How many days has it been since they landed? Clarke furrows her brow, trying to count, to get even a vague idea but then gives up. It wouldn't mean anything anyway, it feels like a lifetime ago. So much has changed since the moment they opened the drop ship door, since they all walked out of it, filled with excitement at the view that greeted them. That feeling of freedom, away from the Ark, the Chancellor, the oppressive rules, the confinement of life on a ship, all the things that had imprisoned them way before actually being in jail, the blind hope that this bright, vibrant, green world was theirs. So much has changed since then.
She has changed ...
Assessing her current situation Clarke lets out a snort " right, now that's an understatement ...".
She's clothed in an assortment of her drop ship uniform and pieces of leather and furs acquired at the merchant's hut she found weeks ago. Her hair, colored in a dark shade of red with the pigments she could lay her hands on is framing a dirt-smeared face she can't be bothered to wash off. Crouched in what she hopes is a good defensive position, she's holding in her hands a rudimentary spear, waiting as bait for the panther she had been tracking for hours before finally finding its hunting ground.
Clarke's never gone for such a big prey before but she's hunted various animals in the last few weeks since she left her people. Learning how to survive on her own, finding food, water, shelter had become a necessity.
In the beginning, it wasn't easy. Hunger and dehydration had quickly become issues, but no matter how much self-loathing she had in her for what she's done, giving up on life just never felt like an option, and she sure as hell wasn't going back to camp Jaha because she couldn't manage on her own. Clarke would only return when she felt ready to face her people again.
When she could look at them without having images of bodies falling to the ground, faces distorted by agony, flashing through her mind. When the mere thought of being put in a position where she might have to decide on someone's fate again won't make her chest tighten around her lungs, leaving her sucking in air erratically. When she doesn't wake up at night screaming, crying or gasping or any combination of those after yet another nightmare, the most recurrent one being reliving the moment she walked into that dinning hall turned into a giant tomb, all silent but for the distant alarm ringing and Jasper's sobs.
Focus Clarke! She chastises herself, wiping the memory from her brain with a quick shake of the head. How stupid can she be to allow herself to drift away with such a dangerous predator roaming so close? She overheard stories about that man-eating panther at the trading post and knows not to underestimate it.
Usually hunting helps her clear her head, forces her to concentrate only on the present, on simple acts and facts. Like searching for clues on the ground and vegetation to track her prey, walking carefully so as not to reveal her presence, controlling her breath, focusing on her aim.
Or in this case, being alert to any sign of the imminent attack. The slightest mistake could mean ending up with a 160-pound animal pinning her to the ground, its canine teeth piercing through her jugular. No time to dwell on the past when basic survival is involved.
Clarke forces her attention back on the task at hand, gripping more tightly the handle of her homemade spear, basically just a sturdy wooden stick she's split on one end to insert her knife in the crack before strapping it back together as best as she could. She is glad of the extra reach it provides. More distance between her and the dagger-like claws might come in handy.
She hears the panther from time to time, its paws breaking a small branch, its furry body grazing the foliage of one the many bushes of the area. It's obviously circling her, taking its time to gauge the situation, leaving Clarke with nothing else to do but wait.
Suddenly all wildlife around her grows silent, except for the rustling of a body rushing through grass and bushes. She aims the spear in that direction, rests its flat end on the ground, securing it by placing one foot behind it and tries to angle the other end to meet her attacker. The Panther plunges towards the crouching woman but is cut short when its chest impales on the knife at the end of the spear, its body going limp, but not before taking a swipe at the shoulder turned into the attack to support the spear. Clarke feels a sharp pain radiate through her shoulder before the animal falls on top of her.
As forest fauna resumes its usual buzzing and singing she pushes the dead body off of her with a groan then kneels beside the beautiful and imposing animal."Yu gonplei ste odon" she utters respectfully, stroking its soft fur. The strong muscles she can feel under her hand are vivid proof of the deadliness of her defeated opponent, making her wonder if she hasn't become too reckless.
"Yu gonplei ste odon". Clarke can hear Lexa's voice coldly delivering those words to Quint, just before they faced Pauna. That day had been a turning point in the relationship between the two women; it was the moment she had started to think about her as Lexa, not just the grounders "Commander". They had faced death together, helped each other out, and shared a few quieter moments too. For the first time Lexa had relaxed a little in Clarke's presence, always guarded of course, but she had seemed more human, she even smiled.
A bond formed that day, a bond that had lead her to put too much trust in the grounder. Another image forces itself in her brain, Lexa coming down that slope with Emerson by her side at Mount Weather. Clarke had instantly felt that something was wrong, and when she had looked into the Commander's eyes, she had known just how bad it was. She was still in shock when came this dire moment, seeing the woman she'd grown to care about much more than she'd ever admit, much more than she should have, who she trusted completely, turn around and start walking away. Each of the Commander's steps had felt like a death sentence for her people; each one had sent a sharp needle into her heart.
"No! Don't go there!" Clarke admonishes herself, biting her bottom lip to fight the tears threatening to spill out and to punish herself. Anger is better than pain; she's angry at herself for letting thoughts of Lexa enter her mind. There's not much she can do about it at night when they come in dreams and nightmares, but there's no way she's going to let them in when she's awake. She has to focus back on the simple tasks that need to be done, like strapping her catch to the makeshift stretcher she's built.
Clarke can feel blood dripping along her spine. It's oozing out of lacerations on her back from the final attack the panther managed to launch when she lost control of the spear under the brutal impact. It could have been much worse though, she thinks, looking at the animal's canine teeth and dagger-like claws.
If it keeps bleeding she may ask Niylah to take a look at it, clean the wound for her. The blonde grounder has always been quite friendly, always ready to help, despite Clarke's cold attitude towards her. She remembers the first day she entered the little hut lost in the middle of the woods. If it hadn't been for the lone, grumpy but helpful hunter she had stumbled upon one day, who had told her about the trading post, she probably would never have found it. The slender, bearded man had even drawn her a map on the ground with a wooden stick because Clarke wasn't as familiar with the area as the hunter.
Those trades have not only significantly improved her living conditions and chances of surviving, they have also made her feel human again, after so many days surviving alone into the wilderness, solely focused on catching her next meal. With her limited knowledge and absence of equipment to preserve the food, Clarke's daily organization before finding the trading post was basic, to say the least. Hungry, hunt, cook, eat. As for the solitude, she doesn't mind it, she actually wants it, needs it, but those simple commercial interactions give her a momentary feeling of normality, in her otherwise chaotic world. Clarke had been reluctant to engage with the hunter who had helped her find the hut; she had seen a few people in the woods during her travels, and she would have avoided him like she had done the others if he hadn't appeared next to her out of thin air . Now she's glad of how things turned out; she'll have to thank that bearded man if she ever sees him again.
For now, she has to take the panther's body to the merchant's hut, and considering the size of it, it's not going to be an easy task but she knows the amount of food she'll get in exchange for such a valuable catch will make it worth the trouble.
The night has fallen hours ago when Clarke gets back to her camp composed of a fire pit surrounded by rocks, a small woodpile, and a tin trunk. She starts a fire, fuels it with a couple of logs, opens the trunk and draws a blanket out of it which she lays on the ground before rolling herself in it. When Clarke's back touches the ground, she groans in pain and turns to her side, falling asleep almost instantly, clearly exhausted.
A concerned look crosses the face of the woman sitting on a branch a few trees away; she must have gotten hurt, Lexa thinks, her jaw clenching. She's had reports that Clarke was getting increasingly reckless, maybe becoming too sure of her skills, or perhaps tempting fate out of guilt, she wonders.
She reached the site Jared had showed her to be Clarke's current camp at sundown and had been waiting since then. The young woman's absence when she arrived had made it easier for Lexa to find a good observation point without being seen but she had become worried seeing the night go by with no sign of Clarke. When she had seen the now red headed Skaikru walk through the woods, she had breathed a soft sigh of relief.
Turning her head to the right she can discern Jared, his tall, slender body mingling with the branches and trunk of an old pine a few feet away, barely visible even for her who knows where to look. He's a fellow Trikru, a respected teacher among her kin, who's taught Lexa her people's skills when she was a child: travel through the trees, watch without being seen, kill without being seen...
When she had decided to have one of her men keeping an eye on Clarke from a distance he'd been the obvious choice for her, the best tracker and scout of her clan, and his loyalty is beyond question.
Lexa slightly shifts position, her joints begging for a reprieve. She didn't make any noise, but she can feel disapproval exude from her former instructor. "A Trikru can stay completely still in a tree for hours, until you can no longer tell the difference between living and thingยป she hears him say in her head, in the characteristically gruff way he did when he was teaching her and his other pupils. A grunt from him was all it took for them to try harder until they mastered the moves and positions well enough for their teacher to fold his arms in front of him before quietly pulling on his beard which they had learned to recognize as the sign that he was satisfied.
If circumstances didn't call for discretion, she's sure she would have gotten a grunt, Lexa thinks with a hint of a smile lifting up one corner of her mouth. Like all the other kids of her clan she had been intent on being worthy of being called a Trikru, of her heritage and she had done well enough to be designated as one of the promising ones. But since she's become Commander, and even as an initiate, she hadn't had much opportunity or even freedom to climb in trees and practice those skills so her body is no longer used to that kind of exertion.
It does feel good though to re-experience the Trikru's way of life, even just for one night. She has always liked the forest, maybe it's just in her blood, in her upbringing, or maybe she would have felt the same way even if she had been born in a different clan. The earthy smell of the woods, the way the light is dimmed just enough to take away the aggressiveness of the midday sun, without lessening the color vibrancy as the sun rays pass through foliage, the feel of the rough touch of bark on her hands, the life that can be heard and seen at any hours of the day and night. All of this always made her feel at peace.
Lexa's decision to catch a glimpse of Clarke before their impeding meeting had been a spur of the moment, one of the very few she's ever allowed herself. As her escort had started to set up the camp for the night not too far from Clarke's, all she could think about was seeing the blonde woman. She knew it would not have been a good time to begin their discussion, the day was almost over and they had a lot to talk about, she just wanted to see with her own eyes that Clarke was okay.
Going to Clarke's camp, taking the risk to be seen by the Skaikru woman, thus causing an untimely conversation, just to assuage her personal worries didn't feel right though. However, she had realized that as the Commander, assessing Clarke's living conditions for herself, getting an idea of her state of mind made sense too. She had planned to stay just long enough to do that, then return to her tent. But now that she's here, watching the sleeping form by the fire, a woman she's seen in her dreams and nightmares every night since Mount Weather but wasn't sure she would ever actually lay her eyes on again, Lexa can't bring herself to leave. And even after the earnest examination of a situation she always goes through when making a decision, she doesn't see a reason why she can't indulge herself by staying.
Unlike that night, at Mount Weather. Leaving Clarke and her people then had been the hardest thing she'd ever had to do, and the life of a Commander is filled with hard choices. Lexa's heart had forcefully rebelled against what felt so wrong on a personal level but her mind had stayed strong, she knew what she had to do. It was her responsibility, her duty to protect her people comes first, she kept telling herself, like a mantra, during those never ending minutes between the moment she saw Clarke standing at the base of the slope with a puzzled expression on her face, and the moment she left the area. Every step away had felt so heavy, each piercing through her heart, bringing tears to her eyes.
She knew Clarke wouldn't give up on her people inside the mountain, it just wasn't in her nature, and that could have cost her her life. Lexa was well aware of that when she managed to get a hopeful, yet worried "may we meet again" out of her mouth despite the heavy lump in her throat. By accepting this deal with the Mountain men she knew she could have signed the death warrant of the woman she l...Lexa clenches her lips, breath in some air to gain back control of her thoughts. The woman she respects and grew to care about she corrects herself. There are many trials awaiting them in the next few weeks; there's so much to do to insure people's safety, both hers and Clarke's, to try and keep the relative peace of those lands alive. She can't allow herself to feel too strongly about anyone, she has to stay focused on what needs to be done.
Then why are you here tonight? a part of her brain viciously throws at her. Lexa has mastered the skill of lying to people about her feelings, that is until Clarke confronted her in her tent. Defying her, the blonde woman had unraveled most of her hidden feelings and thrown them back at her to show Lexa that she wasn't fooled by her heartless pretense. So when the urge to tell Clarke about the one feeling she hadn't detected came over her, she didn't fight it, as scary as it had been to expose herself. Just like she couldn't fight the urge to finally kiss those inviting lips "maybe life should be about more than just surviving". Lexa didn't know what would happen, how Clarke would react, she just jumped off the cliff and was more scared than she had been in the midst of her fiercest battle. Relief had washed over her when she had felt soft lips kissing her back, seeking more contact and the hand that came to rest gently on her waist had brought her back to safety. Even Clarke's abrupt interruption of that blissful moment wasn't enough to make her regret acting on her feelings. The blonde woman needed time and she understood that, she was more than willing to wait for as long as it would have taken.
But now things have changed. Lexa thinks with a twinge of sadness, looking at the woman by the fire, whimpering in her sleep, probably tormented by a nightmare. Now Clarke hates her, understandably, and she probably would never forgive her. Lexa has betrayed Clarke's people and her trust. Events had lead the Skaikru leader to the point where she had no choice but to commit a horrendous act, one that would always haunt Clarke just like it would always haunt Lexa to have been the one to put her in that position. She doesn't regret the difficult but necessary decision she made at Mount Weather and wouldn't pretend otherwise, certainly not to Clarke who deserves nothing less than her complete honesty on the matter, but things would have been so much simpler if Emerson had been struck by an arrow or with a sword before being able to make her an offer she couldn't refuse...
"We have arrested your army of freed prisoners and rebels," he had told Lexa then, stopping a few feet from her, flanked by five of her warriors. "The sky people are still of use to us, but we've got your people lined up against the door that you and your allies are trying to open, with soldiers ready to shoot at them... or to let them go through that door."
Lexa had started to dread what the mountain man would say next. "Withdraw your army now and we free your people, there's no need for any more of your warriors to die. Also, like I said, we only need Skaikru now, we won't need to capture any of your people again. Keep a safe distance from Mount Weather, and all the men , women and children under your protection won't have anything to fear from us."
The battlefield, roaring with gunfire, swords clashing and screams minutes ago had gone completely silent, all warriors gathered around Lexa and Emerson, listening intently to every word of the exchange.
"So, what will it be Commander?" Emerson pressed.
How could she have said no? She had the opportunity to save her people imprisoned in the mountain, ensure peace with their greatest enemy and all of that without having to spill one more drop of her warriors blood. As much as Lexa had wanted to just slit the mountain man's throat and go back to fight beside Clarke, she didn't have the right to ignore the voice of reason. Pragmatism was a necessity when leading people in that kind of harsh world. That's how they survived during all those years of hardships.
Lexa has always truly believed in the importance of the Commander function, of the whole system behind it, even before becoming an initiate. It had kept her people organized, civilized and saved them from complete chaos when the world almost ended. There's been many threats over the years, to the people trying to survive and to the political system put in place by the first Commander, but her predecessors had made the hard choices too, just like she had to.
Letting her personal feelings have any impact on her decisions as the Commander would be a betrayal of the people that had fought and died to establish and consolidate a fairly stable political structure and more importantly of all the men and women whose lives depended on her. So Lexa had decided with her head, not her heart.
She just hopes that in the future Clarke's and her people's interest will always be compatible with her duty, allowing her to make decisions with her head that her heart would be satisfied with. Like when she sent Jared to check on Clarke, she had of course her selfish, personal reasons to do that but it also made sense, as the Commander, to keep track of a valuable former, and potentially future, ally.
Looking at the young woman's camp, Lexa can only admire her resilience. Clarke is the strongest and most tenacious person she has ever met, that's one of the reasons why she has been drawn to her since the first day they met, but attaining this level of self-sufficiency, for someone who lived in a space station until recently is very impressive. Especially considering the emotional turmoil the woman has surely been going through since Mount Weather.
Jared posing as a hunter to nudge Clarke in the direction of the trading post has helped, but that was insignificant compared to everything she has achieved on her own. A small smile grazes Lexa's lips at the thought of the encounter between her former teacher and Clarke. She wishes she could have seen it. From the bits of information she managed to get out of Jared about that meeting, it must have been interesting. Two of the most stubborn people she's ever known, a taciturn man forced to engage in a conversation to try to subtly help a woman who had been very unwilling to talk to or receive help from anyone. Such a shame those two could never meet again. Clarke wouldn't take well the Commander's interference, she would feel like part of her survival was not due to her own merit, that she owes it to the woman she hates. It would hurt Clarke's feelings and Lexa's not letting that happen if she can avoid it.
An owl calls in the distance, not disturbing the tranquility of the forest . She leans back against the trunk of the tree and closes her eyes to take in scents and sounds she rarely has the time to enjoy. Tomorrow won't be easy, she thinks to herself, opening her eyes again to look at Clarke. She'll have to face the anger of the woman who for now is sleeping quietly a few feet away; she won't be happy to see her and what Lexa will have to tell her won't make it any easier.
But for now and for a few more hours, the atmosphere is serene. Being here tonight is not detrimental to any of Lexa's people in any way, nor to her function, so she decides that she can indulge herself in having one night of not being Heda. Tonight she's just Lexa kom Trikru, enjoying a peaceful moment, her mind finally at ease seeing for herself that Clarke is well.