to my post. Let's go to the trading post, ask some questions, see if we can get any more information, but then we're heading home." He sighed before addressing his sister, "If you two want to stay out here, that's fine. I won't make you come back with us, but be careful."

They made the trip to the trading post, most of the group marveling at the opportunity to see a part of grounder culture, grounder life, that they hadn't yet, up close.

Octavia stopped them on the way to the door, "Put those away." She pointed to their weapons, "We're not starting an incident here. No one's going to do anything to us at a trading post."

With some hesitation, Bellamy slung his weapon, the others following suit, before making their way through the stacks of crates, old tires, and barbed wire to the door.

The interior was dim, lit solely by the light of candles. Trinkets lay everywhere, but everything seemed to have a place and was kept well organized. The person he assumed ran this post came out from a back room; a lanky blonde girl who faltered in her stride as she took in their obviously Skaikru attire.

"Heya. Osir lufa au imfou," Lincoln addressed the woman, who turned her attention to him, relaxing her shoulders, obviously feeling less threatened. "Osir mafta op trei kom kapa kom Skaikru. Wonwe hed op hir. Osir lufa au raunon chon em lan op fayagon. Gada yu in ai em op?"

(Hello. We're looking for information. We followed a trail from the city of sky people. One way led here. We're looking for someone who [would] use a gun. Have you seen them?)

There was a short pause before her response, in which she eyed their group again, "Nodotaim, o nau?"

(Another time, or now? [Other than right now?])

"Foutaim." (Past. [Before now.])

She examined their group again, eyes casually sliding from one person the next, silently appraising. "Nou dei get ai in." (Not that I know [of].)

Lincoln sighed and shook his head, turning back toward Bellamy, who hadn't understood more than a word or two of what was said, "She says she doesn't know of anyone who would use a gun."

Octavia cast a sideways look at her boyfriend, huffing, "That doesn't mean that they haven't been here. Just that she doesn't know if they'd touch a gun."

Bell shook his head and turned to Lincoln, "What happens if we stake out the place? Do you think we'd find anyone, or is this a dead end?"

"Octavia and I can check the trail in the other direction, but I think, right now, that we've got as much information as we're going to have."

Frowning, Bellamy fumed to himself. All that for just for a waste of time and an unnecessary fight with their own people. "Okay. Octavia, call Raven and try to get her as close as possible to come pick us up."

- - -

ABBY

She saw Polis long before they arrived there. Or at least, she saw the tower that loomed several stories above the forest surrounding the road they still traveled on toward the city.

As they came nearer the city, they came to a stop at a large sign, warning, graphically, that weapons weren't allowed past that point. Indra didn't so much as glance over her shoulder as she asked, "Did you bring any weapons with you?"

Abby knew she didn't have any. She'd been far more preoccupied with thoughts of Clarke than her own safety. Not to mention, she'd grown into a sort of complacency when it came to the grounders. If something had happened to Clarke, if she was really... dead... she wasn't sure she would want to continue living, anyways. So she glanced toward Kane, wondering if he'd brought any.

Kane reached behind him, pulling a pistol from his waistband. He removed the magazine, tossing the gun toward the designated area, and the magazine off into the woods. "Nothing else."

"Then come on," Indra gently nudged her horse, continuing along the road.

When the gates came into view, they were a sight. Three stories high, and covered in vines, the cobbled stone peaking through underneath. It was worn in places, stones missing sporadically along the top, giving it a jagged appearance. A turret next to the gate stood even higher, still, staffed with guards who must have had quite the view from that vantage point. She could make out their figures shifting closer to the edge of the tower, at least one bow readied, but the others merely watched.

Just before the massive gate, Indra dismounted, herself and Kane following her lead. The gates, themselves, were massive wooden doors, with iron banding. If anything she had ever seen resembled a castle, this was it. And this was only the front door, so to speak. One door slowly opened, and once a soldier was let out to take their horses from them, she and her companions were allowed through. Just inside, Indra offered what she assumed was some kind of explanation for their presence as another grounder shut the door. A messenger of some sort was dispatched at the instruction of the man to whom Indra explained.

Indra turned toward them, offering a word of warning, "Mind yourselves, here. You are guests in this city, and if you want our people to trust you, you would do well to keep your heads down and avoid making a scene." And then she was walking away from them, and they struggled to catch up, falling in step with the rapid pace she set.

That didn't last long, however, because after the few buildings at the outskirts of the city, right next the gate, they entered what appeared to be a marketplace. It was noisy, and colorful, and so strangely full of life. Both Skaikru came to a slow as they took in the sights. And smells. And sounds.

Everywhere they looked, there were people. Some hauling carts of wares, wooden wheels bouncing over the rough-hewn cobblestones. Some were obviously guards, patrolling, or standing rigidly, eyes scanning everything. Some, of course, perused wares, drifting from stalls, store-fronts, and open tents to the next. And some were the peddlers of those wares. A hiss of steam came from a nearby heated cooking surface, the smell of cooking meat following just after. There was the fragrance of flowers under the pervasive body odor that seemed to be a part of the place, more than coming from any one person. Their eyes drifted after a trio of children darting across the market just before them, noticing the deft fingers that lifted a fish from a passing cart.

And she wasn't sure how it felt to Marcus, but to her, it felt like she had never actually seen life, before. Nothing, in all her years in the sky, or months on the ground, had she felt anything, from anyone, that indicated they were so much as half as alive as every person in this marketplace seemed.

Just beyond the tents, and tables, and varying store fronts, were proper buildings. Modeled after ancient Greek architecture, oddly enough, with classic ionic columns holding aloft what remained of roofs and overhangs. And then, of course, there was the great tower at the center of the city. Some remnant of another time. It stood so high that Abby could only speculate how many stories tall it was. Her eyes were drawn to it, scanning upward, entranced. There seemed to be balconies at regular intervals all around, on every floor, but some of those floors were more intact than others. Whole sections seemed to have been battered, or simply fallen away. Like a giant hand had reached into it, and pulled away a chunk of the building, here and there.

When she finally came back to the ground, she found herself alone. And for a moment, she panicked, before she noticed that Marcus had drifted over to the nearest food vendor, apparently having been invited. As she watched, Marcus accepted some sample offered to him, responding to the woman in kind, and offering his praises for the food. She walked closer as he pulled a patch from his own uniform to offer the woman in exchange, and despite her protests, convinced her to accept it.

And it was in that moment that Abby realized that while she may not really feel alive anymore, Marcus, at the very least, looked like he was. And she was willing to bet that he felt that way, too.

Abby waited until they exited the market before pulling Kane aside into a nearby alley, the man looking around, confused. "I can't do this anymore, Marcus. I can't take care of our people when I don't know what's going on with Clarke." She shook her head dejectedly, "I don't even feel alive. It's like my heart has just seized up, waiting for the drop, waiting to finally be told that she's dead." Tears slipped from her eyes, despite her attempts to remain in control and presentable. "I need you to be the Chancellor our people deserve, Marcus. I can't, anymore." She pulled the pin that indicated her position as chancellor from her collar and held it out toward Kane. "Just promise you'll help me find out what happened to Clarke."

Kane merely looked at the pin in her hand, not making a move to take it from her, "We can't just keep passing the buck back and forth, Abby. I understand... and I will do my best by them, but this is only temporary."

Her eyes flitted up, making contact, "It doesn't have to be. You're better with the grounders. More understanding, more human. You'll make better choices for us because of it."

"When we find Clarke-"

"We might never find Clarke," Abby interrupted. "Not alive. And we need to accept that as a possibility." She moved her hand, still bearing the chancellor's pin, closer to him. "That's why I can't do this anymore. You're the Chancellor now."

"That's not fair to our people, Abby. They have the right to choose."

"Then we let them choose!" She was exasperated. Tired, and frustrated, and broken. "But not yet. Things are precarious. We've only just negotiated with the grounders. We can tell them I'm taking leave because of Clarke. They'll understand. And when..." Her voice warbled, nearly cracking, "When we find Clarke... alive or... or dead... then we can hold a vote."

A sad expression in place, he sighed, "I hate to say this, Abby, I really do, but that might be a long time from now. It might be never."

She took a shuddering breath in, "Then that's what it is. And if that... if that's how it is, then we'll decide when the peace with the grounders is strong enough, and vote anyways."

He gently closed her hand around the pin before pulling her into him, wrapping his arms around her in a hug, "I'm sorry it turned out this way, Abby."

- - -

SINCLAIR

He ran a hand through curly, graying hair. Of course, he understood why he'd been left in charge, in Abby and Kane's absence, but he certainly wasn't enjoying it.

Three days. Three days was all it had taken for something impossible to come up.

Sinclair sat, at that moment, at a desk across from Pike and a handful of other Farm Station survivors. He'd already gotten the run-down on what they had encountered in their time on the ground, and it only added to a stressful situation. The simple fact was that Arkadia didn't have the room for sixty-three extra people right now. In a week or two, they could manage to make room, but they honestly hadn't considered other surviving stations for a while now. It had been months since they'd brought the Ark down, and they hadn't heard anything from other stations, barring the reports from Bellamy and others that had stumbled across Factory Station's crash site; which had had the misfortune of impacting a cliff side upon landing.

So they hadn't really considered the idea that any other stations had survived. They considered themselves lucky; both to have survived, and to have landed so close to the children.

Sinclair had already tried to radio and get input from either their Chancellor or Marcus Kane. Unfortunately for him, those calls were fruitless. Perhaps they were out of range? Or had simply turned off their radio, engaged in something they didn't want interrupted.

Nevertheless, Sinclair sat in a room with a handful of others, most of them from Farm Station. Their arrival had shocked the guards, who mistook them for grounders at first, and had called him to the gates. Of course, Sinclair knew several of the members present, and easily laughed the guards off and welcomed them in. Until they mentioned that there were sixty-three of them in all, and were looking forward to joining them in Arkadia.

The other people in the room were the group of children who had gone out without permission, in a vehicle he didn't know they had, tracking a trail that could have led anywhere, and inadvertently ran into the Farm Station members. Raven sat on a desk against a wall, face visibly contorted in pain, a hand perpetually holding her hip like it was the only thing that helped at all. Bellamy stood at parade rest, taking in the conversation and awaiting the punishment he expected to come. It was obvious in his expression. The rest of their group was in a gaggle at the other end of the room, smiling and laughing with each other, so full of life that hadn't been seen in Arkadia since the end of the war. It would honestly have been a little refreshing, if not for them having created this whole scenario in the first place.

So he sighed, and sat the radio back down on the desk, "I'm sorry, Charles, we just don't have the room for all of your people here, yet. Maybe in a couple of weeks, we can get enough of the compartments down from the rest of Alpha Station to accommodate you all."

"So we're just supposed to keep camping out in the mountains? Letting more of my people be killed off by grounders while we wait for you all to be comfortable enough to host us?"

"No, by all means, come closer," he shook his head slightly. "We just don't have the room in the Ark, yet. The land to the south and east is plenty safe, nothing will happen to you. It's our land."

"What about Mount Weather? Even the grounders talk about you wiped them out." Pike gestured vaguely toward the west. "So you've got an empty, well-equipped living space right there. And you're just letting it go to waste? My people can put that to good use."

Sighing again, and shaking his head with more fervor, he replied, "It's a long story, Charles, but trust me when I say it's for the best if we don't let you live in Mount Weather."

Pike leaned forward over the desk between them, hands coming to rest on its edge, "And why is that? Because the grounders will be angry and afraid?" He scoffed. "I haven't seen anything else from any of them. And why should we care? We defeated that mountain, so we should get the benefit of it!"

Bellamy's face briefly expressed mild discomfort and disgust, before swallowing down whatever comment he'd wanted to make.

"Charles, we are at peace with the grounders, and what you're asking could very well jeopardize that."

"How can we be at peace with savages?" Pike snarled. "They've killed hundreds of my people!"

"That is the Ice Nation." Not that you'd know the difference, he thought to himself. "The Commander is handling the situation."

"The same commander who ordered our children killed before we came to the ground?" was the derisive response.

"She is surprisingly understanding, Charles. You should give her a chance."

"Did they ever give us a chance? The moment we touched ground, we were thrust into a fight just to survive. And I intend to win that fight."

He glared at the radio. All of this would be solved if Abby or Kane would just pick up and definitively tell Pike no. With a final sigh, he looked up toward Pike again, "Fine. You and your people may move into the mountain." He raised a hand in caution, "For now. The moment we've made the room here in Arkadia, I expect you and your people to leave the mountain without an argument."

There was a steely glare from Pike before he nodded stiffly and began to leave the room with his people before he'd been told he was dismissed.

The kids at the back of the room moved to follow after a few moments, and he stopped them, "No, you're not going anywhere." He gave them all a caustic look. "I was in those negotiations. The commander explicitly said that use of the mountain would be interpreted as an act of war. This all is your fault!" For the most part, he directed his comments toward Bellamy, Monty, Miller, Harper, and Monroe; ignoring Raven, if only for the fact that she looked like she'd already been punished. "Just because our Chancellor is gone, does not mean you all get to do whatever you feel like!" He stood and turned to Bellamy, "Bellamy, you're docked two meals of rations. Get to your post before it has to be more than that."

Bellamy nodded and left the room, and the rest of them.

Sinclair moved around the desk, leaning against the front of it, "You four," his focus was on the children at the back of the room, who'd made no move to come any closer, "You got us all into this mess, and you're going to help me fix it before a war can get started. I'm not going to be responsible for ruining peace with the grounders. Monty, Monroe, go find Wick and Jasper and start bringing down compartments of the Ark. And don't stop until you've been told to." The two departed, and he turned his attention finally toward Raven, moving close enough that his voice wouldn't carry to the rest of the room. "Raven, what happened out there?"

She rolled her eyes, snarkily starting, "Well, we were just minding our own business, driving down a road when someone decided to trap us. And, turns out, hey, they know us!"

"That's not what I was asking, Reyes, and you know it."

She groaned, and finally answered his question, "When they pulled me out of the vehicle and shoved me to the ground, one of those assholes put all their weight on my leg."

His eyes drifted over the leg in question, dried blood stained the cloth at her hip. He didn't have a clue what might be hidden beneath the metal brace at her knee. And he knew Raven well enough to know she wouldn't just tell him the full extent of it, either. "Raven, you're going to let Harper and Miller take you to medical," his voice now loud enough that everyone could hear. "You're going to let Jackson look you over, and if he isn't there, one of them will go find him, and you'll wait." He turned his attention back toward the kids at the other end of the room, "You got that?" They nodded and began to move toward them, toward Raven. "And when you're done with that, join Monty and the others. Help bring down the Ark until we're out of this mess."

As they all exited, Raven supported between the other bodies, he sat back down at the desk. With a forlorn look at the radio, he picked it back up, pressing the button and saying, hoping he would finally get a response, "Abby? Kane?" Silence reigned as he let go. "Either of you there? I could really use some input." He sighed yet again, laying the radio back down and dropping his head into his hands.

Three days, and he was in charge in the middle of a diplomatic mess.

- - -

LEXA

Behind her, the doors to the throne room opened. She glanced over her own shoulder, eyes meeting Indra, who she had not expected to see here.

"Indra," she turned, "What brings you here?"

"The Skaikru asked to come to Polis. To see you. To offer their... help. In finding Wanheda."

"And they are here now?" Indra nodded, expression neutral. "Take me to them, quickly."

She followed the woman to the lift, that dropped two floors before letting them out, and then down the hall to a closed door.

"Here?"

Another nod. That was enough, and she pushed the doors aside, letting herself in. Her eyes quickly surveyed the room and found only Marcus Kane and Chancellor Griffin. She would be lying if she said she hadn't been expecting more of them. Her long strides carried her across the room quickly, stopping herself a pace away from the sky people.

"You got my message?"

"We did."

"Then you know that I do not know where Clarke is."

"We know," Kane said. "But we also heard that you might know who's responsible. We'll do anything we can to help find her. We'll give you people for a search party, we'll go looking, we'll do whatever we can to help."

Jaw shifting a moment as she mulled over her thoughts. The council was due to meet any minute. "I do know who is most likely responsible. The council is convening soon, where we will find out if the Queen had a hand in what happened, or not." She turned and started toward the door, "Come, but hold your tongues."

The four of them (as Indra rejoined them in the corridor) swiftly made their way to the throne room. Lexa brushed past the guards without a word, just a flick of her wrist. She pointed to the left hand corner of the room, behind her throne, "Stand there. Do not speak unless told to. We can handle any concerns you may after after the meeting, but I think as Clarke's... people... you have the right to be here."

They quickly moved into place, Indra drifting into the shadows near a wall as Lexa took up her place, standing just before her own throne. Titus entered the room, shooting a dirty look in the Skaikru's direction as he noticed their presence, but did not mention it. "Ogud?"

"Sha."

He ascended the stairs on her left side (opposite where the sky people stood), and stood just to the side behind her throne, calling toward the door, "Enter!"

And then, the parade of inconvenienced ambassadors and clan leaders began. The ambassadors had little to complain about; to be at the beck and call of their heda for meetings was their job. The clan leaders, however, were rarely called upon to leave their own lands. And in some cases, they were ill-equipped to. The notable example being the limping, wheezing, elderly Broadleaf leader.

One by one, the pairs of clansmen entered the room, taking up their places, standing where normally a chair for each sat. She had not seen fit to have them brought in. They could stand. And then entered the Ice Nation delegation, the very last to do so. Her eyes met, briefly, with those of Nia. A steely blue gaze that felt like icicles piercing a soul. She felt a flutter of excitement and dread. This might finally be the moment.

The doors slammed as they were pulled shut, and Lexa took her seat rather imperiously. Various distrusting glances were aimed in the direction of the Skaikru, who's presence had not gone unnoticed. An ambassador from Sankru spoke, "What are these Skaikru scum doing here?"

There was an awkward silence, and she could practically feel Abby and Kane shifting behind her, but neither made any move to speak. "This matter involves the Skaikru as much as any of the rest of us," she said with a tone of absolute authority.

"And what matter is that?" the Sankru ambassador asked, but he was joined by a round of nodding agreement and curious gazes.

She had to refrain from glaring direction at the Azgeda as she answered the question, tone icy and accusatory, "Treason."

One simple word had the room abuzz with scoffing, disbelief, varied accusations, all toward other clans, and from a few, unaffected silence. She raised her hands, a silent but definitive gesture for them to shut their damn faces. And finally, she let her gaze drift toward the Ice Nation, situated closest to the door, "The Ice Nation thinks themselves above my laws. Do you deny this?"

There was almost a smirk across Nia's face, but she held herself fast, her ambassador responding in her stead, "We have done nothing uncalled for."

Lexa pushed herself up from her seat, "You think it is called for to attack hunters in the night?" She took a step forward, descending one stair. "You think it is called for to venture unwelcome into Trikru territory?" Two more steps down, she now stood on the same ground as the rest of them. "You think it is called for to attack one of my own guards?" The volume of her voice pitched slightly higher at that accusation.

"Nothing uncalled for."

She stalked forward, crossing half the room, leaning forward, restraining herself from just launching an attack on both of the Azgeda in the room, "If you are so certain, stop being cowards about it."

Nia grinned as she stepped around her ambassador, "We've got nothing to prove. You do. You've gone soft, negotiating with these Skaikru weaklings. Giving them your land. Letting Wanheda best you. I call for a vote of no confidence!"

Titus' voice rang out from behind her, "Take this queen to meet her fate!"

Lexa, herself, was fuming. She had expected this move, but she was uncertain how many of her ambassadors had been convinced to stand against her.

The first to do so was Sankru, calling out, "No heda no mou," stepping forward as he did so.

Broadleaf was the next to do so, echoing the statement and coming forward.

And very quickly, a handful of others joined. There was a sharp yelp from her left, calling her attention, as the Floukru ambassador attempted to step forward and join the others, only to find the hand of his clan leader, Luna, digging into his shoulder. From beneath a fiery mane of hair, her eyes locked with Lexa's and gave a subtle nod.

The noise of the ambassadors came to a stop and she looked around under the pretense of walking back to her throne. Three clans had not joined in the descent. The Floukru, Podakru, and her own Trikru. She turned and settled back into her throne, fixing Nia with a piercing stare, "It seems not all of the ambassadors agree with you."

Titus stepped past her, his voice betraying the utter rage he so obvious felt, "This vote of no confidence fails! All of these kru strada will suffer the same fate! Execute the traitors!"

Nia scoffed, "She won't take our heads. She knows our armies will retaliate."

Lexa spoke before Titus could make things any worse, "Still the coward, Nia." Her gaze was still locked with that of the older woman. "You know that's not what you want. We both know what it is that you want." She stood again from her throne, taking slow, measured strides toward Nia, "If you think me unfit to command, issue the challenge and let's get on with it."

The ice queen's voice lost it's rallying tone and dropped into a threatening timber, "Very well. You are challenged."

Lexa had expected this. She had waited for it, nearly hoped for it. Even if Nia did not fight for herself, it would be her downfall. "And I accept your challenge."

She could feel Titus shift behind her, before his voice rang throughout the room, "So be it. Soulou gonplei. Warrior against warrior. To the death." She could imagine very well that this what not what the Skaikru had come to Polis to see at all. "Queen Nia of Azgeda, who do you choose to be your champion?"

"Ontari kom Azgeda."

"Where is this person?" Titus demanded.

A wicked smile colored her features as she answered, "Waiting outside."

Titus came closer, practically leaning over her shoulder, "Heda, who will fight for you?"

She ignored him for the moment, returning to her throne. Nia had finally played her hand. All she had to do was make her think that she had gotten exactly what she wanted. She fixed her gaze back on Nia, "Ai laik Heda. Non daun throu doun gon ai."

Titus turned away from her, fear in his eyes, toward Nia, who's wicked expression only became more so. Nevertheless, after quite a visible swallow, he spoke, "Very well. The fight will take place as the sun rises, in two days. All of you, leave."

And despite the command not coming from herself, all but the Skaikru did leave. Abby's quiet footsteps echoed through the chamber as she approached, "Lexa, what are you doing?"

She turned her head, to fix Clarke's mother with her gaze, "I might not know where Clarke is, but I know who is responsible. And I will make her pay."

Chapter Text

ABBY

Abby pushed her way through the crowd, though not quite to the front. She wanted to see, but she didn't want to be close enough to get hit. Drum beats sounded as the sky began to lighten, but the sun itself hadn't peaked beyond the horizon, yet.

As a medical professional, or perhaps as someone who missed her daughter - who Lexa vaguely reminded her of, if only because of their relatively close ages and similar positions of leadership - she was concerned about the fight that was about to take place.

Of course, she had never seen Lexa fight. She was fairly certain that none of her people had seen Lexa fight. And that gave her a great sinking feeling. Because it implied to her that Lexa didn't fight often. And if she didn't fight often, there was very little chance she was skilled in the act.

But also, if the bald, robe-wearing man was to be believed, it would be a fight to the death. And as much as she might wish that she could, she couldn't heal death.

Lexa had refused to give her any reasonable assurance. Her concerns had been addressed as Lexa saw fit to do so, which mostly involved a reminder that this was not the first time Nia had made such a move. Lexa refused to speak the name, but like an echo of their prior conversation, the name Costia rang through her own ears. She had seen the woman responsible for all that pain. The - the torture. And she was smug and infuriating. She couldn't imagine what it must have been like for Lexa to have had to work with her for however long it had been since she'd become the commander.

And Abby was entirely uncertain how this was supposed to get them any closer to finding Clarke. Surely, if Lexa died, there would be almost no chance of finding her.

The crowd around her moved and pushed in closer, jostling her, and pressing uncomfortably near. They were also annoyingly loud, but that could be chalked up to excitement. Maybe the chance to see their Commander fight truly was a rare occurrence. All the more foundation for Abby's fears.

On the far side of the wide clearing was a raised, covered platform, upon which all of the clan leaders were seated, ambassadors nearby, if they chose to be. She could see Nia's smirk, even from this distance. It sickened her. Everything about the woman made her uneasy.

Before the platform stood Lexa, and who she assumed was the 'Ontari' person she was to fight. Surprisingly, Lexa wasn't in her normal attire. The pauldron and cape were still there, but otherwise, she wore light, leather armor. In fact, her pants appeared not to be armored at all.

Ontari stood beside her, as Titus addressed the crowd in Trigedasleng that Abby did not understand. Well, that wasn't entirely true. She understood soulou well enough, and she'd even come to recognize gonplei as some kind of fight. But the woman who stood beside Lexa, shoulders tensed, was almost as disgusting as her queen. At least in the vibe that Abby got from her. Her hair seemed unwashed, and hung in clumps past her shoulders, only the top braided, merely keeping it out of her face. She wore a leather jerkin, that came somewhat lower than Lexa's own armor. Though, in similar fashion, her pants were also unarmored. Some odd metal chain belt with large ring at the fastening was wrapped high about her waist. A tattoo scrawled down her left arm, in some fading bluish-grey ink. And when the girl turned, both women stalking toward their weapons bearers, Abby could make out the roughly symmetrical scarring around her face. All Ice Nation people seemed to have them, in some form or another, and it was baffling. Why would they do that to themselves? Or to each other, perhaps?

Titus had sat at some point, while she'd been engrossed in her observations, and Lexa came her direction, unbuckling and releasing her pauldron to some attendant, who shifted back into the crowd. That armor is oddly... sparse across the breasts. Who the hell would design it like that? Lexa gave her a brief nod, eyes meeting momentarily, as she pulled her weapon from its sheath. The sword bearer stepped back, blending into the rest of the crowd just like the attendant had. Lexa stalked back into the open arena, and, for some reason Abby couldn't begin to fathom, turned her back on her opponent.

Said opponent, in the distance, pulled her own weapon from its sheath, giving it a deft twirl while testing its weight. Ontari's attention then turned toward Lexa, and the rage that populated her features was quite visible. Abby could only imagine that it was some sign of disrespect to turn ones back on their opponent. The woman gave her blade another twirl - the rage not fading away quite rapidly enough - before she lowered her blade, leveling it toward Lexa's torso.

And before Abby could comprehend the motion, Ontari's feet were swiftly carrying her across the dirt, blade coming ever-nearer Lexa. Only, at the last moment, as Abby's heart clenched in fearful preparation for the worst, Lexa swirled, metal clashing as blades met, and Lexa forced the tip just far enough away from herself that, in making use of Ontari's own momentum, it sliced into the woman's side.

Angry furor was palpable from Ontari, now, but on the stage, Nia was as smug as ever. The warriors drifted away from each other, resetting their positions for the next engagement.

- - -

RAVEN

Raven had finally managed to fix the elevator at Mount Weather. Which she hadn't at all done for the benefit of Farm Station's people, and instead because it was about to be extremely useful in getting the very heavy CT machine out of the mountain.

"Monty, make sure those welds are good. We don't want to be dropping this thing," she directed up at the large metal A-frame that was being constructed above her. "Miller, start bolting that pulley on, and then I'll tell you how we're threading the metal cable through them all."

She looked back toward the door to the mountain to see Bellamy, Octavia, and Lincoln coming their way. "I hate all these farmkru being here," Lincoln said.

Octavia nodded, "Me, too."

Monty's voice came from above them, "Even I've got to admit, it gives me this unsettling feeling."

Bellamy just shrugged, "At least Pike and some of his cronies aren't here."

"Yeah, because taking soil samples takes so long," came Monty's voice again. "They'll be back sooner than we want."

"All the more reason to get this done as quick as we can," she said, only to mildly exasperated looks from the group. "Look, Harper, Monroe, Wick, and Jasper are still at work taking down the Ark. We'll get them out of here soon, but we're trying to give them as few reasons to stay as possible." She shrugged, "The fewer resources the mountain has, the less attractive it will be." She looked around at everyone, "Plus, we need this CT to fix my leg. Unless any of you are saying that shouldn't happen."

Shaking heads all around, and a smirk from Octavia, "Of course not. We'll get that thing out." Octavia looked up at their monstrous makeshift metal structure, "Are you guys about done with that?"

"Yup. These welds are as good as they're going to get," Monty said.

"Guess we should go back down and figure out how we're getting it up here," Bellamy groaned. "Want to come help, Monty?"

"Sure," he said before sliding down the ladder and joining them as they returned to the mountain.

"Don't let them break it, Monty!" she called out after them, before sighing as they moved out of sight. She glanced up at Miller, "Ready to start with the cable?" There was a nod and she tossed the end of the first cable up to him, "Okay, first bolt that to the top of the frame." She waited a minute, watching. "Okay, now thread that around one of the ones we didn't bolt on." Again, she watched, as he pulled the long length of cable through the pulley. "Yeah, and hook the end to one of the other ones."

They were only just getting started. In order to make the thousands of pounds of machine easier to lift the height that they needed to get it on top of the rover, they had a lot of pulleys to string together.

- - -

ABBY

This time, Lexa wasn't waiting for Ontari to make a move. Only feet apart, Lexa turned toward her, at the same time bringing her blade around, in a downward swing she must have known would be blocked. Ontari's blade came up laterally, catching Lexa's in a clash, but Lexa kept coming. Two, three swings where metal met metal, Ontari backing away the whole time, before she switched from parrying blows to dodging them. She sidestepped one, ducked under another, and managed to bring herself around to Lexa's other side, keeping herself from being backed into the crowd.

And then Ontari made a move, blades coming together in a fight for dominance, neither giving way, each pressing forward. The effort between the two was so great that they'd each brought their other hand up to brace the backside of their blades.

That was when everything seemed to shift. In a swift move, Lexa dropped herself beneath the dueling blades, coming in close to Ontari's torso, blade shifting above her own head, and the unexpected shift in the direction of resistance resulted in Ontari's blade swinging harmlessly forward, skittering across the length of Lexa's, while Lexa, in turn, pushed upward, bringing her hilt to bear, driving into Ontari's chin.

Stunned, the woman rebounded. And it seemed like Lexa let her. Rage getting the best of her, Ontari swung rapidly, forcing Lexa to duck, and twirl out of the way, before a well-aimed kicked to the back of her knee forced her to the ground.

But even on her knees, Lexa wasn't an open target. Her blade immediately blocked the next down-swing. Her weight, braced as it was against the ground, gave her the leveraging force necessary to overcome the resistance of Ontari's block. In a smooth move, Lexa stood, blade still engaged, and used the motion to push Ontari backward. The other woman stumbled as the force threw her off balance momentarily, and Lexa took the opportunity to slash, blade cutting through the flesh of her exposed left arm, even as Ontari tried to turn her stumbling into a dodge.

And Lexa kept pushing. Her opponent was off balance and it was the best advantage one could have. She brought her booted foot up to kick her opponent, and even as Ontari's blade came up to block the blow, both were kicked backward, Ontari finally falling to her rear.

It was then that the blood of the split wound on her arm had leaked enough volume to become truly visible. It might have been a trick of the light, Abby rationalized, but the blood looked black. And judging by the reactions of the crowd, and clan leaders, and even Lexa, that probably meant something.

The crowd had been in a constant clamor since the fight had begun, cheering, jeering, generally making excessive noise, but now they'd come to a complete hush. If there had been crickets around, you'd bet they'd have been audible. Half of the clan leaders had rissen to the their feet, outrage and maybe even fear visible. Titus, despite obvious shock of his own, was forced to wrangle them, and prevent them from entering the fighting ring. And Lexa, herself, glared at the bleeding wound. Her eyes drifted up to Ontari's face, who had an odd mixture of smugness and fear, before she turned a caustic glare toward Nia. Or at least, that's what Abby imagined the expression was, since it was directed away from her, and she couldn't actually see it. She could, however, see Nia's face, twisted in giddy, devious self-pride. Abby had less reason than anyone else present to hate the woman, but she would have bet, in that moment, that her distaste rivaled Lexa's.

Unfortunately, Ontari took advantage of Lexa's distraction. In a move like nothing Abby had ever seen before, she rolled her weight backwards, bringing it up onto her hands, and swinging her foot around as she flipped backward, catching Lexa's blade, which went soaring away from her. Nia managed to look even more self-satisfied.

And Ontari didn't stop there. Her blade swung again, and again, forcing Lexa backward, even as she dodged each blow. But Lexa's next retaliatory move was something truly special. Somehow keeping her body low enough to avoid the slashing blade, she twisted her body, hands dropping to the ground, abdominal muscles twisting violently as her feet swung up to kick the passing arm. The force only pushed Ontari further into a turn, body rotating just far enough away from Lexa. Then Lexa's feet were planted on the ground, stance spread wide as one foot deftly found it's way around one of Ontari's, and she drove an elbow into the other woman's back, in such a quick and ferocious manner that it was no wonder that Ontari fell, unable to keep her balance without both feet, onto her face. Her arms stopped her only enough to avoid breaking her nose on the hard-packed earth beneath them.

Then Lexa was standing on Ontari's blade. A kick delivered to Ontari's forearm forced her to release the blade. Abby almost gasped, despite her dislike of Ice Nation, because if she'd let go any later, the bones in her forearm would have shattered. The next move from Lexa went by in a blur, the blade beneath her feet somehow magically making its way to her hand.

Lexa let Ontari get to her feet, she was sure of it. And then the crowd gasped as Lexa hurled the blade away from them. Ontari had already shifted, arms coming to the ready, prepared to block blows to the face. Lexa made her next moves, stance mirroring Ontari's, she drove her fists toward the girl, time and again, only to have the woman duck just slightly to either side each time, avoiding them. Then Ontari struck out, a blow aimed for the gut, which impacted, but hardly seemed to phase Lexa. Lexa turned her body to the side, hand catching the wrist of her opponent's extended arm, and yanked her forward, before wrapping her other arm around the back of Ontari's neck. Her knee came up powerfully into Ontari's abdomen before she released her with a shove and kicked her back into the dirt.

Ontari rolled back onto the balls of her feet before her hands un-clipped the metallic belt around her waist. There was only the slightest flash of trepidation from Lexa before she readied herself for whatever Ontari intended. Ontari held the belt by the large loop, swinging the length of chain that made up the rest of it experimentally as she maneuvered closer. Like a flash, the metal glinting in the sunlight, the short chain whipped around. Lexa blocked with a wrist, but the end wrapped around it, a hold which Ontari leveraged by jerking it back toward her. Attached, as she was, Lexa had little choice, but Ontari moved in the opposite direction, rounding Lexa, and the chain was looped around her neck, still attached to her arm at one end. The length of chain circling around Lexa's neck was pulled as tightly by Ontari as she could manage. Unfortunately for her, and quite fortunate for Lexa, chain links didn't really slide past each other very easily.

Lexa headbutted backward, forcing all of her weight back onto Ontari, dropping them both to the ground. And then an elbow jabbed into Ontari's side. Grip loosened, Lexa moved quickly, vaulting backward to her own feet, chain still looped around a forearm and her neck. But with a swift jerk of the bound wrist, her neck was free, wrist shortly after joining it in freedom.

Ontari had returned to her feet, but had little time to attempt to better her situation by the time Lexa lashed her own belt back around at her, striking her in the cheek, leaving a black, bloody gash. And distracted as she was by the chain and the pain, she failed to notice that Lexa had encroached her space, and was caught off guard by the punch to the throat. As she gasped, trying to breath, Lexa kicked her again in the chest, eyes flashing maliciously as her opponent fell into the dirt again.

But this was a fight to the death. And death from hand to hand combat was going to be too slow. Lexa turned her back on her opponent once again, tossing the chain toward the crowd - with such force that people smacked into each other trying to avoid its trajectory - and made her way to where both of their blades lay. Both were in her hands by the time Ontari got to her feet, a look of panic finally making an appearance. Lexa twirled both blades in a showy manner, the crowd around them getting rowdy with excitement, as Lexa so obviously took in her opponent's fear.

It was almost feral, it seemed to Abby. Lexa, in a fight, wasn't at all what she had expected. Not only was she skilled, talented, vicious, but she seemed to love it. She was like an entirely different person than the one who had sat in a conference room with her and opened up.

The panic in Ontari's eyes resolved into decisive action as she staggered, under the guise of looking for anything, in the direction of the nearest guard, turning and leveling the man with a punch as she took his weapon from him. Something that resembled a halberd, without the ax bit, or a glaive. Not that Abby had any idea what either of those were. Medieval weaponry wasn't exactly a class they taught on the Ark.

The glaive was twirled in a manner that both demonstrated proficiency, and tested the balance of the weapon. It was maybe even a bit needlessly showy. The combatants approached each other again, and although Lexa had two blades to Ontari's one, the glaive had superior reach, even if it lacked the swift motion of a proper sword. Lexa was forced to duck under the swings of the larger weapon. She pushed her way closer, swinging with both blades, but the long staff of the glaive made it possible to simultaneously block both.

Ontari made a move, twisting the glaive deliberately to drive one of the swords from Lexa's grasp. At the same time, Lexa was taking advantage of the opening that was created in doing so. The point of her sword thrust forward into the side of the other, and the bloodied metal point shown out the other side.

Pierced the intestines. Maybe a kidney, Abby instinctually evaluated. It wouldn't be a quick death, and it wouldn't be a pleasant death, but without surgery, it would most certainly be a death blow.

Black blood seeped from the wound as Lexa withdrew the blade in a swift motion, grin spread across her features. But apparently Ontari wasn't done, yet. She twisted the shaft of the glaive and struck Lexa's sword from beneath. The weapon sailed away from them both, and Lexa was left defenseless. Momentary shock was all it took, and Ontari's foot came up and kicked into Lexa's chest. She flew through the air, landing on her back in the dirt. Ontari looked just as smug as if she weren't dying as she slowly closed the gap, and reoriented the staffed weapon. She wasted no time once she was close enough, and aimed to reciprocate the blow to the torso that had been inflicted on her.

Lexa had to roll her full body away to avoid the blade, but it still dragged along her side, tearing both the skin and her shirt. Abby blinked; did Lexa have black blood also? It was hard to tell, what with the shirt material she wore being black as well. Lexa rolled onto her front, and pushed her weight up onto her hands as she swung a leg backward, foot landing a blow squarely on Ontari's jaw. And it was Ontari's turn to sail backward into the earth, glaive wobbling as it remained upright slightly longer than its wielder, released from her grasp.

Lexa was back on her feet again, and retrieved her opponent's fallen weapon. Ontari struggled to keep up the fight, weaponless and on her back. She kicked, she rolled, she dodged, and was denied every opportunity to return to her feet.

Then Lexa's foot was on her chest, right along her sternum.

- - -

RAVEN

There was groaning as everyone (else) rolled the heavy CT machine out of the mountain and onto the rough ground outside, further slowing progress.

"Come on, guys! So close, and then we can get away from all these Farm Station people!" she called out as encouragement. And, as expected, their efforts noticeably increased.

A collective sigh of relief was uttered as the machine was finally pushed under the gigantic pulley system. Tying the last cable around the CT was much less physically taxing.

Raven hobbled over to the rover, groaning at the pain in her hip as she pulled herself up into the driver seat. She maneuvered the vehicle around just before their giant construction before calling out of the open window, "Okay! Hoist it up!"

All five of them laid into the rope, straining, pulling, as the heavy machinery lifted off the ground. It took minutes and everyone looked exhausted by the time it was high enough, but Raven quickly tapped the accelerator, parking the vehicle directly underneath. "Okay, let it down." Then she added in a rush, "Slowly!"

The vehicle groaned and sunk down a few inches as the weight settled onto it. There was another collective sigh from the group, and some flat-out dropped to the ground, panting.

Bellamy and Lincoln got to work tying it to the vehicle itself, straining as they tightened the restraints as much as possible.

Raven examined the vehicle carefully. The additional weight made the center of gravity dangerously high, but as long as they took the trip back to Arkadia slowly, it should be alright. It was still quicker than pushing the machine all the way there.

As the final straps were tightened, something suddenly flashed by out of the corner of her eye. She turned to look after it, seeing a figure in grounder clothing streaking off into the woods.

There were quick glances between members of the group, and Miller asked, "Did he just... come from the mountain?"

"We should go after him," Bellamy said, grabbing his weapon from the back of the vehicle.

Lincoln agreed, and they both started off after the man.

"I'm going to go see what they were trying to do," Octavia said, heading off toward the door to the mountain.

Miller followed, "Me, too."

Raven's brows crinkled in confusion, but before she could begin to ponder what was happening, there was a deafening boom, a fiery explosion coming from the the mountain's maw. The concussive force threw her backward, head impacting a tire as she fell to the ground.

The ringing in her ears was sharp and all-encompassing, piercing and high pitched. She rolled over, half in shock as she looked toward the mountain. It was gone. It was all gone.

She crawled to the door of the vehicle, pulling herself up just enough to reach the radio, she couldn't even hear her own voice as she pressed the button, "It's gone. The mountain is gone. They blew it up."

- - -

LEXA

The crowd was cheering loudly. They already knew she'd won, but that was not the case quite yet.

Ontari, beneath Lexa's foot, still struggled, hands trying to push her off, make her lose her balance, anything.

Lexa, frustrated as she was, jammed the blunt end of the glaive into Ontari's face, quite effectively breaking her nose. She needed to stop struggling, but she wasn't who needed to die. Ontari's hands instinctually let go of Lexa's boot to tend to the pain blossoming in her face.

Then Lexa turned her eyes to the stage. Only to be overwhelmed by rage. Where Nia had sat before was an empty space. She would have hurled the glaive through her bony little chest if she had still been there, and she was denied the pleasure of her revenge.

She glowered down at Ontari, voice cutting through the raucous cheers of the crowd, "The traitor you champion for has abandoned you. Even she knows you cannot win." She forced herself to speak louder, to be heard by all, "Swear your fealty to me now, or sacrifice your life!"

From the corner of her eye, a figure stood, and before she even heard his voice, she knew it was Titus, "It is a fight to the death, Heda. You must kill her. Someone must die this day."

Not removing her eyes from the girl beneath her, she responded, "Someone will die as a result of this fight, but it does not need to be her, and it may not be this day."

"Heda..."

Eyes flashing, she finally fixed her glare on Titus, "Do you dare to oppose me, Titus?! Shof op en sen daun." (Shut up and sit down.)

Her attention returned to the body beneath her, she twirled the glaive about, bringing the bladed end to point toward the girl's throat, "Swear your fealty - and mean it - or die."

Ontari swallowed and said, so quietly, almost fearfully, "Why? I'm already dead."

Lexa leaned her weight down, simultaneously increasing the force on the girl's chest and getting her head closer to respond, "Not if I allow the Skaikru to heal you."

Another swallow, and then the girl's head nodded minutely, "I swear it - I swear my fealty to you."

Lexa pushed herself back up, standing tall, yelling for all to hear, "Louder!"

"I swear my fealty to you, Heda."

She removed her weight from the girl, took a step back and pointed to the ground before her. The directive was implicit; kneel before me.

And Ontari did. She got to her knees, bowed her head, and repeated her words, "I swear my fealty to you, Heda."

"And no other?" Lexa pressed.

"Ai badan yu op en no moun."

Lexa tossed the glaive aside, the fight was over. The crowd cheered, chanting her title, and for a moment, she basked in it. Before her eyes caught sight of Clarke's mother, radio tek raised to her ear, expression frantic, trying to hear over everything going on.

She raised her hands, and when that didn't silence everyone, she yelled, "Shof op!"

In the immediate silence, the disembodied voice of her friend Raven cried through the radio, audible to all, "Sinclair? Kane? Abby? Is - is anyone there?!"

She could see Abby swallow before she held the device to her own mouth, "I'm here Raven, I'm here. What's going on?"

"The grounders attacked Mount Weather! It's gone... it's all gone..." Raven's voice faded out like she was in shock.

And Lexa was enraged. She, and anyone under her command who followed her orders, had launched no such attack.

"They're... they're all dead..." The voice on the other end devolved into nothing more than crying.

"Raven, what were you even doing there?" Abby tried. "Are you okay? Is anyone else with you?" Tears had started leaking from the sky leader's eyes. And no response came from the box in her hand.

Lexa rounded on Ontari, who still knelt, "Did the Ice Nation do this?!"

Ontari's eyes lifted enough to meet hers, just barely. And she nodded, "Yes. Nia wanted to prove that they were weak. And a weakness."

The crowd had begun to regain volume, and Lexa roared out at them, demanding silence again.

"Sleep in your beds tonight," she growled at them. "Because tomorrow, we go to war!"

Chapter Text

ABBY

Kane had left Polis immediately after Lexa's fight had been announced, stating that if he was to be the temporary chancellor, he'd probably better get back to Arkadia and deal with Pike. Because Sinclair had finally managed to get a hold of them, but by then, it was too late to reverse the decision without undermining their own command structure. And so, as a result, had arrived back at Arkadia almost two full days before Abby, who'd gotten back only that morning, having traveled with Indra after witnessing the fight and tending to Ontari's organs.

The two sat at the back of a room crowded with grieving people. Only fourteen of the Farm Station members remained, but several of their own had family and friends to mourn among them.

She heard Kane sigh loudly from her right, as she impassively surveyed the room. Somehow, it didn't have a fraction of the emotional control that the uncertainty of Clarke's life had on her. She had never even seen their faces in their time on the ground. Truly, she didn't know who'd made it far enough to have even been at the mountain. At least two hundred Farm Station members had died after landing, and to her, it was little more than words. Briefly, she contemplated whether it was the distance and circumstances that made her so uncaring, or if this was just who she was, now; someone devoid of emotion where it didn't concern her daughter.

"It's not your fault, Marcus," she said, voice level, still looking around the room. Chairs were unfolded and placed in lines, with an aisle between, a table was dragged over, upon which a homemade candle was lit, and several of the bereaved lay what few flowers grew in the harsh cold of winter on its surface. "It wasn't your choice to let them stay there. It wasn't you who blew it up. And it wasn't because of anything we did." Even her voice felt emotionless to her, "The only one at fault is the Ice Nation."

Kane shook his head, "I know. It just still feels like I've let them down." A hand gestured toward those before them, taking their seats, "They've had such a hard time on the ground."

"We all have," was her own dispassionate response.

There was another sigh from him, but as the rest of the room settled into an apprehensive silence, and Pike moved toward the front of the room, they let their own conversation drift away.

"All that's certain is that we die," came Pike's - for once, not entirely full of rage - voice from the front of the room. "How we die, is up to us." What a lie.

Then began the long procedural memorial in which one person spoke for each of the dead in turn, tokens and mementos added to the table, each eulogy punctuated by a softly spoken 'may we meet again' from the room as a whole.

There seemed to be a pattern. The dead were called strong, called heroes, had saved lives. All the dead seemed to be just exemplary people, if their eulogies were all one had to go by. But somehow, Abby didn't really believe any of it. Well, she did. She believed that they had saved each others' lives, and been heroes amongst each other, and been as strong as anyone else who'd lasted this long. What she didn't believe was that they were such great people. Kane had gotten the full report from the kids when he came back, and she, in turn, had gotten the run-down from him. 'Grounder killers, one and all.' Said with pride, and met with cheers. The comment stuck out with such intensity that it still rang disturbingly through her mind.

Because the grounders weren't bad people. She had seen them, talked to them, even gotten to know their leader. She'd seen ruthlessness, and she'd seen compassion. They were no better or worse than the grounders. But, for all their disagreements, she and the rest of Alpha Station had never come to indiscriminately killing them out of fear for their own lives. A few, here and there, that came too near the fence in the early days on the ground. And sure, several killed by the children they'd sent to the ground. The difference was, now, that she and her people had come to accept a coexistence with the grounders. And if their conversation earlier in the day was anything to go by, Charles wasn't even able to consider the concept of peace with them.

They had gathered around a table in a conference room, no one bothering to take a seat. Sinclair had sighed as he delivered the news, "As best we can tell, Mount Weather was destroyed by an internal self-destruct mechanism."

"Forty-nine of my people were lost," Pike had stated, calm and matter-of-fact. "So when do we strike back?"

And that was all it had taken for Abby to realize that he was going to be a problem, "We're not. The Ice Nation took credit for the attack, and the Commander will bring them to justice."

As Pike had responded, his expression was thoroughly confused, "So now, we're trusting grounders to punish grounders?" He had shifted his weight before stepping forward, hand coming up to punctuate the statements that followed, "I'm sorry Ms. Griffin, but I lost more than half of my remaining people in one day. And four times as many since we landed." And then, what had begun was a condescending talking down to her, masquerading as advice. "In my experience, grounders understand one thing. Strength. It's simple. We need to hit them now, we need to hit them hard. Leave no survivors-"

"There's nothing simple about this," Kane had admonished. "We still have peace with every clan except for the Ice Nation. And this attack, by them, was against Lexa, not us. For daring to make peace with us in the first place. The commander has already declared war on them. If you want, if you need so badly to enact punishment, your only option will be to join the Commander's war."

"So you're saying this isn't our fight, unless we fight for them?"

"That is exactly what I'm saying, Charles."

Her mind drifted back to the present, glad that, for the time being, Pike was Marcus' problem. She didn't want this mess. Because Pike's tirade hadn't stopped there. He'd continued for another several minutes, absolutely convinced that the grounders were 'coming for us.'

The Ice Nation, maybe. The others? Highly unlikely, especially with Lexa drawing her forces toward the border with the Ice Nation.

There was a sudden commotion as a door was opened noisily, without much regard for the somber events taking place. Men rapidly approached Pike, paying no heed to any other occupants of the room. And a whispered conversation began between the three of them. Abby found herself worried. They hadn't bothered to tell Pike that protection, in the form of a grounder army, had been provided for them, and she suspected that his people were plenty distraught to be disobeying orders to stay within the confines of Arkadia.

She tensed, and stood before the news even broke.

Pike, with no attempt at discretion, announced to the room, "The grounders are here, camped less than a mile away. An army three hundred strong!"

"We know," Kane replied boldly, standing beside her. "Abby was there when the commander offered her protection against any further attacks from the Ice Nation."

"Protection?" Pike scoffed, moving closer. "Even you can't be that naive, Marcus!"

"Watch your tone!" she warned. "This has been hard on all of us! But we can't let anger drive our policy."

Now enraged, Pike pushed his way into her space, "Anger is our policy!" There were murmurs from the rest of the room, though few of them actually sounded agreeable. Pike stepped away from her, moving to stand, in grandiose fashion, on the nearest table. "Now if they're here to protect us, like you say they are, then tell them to go home! We can defend ourselves!"

A snide rat-faced Farm Station member picked up a rock and pointed toward Lincoln, who had only been present as a show of support for the fallen, "You! You don't belong here!"

Someone else called out, "My boy is dead!" as the rock was hurled, striking Lincoln in the forehead.

A scuffle broke out, but because only the fourteen members of Farm Station were attempting to cause any harm, and their own people out numbered them at least two times over, they were rather quickly restrained.

Abby snarled out, before she could remember that she wasn't acting chancellor at the moment, "Guards, lock that one in a cell!"  She then turned toward Lincoln, hands cautiously reaching out toward the bleeding head wound.

"Abby, the man just lost his family..." Kane cut in, low enough that his voice only carried to her and Lincoln.

She turned her glare on him, "He hurt Lincoln. And who is he to say that Lincoln doesn't belong here?! That is unacceptable, regardless of his reasons! Unless you want to argue that it was right to attack Lincoln?"

Lincoln brushed off her hands, his head shaking, eyes slightly unfocused. She suspected a concussion, but he pushed her hands away again, "I'm fine. I'm fine." He staggered slightly as he pushed himself away from them, leaving the room.

"I'm just saying they're new here. They don't have our same understanding of Lincoln. He's hurting," Kane tried to rationalize.

"These Farm Station survivors need a quick lesson in what is and is not acceptable in Arkadia!" She turned her full body toward him, resisting the urge to shove her finger at him, "That man is locked away until I can see that he's calmed down. As fragile as it is, we have peace, and you know we can't allow their reckless actions to ruin that for all of us." She started to turn her back on him, intent on finding Lincoln and treating the head wound whether he wanted the help or not, before pausing and directing over her shoulder, "And Marcus? None of the people from Farm Station are allowed to have weapons unless I say so, or the war is over."

- - -

BELLAMY

He was in the mess, at mid-afternoon. The time between lunch and dinner, when he could eat without others trying to start up a conversation with him. And he was minding his own business, as usual, poking at a slab of deer meat with a fork. The docked rations had almost been a blessing. Sure, his stomach had grumbled and complained at the emptiness, but his palate silently rejoiced at having a break from the same old thing. There was something about eating the same thing day in and day out that made a person want to gag. Or simply gag, whether they wanted to or not.

Even on the Ark, the repetitive nature of the food hadn't been so singular. Sure, nutrition paste was the standard at every meal, but it could be cooked and mixed into other things. The taste at least masked and modified. Gravy and seasoning, salt and spice, did little to nothing in the way of making him forget that this was deer. Again.

"Let's talk about Mount Weather," the voice interrupted his solitude, and he tilted his head up to see Pike sliding onto the bench opposite him. "I know you were there that day. That you saw the person responsible. Is that why you feel like it's your fault? Because you couldn't stop it?"

He turned his eyes back to the slab of meat, angling his fork to slice into it. "Who said I feel like it's my fault?" His voice betrayed nothing. Not a drop of emotion. He didn't need this. Whether he felt like he was responsible or not wasn't a factor. This crazy man had caused nothing but trouble since they'd found him. Attacking his sister, demanding to stay in the mountain, starting a fight when staying there - predictably - didn't end well. So what if Bellamy felt a little guilty? Maybe he had every right to.

Because he still wasn't over having destroyed the mountain in the first place. Maybe if they'd been able to leave survivors, their friends, the people who had helped them, then Pike wouldn't have been able to bully his way into staying there. Or if the original inhabitants of the mountain had been there, maybe the grounder wouldn't have been able to sneak in. Or someone would have known how to disable the self-destruct.

And on top of all those possibilities, he and Lincoln hadn't been able to catch the culprit. All they had was word from Abby, news from Polis that claimed the Ice Nation was responsible. Really, it could have been anyone. They had all been distracted when the grounder had fled the mountain. And treaty or not, any single person could choose to break the rules.

"They didn't," Pike interrupted his thoughts. "It's written all over you." The man leaned forward, arms resting on the table as Bellamy finally shoved a bite of meat into his mouth. Maybe if it was full, he wouldn't be expected to respond. "You're right," Bellamy's eyes darted up. Guilty feelings or not, he didn't think he was actually responsible for what had happened. "Mine, too." He felt himself relax as he realized where this was going. "Every single one of us is at fault. For letting our guards down, for trusting the grounders." Pike's voice lowered, "I won't let you own this one alone. I knew what they were capable of, and I let my guard down one day, and forty-nine of my people died." Pike lifted a shot glass he hadn't noticed before, "Never again."

And Bellamy supposed he didn't disagree with that. Hopefully they never would experience such a massacre again. "Never again," he mumbled, hoping it sounded more sure than he felt, slicing into his deer meat again.

"I know you've been down here a long time, with Abby and Kane. They're good people, but they think that grounders can police grounders. And now there's an army right outside our home? To protect us?"

He knew Pike didn't believe they were actually there to protect them. And he, himself, wasn't so sure. Protect them? Maybe, maybe not. Attack them? He was pretty certain that they wouldn't. He hadn't spent any time around Lexa when she'd been in Arkadia, he hadn't wanted to, and honestly, he still resented her for leaving them at the mountain. But he wasn't blind. He'd noticed the efforts she made, the subtle ways she allowed herself to be more approachable around them, the lack of guards present. She wasn't someone trying to kill them. Unless it had all just been a play to lower their guard. Nevertheless, he knew he had an opportunity to figure out what Pike was planning, and he'd be remiss not to take it, "What would you do?"

"What I wouldn't do-" his head shook, "-is wait for them to hit us." And before Bellamy could dwell on the implications of that statement, Pike made things even more threateningly clear, "My scouts tell me they have three hundred soldiers and not a single gun between them."

Of course they don't, Bellamy thought, internally rolling his eyes. You claim to have killed how many, and you didn't realize that not a single one of them used a gun?

"Ten highly motivated men with automatic rifles is all it would take." Pike's eyes fixed on his own, "I've got the men."

Bellamy glanced around, feeling eyes on him. It was then that he noticed that almost everyone who was in the mess hall at the moment were Farm Station. And all eyes were on him, expectantly. How had they decided it was me they could manipulate? Just because I've become withdrawn since the defeat of Mount Weather? Because I have a reputation as someone who will take drastic actions if necessary? Honestly, the thought of them having selected him was disconcerting. Is this how people see me? Someone they can move on a chess board until they get what they want? And if anything had ever felt like a wake-up call to Bellamy, it had been that.

"You want me to get you the guns?" he whispered. "That's treason." And it was. Something he didn't want to have on his record. He'd been pardoned for treason once, and it wasn't going to happen again.

"That's survival," Pike argued in response. "The grounders out there -" Pike gestured vaguely away from them, "- will attack this camp, and our leaders do nothing. Right now, we have the element of surprise. We wait, we die. If they want to call it treason, I'm willing to suffer the consequences to save our people. Are you?"

Bellamy glanced around again. When did the rat-faced man get out of holding? He didn't have long to think. He had to give some kind of response. Something that wouldn't seem like he wasn't flat-out telling them no. Something that would give him the time to warn someone. "I'll have to think about it."

Pike leaned in even closer, "Don't think too long, or we'll all be dead." And then he pushed away from the table, leaving Bellamy with half a slab of deer, a sinking feeling, and an invisible countdown.

~*~

BELLAMY

He should have told Kane. That's what he should have done, he realized. But instead, Lincoln had approached him. And he'd warned that it wasn't just Bellamy they'd asked. It was only a matter of time. And he still should have told Kane. They could have tightened security of the armory, they could have done something. But that wouldn't have stopped people who had access to the weaponry, anyways. And they weren't sure who would be susceptible enough to buy into Pike's xenophobic garbage.

Because, right then, coming their way, were Pike and his lackeys. Someone had armed them. And the shadow cast by the gates was the only reason they hadn't been spotted yet.

Lincoln had been watching carefully. More carefully than himself, because he wouldn't have been able to pick out the exact night night that Farm Station had armed themselves and were ready to leave. Lincoln had trusted himself, Harper, and Monroe to stand with him against them. He wasn't sure where Octavia was, but if he had to guess, some sort of backup plan.

As a group, they strode forward to meet the traitors coming their way, the armed Skaikru trio dropping into place behind Lincoln, who had every right to speak out against Farm Station's intended actions.

Pike started calmly, "You need to step aside right now."

"What are the guns for?" Harper asked, already knowing the response they would get.

Pike's rat-faced associate stepped forward, "There's an army out there. We need to hit them before they hit us."

Lincoln's voice was low and nearly as threatening as he'd ever heard it as he said, "That army was sent to protect us."

"I have to do what is best for our people. Especially if no one else will," Pike said, the calm still clinging to his words by a frayed thread.

Bellamy took a step forward, finally speaking out against Pike, "You asked for my help two days ago. You said if I waited too long, we'd all be dead." He gestured around to the gathering crowd with one hand, the other still holding his weapon, "But we're not! Not all grounders are the same! The Ice Nation is ruthless, even against their own kind."

"So we're just supposed to wait for grounders to police grounders?" Pike snarled in response. Apparently he wouldn't let that line die. Did he think it sounded good?

He shook his head, almost disbelieving, "Attacking these grounders - these people who are only here to protect us - wouldn't be justice for your fallen. The commander has already started a war against the Ice Nation - the people responsible! They are policing themselves!"

Abby and Kane had pushed their way to the front of the ever-growing crowd, the loud argument having attracted the attention of most of the camp by then. "And holding to their side of our treaty, Pike," Abby informed. "Any attack against us is to be punished as an attack against their own. And the punishment is death."

"The people responsible will get what's coming to them, Charles," Kane added calmly.

Pike rounded on the pair, stalking toward Abby, probing for the weak link, "And what about in the meantime? We're just supposed to sit around and wait for someone else to attack us? To take what's ours?! No!" He was a frightening, snarling image of man, all rage and no sense, and though it was obvious to all around, it was frightening, to imagine what the volatile man might do. "The responsible aren't dead, yet. Are we supposed to just believe they'll kill their own because of some agreement?" His focus narrowed in on Abby, "What about the last time you had an agreement with them? How did that work out for you?" He pulled back, trying to rally agreement from the crowd before focusing back in on the former chancellor, "They left you to die! Clarke hasn't even been back after what happened! You're going to let that stand? They took your daughter! And they won't stop until we're all dead or subservient!"

Abby held her ground, stepping forward, invading Pike's space, pushing back against him. "They took nothing, but what they thought was-"

There was a faint whistling that grew louder by the millisecond. Bellamy wasn't sure how many people heard it, but it was obvious that Abby was among them, having abruptly cut off her retort. Before him, an arrow struck ground, sinking into the soil, and his response was immediate and instinctual, a remnant of a few too many battles when they first landed. "Grounders!" he yelled, voice loud as could be.

There was mayhem as people dropped to the ground, others scrambled behind the nearest structure, people pushed and fell against one another. Bellamy had dropped where he was, unhindered by others as he had stood relatively alone and in the open.

The area had gone deadly silent, despite the vast number of people around. Cautiously, Bellamy looked up. Before him was a single quivering arrow, embedded in the earth, illuminated perfectly by the moonlight shining through a gap in the clouds, the black feathered fletching at the end bending slightly in the wind. Around its shaft was a roll of paper, tied tightly to it with twine.

Bellamy looked around at the crowd, confused. Abby caught his attention, mouthing at him, "It's a message?" And Bellamy looked back at the arrow. He was the closest. Carefully, he crawled forward, reaching out to untie the paper. He got to his knees as he unrolled it, reading the message silently to himself.

"Not on my watch." Who wrote it? Not on Indra's watch? The grounders in general? Hell, was it someone in the camp? Where did the arrow even come from? And no to what? No to stopping the Farm Station people from leaving? No to dying, to being attacked? No to attacking? The message was so... minimal. So cryptic, without some explanation. Four little words that meant nothing.

So, confusion lacing his voice, he read them aloud, "Not on my watch." Eyes still fixed firmly on the paper, on the hurried, but elegant writing, he didn't look up until he heard a strangled sob from Abby.

And when he did, he saw that she had her hands clasped to her mouth, tears streaming down her face. What's going on? Why such a strong reaction to four simple words that could mean almost anything?

Kane, crouched by Abby's side, gestured for him to turn the paper over. So, with a hesitant pause, he did. And what he found on the reverse was a beautiful charcoal rendition of the Ark - of Arkadia - at sunset. There were only two people he'd ever known who drew well enough to have created this - and Lincoln had been standing right beside him. This message was from Clarke.

And if it was from Clarke, the message was clear - you're not starting a new war with the grounders on my watch.

And she was watching.

How long had she been out there? How long had she been watching them? She hasn't abandoned us, Bellamy thought to himself, almost shocked. He'd thought, assumed, that when Clarke walked away and wasn't seen or heard from in so long, that she wanted nothing to do with them. Or that she couldn't have anything to do with them. But here, in his own hands, was proof that she still cared. Proof that she was alive, nearby, and still looking out for all of them.

The gun! He suddenly realized that the gun actually had been Clarke's. She'd been returning it to them herself. And the arrow before him was evidence that she had replaced the weapon with something she felt more at ease with.

But why hadn't she come home? Could she still not stand to face them? But, Bellamy had to admit to himself, I still don't feel comfortable being around people who were there. And if I don't, how I can I expect anything else from Clarke? At least she still cares.

Kane had gathered his senses, and stood from his crouch, everyone else following his lead, coming back out into the open, though Bellamy remained kneeling next the embedded arrow. Kane pointed toward Bellamy and the paper he still held, transfixed by the image upon it, "That is a message from Clarke. Which means no one is keeping her away from us." He was addressing not only Pike, but the entire gathering, "And she's just said that your attacking the grounders won't happen on her watch."

Pike gave a snarling scoff, "That message could be from anyone! And one little girl can't stand in the way of a gun."

An audible sob from Abby broke through the silence surrounding the argument.

Kane took a few calm steps in Pike's direction, meeting his eyes, "Clarke generally gets what she wants. I know you haven't been around long, but there's a good reason the grounders think she's our real leader."

Another scoff from Pike, "Led by a child? If you're all so weak that you can't do what's needed, make no mistake; I will." He hefted the rifle in hand, shifting its weight but not bringing it against any of his own people.

Bellamy stood, finally, and closed the gap between himself and Pike, placing a hand on the weapon of the other, pushing the barrel of the gun just slightly further down. "It's not weakness to refuse to act in fear. It took a long time for me to learn that lesson, and it was one Clarke taught me. She's out there." He held up the paper, the drawing facing away from him, toward Pike, who's eyes glanced at it only briefly. "And she's right."

"Guards, take their weapons and put them in a cell!" Kane called out, stepping up to take control as their acting chancellor.

Pike growled, "Don't make this mistake, Marcus!"

Kane shook his head, "Bellamy's right. And Clarke is right. Pike, you need to reevaluate your understanding of the people who live on the ground. Not all 'grounders' are the same. Even calling them that-" The shake of his head became more pronounced, a tinge of remorse to it, "- I'm surprised they haven't corrected us. Because it's wrong. They're Trikru, and Floukru, and Sankru, and Azgeda, and many others." He gave his former friend a sad look, "They're people, Charles, and not all of them warriors, and not all of them want us dead." He paused before continuing, "Azgeda have been making trouble within the alliance as much as they have been with us. And the commander is punishing them. By the time this war is over, you'll see that you were wrong, Charles." Another pause, "I know that's hard right now, just having had everyone taken from you, but it's the truth."

The guards had already taken all of Pike's companion's weapons from them, most of them giving them up more or less willingly. Kane took one last step toward Pike and pulled the weapon from his hands, a guard stepping up behind him and pulling his arms harshly behind him, wrapping his wrists in metal cuffs. Pike was pushed toward the Ark, joining his companions as they were led away from the crowd, which had begun to disperse, most presumably heading back to bed.

Kane turned toward Bellamy, right by his side, both of them having stood before Pike in the end of the dispute. "Is it true they asked you to get them guns?"

Bellamy's eyes widened, almost in a panic, "I didn't, sir!" Being blamed for that was the last thing he wanted. "They asked, but... the more I thought about it, the more I realized that he was wrong. Indra, for all that she obvious dislikes us, hasn't ever done anything to us. And I trust that she wouldn't let anyone else, either."

Smiling demurely, Kane pulled him into a hug, "I didn't think you did." He then released Bellamy, holding him at arm's length, making eye contact as he continued, "I just wanted to say I'm proud of you. You've come a long way from shooting the Chancellor."

Chapter Text

KANE

"I know things haven't been the same for you as they have been for us since the landing... but you don't have to fight every day for your life, anymore, Brian. Once you-"

Marcus walked up behind Miller, who spoke quietly to his boyfriend through the bars of the cell he shared with eleven other people, and tapped him on the shoulder, "Time to wrap it up, Nathan."

There was a swallow and a careful nod, before he spoke to his boyfriend once again, "Try to listen. Try to learn. We'll talk more when you're out of there, okay?" He let the grip of their hands fall away and retracted his back to his own side of the bars. He looked up at Kane for just a moment, eyes pleading silently for everything to work out okay, before walking away.

He wasn't the only one hoping things could be improved. Kane nodded toward the guards. One opened the cell door, and another carried a chair inside, withdrawing soon after. The door was held open for him respectfully, and he figured it was a good sign that no one was trying to rush the door to get out. He entered, the door clanging shut, and the lock grating as it engaged again.

He took a seat in the chair, crossing one leg over the other, and addressed the occupants of the holding cell, "Welcome to class."

Pike, and all of his crew, were either on the bench that lined one wall of the cell, or seated casually - though likely uncomfortably - on the floor right next to it. Pike, himself, had a spot on the bench and was leaning into a corner, arms crossed. He ignored Marcus' presence entirely. And maybe that was for the best. Pike would be one of the most difficult to get through to, and without his comments, the rest might adapt more quickly.

Except, perhaps, for the rat-faced individual, who rolled his eyes and objected, "We didn't sign up for no class!"

One brow raised, a silent challenge, Marcus merely responded, "It's mandatory."

"What exactly are you going to 'teach' us? Brainwash us all like you've been?"

Kane chuckled, "If you think we've been brainwashed, you're terribly, terribly mistaken. At any rate, seeing as you're all imprisoned, for the moment, you have no choice in whether you attend this class or not." He wasn't at all surprised by the range of annoyed expressions his audience gave him. "You do have a choice, however, in whether or not you pay attention. You will be informed, you will be tested, and if you pass, you will be released."

"Might as well be brainwashing us. Doesn't sound like we have much of a choice!"

"Oh, you do. Just not a pleasant one, if you don't like prison cells and solitude. Now, where shall we begin...?" He tapped his fingertips absently on his own knee. "How about with the differences between the twelve - at present - clans of the coalition. First, and most importantly, as you will most likely have more contact with them than any other clan, is Trikru. Also known as the tree people. It is their land that Alpha Station came down on, they border our land on most of the north and west sides, one of their villages is actually within our own territory, and the current commander is from Trikru."

And thus began the first lesson of a very long day in a series of many. They had twelve clans of information to cover. Their general locations, distinguishing differences, specialties and temperaments. The cultural differences (that they knew of), the role of the commander in their culture, and in the coalition. And then they would get to the treaty, where Kane would have to explicitly spell out the terms for these Farm Station survivors. And he planned to, quite bluntly, warn that, if they were to break the treaty, he would personally hand them over to the commander for their punishment.

Like he'd eventually come to accept with Finn's fate, peace was worth more than a single person.

- - -

LEXA

"Why do you insist on being here?!" she asked, tone hushed and mildly annoyed.

A flaming red mane of hair surrounded the grinning face beside her, laughing instead of answering the question.

"We both know you won't take a life. War's no place for that idealism."

Dark eyes rolling dramatically, she responded, "We both know I have more to offer than death. Plus, any time with you away from Titus is a blessing!" Luna reached out and tousled Lexa hair from her crouched position beside her.

Her eyes narrowed in a glare, "Not around the people!" She glanced around. No one was actually paying them any attention. They were busy blending into the snow, the pine trees, keeping watch. They were preparing for a battle, one that would hopefully take their enemy by surprise. "You should just be glad Titus doesn't recognize you, anymore. And that I don't tell him your real name." She might be Luna to her, and to her own people, but to the rest of the coalition, she was Clan Leader Mel. Short name, easy to remember, easy to say, easy to forget. Especially since she so rarely left the Floukru. "Okay, so what is it you've learned that helps us in this fight since you ran from our conclave? And that apparently the others of your clan who came along can also provide?"

Her old friend's face lit with a soft smile, "Wars need healers, don't they? And warriors need to eat, sha?" Lexa grumbled her reluctant agreement. "I may refuse to kill for you, Heda, but I will provide the help that I can in my own way."

She could feel a small smirk twitch at the corners of her lips, "You've become much wiser than you once were, Luna."

"Comes with age, doesn't it?" The girl's eyebrow ticked in a way that implied she thought the same of Lexa. "But... while you have my superior mind here, why do you think Azgeda will come this way? Wouldn't it be quicker for them to travel via the southwestern pass?"

"There was an avalanche that made it more difficult to traverse a few years ago. This is the quickest route, now." She glanced toward the snow covered road. "If they don't, we'll either have to venture farther into Nia's territory to fight this war - and she'll have the advantage if we have to fight them on the tundra - or we'll be forced to retreat into Trikru territory, where we may begin to endanger my citizens and their livelihoods." She pushed to her feet, and off of the evergreen she'd leaned against. She grimaced at the sticky sap that covered one glove. Pointy needles and sticks were one thing, but the sap was truly annoying. These northern trees were so much more frustrating than those that surrounded her home. She was just glad, however, that there were trees at all. Fighting in the open was the last thing she wanted to have to do.

Suddenly, there was a commotion from their south. It drew Lexa's attention immediately. She pointed imperiously, to two of her soldiers, and then in the direction of the noise. And she hoped that it wasn't the Ice Nation, despite the fact that their lands lay to the north of them. Being caught off guard was as good as being dead already. She dropped back into her crouch next to Luna, who was now silent, both of them waiting for the verdict.

"Heda!" she was called for. It didn't quite sound frightened, but... injured... annoyed? Something was off.

She stood and made her way through the trees toward the call, Luna on her heels. And what she found was an aggravating annoyance. Prince Roan, formerly of Azgeda, who was currently banished, stood before her between her two - very quickly bruising - warriors. While they, and several others of her troops in the vicinity, had split lips, torn clothing, blood slowly seeping into cloth, and bruises galore, Roan looked nearly untouched. Aside from the permanent scarring about his eyes, he seemed entirely intact. Tall, dark hair, scruffy stubble that she'd never seen the man without, and clothes that, while ragged, implied he at least had some interaction with a village or two. Which was surprising for someone who was supposed to be banished. But it could be easy for smaller villages to overlook such things if they were paid well.

He struggled against the hold of her guards. "Chil yu daun, hainofa." The struggling slowly ceased, but the glare he offered instead was no more pleasing.

"I just wanted to talk to you," came his gruff voice. "They wouldn't listen."

She was sure her expression was thoroughly unamused. And just as sure that Luna's was quite the opposite. "Perhaps it was because you were fighting them, and bear the marks of Azgeda."

"I just-" He pulled against the warriors again, who held fast. "I just wanted to make you an offer."

Her eyes drifted up and down the man, curious. "I'm listening."

He seemed to relax between his captors, "I want to fight for you. In exchange for lifting my banishment."

An interesting offer. Of course the prince wanted his banishment lifted. And he was a good fighter. Anyone who knew the reason for his banishment knew that. But merely fighting for her side wasn't enticement enough. She had plenty of warriors who could - and would - do that. "Can you kill your mother?"

The hope that had found its way into his eyes quickly drained away, and he sagged slightly in the hold of her warriors, "No. I couldn't even get close to her."

She turned her back on him and began to walk away, "Then I have no use for you."

"Please?! Anything else!" The desperation was quite obvious. What, exactly, was his banishment keeping him from that he wanted?

Lexa stopped briefly, "Take him away." She turned back to look at him, "And you. Do not fight my people again, or I'll let my sword taste that which resides in your veins."

As she left the situation, she could feel Luna drop into step behind her, "So dramatic, Lexa." The voice almost tickled in her ear. As annoying as she could be, it was good to have Luna back. She was, perhaps, the closest thing she had to an 'old friend' anymore.

- - -

OCTAVIA

Bellamy thundered on before her, no grace or care in his steps, and she was sure that they could be heard for miles around. Of course, it didn't matter that much. They weren't trying to sneak up on anyone. At worst, they'd be insulted for walking louder than frightened animals.

They were currently going to Indra's war camp, while the Farm Station members were [almost] all locked up, to warn her. Just in case something didn't go to plan, and someone deceived them enough to have the opportunity to do something drastic and irreparable.

She wasn't sure why Bellamy had volunteered to come along. He probably just had some weird obsession with protecting her, still. Even if she was more deadly with a blade than he was with a gun. Or maybe, for once, it wasn't about her. Maybe he needed a break from the multitude of emotions he had seemed encumbered with since last night's reveal that Clarke was alive. And watching them. Or maybe he hoped to run into her.

Of course, Octavia doubted very much that that would happen. She was out in these woods every morning, night, and plenty of times in between when it was by choice rather than obligation. And in all that time, she was sure that the only time they'd been close to even seeing Clarke was when they had been unknowingly following her trail. No one knew how long Clarke had been watching, sure, but it was long enough. At least since they'd followed that trail. She'd either just happened to be in the neighborhood last night, or she'd gotten much better at traversing the woods. And something - the arrow shot from outside the walls of Arkadia - said it wasn't the former.

It was probably Bellamy's thunderous tread that prevented her from noticing that they were surrounded until it was too late. And with impeccable timing, several warriors slid out from behind trees or dropped from branches overhead, each wielding a spear, encircling them in a pointy trap.

"Osir mana no bash yo op. We just came to warn you that Pike might try to attack you, if he gets out. And to tell you that Clarke is alive!" Octavia offered their message without much decorum. This was their sole reason for being there. (We mean you [all] no harm.)

"We know," Indra stepped out from behind a tree, scowl in place.

Octavia couldn't help but feel a little hurt. She'd hoped for a better reunion than this with her former mentor. And maybe to become her seken again.

"You know?" Bellamy asked from beside her.

"Clarke was here and warned me herself," Indra said, like they should already have known. She and her brother shared a look. Clarke hadn't shown herself to anyone in months. Why would they have thought that she'd actually appear to Indra? "You did not know?" Their surprise hadn't escaped notice.

"No. No one's seen Clarke! She just shot an arrow with a message into camp in the middle of us all arguing to get Pike to stand down!" Bellamy was probably somewhat angry that it wasn't he she'd chosen to appear to.

Indra's lips twitched in that way that told her that she wanted to laugh. But laughter was such a rare thing from Indra, and she was well practiced in suppressing it, "And then Clarke snuck into my camp through our unprotected rear flank - because we made the mistake of trusting you sky people - and told me to make sure our rear was protected, in case Pike did come and attack us."

Bellamy glanced toward the nearest grounder, "Well... could you put the spear down? You're protected, and my name isn't Pike."

She rolled her eyes at her brother's ill attempt at a joke, "My brother and I just came to warn you. It's not our fault that Clarke beat us to it."

A smirk coloring her face, which was actually quite a pleasant sight, Indra said, "Fair enough. Weapons away."

The order was followed immediately, and several of the warriors left their presence, as well. "Thanks." She glanced toward her mentor, debating if it was worth it to express her feelings, even minutely. Ultimately, she decided that she had nothing to lose by doing so. "I've missed training with you, Indra."

Indra crossed her arms as she appeared to think about that for a moment, before responding, "And I you. We parted under... difficult circumstances."

She could feel the beginning of a cocky smile slip onto her face, and Bellamy let out a huff with an exaggerated eye roll from beside her, "So... would you...?"

"So would I allow you to return to my side as my seken?" She tapped a finger to her lips, in a show of contemplation that they all knew wasn't actually necessary. "Hmm... a duel, perhaps, to see if you've let yourself slip."

Grinning, she pulled her blade smoothly from its place at her back, "You've got it!"

Indra offered a sly smirk and dropped into a fighting stance, fists at the ready, "Not a duel with blades, strikon. We'll test your weaker talents."

~*~

LEXA

She wore all white. It helped her to blend into the snow on the mountainside next to the road they'd been camped next to for the past five days. In fact, she wasn't just blending in; she was half buried in it.

Lexa surreptitiously examined the area. She couldn't make out her own troops, despite knowing where they were, and that was a good thing. Clothing and face paint all chosen specifically for blending into their respective hiding spots. Some in the lofty pine trees, some in the snow beneath, some on the mountainsides on either side of the pass the road traveled through, and some buried just beside the road itself.

At this very moment, the Azgeda scouts were carefully coming up the road, eyes alert, seeking out information for their Queen's army before they marched. Lexa needed them to believe that the way was clear, so that the Queen would walk strait into her trap, thinking herself - or at least her troops, since she was unlikely to join them - completely safe.

There was a whistling twitter of a bird. A very distinctive bird. Lexa resisted the urge to turn toward it, noting how the scouts gave pause at the sound. After a few long minutes, they moved forward again.

However, that whistling bird hadn't been a bird at all. It was a signal - specifically for herself. Someone had a message for her.

This moment was too important. It would have to wait. This was the moment that would decide if the war would be a sweeping bloody victory for her, or a long, drawn out trudge toward victory.

She - and all the rest of her advance party - were silent and motionless for hours. A valley away, the rest of her army waited in similar quiet, though with far less effort put into disguising themselves. The Ice Nation scouts passed them, walked among them in the alpine forest, down the other side of the pass, and back again. The smug, jovial nature of the scouts on their return told her they'd all done their jobs, and also that the scouts hadn't traveled far enough to notice signs of the larger waiting army. If they could just remain silently where they were, long enough for the scouts to return to the ice nation armies, they could all have an hour or two of respite from their positions before they had to begin waiting again. And in which time, the army could quietly move closer. Not close or quickly enough to give away their presence, but enough that when the fighting started, they'd be closer than their half a day's travel away.

And eventually - finally - they were free to move again. She slipped down the side of the mountain, and strode back into the trees. She didn't have to try hard to find the the person who'd signaled her. They approached her. Along with a messenger.

The messenger gave a half bow before delivering their message, and at the mere mention of who it was from, Lexa felt apprehensive trepidation. "Indra sends word, heda." She tried not to let her face betray her. Had the sky people done something she'd have to punish them for? Had Indra's army experienced an attack from the Ice Nation? Had they split and circumvented her - striking the sky people again? "Wanheda is alive. And not held by the Azgeda."

She blinked rapidly. It almost felt like that information refused to sink in. "What do you mean Clarke is alive? Where is she?!" She'd seen the campsite herself. How could Clarke possibly have survived that and not been taken? She'd seen no slain enemies. Nor had those she'd sent to follow the trail.

"Wanheda seems to be living somewhere near her people, but no one is sure exactly where. The sky people were as surprised as ourselves, if not more so."

"Are you sure? Did anyone actually see her?" Because if they hadn't... what if it was all a trick, to get her to lower her guard?

"Indra is the only one who saw her, even though she was in our camp. We didn't even notice her slip among us. The sky people hadn't seen her, either, but they said she sent them a message."

"Indra is sure it was her?" Indra wouldn't lie... but she could be mistaken.

"She is. Wanheda gave her a warning about the sky people. It was confirmed later when other sky people came to warn us also."

Lexa felt like she should be feeling relief right now. And she should. But all she actually felt was worry shifting to some new location. Clarke had slipped right through her grasp. And what had happened to Zik? Was he still with her? Had Clarke convinced him not to share information about her with Lexa anymore? Was it because she'd been speaking to Clarke's mother? And what, exactly, had happened at their campsite? There were no bodies but that of a horse. If a fight had started there and ended elsewhere, the trail would have been easy to follow. It was all thoroughly confusing.

But she now knew one thing for certain - Nia didn't have Clarke. Although it lessened her rage toward the woman - only slightly, because she did, after all, still have someone else to avenge - it meant she could kill the woman without worrying that the information about Clarke's location died with her.

She turned toward the nearest warrior. "Find me Prince Roan. Quickly, before we prepare for the Ice Nation army's arrival. Take as many people as you need. And so he doesn't put up a fight, tell him I've reconsidered his banishment." And then she addressed the messenger again, "Thank Indra for sending this information. You may go."

She waited, sharing a quick meal with Luna.

"Does war have you so nervous, little Lexa?"

She shot a glare at the elder - only slightly - woman. "No."

Luna pointed toward her hands, "You're twitching and fidgeting with your food. I even saved the best loaf of bread for you! And you're tearing it to pieces. Without eating it." Her finger tipped down to the crumb laden ground beneath Lexa's hands. "So why don't you tell me why you're ruining a perfectly good meal?"

"I'm not nervous. It's just best not to eat before a fight."

Eyebrow tipping upward, Luna snorted, "That's not it and you know it. Don't forget, I know all your tells, and nervous fidgeting isn't even among them. Something is driving you insane."

"Just someone I thought was captured." Lexa turned her face away from that of her friend, "They aren't."

"Sounds like good news to me. So what aren't you telling me?"

"I don't feel relieved. I still feel worried."

"You -" Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Luna's own eyes widen, and her voice dropped into a whisper, "There's someone new? When did you get over-"

She hastily held up a hand, "Don't. Don't say her name. Not right now."

"Well, tell me when, then."

Saving her from the question, Prince Roan was escorted their direction, flanked by guards who - this time - were untouched.

She stood just as he addressed her, "Heda."

Head held high, she made him wait a moment before finally beginning, "I've thought of something you can do to earn an end to your banishment."

He looked as intrigued as she'd ever seen a person be, "What would you have me do?"

"Do you know of the Mountain Slayer? Wanheda? Clarke kom Skaikru?"

"Only in stories."

"We thought your mother had taken her. That is not the case. She is somewhere near Arkadia, the home of the sky people. Go, find her, deliver her unharmed to her mother in Arkadia." She couldn't emphasize enough that Clarke should not be harmed by this man.

"And you'll lift my banishment?"

She nodded only slightly, chin still held high, "If you can prove she was unharmed and remained there, safe."

"How am I to do that?"

Lexa narrowed her eyes, "Figure it out." Her tone was biting. "Verifiable word from her mother, wait patiently until the war is over... better yet, bring me one of Raven's radios. Then I'll be able to hear it from them myself." She fluttered the fingers of one hand away from her dismissively, and when he didn't immediately leave, she verbalized the command, "Go. This is the only offer you will have from me. Take it or become accustomed to your banishment. And I will track down those who haven't minded their association with you and ensure that they mind in the future."

As soon as he was out of earshot, Luna leaned in over her shoulder, quiet amusement in her voice, "You're in love with the Mountain Slayer? You always knew how to pick the troublesome ones."

Chapter Text

CLARKE

DAY 52

The flags, the long tables, the concrete floor. Pillars in the same places. The sight of the inside of the mountain, as she remembered it, was all too familiar now. Her mind liked this brand of self-torture, but she also knew, the moment it populated her dreamscape, that it was just that; a dream.

The room wouldn't be empty for long. Every chair would hold a corpse, and more still. Every chair but one. The nightmare was so frequent that Clarke knew exactly which chair. She couldn't escape the dream, only wait it out, so she made her way to that one chair and sat.

As expected, the corpses materialized like they had always been there. They were always those she'd murdered, at first. But lately, they'd been changing forms. Her mind tried to guilt trip her in any manner possible.

It was almost like the dream learned, every time, what she found harder to deal with. Kane? Sergeant Miller? Other members of the guard, other adults she felt no attachment to? They didn't really elicit a response, and after their initial appearance, they never showed up again. The ones that haunted her, Monty, Bellamy, Jasper, and her  Mother - they made repeat appearances, in various states of decay. Unlike other corpses, they would sometimes talk, telling her she had failed them all. Telling her they were all dead now, because of her. Telling her that when she had left them, alone and vulnerable in the aftermath of the battle at Mount Weather, the grounders had taken advantage of the opportunity to eradicate them.

These were more than just nightmares, they were visual manifestations of every fear she had. They were all rooted in her own subconscious, though sometimes not deep enough for her not to recognize the fear as her own.

"I didn't think you had it in you, Clarke," Bellamy's corpse-like manifestation told her, "You're basically halfway to killing every human left. I didn't know you'd kill us, too, when I helped you pull that lever."

Clarke sunk her teeth into her own tongue. It was pointless to respond, and it was pointless not to. This place was a manifestation of her own mind, and it already knew every argument she could or would make.

"Oh, you still think we're alive?" Bellamy chuckled even as a sheaf of radiation burnt skin slid from his face in a sight that made her want to gag. "You thought Lexa would stand by us, too. Is it one or two betrayals if she wiped us out the moment you left us weak?"

Fire burned in her eyes, but there was still nothing for her to say.

"Bellamy, you're missing the point," her mother's form interjected. "None of this would have happened at all if she hadn't been playing at being an adult. Being a leader."

"So this was all just a game, Clarke?" It was Jasper's turn to poke holes in her, "First you kill my girlfriend, and then you kill everyone?"

Dream or not, Clarke practically shook in rage. All she could do was hold herself together until the dream drifted back into the recesses of her mind and returned control and consciousness to her.

Wetness dripped from the corners of her eyes as she woke. A part of her felt very helpless, because everything that happened in every single one of her dreams was a part of her. It was her arguing with herself, or her blaming herself, or her taunting herself. How do you fight with apparitions that hold the knowledge of all your thoughts, good and bad?

Clarke pushed herself up into a sitting position, dragging her hand through the wet on her face and rubbing it off onto her pants. Zik had left the previous day to deliver another report to Lexa. And, although she liked the man, this was her opportunity to leave. And there wouldn't be another good one once they were closer to Lexa.

She'd slept the night in the camp that Zik had set up. But in the morning, after getting up, she finally untied her sling. It had been about forty-five days since she'd broken it. At least, she thought it had been that long. Time was a bit hard to keep track of out here. Plus, she wasn't entirely sure how long she'd been out when the grounders first found her. At any rate, she could have tried to see if her arm was healed as early as three days before now. She just hadn't wanted to do so around Zik. It'd be better - for her plans to leave - if he didn't know that she was healed.

Clarke picked at the knots in her former shoelaces holding the splint material to her arm. It took minutes of work to undo. They'd become very tight in the time they'd been holding her together. Finally they came undone, and she stretched her arm slowly, experimentally.

The pull of unused muscles ached, but other than that, it felt okay. She ran her fingers up and down her right arm, around it. Pressure didn't hurt. Nothing felt distinctively off. It would take time to rebuild muscle, but she felt confident enough to say she'd healed. She grabbed her little bag and tried to lift it with that arm. And oh, did it ache, but it wasn't impossible.

There was just one more thing to test; could she make a fire?

When she pushed the tent flap aside, she noticed a thin layer of fluffy whiteness coating the ground. Her eyes widened and turned toward the sky as she stepped out of the tent. She'd never seen snow before, and it was a little bit amazing. Not at all like rain. Little white flakes, drifting slowly to the ground.

She let herself linger in awe for a few moments before she forced herself to look for reasonably dry fire starting materials. Once she did so, she cleared away a little patch of snow, the cold biting sting of the material numbing her hands, even as it melted at their touch, before settling down herself, her slab of bark, some dead grass, and a couple sticks.

A few minutes of effort and concentration resulted in smoldering tinder that she carefully coaxed into a flame. She smiled to herself demurely. She was ready.

Clarke ducked back into the tent, and separated out a couple furs and Zik's clothes, throwing her own bag into the larger one that contained most of their supplies. As an afterthought, she got rid of her shredded former pants, too. She wouldn't be needing them. She had plenty of bandages in the med-kit. When she ducked out of the tent, she faced the world, taking in just how... vast it all felt.

Now, to find Camp Jaha. All she knew was that it was somewhere to the west.

~*~

DAY 53

Clarke had spent the previous night carefully balanced in a tree. It was oddly comfortable after stone, the tree limbs almost cradling her.

Now, Clarke trudged along. She wasn't sure how far she was from Camp Jaha - or the ocean - whichever came first. All she could see were trees and mountaintops.

She made good use of her time while walking, however. Stretching her unused arm, getting it accustomed to movement again. The sooner she got it in working order again, the better off she would be.

As she walked along, something caught her eye. Something that was neither tree nor mountain. And that was cause enough for investigation. She angled her path toward the structure that jutted out above the trees around her.

And as she came closer, her confusion and curiosity only grew. She vaguely recognized the old chain link fence that was toppled over and half buried in the ground at the edge of the clearing she found as she walked over it, boots clinking against the structure that had long since failed in its duty of keeping things out. But what occupied the massive clearing beyond was... baffling. She was sure that Raven would have known what it was in a heartbeat. And have been exuding excitement over it. Clarke, however, had no idea what it was.

There was a tall metal structure, twisted and bent, vines creeping up around the struts that comprised the whole of it, cables dangling broken from various points of the structure, like less colorful vines themselves. And that was only the tallest of the clearing's occupants. There were strange metallic coils everywhere, and metal boxes, and more cables - not all of them broken. She continued walking forward, completely entranced by the strangeness around her. The concrete beneath her feet was cracked, with grass, weeds, and other greenery sprouting from between the jagged splits.

As Clarke looked around, she noticed more of the very tallest structures leading away from the clearing. Cables dangling from almost all of them, some even connected between them. She almost wished she could show Raven. The girl would have had a field day for the metal alone, even if some of it was rusting.

Unfortunately, Clarke knew she couldn't spend forever looking at all the intricate metal structures. She still had to find Camp Jaha. And one thing was certain - she'd never seen this place before. So she probably wasn't even close.

~*~

DAY 55

Her stomach was starting to bite at her quite painfully. She'd exhausted the supply of pre-cooked food that Zik had left for her. And, traveling as she was, she hadn't taken the time to stop and try to hunt. Or fish. And thinking about fish, even momentarily, alerted her to the fact that she was also thirsty. Clarke stopped, grabbing at the canteen draped around her torso, but a quick shake was enough to remind her - again - that it was already empty. She had hoped that she could make it to the vicinity of Camp Jaha before she had to stop and hunt for food. She had hoped to have somewhere to call - even temporarily - home.

Clarke forced herself to keep moving, drowning out the demands of her stomach. If she hit the ocean first, she'd stay and find some fish to eat before doubling back to look for camp again.

She almost did a double take when she first saw the building. It was a small little shack, surrounded by seemingly random piles of stuff, like she'd only seen once before. Her suspicions were confirmed as she moved to the edge of the clearing and odd Greek symbols above the door become more apparent. She'd stumbled upon a trading post.

I suppose, since I'm here, I can try to trade for some food. She pulled the pack from her back, letting it fall to the ground. Her first move was to extract the cloth that had previously covered her hair. She didn't really need anyone knowing who she was, especially now that she was on her own again. She wrapped it around her head, tucking the ends into her jacket. And then she dug through the bag. Do I even have anything to trade? I'd love to toss the gun, but the grounders wouldn't even consider it. Plus, that's kind of a dead giveaway for who I am. Might as well wear a sign. She continued to pick through the pack, coming to the dishware at the bottom. I guess I really only need one pot... trade some food making tools for some actual food. That seems strange, but I don't think I've got anything else to trade. Well, she glanced toward the weighted metal blade sitting at her hip, I could trade the sword, but I was actually looking forward to learning how to use it. And, another thought occurred to her, it might be suspicious to trade away my weapon. Even if I can't use it, they don't know that.

So she pulled a pot from the bottom of the bag, before sliding the large thing back onto her. And then she made her way toward the door, trying not to let her nervousness betray her as she pushed through it. The last time she'd been in a trading post, Zik had done all the talking. And trading. And they'd had a whole deer to work with. She wasn't even sure the trader would take a pot for some scraps.

Clarke mentally tried to work through what she would say, quickly, before she could be confronted. It wouldn't do to accidentally give away her identity just because she spoke in her native language.

This trading post was far more organized than the last. Everything seemed to have its place. The walkways were clear. The dim candle light cast shadows, but it didn't feel any less inviting, though perhaps that was because of the slanted opaque windows that lined one wall of the trading post, that, though they couldn't really be seen through, let in a great deal of natural light.

A lanky blonde girl stepped from the back, wiping her hands on a cloth as she did so. Light eyes trailed up her body as the woman took stock of her visitor. Clarke had to resist the urge to look down at herself. She wasn't entirely sure how strange she looked at the moment. She could be coated in mud for all she would have noticed.

She cleared her throat, and tried not to let her apprehension sneak into her voice as she spoke, "Gaf ai in kof op gon dina en woda." (I want to trade for food and water.) She hefted the pot in hand, "Ogeda ai na hon in gon disha." (All I can get for this.)

There was a tense, quiet moment. Clarke wasn't sure what was about to happen. She could be told no, could be granted her trade, could be negotiated with, could be confronted for her identity. Did she have an accent? Was it a giveaway? Did she say something that didn't even make sense? Maybe she seemed crazy.

Instead, the woman just ducked around the table in the middle of the room, and pulled a tray from beneath it. She skillfully sliced a hunk of meat from a larger portion, and wrapped it in a stretch of cloth. And then she pulled a clay pitcher from beneath the same table. She gestured toward Clarke, "Woda geda." (Water place [cup/canteen].)

Clarke hastily pulled the canteen from about her, and offered it to the woman. It was filled and passed back to her, followed by the slab of meat. "De pleni?" ([Is] that enough?)

She glanced down at the cloth covered meat, weighing it slightly in hand. Then she shrugged, "Sha. Mochof." She placed the pot on the table and nodded toward the girl before turning toward the door. "Leida," she offered in parting.

And once clear of the post, of its clearing, and back in the woods, she smiled to herself. That had gone better than expected. She walked for what felt like another hour before she settled down to start a fire and cook her meal.

~*~

DAY 57

Walking silently had become almost second nature, even with dead leaves and crisp snow underfoot.

She hadn't yet found Camp Jaha, and she was beginning to wonder if she ever would. Perhaps she should have waited for Zik to take her the rest of the way. At least then, she wouldn't be lost.

And she never did find it. Or so it seemed. Instead, when she finally found it's prior location, she found in its place somewhere named Arkadia - at least, according to the sign.

It was dark, the sun pulling itself down beneath the mountains when she had finally started to recognize the terrain around her. It had been months, and the trees shouldn't have felt any more familiar than anywhere else. And yet, they did. It was just the way they stood near each other. The perfect distances, the perfect shadows, and branches lain over each other. The dips in the ground, and the push of roots from the soil just right. Perhaps it wasn't that she actually recognized them, but just their familiarity. But soon after, her feet had found their way to the clearing around Arkadia.

She didn't leave the treeline. In fact, the sharp stab of anxiety in her gut said that she wouldn't be doing so anytime soon. She was almost... afraid to. This was close enough.

Clarke let her eyes take in the changes. The fence was no longer just some electrified wire and posts. The gate was heftier. A tower stood beside it, the figures of guards visible as dark shadows within. The camp was illuminated, but she couldn't see past the walls, aside from the outline of the Ark itself.

But she'd finally found her way... back. Not home, she reasoned. Because it wasn't home. Nowhere was home right now. But she'd found her way back to Camp J- Arkadia. The old name was stupid, anyways.

~*~

DAY 59

It was nearly two days before she finally did find somewhere to call home, however temporary it might end up being.

Her legs ached from the endless hiking, up and down all the mountains nearest Arkadia. But the pain, when she finally found what she had been looking for, was well worth it.

She had spent the time since locating Arkadia looking for a cave to claim for herself. She had imagined it would be easier to find one than it actually had been. But late in the afternoon, nearly two days after discovering Arkadia, she found herself a cave. A home.

It wasn't anything like her last cave, but for that most basic of descriptors. The cave she had shared with Zik was exactly what one pictured when they imagined a cave. Because it was the kind of cave depicted in books, and television, and movies. It had had a relatively large opening, a nice, flat floor, and was warm and dry. More of a hollow pocket in a mountainside than an actual cave.

And her new home - or what she planned on making one, at least - was truly a cave. She would never have found it if she hadn't specifically been looking for any opening in the mountains surrounding Arkadia. The entrance, itself, was shrouded by a few bushes, some shrubbery, and one oddly close tree. And the opening was small enough, she had to duck just to enter. But that wasn't a problem. It was more like a feature: natural security. Only, she had to be careful when she entered, too, because if she wasn't, just beyond the opening, she'd take a twenty foot tumble down a steeply sloped floor before it leveled out.

The main chamber of the cave was massive, though roughly spherical, and the opening placed halfway up what would be called a wall, if it were any more vertical. Stalactites pointed down from above her, like poorly placed teeth in a massive mouth, families of bats clinging to them, unaware of her presence, and stalagmites, fewer, pointing up from around her, back at their elevated counterparts. A shallow pool filled the lowest point of the room, and a tiny trickling stream lead toward it from the back of the room, where there were tunnels that led deeper, and Clarke hadn't yet explored them beyond a curious peek. Enough to know that some narrowed to impassible quickly, and others widened into other chambers.

Right to the side of the entrance was a ledge, though, that was just wide and long enough to make a comfortable bed of. And she did, unfurling her furs across the level plane.

Clarke was actually rather overwhelmed in that moment, sitting upon a pile of furs on a ledge in the strangest cavern she'd ever seen. She was alone - but that wasn't the problem. Nor was the fact that she was again near her people, or that her arm was healed. There really wasn't a problem, just the feeling of being overwhelmed.

Because Clarke couldn't help but to imagine making this place home. Setting up a fire near the small pool, and instead boiling water brought up the mountainside because she was afraid of whatever bacteria lay in the still water. Waking to the squeak of bats above her, talking in some language she would never understand. The smell of food roasting, and the slightly charred taste of meat she'd cooked herself, rolling against her tongue. The wispy streams of smoke drifting toward the lofty ceiling, finding a natural escape through one tunnel or another, but warming the place all the same. Decorating the walls with images crafted from soot with her fingertips, and lazy days when she'd already eaten, casually sharpening a blade and trying, experimentally, to teach herself to wield it.

What was overwhelming wasn't being here, or alone, or having a place, or fear of being found. It was the realization that she expected to have a future. One where she wasn't afraid of the choices she might have to make.

~*~

DAY 60

Something she'd noticed before she'd even found her cave was that fellow members of the hundred were out around dawn and dusk every day. It made sense, since those were the best times to hunt, but it disrupted her own ability to hunt freely. A few others were out during the day checking traps. So she'd learned quickly not to stray very close to Arkadia anytime the sun was up. Instead, she hunted further away.

Or rather, she tried to hunt. Because, not having actually practiced, it was proving to be fairly difficult. First of all, most of the game around Arkadia was, in one way or another, spoken for. And due to their hunting patterns, she had to be careful about what times she went out to try and hunt for herself. That left her with poor timing, mediocre skills, long trips, and ill equipped for the task. Because the only thing she'd ever seen Zik use to hunt was his bow, and not only had she never used it, but he took it with him every time he left. Try as she might, she couldn't see a way to hunt with her knife or sword that didn't involve finding something bigger to pick a fight with.

So, for the past few days, Clarke had been secreting food out of Arkadia's traps during the night. She had considered setting her own - and she had in some areas further away from Arkadia - but where traps already existed, the only difference between hers and someone else's would be who caught the food. Not whether it was caught, and not who ate it. Because the Arkadian trappers weren't likely to assume her traps weren't their own, and would take the food they caught as if it were their own. So Clarke didn't bother wasting time setting traps that wouldn't feed her, anyways.

That didn't mean that Clarke didn't feel a degree of remorse for essentially stealing food. She did, she just didn't plan on doing so long enough to actually feel bad about it.

And that was why Clarke was on her way back to the trading post with a pilfered rabbit.

Dawn was just arriving as Clarke slipped back through the forest to a trail that led right to the post she'd previously found. It was less of an effort to maintain silence on the hard-packed earthen trail than sliding over leaves, and it gave her mind the room to think. She pondered what she may look like, were someone to come across her. It would happen sooner or later, she was already having to work around the Arkadians' schedules to avoid them, and they weren't the only ones in these woods.

From afar, she thought that she may pass as a grounder. Every bit of clothing she wore had been replaced at some point during her time away, and, on the surface, she looked nothing like the rest of the Sky People. The only thing that really gave away her true identity were the golden tresses of her hair. Like any other population, a variety of gene expression existed amongst the grounders. But also like most other populations, there were genes that were less commonly seen expressed, and her hair color was one infrequent to the grounders. So - but for that one thing, and how brilliantly it stood out against the shadows and tree trunks - she could pass as a grounder. Hopefully that meant that even if one of her people saw her, they wouldn't try to approach. Except - she expected - if they took notice of her hair, and thought for a single moment that she was who she actually is - Clarke - as opposed to some fair-haired grounder.

She let the thought slip into the back of her mind as she approached the trading post. The dark sheet of cloth was retrieved from its place of safekeeping, between her jacket and herself, and pulled into place, covering her hair once again.

Just as she was about to step out into the clearing, the door of the trading post swung open. Instinctively, Clarke ducked herself behind a tree.

"Hod yu daun de kofon, gada. Kom ai op nodotaim in de monin," a deep voice came from the figure exiting the doorway. Clarke hazarded a quick glance. Grounder, obviously. Male, middle-aged, dark, full beard, but little-to-no hair otherwise. Nothing truly remarkable about him.

She tried to muddle through what he'd said. Something about watching trade, coming back in the morning? He'd addressed someone as 'girl', but that was probably just the person who ran the post. Maybe the guy was just negotiating a trade in advance? Or maybe he'd been denied his proposed trade. Clarke shook away her thoughts. Momentarily.

"Sha, nontu. Leida," a more feminine voice came from behind the still-open door, the opening not visible from her present angle. The man was her father?

Clarke made a surreptitious glance after the retreating figure of the man, again. Someone older, more experienced at running the trade post, perhaps. It might be advantageous for her to deal with the less experienced daughter. Never mind the fact that it was also less intimidating.

The thud of the door falling shut startled her from her observations, and she ducked back behind the protection of the tree trunk against her back. She counted out the seconds in her head, allowing time for the father to get farther away. After she deemed it had been long enough, Clarke slipped out into the clearing, heading for the door.

The trade girl looked up in surprise as she opened the door, as if expecting someone else. Instead, coming through the opening was Clarke. Likely covered in a layer of dirt, hair hidden away by a cloth, rabbit swinging by its feet from a corded length of twine tethered to her leather belt.

Clarke continued forward, as if she weren't aware of the reason for the shopkeeper's surprise. "Heya," she stated, casually, as she pulled the rabbit free of her belt and dropped it onto the table that ran the center of the room, eyes preoccupied with looking around for what she wanted to trade for.

"Monin. Fig au ha gon homplei?"

Clarke felt one of her eyebrows tick upward. Girl was a bit cheeky. Though, to be fair, Clarke still didn't know how to hunt. Clarke ignored her. For now. She'd let the girl make her own assumptions about why Clarke was trading for-

There they were. She finally spotted what she'd been looking for, and moved to the far wall. A variety of bows hung from the wall, or sat on a nearby shelf, not all of them strung. She regarded them carefully. She knew it was better to unstring a bow when it wasn't in use, but she didn't know quite how to do that. She hoped it was something she could figure out quickly.

She resisted the temptation to look over her shoulder. She didn't really want to give away her insecurity. Instead, Clarke picked up one of the bows, and examined the end of the string. It was already looped, and there was a corresponding notch at the end of the bow. With a bit of effort, she managed to pull the string taught and compress the bow enough to slot the bowstring into place.

Trying to look, still, as if she knew what she was doing, she raised the bow and pulled back on the string. Not for the first time, she was glad that it was her non-dominant arm she'd broken. Pulling back the string was tough enough with her good arm. And still, she could tell the bow wasn't all that powerful. She would have to practice quite a lot if she wanted to actually be able to use this bow, much less one a bit more stiff.

As she unstrung the bow and placed it back in its spot, she weighed her options. She could get a weaker bow. It would take less effort to build up enough muscle to be able to use it, but she'd be far more limited in the range she could use it. Or she could go for something a bit stronger. She might not be able to use it well enough to hunt for a while while she worked up to the point where her muscles could handle the tension of the bowstring, but in the long run, she'd be better equipped for hunting, with more powerful shots and larger range.

Clarke picked up another bow and began to string it up. There really wasn't a question, for her. She'd find something strong, but not inflexible. She may have to rely on Arkadia's traps for a while longer, but she'd work herself until the bow was as much a second nature as her footsteps. She was spoiled for free time, after all.

It took six more bows before Clarke found one she was satisfied with, and she turned to find the trade girl watching her with a bemused smile. Which Clarke, again, ignored.

"Gon hanch?" She gestured toward the rabbit that lay untouched.

The girl ran a critical eye over the bow Clarke held and then over the rabbit. And then over Clarke, herself. Then she turned away and busied herself with another shelf of items. When she returned, it was with a quiver and five arrows. She placed them on the table between them and said, "Seim kofon." (Same trade [fair/equal trade])

Clarke resisted the temptation to roll her eyes. She would have gotten to that, but she had wanted to make sure the rabbit was enough for even the bow. The girl did save her time, though.

She gave a sharp nod, "Mochof." Then she gathered her new items, and left. She wasn't going to argue if she got more for her trade than she expected.

~*~

DAY 63

Clarke slipped into a routine quickly.

In the early mornings, at and around dawn, Clarke trained with her new bow. When it wasn't so painful to do so. On good days, she'd climb her mountain home and pick a tree to use as a target for the day.

The same day she'd traded for the bow, she'd spent the afternoon attaching the quiver to herself in all manner of ways. At first, over the shoulder - like depicted in every old movie that featured archery she'd ever seen on the Ark - until she realized that it was terribly unwieldy, and difficult to draw a new arrow after the last sprang from her bow (however askew its trajectory). Then hung from her belt, strapped to a thigh, across her lower back. She still wasn't sure which felt most natural, but she'd settled for her last experimentation, the quiver attached to her belt on her left side, and lightly tethered by some twine to the opposite side of her. It resulted in the quiver being a bit lower than it had been strapped across her lower back, which made it easier to reach the arrows, and angled in the right direction, the tether being just enough to keep it at that reasonable angle and from flopping around uncomfortably, without tipping the quiver upside-down. The only real issue was remembering not to sit on them. The quiver had a stiff outer hide, but nothing that would keep her from snapping the arrows into nothing more useful than twigs if she sat on the bunch.

She typically just carried the bow in hand. For all the power and potential it held, it was also fairly light. Clarke only bothered to sling it across her chest when she needed her hands for something else. Like carrying her catch - if she ever made one.

With a high and distant vantage of the Arkadian grounds, she practiced. Arrows sometimes sinking their heads between the grooves of tree bark, and sometimes falling pitifully short in a snow bank. And although she wanted to settle for nothing less than perfection, she reasoned that this was why she practiced, so that her arrows were more likely to meet their target when meat was at stake.

On bad days, the ones where her arm ached too much to handle the bow, or the sky opened up and spat upon the ground, she'd stay in her cave instead, and work with her arm. Expanding her range of motion and capacity for bearing weight in the limb were important, but very slowly improving. And if even that were too much on a given day, she'd take the opportunity to try to learn how to use her sword. Or at the very least, get use to the feel of it in hand. She didn't exactly have a good reference point for sword wielding.

This was one of the good days. The air was crisp, albeit chilly. The misty layer of fog that loved to dwell between the mountains, most especially across the expansive lake beside Arkadia, was already thinning in the early morning rays. And her arrows cut through the thin mountain air with a swish, a hearty impacting thud, and the following twang of reverberating bow string.

Below, she could see the Arkadians, just as awake as herself, the minuscule people moving about in their morning routines. And, unexpectedly, a visitor of some sort.

It was only the high angle, opposite the woods the visitor exited that afforded Clarke a view of said visitor tying off the reigns of their horse before exiting the trees. They were slight, but still a grounder, she was sure. And they were alone.

It piqued Clarke's curiosity enough that she lowered her weapon and stood watching. She knew there had been some sort of interaction between the grounders and her people in her absence; Zik had all but outright told her that. How much interaction was still a mystery to her. She was mildly surprised when the figure fearlessly approached the gate. Not at the grounder's lack of fear, but at her own peoples' lack of resistance to the approach. There seemed to not even be any hesitation in the gate swinging wide and the visitor being escorted into the Ark. Obviously, they were expected. Or welcome. Maybe someone besides Octavia was dating a grounder? Why else would one come alone?

She shrugged the thoughts aside and returned to her day.

Mid-morning was when she had taken to hunting. Or at least trying to. More often than not, she was chasing her own stray arrows. But she would slip down the far side of her mountain, (Why claim just a cave, when you can claim a whole mountain?) and venture into the woods beyond what the Arkadians usually covered. While there, she'd check her traps. She was determined to no longer rely on food she hadn't caught.

If she was lucky enough to catch a meal, she returned to her cave and set on with preparing it. If she failed at the task, she weighed the pros and cons of returning to the trading post for food. And on days her traps and her skills were both enough to feed her, she made the trip to the trading post to shore up on other supplies. Like buying back her pot. And maybe replacing a sat-upon arrow.

The afternoons were consumed by rest, unless her stomach dictated otherwise. She'd taken up odd hours, since her arrival near Arkadia, in avoiding potential interaction where possible. A quiet afternoon nap in her dark cave was nothing strange to her. And she relished the opportunity, finally, to rest on whatever part of her body her restless mind dictated, no longer having to accommodate a broken limb.

Evenings were a variety, depending on need. She'd sew closed holes in clothes, and bed furs. Or she'd sharpen her blade with a whetstone. She'd swing that blade experimentally, or she'd finger ashen paintings on her walls. She did what needed doing, and if there wasn't, she'd do what she felt like doing.

She'd wait out the drooping sun, waiting for it to slide beneath her horizon, and wait longer still. When she was certain that most hunters would have gone home, she'd finally depart her home again.

It was in these early nighttime hours that she slipped in close to Arkadia, and checked on things there. The guard schedule was simple, but it didn't matter. Arkadia had plenty of blind spots.

If she ventured closer than her gut was comfortable with, she could hear the guards' whispers carrying through the darkness. And normally, Clarke gleaned just enough to know that things were okay. If the guards were talking about such trivial things as their own boredom during the night shift, the dislike of deer meat after so many meals of it in a row, and how pretty the sliver of visible moon was tonight, there certainly weren't major concerns to worry over.

Tonight was not quite such a night.

"Do you think this guy is ever gonna show up?"

She could imagine the responding shrug well enough, followed by another guard's response, "We're the third shift they've asked to be ready for him. I honestly don't think he's coming. Would have been here already, right?"

The sigh that came from his fellow practically floated to her on the night air, "I guess." The voice paused, and she could vaguely hear the whispers of bending blades of grass beneath heavy boots in the silent moment of uncomfortable readjustment. "I just - I think one of them is going to snap if he doesn't show up. I don't know what's going on, but... did you see the chancellor after dinner? It wasn't like she looked uncomfortable - you know I would be if I'd spent all day with the commander - but like... like she's afraid or something." There was another silent moment. "I don't know, maybe I'm overthinking it."

His fellow started to respond. Something that again contained reference to the commander, reference to the chancellor - is that still mom? But Clarke didn't hear over the sheer volume of her own thoughts.

The commander is here? With my - the chancellor? Why?

Perhaps Clarke had missed her arrival. She certainly wouldn't have been that lone visitor that arrived in the morning. But if she were... why would the commander be here alone? There were no armies hiding in the woods, of that she was certain.

Is it even her? Not just... someone else? Anyone else? Someone in her place, or... someone pretending?

Her thoughts were trying to branch out in too many directions and once, and it didn't take long to accept that her thoughts were taking her nowhere with answers.

Clarke slipped back amongst the trees, drifting just beyond the treeline as she moved around camp to where she could have a clear view of the gate, but also of the interior green space.

Her mind may not give her any answers, but she'd be damned if waiting wouldn't.

As usual, Arkadia was lit up. She couldn't make out anything out of place, so she settled in to wait. A grounder - no matter who they were - couldn't stay in Arkadia forever.

On any other night, Clarke would have followed her visit to Arkadia with a trip out to check her traps, heading home, eating, and drifting off to sleep before the night was half over.

But those things, what one might consider essentials, eating and sleeping, were things Clarke would easily sacrifice to answer a question.

She was just afraid that the answer would spark more questions.

Clarke pulled herself up into the branches of a tree, perching herself with her heels upon a bough, and waited. By the time there was anything worth seeing, her lower body was prickling with the numbness of the held position.

The grounder - the clothing was nearly unmistakable - came from the opening of the Ark like a planet escaping orbit. And then, quite unlike a planetary body, came to an immediate stop. The chancellor rushed out after her, nearly colliding with the still figure. Now she knew, yes, her mother was still the chancellor. Not only was the figure unmistakably feminine, even from this distance, but the way she poised her body was exactly what she had seen in her mother's mannerisms all her life. And the grounder - slight, feminine - it could be... her.

As much as being here - peacefully - could mean for her people, Clarke didn't want it to be her. It was selfish, and if it were a choice Clarke actually had to make, she would cast the thought aside; but for herself, she wanted it not to be her. She didn't want the one most powerful living reminder of her actions to be this close to her. She didn't want their cause this close to her. Because Clarke felt like, this close to her, it was going to happen again. It was irrational, illogical, but feelings so often are. There wasn't a war looming on the next horizon, there weren't lives at stake, there weren't choices about to be made, but Clarke hadn't expected her choices to dwindle to genocide last time, either.

A mere day before battle, a day before that person turned and left her alone with the choice to kill or watch her loved ones be killed, she was looking at her like the embodiment of hope for something more. She was safe, and as happy as one could be in the middle of war, and looking forward to a future in this world. And then, out of nowhere, in the span between protecting her and cutting down enemies, something had changed without warning.

Maybe it was the lack of warning that made her feel, just at the possibility of it being her, like it was going to happen again.

The figure took to pacing, arms crossed. And still, hours passed by. It was only her own balancing act that kept her from nodding off. Finally, the grounder stopped pacing as the first strands of like permeated the darkened sky, turned toward her mother briefly, and then made to leave. She could make out the jerk of limbs from her mother as she almost literally reached out after the grounder's retreating form with what looked like desperation or panic. Clarke felt her own twinge of panic when the grounder wheeled around at her mother, form tense, what she could imagine was a yell. The grounder wasn't happy, but with the middle-of-the-night pacing, Clarke never thought that she was.

The grounder was leaving again, slipping through the gates when they weren't much wider apart than herself, and practically barreling toward the trees.

That was when Clarke really felt some panic. She was too close. Where was that horse?

She glanced toward her own mountain, trying to gauge distance, but from this side, she wasn't sure where it was she'd seen the grounder tie off the horse almost a full day ago. There wasn't time to do anything, anyways, so she slowly shrunk herself back against the trunk of the tree and waited, eyes shut, hardly daring to breathe.

Clarke could hear the footsteps crashing through the underbrush, picking up pace, even. It was so strange to think of a grounder making noise in the woods, but, she supposed, maybe it was allowed when you weren't trying to hide.

Slowly, Clarke opened her eyes, and leaned around the tree trunk in the direction of the noise. And there she was, mere yards away, tugging the reigns of her horse from their branch so forcefully that the branch came with.

Lexa.

And Clarke was right - she did have more questions.

~*~

DAY 64

It was that very same day that Clarke started looking for ways to dye her hair. She'd already had concern for being sighted, but seeing Lexa was what finally motivated her to do something.

There were a couple different types of berries she'd seen in the forest, too cautious to attempt eating any of them, but it was possible that they could be made into an acceptable dye.

Clarke took a trip to the small pond at the foot of her mountain to bathe for what might be the last time for a while, unless she wandered across more substantial dyes, or more supply. It was only as she was slowly sinking beneath the glassy surface that she realized she'd done this far too little since she'd left modernized plumbing. The biting cold sinking into her bones would have been less of a shock if she were more used to it.

Later, on the bank of that same pond, she crushed berries with the mortar and pestle that were normally reserved for medicines and began to experiment with how much she could alter her hair color.

~*~

DAY 66

Two days later, she was kept inside with heavy, pouring rains. It straddled a fine line between being a depressing day, and being a refreshing break from routine.

Clarke split her day up with sword practice, fireplace art, and lounging around on her furs.

It was a rather uneventful day, but Clarke felt the improvement in her swordplay.

For the first time in a long time, Clarke thought of Zik, and missed him. A practice partner would have been nice. Or even just someone to talk to.

Her eyes met with the downpour visible through the cave opening, and she sighed. She had no idea how - or even if - she could find Zik, now.

~*~

DAY 71

It was very early morning. So early, in fact, that many would still call it night.

She had accidentally stumbled across her forgotten firearm among her belongings, while looking for something entirely different. And now it lay on the overhang that served as the platform she slept on, sitting atop the furs, silently taunting her.

Clarke had been sitting this way for hours, now. It was unpleasant to be wrapped up, helpless, in memories of her actions, but there seemed to be little stopping them. Periodically, her eyes would dart over the wall at the edge of her bed, where her bow and quiver of arrows lay.

Though they were both weapons, they held very different places in Clarke's mind. While one was a symbol of life, of food, of the ability to support one's self, the other was nothing but a symbol of death. Once, maybe, she'd seen it as protection, too. But what was the cost of that protection, when the weight of it burned her soul as much as her hand? Was it really worth it? Would she someday see her bow in that same light if she were forced to take human life with it?

Would she regret giving up the option to distinguish between them in that way?

Because Clarke wanted nothing more than to be done with the gun, to be rid of it. She hadn't carried it with her since she'd found this cave. But if it was gone, if she did have to protect herself, she'd have to do so with her bow.

Her eyes drifted back to the gun that lay before her. It was so small, but served only one purpose. One that, even though her mind reserved the act for the little hunk of metal, she didn't want to have to perform. And since she no longer carried it with her, she wouldn't. With it.

The real question here wasn't if she was willing to give up the distinction between the two weapons. It was whether she could handle her bow taking on the task if necessary.

When Clarke finally made her decision, it was no grand affair. She always did what was necessary. If she were caught in a situation where her life was on the line, she wouldn't hesitate to use her bow to defend herself, if she could. Dealing with the change in her perception in the aftermath would just be another necessity.

She was up and out of the cave with both sets of weapons before she even registered what she was doing. There was only one place she could rid herself of the gun without it posing someone else an indirect threat. She shuddered to think of a grounder child finding the thing.

Bows and arrows were rather difficult to fire accidentally. She could attest to that, and the volume of memories of bending over to retrieve arrows with sub-par flight time agreed with her. But a firearm? One twitch of a finger, one misplaced jerk, even dropping it could cause the weapon to fire.

So she'd at least give the gun back to the Arkadians, who were at least aware of the dangers of a gun mishandled.

Not that the grounders were unaware; they had a fear of them for that reason. But she wasn't willing to risk a child's life on that fear, especially when they might not know what it was in the first place.

It was still before the light of dawn arrived when Clarke tied off the gun to a tree branch, eyes focused on Arkadia, not so far away, still asleep.

She drifted away from camp through the woods just as silently as she had approached.

~*~

DAY 73

Clarke was on her way to the trading post, just before midday, as was normal for her, when the distinctive sound of voices caught her attention.

Before she entirely realized what she was doing, she was halfway up a tree, fingers holding tightly to the grooves in the bark. She was grateful for her instincts, however, when she realized just how close the voices were.

"Should we just see where the trail ends? I mean, we've been tracking this - whoever - for over a day now."

It took a full minute of reeling shock at the familiarity of the voice before Clarke realized that it was Octavia. She pulled herself further up into the tree, doing her best to obscure herself behind dead leaves still clinging to their fair-weather host.

"Octavia, game trails don't really have ends. Sometimes lakes, and bodies of water, but there are many ins and outs from such places."

And that was Lincoln. Figures that where one was, so was the other. What trail are they following? And why? Clarke felt her stomach sink - something she'd done had been noticed. And, though it shouldn't have taken so long to realize, she figured out that her abandonment of the gun - intentionally where the Arkadians would find it - was also suspicious to them. She swallowed dryly and pushed herself closer to the tree trunk, hardly daring to breathe as Octavia and Lincoln passed by below her, slowly, and with great attention paid to the ground at their feet.

"Okay, fine. But then, by that logic, we're never going to find this person."

Lincoln stood and turned toward his girlfriend, "You're right, but who are we to fight a battle with curiosity?"

Octavia's smirk was visible, the way she was orientated in relation to Clarke's position, "Rational?"

"We told your brother and the others that we would investigate the other direction."

Octavia's fingers sunk beneath the collar of Lincoln's shirt as she pulled him down to her level and kissed him, "And we'll tell them we did."

Clarke shut her eyes, getting by on the smallest of breaths as Octavia backed Lincoln up into the trunk of the very tree she was in. How the hell did she end up in this incredibly awkward position? She could stop it at any time, of course, but that would give away her presence; something she'd worked for weeks to remain secret.

Lincoln acquiesced to one more kiss before he gently pushed Octavia away from himself, "Just until the sun is highest? We don't have to look much longer, but I would feel better if -"

"Oh, fine," she could practically feel Octavia roll her eyes. "But then we're doing what I want to do."

"Sha. But the trading post - ?"

"Do I think we should go ask the girl some more questions? Yeah, but questions can wait. Maybe we can figure out what she's hiding, or maybe why before we try again."

Lincoln crouched down by the ground again before taking a few steps further down the path the way Clarke had come from. "A good idea."

The chat continued as Lincoln and Octavia worked slowly further away from her, but Clarke already had fear situated in her gut. They'd gone to the trading post. She might not be safe there anymore.

It was something she would have to find out, and she had been on her way to the trading post anyways.

She carefully dropped back to the ground once Lincoln and Octavia were finally out of sight, and made her way quickly to the trading post. With hardly a glance at her surroundings, she made for the door. She'd stopped bothering to cover her hair when she'd started dying it, hoping that the proprietor thought nothing of the change.

"Heya, Nylah." She tried to not to stare too hard for a reaction from the proprietor she had come to visit nearly daily. She tossed a pair of squirrels and a rabbit onto the table between them, upon which Nylah leaned with an amused smile. Something Clarke found quite frequently in the others' expression. "Kofon bitam deyon?" (Much trade today?)

Nylah shrugged, "Bitam nou. Eintheing." (Not much. Doesn't matter.)

"Eni brana diyo?" (Anything new?)

The dart of Nylah's eyes toward the door wasn't missed by Clarke, but the girl just shrugged, "Chit yu kof de raun deyon?" (What do you trade for today?)

Clarke turned away to hide both her frown at the avoidance of her question, and the fact that she didn't know what she was here to trade for today. Her eyes took in the contents along the walls, silently indexing each shelf. If she bothered to spend more than the bare minimum within the trading post on any of her visits, she may have already been aware of just how much there was to trade for. And how useless most of it was to her. Clarke didn't want to admit, however, that she didn't know what to trade for. Fortunately, one particular shelf caught her eye, and she moved toward it.

The shelf held stacks of yellowing paper one one side, that looked more like parchment than what she normally considered to be paper. The other side of the shelf held cups and jars of various writing implements, most some derivation of charcoal.

"Why do you hide from your people, Wanheda?"

The voice was too close, and it took everything Clarke had to not jump a foot in the air. She would ask 'what', but the use of her title made it pretty apparent that the girl already knew exactly who she was.

Still, she tried, "Chit yu sei?" (What do you mean?) Nylah just offered a raised eyebrow in patient amusement. Finally, Clarke sighed, "How long have you known?"

"How long have you been coming around?"

Clarke's eyes widened in shock, "Why didn't you tell them?"

Nylah shrugged as she turned away, reaching out to finger the tail of a squirrel before returning her gaze to Clarke, "They weren't very good at asking."

Clarke couldn't help the laughter that bubbled to the surface, "Well... that does sound like them."

Lips upturned in response to Clarke's amusement, Nylah continued, "And it's not really my place to tell them if you don't want them to know. Now, do you actually know what you want to trade for, or would you like to continue pretending?"

Clarke glanced over her shoulder toward the shelf of art supplies, "Actually, I do think I'd like some paper and something to write with. It's been too long since I've drawn..."

~*~

DAY 75 AKA "BOOM DAY"

In the afternoon, during her daily nap, the ground shook with a forceful rumble that jolted her from her rest.

Her first thought was that it was an earthquake. The earth was quaking, what else could that word mean? (Plate tectonics weren't something the Ark had put priority in preserving the knowledge of. Not that this shaking in the ground was in any way distinguishable from it.)

Except that when Clarke hastily clawed her way from her cave, part from curiosity and part for fear of being caved in upon, the plume of smoke was impossible to miss.

As was its origin - Mount Weather.

The quivering earth stilled beneath her feet as she took in the sight of a mountain on fire. Not the whole thing - not yet, anyways. But trees were on fire in at least three different places on the slopes of the mountain, though the majority of the smoke rose right from the peak. Or more accurately, from the entrance she knew to be just beneath the peak of the mountain.

She didn't know how to react. What happened? Clarke had made a point to avoid the mountain, so she didn't have any idea what might have happened. She did have a sinking feeling that it wasn't anything good, though.

Since when did the mountain bring good news?

~*~

DAY 76

In the wake of the mountain's final destruction, Clarke got her news from the whispers of gossipy guards.

Farm Station had survived the fall of the Ark. They'd moved into Mount Weather. Most of them had died for it.

Because the grounders - or at least a grounder - had blown it up.

The handful of Farm Station survivors that remained had moved to Arkadia. And they were far from silent.

The angered outbursts of her former teacher, Pike, were so loud, in fact, that she didn't even have to wait for nightfall or leave the cover of the forest to take note of his grievances.

She couldn't entirely blame him - he'd just lost a lot of people to a senseless attack. But she didn't feel their loss in the same way she felt after taking the lives of the original mountain men. Maybe that was just the difference between making the choice, and being aware that something happened.

Even so, she couldn't support his blind rage. Things around Arkadia had seemed calmed until their arrival. Even Lexa had been there without apparent incident. And whatever happened at the mountain, even without all the details, she could justify watching that spiral into something destructive.

It was then that Clarke began making a true hobby of watching over Arkadia.

Just until things settle down again, she told herself.

~*~

DAY 81

Pike's voice was loud and carried across the expanse between Arkadia and the surrounding forest quite easily. The lights of the camp illuminated the entire scene, and Clarke had watched it unfold.

Although, because Pike was the only one yelling, he was the only that Clarke knew the exact stance of in the current situation. Everyone else, the figures she could make out, ones recognized, and ones she didn't, had clearly drawn lines. Pike and his crew behind him. Bellamy, Lincoln, and some others shrouded in the shadow of the gate, quite obviously siding against his plans.

And what those plans were, was terrifying. Clarke wasn't blind, nor deaf. She knew a large warrior camp resided in the forest not far from Arkadia. However, unlike her people, she had actually observed the camp. Not even defense was set up in the direction facing Arkadia. It was quite obvious they were there to protect them, for whatever reason. And so, Clarke had left the grounders be, not feeling the need to step in.

Now, however, she might need to. But to keep the grounders safe, of all things. And, ultimately, her people. Because if the Skaikru started a war, they wouldn't be winning it. They might win a battle or two, but they would ultimately fail.

And besides the logical, Clarke had come to understand the grounders as more than just a collective of fierce warriors, and a leader who betrayed her. There were people like Zik, who were kind and helpful, even selfless. Who had family, and dreams, and loves of their own. There were families like in that first village that had found her. Children, just learning the world, with awkward limbs, and shy smiles. Leaders with a playful glint in their eyes, and grandmothers with amusing tales. Clarke knew all the reasons that Pike was wrong. But Pike didn't know those reasons.

So Clarke would have to make sure that he never had the chance to do something that could never be undone.

She pulled from her pocket the folded sketch she had made earlier in the night, as the sun set, from another, higher vantage point. Her hand fumbled in the other pocket extracting the charcoal that had formed the image on the page.

Clarke knelt with the page in hand, before laying it carefully on the ground. The stick of charcoal shook slightly between her fingers as she debated what to say. What would keep them from attacking? What would say 'there is absolutely no way this will happen'? She stared at the blank side of the sheet, mulling over the possibilities. My people don't fear Wanheda. Don't even know her. So I can't just threaten them. Her fingers twirled the stick, before bringing it to rest against the page. All they really need to know is that it's me who's saying no... I can't be sure that that will stop them, but it's the best I can do without walking into camp. Her hand drifted over the page, quickly scrawling out the words 'Not on my watch.'

Then she pulled an arrow free of the quiver slung just below her lower back, letting it fall to the ground before her, pulling the bow from where it wrapped about her torso, held up by a shoulder. The bow joined the arrow before Clarke was rolling up a sleeve, revealing the length of twine wrapped around her forearm. Never knew when some rope was going to come in handy. She slipped her knife from its sheath around her left thigh and cut free a short length of the rope before returning the knife to its place. The twine was retied hastily, maybe a bit too loosely. She rolled her message tightly around the shaft of the arrow, tying it in place with the help of her teeth.

She then picked up her bow and walked right to the edge of the treeline. The arrow was slotted onto the bow and raised in the direction of Arkadia. Clarke paused, feeling for the wind. It was just her luck that it was in the direction of camp. Its force would give her arrow the push it needed to make it into Arkadia without her venturing closer. She tipped her sights up, approximating a forty-five degree angle with the ground, and drew back.

There was the twang of the bow string as she released, cutting through the air like warbling thunder. Her eyes fixed on the sliver of wood flying away from her. The moment it passed over the wall, she knew she'd delivered her message, and she turned away from Arkadia.

She had another message to deliver.

Because if the first one wasn't heeded, the second surely would be, and it would be all that was left keeping them from a war.

Chapter Text

CLARKE

The beast had been stalking the forest for days, already.

The first time she had seen its shadow drifting so nearby her home, she had nearly panicked. It had brought memories of the pain and injury and months of uselessness that had come from her last meeting with one of its' kind, not yet far enough past. She had scaled the nearest tree and waited hours beyond its vanishing from her sight to return to her daily routine, just to be sure it was gone.

The second time she had seen the beast stalking through her forest, it had its teeth entrenched in her prey, gorging on what should have been her lunch. The creature fed like it was starved, but for all Clarke knew, that was the only way it ever fed - desperate and rushed. She had taken precautions - climbed beyond easy reach - before taking shots at the animal with her bow. It growled, but never stopped its feast, the slivers of wood sticking out of it like a balding, over-sized porcupine. Only when it deemed its meal complete - blood dripping from its maw - did it turn its attention on her. And then - thankfully, because she knew the beast could climb if it chose to - it merely loosed a roar at her for the audacity of piercing its hide, and turned away.

Then, she felt its gaze around every corner, lurking one copse of trees to the left, or three bushes behind her, or just beyond the next trap to be checked. The animal was suddenly everywhere; not quite hunting her, but not so scarce that she was certain in that belief.

A third close call with the panther was more than it should have taken for Clarke to start formulating a plan to end its stalking. The real problem was figuring out what would be able to kill it. She no longer had her gun - not that she missed it - and she really didn't relish the idea of gunshots drawing attention to her, anyways. Her arrows seemed to always stick and slow to a halt in the muscled layers of the animal before they could reach anything vital; though she hadn't yet tried from an angle that would give her a more direct shot at the heart or lungs. And also, still prevalent in her mind, was her last encounter with one of these beasts. Sharp claws, and piercing teeth; hot, stinking breath, and silent motion.

She had barely made it out of that fight. And no matter how she looked at her current situation, she wasn't going to be able to avoid this one. Not unless the Arkadians got to it first. And - she reasoned to herself - she, at least, had experience fighting one of these. She'd rather it be her to fight the animal than one of them if it needed to happen.

So Clarke had planned out this trap. Catching a live rabbit had been the easy part, only having to ensure she made it to her snares before the panther did. Tethering the helpless creature up as bait had been managed with similar ease. She had drawn the creature as far away from Arkadia as she dared, to the very edge of what she considered to be her hunting grounds. Really, the only hard part was making sure she was far enough away from the panther to get into position before its arrival. (And maybe a little extended scouting to make sure there were no nearby cliffs.)

Clarke clung to the side of a dying tree, a couple spans off the ground, as the panther prowled toward the rabbit beneath her, paws just barely making noise as they settled into each step. She could tell the moment the animal caught the rabbit's scent, almost coming to a still as its nose lifted, taking it in. She could only hope it didn't also smell her, but soon that would be irrelevant. The beast had shown a lack of regard for her presence, anyways.

She waited, watching the animal creep into position, fingers wrapping around the hilt of her knife, tensing before she forced their relaxation in preparation. The panther moved into place as Clarke turned and pushed off the rough bark of the tree, diving toward the animal beneath her.

A hoarse, involuntary scream left her as she plummeted toward the panther, both hands coming together to grip the knife, and driving it down before her as she impacted the creature. Even over the sound of her feet - and then knees - hitting the leaves underneath them, she could hear the slick of splitting flesh as her blade sunk into the panther's back. She had less than a moment on the ground to orient herself before the panther twisted toward her, the knife twisting with it. Her feet weren't settled, she had no stance to speak of, and all she could do in that moment was tighten her fingers around the hilt of her dagger. Who knew how this would end if the beast unwittingly stole her weapon from her.

A heavy paw smacked into her, and she went flying, tumbling across the forest floor. As she came to a stop, she used the last of the momentum to right herself, sitting on her rear, facing the panther. Her mind, even as preoccupied as it was, couldn't help but make an instant comparison to her last battle. Sitting on her ass, facing a panther. Only, in the previous fight, the animal had had its teeth wrapped around her arm before she could get her bearings. Mentally, dots connected at a rapid pace. The animal would be lunging at her, focused only on getting its teeth into her, with no presence of mind for its own defense. She brought her knife up between them as the animal charged toward her.

It impaled itself. She could almost feel the lung collapse as the animal fell forward onto her, breath coming in wheezy gasps. She rolled the panther off herself and looked down at it sadly. All the fight seemed to have gone from it - but a collapsed lung was no small matter. The paws twitched as she pulled her blade free, before silently counting out the ribs and slipping the knife back in between two of them, right into the heart of the beast.

"Yu gonplei ste odon," she muttered over the now deceased animal. It truly had been a warrior - or a hunter, at the very least - and it deserved the send-off. Perhaps they had been capable of coexisting... She tried to shake off the thought. Even if they had been capable of it, she wasn't willing to take the risk.

A stinging in her left shoulder grabbed her attention, and she brought the fingers of her opposite hand up to evaluate, sitting back onto her heels. Her fingertips came away with fresh blood on them, and she found her lips twitching into a small smile at the sight. Not because she was injured - again - but because it proved that this panther was no less a fighter than its relative. It proved that she had earned this victory. And it was proof of how much she had improved in three months' time. Wistfully, she thought of Zik. He would have been proud, too - or so she thought. But she also doubted he'd have let her fight the animal alone. It would not have felt the same.

She pulled her knife free again, and wiped the blade clean before slipping it into the sheathe on her thigh, before standing and moving to put together an A-frame litter to carry the beast away.

Clarke was knelt on the ground, catching her breath, having just rolled the heavy animal onto her new construction when she heard the voice.

She jumped slightly, eyes darting around before they caught on the man, as he finished his greeting, "Os fragon, der, homplei." (Good kill, there, hunt[er].)

His voice was deep, gruff, but something about his tone said that his being here was no mere coincidence. She scanned him quickly, taking in this person who had snuck up on her more silently than the panther had. His clothing was the nondescript patchwork compilation that most grounders wore, a pair of short-swords strapped to his back. His face was dark, smudged with dirt as if it were being used as war paint, though the skin beneath was pale. Features sharp, high cheekbones, strong jaw covered in stubble. Long brown hair that seemed to need a wash nearly as much as her own hung just past his shoulders, and his eyes were narrowed into something between a glare and a squint, his own examining gaze on her.

As their eyes met, she pushed to her feet and leapt over her own kill, darting off into the woods. She didn't know who he was, or why he was there, but she was certain he wasn't good news.

She ran, sliding between narrow gaps in the trees, and barreling right through bushes, and she could hear the footsteps behind her. Apparently neither of them had much concern for silence, anymore. Clarke took stock of where she was heading, and almost berated herself when she realized that, again, she was running away from known territory. Quickly, she decided she'd circle the nearest mountain and head back toward home, if she could. Though she suspected that might be difficult, given the closeness of the noise behind her.

Traversing the foothills of the mountain at a run was a recipe for disaster - or at the very least, a twisted ankle. She felt, however, that she didn't have much choice. Eventually, with a stitch in her side, and her lungs aching, she noticed the sounds behind her had abated, and she let herself come to a slow, panting to catch her breath.

Clarke was rubbing her fingers over the stitch in her side as the voice came again, from her left, "You don't have to run, ya know."

She eyed him again, as he leaned against a tree, as if he hadn't just chased her a couple of miles. But also, she realized with mild shock, he'd spoken Gonasleng. He knew who she was - it was the only logical explanation. And that, in itself, was confusing. She didn't look much like any of the Arkadians at the moment, and she was certain they'd never met before.

Suffused with a mild panic, and a sense of desperation at having no options and no desire to be found, or captured, or whatever was happening here, she took off again.

Her side pulled painfully with every stride, and she was forced to come to a slow much sooner than before. Refusing to stop, she instead walked, as briskly as she could.

"Are you done running? Care to hear me out?"

No.

She pushed herself to run, once more, despite how futile it seemed, when suddenly a body collided with her own from behind, knocking her to the ground.

Clarke found herself being rolled onto her back beneath the weight above her and immediately started swinging reckless punches at the man. He responded with a grunt, forcefully grasping both of her hands, before transferring them both to one of his, even as she struggled against his hold. A rope was produced and wrapped tightly about her wrists. As he started tying them, she began to struggle harder with her entire body, trying to buck out of his entrapment, or headbutt anything near enough, but it was futile. His weight, and her own arms prevented her from managing anything disruptive enough.

"Stop it."

"No," she tugged her bound wrists toward her, bringing his hands closer and tried to bite at his fingers, still finishing knotting the rope.

"Jok, gada!" He jerked the whole setup away from her mouth and forcefully pulled the knot tight, before producing some cloth and roughly shoving it into her mouth, then tying a gag. "Should have known Wanheda wouldn't come easy." He finally lifted his weight off her, before grabbing her by the collar and forcefully pulling her to her feet.

A length of extra rope from the binding around her wrists was tugged as he started forward, continuing their way around the mountain.

Clarke adamantly refused to budge. Her mind mulling over the situation. She was suddenly a captive of someone she didn't know. For a reason she didn't know. She had to figure it out fast.

Rope bit into her wrists as the lead was pulled again, "Come on."

She dug her heels into the ground to resist the forceful tug on the rope. The man turned back toward her, and she glared. Beneath the dirt smeared across his face, she could just barely make out faint scars. Ice Nation? He knows who I am... did the queen send him to capture me? Am I some pawn, after all? He tugged again. He wasn't trying to round the mountain, he was trying to lead her north.

Clarke stepped forward and kicked at his knee, dropping him to the ground, but before she could make a play for freedom, a hand was wrapped around her throat, "Just come without a fight, girl! I'm not supposed to hurt you!"

Her eyes narrowed, Of course you're not. Wouldn't want to deprive your queen the chance to take Wanheda at her height.

Before she could do anything more, he was back on his feet and dragging her forward by the rope, leaving her very little choice but to move with him or land on her face.

She leaned back against every forward step, making him fight for every advance, but relented just before a step would pull her over.

Slow progress was made around the mountain, their northern heading becoming more apparent as they progressed, until, to her surprise, his trajectory continued to follow the curve of the foothills, skirting around the massive mountain. Maybe the queen is near the border? Maybe there's a whole hunting party out here? Panic flowed beneath the reasoning of her thoughts. One man was enough to catch and drag her around, but once she was surrounded by Ice Nation, there would be no escape.

She heard the water before she saw it, flowing down the mountainside, shallow as it crossed over smooth rocks and curved around to eventually flow south. Clarke knew she had to make a stand before he got her back to his people. She started dragging her feet more heavily, letting herself stumble. If she fell, dragging her would be harder than her unwilling steps, and she needed to catch him off guard. He didn't know the last time she'd eaten, or drunk, or slept. Or even her general state of well-being. If she could make him think she couldn't continue, she could catch him off guard, hopefully.

The ground changed from hard-packed dirt to loose stones beneath them as they neared the stream, and Clarke let herself stumble and fall, dropping to her knees just briefly before falling prone. It hurt, but not nearly as much as whatever was waiting for her with the Ice Queen.

Her wrists burned as he tried to drag her across the stones, before turning toward her, tether still at its extent, and ordered, "On your feet."

Not happening. She closed her eyes. Play exhausted, play dead, play injured, just don't let him move you another step forward.

Arms limp, her wrists bobbed in the air as he pulled against the rope again, though less forcefully. Then, with a sigh, he dropped the tether and walked over to her, grabbing her by the left shoulder - she had to force herself not to groan as his fingers pressed her clothing into the wound there - and rolled her away from him. She let her body limply flop over as he released her shoulder with a shove, eyes still shut.

There was a moment of silence, and then with another sigh, "Looks like the great Wanheda's human, after all." She heard his footsteps crunch away across the stones toward the water.

Clarke opened one eye, to check, and then both. He knelt at the river, filling a canteen. She had no doubt he wouldn't bother to water her, if he'd just had a horse to tie her to. She got to her feet, mindful of the noisy rocks beneath her, and grabbed the length of rope that led to her wrists in either hand.

Just as he stood from the water, she jumped and wrapped the rope around the front of his neck, catching her own weight on his body so that he was forced to support it, and leaned back, the rope digging into his neck. The man struggled and leaned forward, staggering into the water before they both tumbled and fell with a splash.

Clarke found herself still on his back, with him face down in the water beneath her. The water rippled as he struggled, and she could feel fingers claw against her own beneath the surface, trying to pry her and the rope off of himself. She held on as tightly as she could, one knee holding him down in the water, and she felt the fingers slip away first. Then the struggle slowed and came to a stop.

She sighed and pulled the rope free, hands coming up to pull the gag from her mouth, but before she could free her hands, the man roared up out of the water with a gasp. Her weight was easily displaced, and she found herself suddenly flipped onto her back and being pushed beneath the surface. He held her down by the shoulders as she struggled, bucking her weight against the stones beneath her, twisting and writhing, trying to get free, but it was useless. His weight was too great an advantage. Eyes wide with panic, she wondered if this was it for her.

And then, suddenly, she was pulled up by the same hands that had held her under. She caught her breath, gasping heavily on her knees as he simply looked at her, taking hold of the rope again, both of them drenched and dripping.

"Now that's better."

What's better?! Nearly dying? Did he get kicks out of fighting bound prisoners?

The dirt washed from his face, the scars were even more apparent, and not so faint as she'd previously thought. Mind still groggy from nearly drowning, she said, "You're Ice Nation."

His face fell visibly, just for a moment, before she was forcefully dragged from the water and he plowed on. She couldn't really begin to make sense of that reaction. Did he dislike being Ice Nation? Did it just remind him that she wasn't his to kill?

Ropes bit into her wrists again as they resumed their stubborn tug-of-war dragging. "What's she going to do to me?"

"Who?" he asked.

"Is she going to kill me? Is it going to be fast? Or am I a trophy?"

They continued to round the mountain, and it became less and less clear where they were headed. Did they have an Ice Nation camp so close to her home without her knowing it?

"No."

"No what?"

"Shut up."

"That isn't an answer."

"I don't owe you answers," he growled, with a sharp tug at her leash.

"What's it going to hurt, it's not like I can-"

"Shof op, gada. I'm not supposed to hurt you, but the gag is optional."

She growled, but held her tongue.

But as time went on and they came closer and closer to Arkadia, she felt more and more confused.

"How is the Ice Nation camped so close to Arkadia?"

He glanced over his shoulder with a look reminiscent of one someone would give a child asking a stupid question, "They're not."

Her brows furrowed together, "Then why are you... are you taking me to Arkadia?"

"Yeah."

She halted entirely, and struggled not to be pulled to the ground, "Why?"

"I was told to," he pulled at her leash less forcefully than he had been before.

"By who?" Her stomach was in knots. Had her mother hired a grounder just to bring her home?

"The commander."

What?!

"Why... why the hell does it matter if I'm in Arkadia?"

She was already really close. What was a couple miles' difference?

"How would I know? I was just told to take you there, give you to your mother, and take proof back to heda."

"Okay, but why?"

"I just said I don't know, girl!" He turned toward her completely. "You're not going to the Ice Nation, you're not going to Lexa, you're not going to be killed, so can you just come on?!"

"Is something wrong? Did they - did my people do something? What difference does it make if I'm there?"

"Are we... are we seriously going to have this talk before you go any further?"

"What did they do?" her tone all serious, and ignoring his question, though the answer was implied.

He rolled his eyes and dragged her toward a large rock, sitting down on it. "As far as I know, they didn't do anything. You did. Or didn't, I guess."

She sat down beside him, and he dropped the end of her tether as she did so. Her eyes caught on the end of the rope, briefly contemplating running again, before dismissing the thought. "What did I or didn't I do? And still, why does it matter?"

"Did it ever occur to you that I don't know everything?" He gave her a sideways glance.

"You were sent to drag me a couple miles and deposit me in my mother's hands. You've got to know that sounds odd." There was a beat of silence before she continued, "So what do you get out of it?"

"I get to go home."

"Home? To the Ice Nation?"

"Yeah. I drag you to Arkadia, my banishment gets lifted."

"Why were you banished?"

He gave her a wry look, "Story for another time?"

Clarke pursed her lips in mild annoyance, before letting it slide, "Fine. So where, when, what was going on when you were told to displace me against my will?"

"I was trying to offer my services to the commander in exchange for lifting my banishment. She didn't like my offer, even if I could be useful in a war against my mother."

"A war? Your mother?" Clarke was only more confused. What did that have to do with anything?

He sighed, "My mother is the queen of the Ice Nation. There's a war going on right now. Maybe you don't know, since you've been out here on your own for so long."

"So you're Prince... ?"

"Roan. Just Roan."

"Okay..." She forced herself to drop that thread, and continued, "How long has this war being going on, and what does it have to do with me?"

Roan gave her another sideways glance, "You mean other than the fact that you're Wanheda, a symbol of power that either side should want?" She nodded. "From what I've heard, the whole war might be because you went missing."

More confusion, "Why would a war start over that?"

"You and your friend vanished around the same time that some Ice Nation scouts attacked some of your people. The commander found your campsite destroyed. From what I heard, it was pretty obvious there'd been some kind of fight, and some evidence that pointed at the Ice Nation. Everything looked like the Ice Nation had captured or killed you. And then someone blew up the mountain, and of course my mother's champion confirmed it was her. Then war." He said it all so casually, as if the sequence of events wasn't at all unusual, suspect, or surprising.

Eyes wide, Clarke tried to take in all of the information, but her mind got stuck in one particular place, "Wait, me and my friend? Both vanished?" Let's just... ignore the fact that the commander went looking for our campsite... or... not. Clarke's mind struggled. Because she only went because Zik didn't show up to tell her how we were. Which means... something happened to him. "What happened to Zik?"

"Good to know you know his name, because I hadn't been able to find anyone who did."

"Answer the question, Roan"

He shrugged, "I don't know what happened to him. I'm guessing you left and he ran into trouble on his own, since you didn't know he was missing."

She swallowed, closing her eyes a moment before reopening them, "I'll go."

"Back to Arkadia? Good. How can I prove to the commander that-"

"No. I'll go to the war." He rolled his eyes again, and groaned. "You can't tell me you haven't put it together. Camp attacked by Ice Nation, I wasn't there, but someone was. He would have gone back there expecting to find me. Maybe your people ambushed him, but either way, the Ice Nation knows what happened to him."

"I follow. But I'm not taking you to a war. I take you to your mother, I get my freedom. That was the deal."

"Would they have killed him? Or would they capture him?"

"Are you even listening? I'm not taking you there."

"Yes you are." Clarke stared him down. "And you're going to undo these restraints." She jerked her chin down at her bound hands. "Now answer the question. Alive or not?"

"I'll undo them when we get to Arkadia." He stood, grabbing for the end of the tether, but she pulled away, standing herself and backpedaling away. "Why are you being difficult?"

"Didn't talk to anyone who actually knows me, did you?" She smirked slightly, "I'm going to get my way. Undo these, take me to the war, and answer my questions, or - what was it, you're not allowed to hurt me? I'll make sure the only way you can get me back to Arkadia is bloodied, bruised, and broken. How do you think she'll like that?"

She could see the clench of his jaw. "I don't know if he's alive. It depends on whether my mother thinks he knows anything of value. And if she did think that, if she thinks she's gotten all of it out of him." He tightened his grip on her leash, "What difference does it make? And what can you possibly do in a fight? She might not like you getting hurt on the way back to Arkadia, but I think she'd be more okay with that than me dragging you the opposite direction and getting you killed."

Clarke raised her wrists toward him, silently commanding him to undo the ties, "Who said you're doing the dragging?" He stepped forward a bit reluctantly and began to undo the tight knots. "I need to know if my friend is alive. And what difference it makes?" she asked rhetorically. "It determines how many people I need to kill. I'm pretty sure my reputation as Wanheda includes the fact that I'll do anything to protect my friends, whether I want that reputation or not. And the fact that that reputation exists at all is proof that I'm not useless in a war."

He snorted, "That doesn't mean you know how to fight, skaigada. I don't see a fayagon on you. Does Wanheda just get to wish death on people and have it happen?" The sarcasm was obvious.

Honestly, sometimes it seems that way.

"I don't need a gun to kill. I've killed more people without one that I have with." It was disturbing, but true. "My sword and bow are back at my cave. And I'm a healer. I can be useful in ways other than fighting, if I have to be." Their eyes met and she stared him down, "Point is, I am not going back to Arkadia without knowing that my friend is safe."

Groaning, he said, "Fine. But you'd better not get yourself killed, or I'll never have my banishment lifted."

She smirked, "Guess you'll just have to protect me, then."

~*~

CLARKE

Over the past four days of travel, she and Roan had grown surprisingly comfortable with one another.

Or, as comfortable as one could be with someone who knocked you to the ground repeatedly and left you covered in bruises and welts every night.

Once it had become apparent that Clarke had absolutely no idea how to actually fight with a sword, Roan had suggested she actually learn, or not bother carrying it around at all. Clarke had readily agreed to the offer, even if the ache every morning after made her question the decision later. It was simply more proof that she needed the training.

And while she wasn't impressing with her swordsmanship, she did manage to impress her with her use of bow and arrow. Or at least, she interpreted a shrug and "Eh, good enough" as him being impressed. At the very least, she wasn't a disgrace with the bow. She wasn't sure if it was laziness on his part or not, but he even let her do the hunting.

As they approached the battle, it was no surprise. The sound of fighting echoed through the mountains, though with Roan's hand on her shoulder, she came to a stop, silently questioning him with a glance.

"We're close." Roan glanced around them in the fading light. He pointed up toward a pass between two peaks in the distance, "That's where the ambush was set, but who knows how far they've been pushed back." He turned his head toward her, questioning quietly, "Are you sure you want to do this, Clarke? What's the plan? We can't just walk into battle and expect to find Zik."

"We're doing this," she was adamant. "You know your mother. Where would she keep her prisoners?"

A frown colored his face, "I don't know her as well as you might think. I may be her son, but that doesn't mean she treats me like it. But... she'd keep him in the dungeons of the castle, probably. If he's still alive. Unless she's actually fighting in this battle, and thinks he might have knowledge that could help her. Then he'd be held in the war camp."

"Okay..." She thought for a moment, "So how do we find out if she's fighting? Where's the war camp? Where's the castle? Can you get me into-"

"Clarke, slow down." He interrupted. "I know you might not want to, but we should talk to the commander. She'll probably know whether Nia is fighting in the battle. If she isn't, we'll still need the commander's help."

"Why would-"

"Clarke, we can't storm the castle on our own! I can get us in, but only if the guard and armies are focused elsewhere. Preferably on a larger assault. We need her help."

She plucked her bow from her back and nocked an arrow. "Fine. We find the commander, find out if your mother's here, then what? We fight until we can assault the war camp or until the fight makes it to her front door?"

Roan nodded reluctantly, "Yeah, I think that's the plan. Or we wait for them to move the fight to the castle and you don't get yourself killed. My freedom still rests with you, Clarke."

"If disobeying orders doesn't break the deal altogether..."

"Clarke..."

"I'll argue for you to have your freedom, but my word might not mean shit, Roan. Anyways, you should know better by now. Do I strike you as the kind of person to let others fight while I do nothing?"

His expression said it all. No, she wasn't that person.

She began forward again, though with more care and attention than before.

"Careful, Clarke. Just remember, you can't find him if you're dead."

Soon, they found themselves approaching a small camp of some kind. Small fires blazed, shielded on one side, presumably from broadcasting their presence to the opposing war party. Just barely visible in the glow were the bodies of warriors, huddled together against the cold, asleep on the ground.

A figure stepped from the shadows and before Clarke could protest, a knife was held to her throat. Behind her, she heard a scuffle. She assumed Roan was fighting off someone else, and that thought was confirmed when she heard, "Stop. We're not against you."

The response was a whispered question, "The banished prince?"

A short whistle followed, and they stood in uncomfortable silence until another figure appeared from the shadows, "Roan?"

The knife at Clarke's throat dropped away, and she was finally free to see both the situation behind her and the new arrival.

She felt eyes scanning her from beneath a fluffy mane of hair, "You were supposed to return Wanheda to her people. Or did you misunderstand our commander?"

"She-"

"She is capable of speaking for herself. And deciding where she goes, for that matter," she interrupted.

Roan grunted, "She's stubborn."

She could almost hear the smirk in the newcomer's voice, "So it seems. But the commander isn't going to lift your banishment for leading Wanheda to the battle."

A sigh came from Roan's direction, "I'll worry about that later. Heda had one of her warriors with Clarke when they both went missing. But Clarke slipped away on her own. That mess I've heard about at their camp site, Clarke's pretty sure her friend went back and was attacked."

"I'm hoping he's still alive," she cut in again. "And I'm not going home until I know he is. Preferably with him at my side."

"Clarke, huh?" the mysterious figure moved toward her, features slowly becoming more visible despite the darkness. "What's the plan, sky girl?"

Clarke stared back into the eyes before her, too dark to make out the coloring, "Find the commander, figure out if the Ice Queen is fighting in this battle, and then fight until Roan can get me to Zik."

"You seem pretty sure he's still alive."

I have to be. If he isn't, it's my fault.

"Just point us toward the commander, or move and let us find her on our own."

She could see the flicked of a brief smirk caught in the firelight, before it faded and the woman turned toward Roan, "Up at the pass. Azgeda archers took both ridges. They've had them pinned down. Heda will probably be trying to storm one of them again." The girl stepped closer to Roan, head ducking in close to his ear, but the whisper that followed carried enough for Clarke to hear, "Keep her alive."

Clarke felt her eyes narrow. Who is this person, and what does she know? She had no choice right then but to shake the query away. She started away from the small fires and resting warriors toward the indicated pass, forcing Roan to follow along.

- - -

LEXA

Lexa whirled away from an encroaching blade, finding her back pressed securely to the rough bark of a balding evergreen as she caught the weapon with the flat of her own.

Plans never did hold when the battle started. Never was that more true a statement than in the case of a routed ambush.

When the first strikes were made, the first blades swung, the first bodies hitting the soft powdery snow beneath them all and staining it crimson, all had seemed to go perfectly. Their archers had struck in unison, a wave of Ice Nation falling before them, while those hidden in the fresh powder sprung into action between the first and second volleys of arrows, taking with them another group of Azgeda soldiers.

The fight had just barely started; Lexa had been withdrawing her blade from only the second of her victims when cries of surprise sounded from the trees behind them. Between a block and her next strike, Lexa turned to see what had caused the commotion.

Archers.

Both hers, and the Ice Nation's, to be no more precise.

Azgeda archers had appeared on the crest of the mountains to either side of them, and her own, even with the cover of the trees, fell like flies.

Then, it became obvious, that Nia had spotted her ambush. She'd let her think things were going as she planned, just as Lexa herself had done to her in Polis.

She wasn't stupid, she'd always known it was a possibility. She had just hoped for the element of surprise. And that one moment was enough to assure her that this conflict would be long and drawn out, instead.

Lexa had called for a retreat to the treeline, where another wave of her own warriors still waited, catching the Azgeda following on their heals by the metaphorical - in most cases - throat.

And so the battle had begun.

Ten days ago.

The archers were the problem.

The Ice Nation archers held the high ground. They had the advantage of elevation and clear lines of sight. And also held the benefit of having wiped out most of Lexa's own long-range combatants.

Any foray into the open, any lingering without cover or enough concealment, was met with opportunistic attacks.

So try as she might, and she certainly had, the archers still remained a problem. The only successful move had been to have her warriors circle around and rush the archers from behind in enough mass that one would inevitably get through and take an enemy or two with them. And between their own waves of attack on the archers, they seemed to replenish their numbers.

Meanwhile, the battle raged face-to-face on the ground.

For ten days. (And nights)

One thing never mentioned about old battles - the ones before fayagon, or the ones after - that went for days and days, was that still, warriors must eat. Or if they mentioned eating at all, it was during some ceasefire between sides, brothers divided by war breaking bread over the same plate for just one peaceful night. No one ever mentioned that when either side was unwilling to relent, there was no pause, no break, no time for a meal.

And for this simple reason, she had become eternally thankful for Luna and the Floukru.

Lexa, herself, may have only taken a break once - when Luna actually forced her to. Her people, however, she had worked to rotate in and out of battle, the Floukru feeding and protecting them while they rested.

But all that time - even now, as Lexa kicked her attacker in a well-armored stomach before swinging savagely and beheading the man - the fight continued.

She gestured the group with her forward under the cover of darkness and pine needles, slowly shrinking the distance between them and the edge of the treeline at the sharp incline toward the archers' held position.

They still had enemy soldiers to neutralize before they could tackle the rise, though.

Warriors moved fluidly amongst each other, taking down their opposition, each holding their own and providing defense for those around them as needed.

The last kill - just before the treeline - was hers', and she gestured her warriors on. She would only be a moment behind them.

Lexa almost stopped mid-swing of her sword to do a double take at what she thought she saw. Was that Clarke? It was possible that she was going crazy, was hallucinating from the lack of sleep or food, or that she had merely died, but no...

She backed her opponent over the shallow, protruding roots of a tree, her blade catching his as he fell, and it clattered away from his grasp. In a swift move, before the man had an opportunity to so much as consider a way to rectify his position, the point of her sword was tasting blood fresh from his carotid, at the arc of a slice through his neck.

But she hadn't forgotten what she thought she'd seen, and as soon as life gurgled out of her opponent, she pressed her back to the nearest tree and scanned the forest around her, carefully.

A blonde head, tinged an odd pink in the moonlight was visible over the top of a bush, and as she watched, the figure moved further into view. She could almost convince herself that she wasn't seeing what she was, but there was nothing to indicate any falsehood. Aside from the slightly discolored hair, this Clarke also dressed like one of her own - not that that was all that unlikely, if she were here - but she also wielded a bow, an arrow nocked on the string. She was too far away, especially in the darkness, to be able to see the brilliant blue she suspected those eyes held, but they were intensely focused on the fighting on the incline beyond her. She still wasn't entirely convinced that she wasn't just seeing what she wanted to, but there was only one way to know.

"Clarke?"

The figure instantly stilled, and the head turned in her direction with a glare. She was a little more certain of the girl's identity.

"You shouldn't be here." She really shouldn't be here - at a war. Roan should have taken her back to Arkadia, back to where she knew she was safe.

Clarke took only one step out into the open, "Who are you to tell me where I should or shouldn't be, heda? You can't just -"

Part of Lexa was resigning itself to the coming lecture, but another knew that war was not the time to hear it. However, just as she opened her mouth to tell Clarke to save it for later, she heard the faint whistling of an incoming arrow. She couldn't know it's destination, but instinct moved her body between the noise and Clarke, out from behind her sturdy tree cover.

"- have me carted back to Arkadia. I don't take -"

She could just barely hear Clarke's continued speech as the loud crunch of bone superseded the noise Clarke made. Lexa's eyes widened instinctually with the shock her body felt. She let out a grunt and staggered forward, one of her hands coming up to catch herself on a tree. She couldn't let herself reach out for Clarke, even if it was what she wanted - if for no other reason than to drag her out of the line of fire. Her fingers slid into the grooves between the bark, holding tight, as much to keep herself upright as to keep from reaching toward Clarke.

Despite the shock, which she knew would wear off, she knew something had broken. Sooner than she wanted, she would feel it, too. It's okay... I can fight through the pain. I have to. Except for one tiny little detail. She needed to get back into cover. And she couldn't do that with Clarke still gaping in the open.

"Clarke, move," she commanded, voice more of a growl than she'd like. She shifted slightly closer to the tree, preparing to move behind it once Clarke had hidden herself.

But instead, Clarke's eyes caught on the arrow and a gasp came from her, "Lexa, you're hit." There was a moment of staggering silence before Clarke asked, "Why did you do that?" Her voice was too emotionless, like she didn't believe it had happened, much less that Lexa had a reason for it.

For the first time since she laid eyes on her again, Lexa looked away from Clarke. What possible reason did she have that Clarke would not reject? Instead she said, "I'm fine."

"You're not fine," came Clarke's voice, just before Lexa felt her skin rapidly split open to make way for a new projectile. She swallowed harshly and looked down at the arrow lodged firmly through her left side as she felt her knees shake and start to give.

The next thing she felt was Clarke's arms wrapping around her.