A/N: Hi guys! Fact: this chapter was supposed to be posted yesterday, but Fanfiction would not load my acount. I seriously tried all day and nothing would work. So I'm posting it right now, and I'll post chapter 1 later today.

So, what can I tell you about this story before we begin? It's a spin-off of another one of my stories, "Nothing Could Drive us Away", most importantly it takes the first Interlude and turns it into a full fledge story. You're welcome. So if you've already read it, this Prologue is the Interlude, just to set the pace and to help those who haven't read the story what the hell is going on. Other than that, I'll see you guys later!

Prologue

Clarke had been running for what felt like days. In truth, she knew, it had been weeks, months even, that she'd ran away from her home. Between hunting to survive and avoiding the orcs battalions moving around the mountains, she'd kept busy, able to forget the smoke and the fire, and the blood. But this really felt like the end.
She'd been crossing yet another river, cold water bitting her angles and soaking her leather boots. She walked carefully, hefting what little she carried on her shoulders. A few stones rolled under her feet, but she'd managed to keep her balance through the crossing.
She didn't know whether she heard them first, or they'd caught her crossing first, but suddenly she'd heard loud footsteps coming from behind her. Branches cracking. War cries, sending chills down her spine. She'd glance behind her, and saw shadows running down the slope of the hill, through slim trees, all huddled together. Dread sank deep into her stomach. How she'd manage to have an entire division sneak up on her was the real head-scratcher, but she didn't have time to think about it. She ran as quickly as she could to the river bank.
She'd barely taken a step on dry stones that she heard swords and shields banging together, the sound of orcs ready to attack. She'd barely glanced behind her, seeing twenty, maybe thirty of those gray-skinned beasts, blood and war paint smearing their skins, yellow vicious eyes on her. She cursed under her breath and began to run to the nearest woods, hoping to hide there.
One or two orcs she could take care on her own, but twenty would be the death of her. She didn't stop to wonder whether she'd outrun them. She didn't hear them anymore, but only because the sound of blood pumping in her ears had replaced it.
She was about to decide whether to hide in a tree or continue to run when the rows of trees seemed to become sparser, and the light passed through the canopy. She was approaching a clearing. She didn't stop to think whether it was a good idea or not and ran past the last of the trees. Instantly she noticed how large the clearing was, to the point that she could only see more forest on the hill outlined along the horizon. There were large rocks formations all around the clearing, and Clarke thought she could hide behind, or even under one of them.
She instantly began to run toward some of the bigger rocks, ignoring the sun beating down on her. She'd lost the orc army for now, but once they'd cross the river it wouldn't last. She rounded a corner, ready to slip under the closest rock there, when she stopped dead in her track, stunned.
Right in front of her three orc scouts had set up camp, seating on the rocks around them. They looked just as surprised to see her. Clarke didn't wait for them to recover. She dropped her backpack to the ground and pulled her sword from its sheath on her back. It wasn't much of a weapon, really, more like the first thing she'd managed to grab before running. One of its edges was broken, and the only reason she'd kept it so far was because she refused to pick up an orc's weapon.
All three scouts stood up, their pale skin covered with dark marks and light leather armor. They picked up their swords and threw themselves at the blond. Clarke had dealt with scouts before. They were nimbler than normal orcs, lighter on their feet too, but still not as much as her.
She avoided a swing from one and blocked the other with her sword. When the third one thought he had a clear shot, dark toothy grin splitting his face, Clarke took her dagger out of her belt and tug it deep in the third orc's chest. His eyes grew wide in surprise as he stumbled backward, his sword falling out of his hand. Clarke used the surprise to push the second one away. She was lucky scouts weren't usually as strong as normal orcs, and those looked to be young and inexperienced. She ran to the third one who'd managed to take the dagger out, dark green blood sipping out of his gut. With one swift move of her blade, she cut his throat, and he fell on the grass, blood flowing out of the slash.
She picked up her dagger when two strong arms encircled her from behind, and began to tense, crushing her slowly. With a hiccup, she managed to take a deep breath and used all her strength to kick the orc's leg. It didn't seem to hurt him much, but he moved his leg away nonetheless, changing his stand. She used those few seconds when his balance wasn't secured and he wasn't paying attention to her to throw her dagger out of her hand and pick it back up, with the blade facing toward her enemy. She dug it deep in the first bit of gray flesh she could find, his forearm.
The orc stumbled with a cry of pain and let her go. She was pretty sure she had broken his bone but didn't stop to learn more. She turned around, her sword still in hand, and slashed the orc's belly. He barely had time to put his hands on the cut, preventing his guts from spilling, that Clarke ran her sword through him. He fell on his back, his blood staining the grass.
The sound of a horn being blown reminded Clarke that there was a third orc, who was now standing with a dark horn pressed to his mouth, blowing the alarm. She picked up her dagger and swiftly threw it. It landed right between the orc's eyes, but she knew it was too late. The army was bound to have heard it. She could already hear loud steps coming her way.
Without thinking, she picked up her bag and her dagger and threw herself under the closest rock. The space dug under there was just large enough for a human being, and she prayed no one would notice her.

The orcs arrived loudly, their steps echoing around the clearing, probably all the way to the forest. They stopped at the sight of their dead scouts, and Clarke saw them disperse, if only a bit, probably looking for her. One of them walked closer and closer to her stone, each of his stomping steps making her heart beat faster. She was completely stuck. If he were to find her, it would be the end. Her grip tightened on her dagger.
Suddenly, she heard the air trembling, and a volley of arrows landed on the ground in front of her, killing effectively a few orcs, including the one so close to her.
She then heard it. What she'd thought were the footsteps of orcs before, she now realized were hooves beating the ground. Horses came galloping down the clearing, and one after the other their riders jumped off their backs. Clarke counted five of them, not much against thirty orcs, and she almost hoped they were only the first wave. She knew they were probably scouts as well, and while it sounded cold-hearted she hoped their attack on the orcs and subsequent death at their hands would make the orcs forget about her.
However, it quickly became clear that the humans were winning, thanks to a single person. Clarke realized midway through the fight that she'd been staring at her and her alone. Short brown hair flowing in the wind, face covered in blood but not her own, and for a split second, she noticed the girl had forest green eyes. Her moves were swift but deadly. She slashed and pierced her way through the orc battalion like they were melting butter.
When the orcs tried a counter-offensive, sending a volley of arrows of their own, they all landed in the girl's wooden shield, and she went back to beheading almost instantly. Clarke couldn't help but stare at her. The way the girl moved, the way she fought, with precision and controlled fury, it all felt so familiar for the blond, as if she'd seen it before.
When one of the orcs finally managed to land a blow on her, a scratch on her cheek which barely drew blood, he was rewarded by blade through the belly. The girl had twirl nimbly and stabbed him with her back to him. She let go of her swords for a second, taking a dagger from her belt and throwing it with deadly precision to the closest orc, saving the life of one of her companions, before picking her sword out of her previous target's belly.
Soon enough the fight was over, with not a single human wounded beyond a scratch, and all the orcs dead. Clarke was speechless. This wasn't a scout unit, she realized when she looked more closely at their uniform. This was an elite task force, and there was only one person leading those kinds of group.
"Heda!" one of them called while they'd been surveying the battlefield for anything useful.
The girl walked up to her companion, and he picked up something from the ground, which he gave to her. She seemed to be looking at it longly.
"It's a human necklace alright."
Suddenly dread filled Clarke's chest. She brought her hand to her neck, and found it empty, the usual family pendant hanging there gone. She cursed herself mentally. It must have fallen off when she was fighting the orcs. The girl continued to study it for a few seconds before she called:
"Octavia."
One of her companions, a girl with long dark hair and war paint around her eyes walked up to her.
"Isn't this the Skikru symbol?"
She handed the necklace to Octavia who looked at it under the sun's light.
"Sha, Heda. But usually, this necklace is worn by the members of the royal family."
Heda picked it up and looked at it for a few more seconds before she looked at the horizon. Her gaze then found the three scouts. In the mess of orcs bodies and dark green blood, she still managed to discern that those three hadn't been killed by her group.
"Well, whoever they are, they're skilled fighters."
"A messenger maybe?" someone suggested.
"If that's true, then let's hope we found them first."
Heda whistled and her horse came trotting to her. She took the necklace and placed it around her neck, for safe keeping. She then climbed up her horse.
"Lincoln, Octavia. Ride to Arkadia. Report to me if you see anything unusual on the way."
Octavia and the man who'd found Clarke's necklace stood up and climbed up their own horses.
"Sha, Heda."
They disappeared in the forest only a few short seconds later.
"Anya, search the perimeter. If you don't find anyone from Skikru before sunset, come back to Polis."
A woman with light chestnut hair nodded and climbed on her own horse, galloping toward the south of the clearing.
Heda waited while her last companion climbed up her horse, her gaze running over the clearing one last time before she turned around, and headed back to the forest, back to Polis.
Under her rock Clarke was stunned. They still didn't know Arkadia had been destroyed. Their messenger had probably never arrived. They never sent help, because they didn't know Arkadia was only a pile of ashes and blood, and corpses left to rot in the sun. But they would know soon enough. Once Heda's scouts would arrive at Arkadia they would know, and they would probably meet with the few people left alive, who would tell them their Princess was on her way to find some help. And Clarke now knew where to find help.
After taking a deep breath she crawled out of her hiding hole, sheathed her weapons and climbed up one of the tallest rock around. If she wanted the other woman to see her and bring her to Polis as quickly as possible, then she needed to make herself visible, for the first time in weeks.