Lincoln carried Octavia all through the night, trying to get as far away from the battle as possible. He began reciting phrases in Trigedasleng for her to learn as a way to distract them both from what they had left behind.

"Ai laik Oktaivia kom Skaikru," he said.

"Ai laik Oktaivia kom Skaikru," she repeated, her voice a mere whisper. She was falling asleep on him again.

"Hey, hey." He jostled her. Her eyes fluttered open. "You need to stay awake for me, okay?" Her eyes were glossy and he could feel the heat emanating from her through their layers of clothing. He was terrified the arrowhead in her leg was poisoned. "Say it again."

"Ai laik Oktaivia kom Skaikru."

They finally reached the river at daybreak. He had picked a spot on the river in an area out of the way of where the Trikru usually roamed but with the luck they had been having…. He looked around, not seeing signs anyone had been through recently. He set her down on the bank and propped her up against some driftwood while he started building a fire. He needed to get the arrowhead out before it dislodged into her leg and caused even more damage.

"Say it again," he told her.

"En ai gaf gouthru klir," she mumbled. "En ai gaf gouthru klir, en ai gaf gouthru klir." She yawned, her eyes drifting close.

"You need to stay awake, Octavia."

She nodded and began digging through her bag. She dragged his journal out and Lincoln's heart clenched seeing she had kept it safe for him once again. "Distract me, Lincoln." She began flipping through the pages of his journal, opening it to an image of a Mountain Man. "Who's this?"

"That's a Mountain Man, the ones I warned you about." He got the fire lit and began stoking it. "They have technology like your people. Guns, bombs, missiles."

He set his dagger into the flames to heat it and then checked on Octavia again, cupping her face in his hands and tilting her eyes toward the morning sun. She was too pale and her pupils weren't dilating properly. He closed his eyes as he placed a kiss on her forehead, praying to the ancestors that it was shock and not poison causing the reaction.

He stood up and turned toward the river, wading in. "Say it again, this time all of it together." Lincoln bent down and began gathering up moss from the rocks in the shallows of the riverbed.

She grumbled but complied. "Ai laik Oktaivia kom Skaikru en ai gaf gouthru klin."

"Klir, not klin." Lincoln bit back an unintentional laugh. She had just said she was Octavia of the Sky People and she wanted to commit suicide. "Gothru klir. Again."

Octavia rolled her head back in exasperation.

"I'm Octavia of the Sky People and I seek safe passage," he said, prompting her.

"Why do I even have to learn this? You speak English."

Lincoln stood up with his handful of river moss and walked back over to her. "Only our warriors speak English. When we get to the sea, you need to sound like one of us." He knelt down beside her, his hand on her thigh, turning it toward him so he was able to see the entrance of the shaft into her leg. The arrowhead appeared firmly attached still. That was good; it meant it would be easy to remove.

"Then we have time." She was breathing heavy now. She held his journal out to him, opened to a page. "Tell me about this one."

He glanced over at the upside-down sketch. "A statue near my village. A place we go to settle disputes." He returned his attention to her leg, bracing himself to do what needed to be done.

Her fingers tilted his chin back to her face. "Stop stalling and pull it out." He obeyed and she gasped in pain as he covered the wound with the cold, wet moss. "No warning? Nothing?" He picked up the heated blade from the fire, finding himself in an all too familiar situation with her again.

She eyed the hot, red knife in his hand. "I take it back. No warning is better."

He lifted up the river moss and pressed the blade against her thigh, cauterizing the puncture wound.

"Aah-ugh!" Octavia panted from the pain.

Lincoln continued holding the moss against her thigh as he stabbed the hot dagger into the ground. He picked up the arrowhead, inspecting it. He brought the tip up to his tongue, spitting when he tasted the bitter poison. He looked over to Octavia, dread in his eyes.

"I'm guessing this means you don't have the antidote?" she asked.

"No. I gave it to Finn to save Raven," he said as he bandaged up her leg. His entire medicine pack for one life and they were all probably dead by now anyway. Damn Finn!

"So, we go back."

"It's too far." His voice broke, knowing they'd never make it there in time and not wanting to take her back to see the death and destruction his people had wrought on hers.

"It's further to the sea."

"Dammit!" He bowed his head in frustration. There was only one place close enough to get the antidote but it would mean his life in exchange for hers. It just wasn't fair.

She read his mind. "Lincoln, we are not going back to your village." He looked back up at her. "You know what they do to traitors."

"Octavia…."

"Death by a thousand cuts!" He shook his head at her. He should have never told her about that. "Every single member of your clan will take a turn stabbing you and then they'll feed you to the bugs. It's what you told me."

Bugs. Lincoln suddenly had a thought. He grabbed his sword off the log and passed it to her. "Here take this." He caught her face in his hands. She was sweaty and pasty. The poison was already starting to hit her harder. "Hey, hey." He made sure she was focused on him. "I will be right back."

"Lincoln, where are you going?" she asked worriedly.

"The antidote. It comes from the beetles that feed on the river moss." He cradled her cheek, smiling. "You're gonna feed on the beetles." He nodded. "It'll work." It had to.

He was apprehensive about leaving her alone for too long so he needed to hurry. He took off running down the riverbank looking for a spot nearby where the beetles would most likely be found. Again, they seemed to be doomed. Every rock he turned over, every spot he dug, and he had yet to find any beetles. Octavia's screams jarred him from his search and set his heart pounding with fear. He leaped up from his crouched position, adrenaline pushing him faster, never having been so scared in his life as he was at that moment.

He saw her on the river bank, staggering to rise, using his sword as a crutch and he wanted to cry in relief that she wasn't under attack. "Octavia! Octavia, what is it?" he shouted as he ran up to her. She was stumbling all over the place, her breath heaving in and out as she pointed his sword at him. "Hey, What-what's wrong? What—." She fell back from him in horror. He caught her, holding onto her face so she could see it was him.

"There's someone down—." Her eyes darted wildly from side-to-side. She was near hysterics. "It was-it was a-a monster!" She gasped out.

Her teeth were chattering, her cheeks were hot in his palms, she was hallucinating. "It's the poison. You're burning up." He tugged her up to her feet. "We have to hurry." He picked her up and slung her sideways over his shoulders and behind his head so he could see while running with her. His right arm grasped her leg and his other hand propped her head up and he took off with her into the forest. "I know what we have to do."

"What are you doing? Where are we going?"

"Just hold on." He wasn't going to tell her if he didn't have to. She would hopefully be unconscious by the time they arrived, otherwise she would never agree. He was going to his village. It was the only way to save her.