The night was quiet and peaceful. It was a veil of darkness blanketing over a world whose beauty was now gone, instead becoming a consistent reminder of the pain of loss. Darkness eased Clarke; if only just a little. With a long twig, Clarke poked at the last embers of the fire. They were nearly extinguished now, providing no real light source other than to announce its existence. Something for Clarke to focus on and nothing more.

Rolling the embers over, they cackled and sparked scarcely before dimming in weakness. Soon, Clarke would have no fire to distract her, and sleep – as usual – was not an easily achieved notion. Her near insomniac state was driven by the guilt of her decisions on the ground, and that's why she blamed the ground the most. The ground was everything she dreamed of growing up on the ark, and now those dreams haunted her to no end.

After sacrificing everything for the sake of an alliance – killing Finn, leaving over 200 people to die from a missile attack, eradicating an entire underground civilization – Clarke had reached her limit. She thought she could live with the weight if her people and the grounders could work together to get everyone out alive. Killing the people inside the mountain...she didn't prepare to have to live with the guilt of their death.

They were not there to kill the innocent. That wasn't the plan.

Whatever it was she had become in that moment was tearing her apart.

She couldn't go back into camp. The only thing she could do was leave, so not to succumb to weight she bared for the sake of others. And now, here she was in the middle of the woods with a handgun with three rounds left, no tent, and most importantly the grounder commander resting under a tree behind her.

Lexa had come to her nearly a week ago, in spite of Clarke's disapproval. However, there was no telling the commander what to do. If Lexa decided to stalk Clarke, no one was going to tell her otherwise.

For the most part Lexa had been quietly, albeit openly, following Clarke. After the blonde spacer refused to speak to the commander when she refused to leave her alone, the other woman took to standing exactly one dozen paces behind her at all times. Occasionally, Lexa would would attempt to make grounder style small talk, but Lexa only really knew how to speak about one thing: survival.

While this annoyed Clarke to no end after everything that happened between her people and the grounders, a small part of her was glad that the Commander was happy she was alive. Not to mention that after eight days of self elicited solitude, even hearing "Those are poisonous, Clarke." while gathering food for her dinner was a comforting gesture.

As the night progressed Clarke turned her tired eyes to Lexa: propped against a tree exactly twelve paces behind Clarke. She couldn't see anything more than her silhouette from here, and she wondered if Lexa was asleep. It was unlikely, she figured. With the way the grounder commander acted around her, she was almost certain that she was being watched. Guarded, even.

"The night is meant to be your ally, Clarke." Clarke's eyes squinted. Staring into the blackness, she watched as the Commander shifted. Her voice was soft yet commanding, almost with a hint of warmth. Warmth that Clarke had learned during their war was only meant for her. "Don't let it become your enemy."

Clarke clicked her tongue in frustration and her rolled her gaze back towards the embers of her former fire. She always had to say her name when she spoke. Always ensuring that her words were directed towards someone with a sense of purpose. Always making sure that Clarke knew she was thinking about her. "Oh, the earth's rotation around the sun can betray me now. Perfect." Clarke spat back sarcastically.

She wasn't sure why she was using sarcasm, exactly. She knew well that grounders never spoke unless their words had purpose. However, even if her words were sarcastic the tone was enough to get her point across with the commander, whose prolonged silence was proof enough that her words had cut her. Deep.

From behind her, she heard the commander rise to her feet, and close the distance, three, four, five, six paces. This was the closest Lexa had gotten to Clarke all week. A lump formed in her throat that she struggled to choke down, now knowing that the Commander's patience for her behavior had dwindled exponentially. "You must sleep, Clarke." The commander paused, took two more steps forward. "Or you will die in this forest."

Clarke turned her head to face the commander, and under the pale light of the moon she could see Lexa wasn't wearing her armor. She could also see that her war paint was missing, and the shadows cast upon her face highlighted the dark circles under her eyes. Circles that proved that Lexa slept less than Clarke. Hypocritical, of course, but that meant something entirely different to Clarke. It was proof that Lexa fell asleep after Clarke and awoke at first light, before her. The blonde then rose to her feet to even herself with the commander. "I can take care of myself."

The warrior's poised face tilted up, her eyes cast downward upon Clarke. It was a tactic Lexa used to promote her superiority over others subconsciously. Somehow, it was different for Clarke however. Lexa looked at her more equally than the other grounders and sky people. This tactic, it almost seemed like a persuasion move. A way to get Clarke to heed her advice as someone more experienced, rather than intimidate her into listening from her position as Commander alone. "You know nothing of these lands. Or how to survive in them alone."

"I'll manage." Came a swift response, her words sharp and short.

The commander stared back at her, gaze locked onto Clarke's blazing eyes, so blue and strong. There was a moment of pause, neither moving, neither speaking before the commander let her eyes fall. Clarke watched curiously, as Lexa begun to unfasten the leather belt that held the scabbard of her blade to her side. The commander took the large sword, sheath and all and then thrust it into the ground at Clarke's feet.

Clarke's eyes followed the sword, and then back up to Lexa, who was now throwing every hidden blade or weapon she had into the ground around them. After removing more weapons than Clarke thought possible for her to have on her person at the time, Lexa placed her hands behind her back and with a low raspy whisper she clarified, "Show me."

The spacer looked down at the sword again. The force in which the commander and thrown it caused the blade to eject itself from the scabbard enough for Clarke to see a few inches of glimmering metal under the moonlight. She had never held a sword before, and now she wondered if she was even capable of holding one. The dent it made into the soft earth was enough for Clarke to question the difference between her upper body strength, and the Commanders. Her lips parted, but no words came. Her thoughts couldn't form into words when all she could do was stare into the gleam of the commander's blade.

Finally, Clarke looked back up at grounder commander. She hadn't moved at all since Clarke's eyes last left her. She still stood poised and controlled, waiting for Clarke to respond. Waiting for Clarke to act. Finally, Clarke asked, "You want to fight me unarmed?"

Lexa nodded.

"And you want me to you your sword against you." This time Clarke spoke with a matter-of-fact tone, no hint of question in her reiteration of whatever it was the commander was doing.

"I will take it back when you are done with it." She clarified vaguely, and Clarke hated that.

She hated how everything Lexa said was never explained, cryptic and mysterious. She hated her stupid sun kissed skin and her stupid green eyes and her stupid soft lips. She hated her. She hated Lexa so much she could hardly stand it. She hated Lexa with such a loathing her voice nearly trembled as words "I hate you." spilled out from her lips.

"I know."

Overrun with fury, Clarke clenched her jaw grabbed the sword from the ground and removed it from it's protective casing.

Blood for blood.