A/N: HI! I've never written anything for this show, but I binged all the episodes last week, and this little moment kept circling in my head, or at least my imagining of it (and it was only strengthened by 'Survival of the Fittest').
The first time Lincoln saw her, he was alone, stalking a deer through the thick undergrowth. The air heavy with humidity, droplets of moisture clinging to his skin as he silently crept through the bushes. He'd been trailing the doe for hours, his arrow firmly planted in her left flank. His eyes methodically scanned the scrub looking for freshly snapped twigs and the occasional drop of blood. The deer was slowing down, the smattering of fluid darker against the waxy green leaves of mountain laurel as the creature slowly but surely exsanguinated.
The sudden fluttering of wings caught his attention, and he looked up into the overcast sky. Peering through the thick canopy, he caught the swift movement of birds flapping madly as they fled from their perches. That was never a good sign. He'd learned quickly to pay attention to the easily spooked swallows, heeding their jittery warning had saved him on several occasions.
Crouching down, ears pricked to catch the faintest sound, he waited, hidden by the gnarled curve of a giant root. There was nothing, no movement along the treeline, no soft sound of whickering horses. The stillness was disquieting, a shiver chasing down his spine.
Just as he began to rise, he heard a thundering boom, felt the earth tremble for half a second before another flock of shrieking birds darted through the branches. Curiosity piqued, he reluctantly gave up stalking his prey and, against his better judgement, turned to find the source of the disturbance.
His whole demeanor shifted, spine straight as he swiftly jogged through the dim woods, adroitly jumping over fallen logs as he shifted from hunter to warrior. He knew this forest like the back of his hand, each seemingly identical tree a landmark in his mind. He was jogging toward nothing, the woods stretched out endlessly in this direction, but something had made that noise, and investigating was second nature to him. Blissful ignorance just wasn't an option in these times.
He slipped a long bone-handled knife from it's sheath at his waist. The sharpened metal whispered against the tanned deer hide. Occasionally he glanced up at the sky, wishing the clouds would momentarily part and reveal the time of day. He had to get back before dark, with the heavy cloak of darkness always came danger.
He heard it before he realized what it was, a faint murmur, almost like the buzzing of a beehive that was too far away to see. He slowed a bit, not wanting to burst in on a situation he couldn't control. The murmur got louder, the occasional note pitching up above the low rumble. It was a large group of people, heedlessly yelling in sharp and excited tones.
Slowing to a crawl, he hid behind the broad expanse of a tree trunk, cautiously peering around the edge at the strange sight below. A massive metal capsule rested prominently in the middle of a small clearing, groups of strangely attired people milling carelessly about it. They appeared to be arguing, clusters of supporters forming on each side of an invisible divide.
A blonde girl, legs spread wide in a confident stance as she gestured at her opponent. She was vehement, and didn't back down when the alpha male in front of her raised his voice. Lincoln closed his eyes, focusing all his energy on listening, his sensitive ear drums trembling as they picked up the firm cadence of the words.
It was English they spoke, the preferred language of the mountain men, but they were not members of the reclusive clan. They couldn't have stood out in the open air like this if they were, and they were unarmed, a set of circumstances that eliminated the possibility entirely. But he was hard pressed to understand exactly where they had come from. Their nonchalant behavior in the middle of the woods was puzzling. Danger lurked behind every bush, in every darkened depression. This was the last place you wanted to have a loud and raucous debate.
He still couldn't quite discern what they were talking about, and had already begun to withdraw when the faint cracking of a twig grabbed his attention. He peered up through the branches, eyes catching on the polished stone of an spearhead. He found them all quickly, knowing what he was looking for.
He quietly slipped further back. So Anya had sent a reconnaissance party already. She must have heard the commotion at the same time he had. He glanced back down at the small clearing. It was nothing but an excitable group of unarmed children, he couldn't believe there would be a need to attack, a cold shiver sweeping over him as he imagined tossing a spear at someone so utterly unprepared for it.
A small group broke off from the pack, clearly being led by the assertive blonde. They disappeared into the thicket behind the metal capsule, and with a silent whisper the recon party disappeared as well.
He was torn. He knew that strangers were, by default, enemies, and this method of thinking had saved the lives of his fellow clansmen many times, but it felt wrong to hunt these seemingly innocent people. They had nothing to protect themselves with.
Turning, he gritted his teeth and began to trail the small group of strangers. He stayed far back, more cognizant of the silent and deadly group of hunters hiding in the bushes ahead of him, than of the idly chattering kids ahead. Their lack of fear was mildly disconcerting. Where the hell had they come from?
They'd come to an impasse, the cold deep river laying between them and their unknown destination. Lincoln stealthily ascended into the trees, easily shimmying up to the first thick branches to find perch. He had a perfect view of the mysterious group.
That was when he saw her, smaller than her companions, dark hair flowing unrestrained behind her. She glowed with a joy he'd never seen before, a bounce in her stride as she skipped up to the edge of the river. Basking in the faint light from the cloudy sky, she turned her face upwards, a smile spreading across her face as though she'd never breathed such air, filling her lungs as full as possible before exhaling happily.
He felt hypnotized, staring in awe at this conundrum of a human being, snapped out of it only when she began to disrobe. He blinked, finding her behavior alarming. It only took him a minute to realize what her intention was, and he balked at the very idea.
His muscles tensed, brain sending signals to his limbs. He willed himself to stay still, to quiet the word of warning perched on his vocal chords. No, calling out would simply get them all killed here and now, rather than later. Instead he stayed quiet, eyebrows furrowing when he heard the huge splash.
He wasn't the only one alarmed by her behavior, a chorus of yells followed her rash action, the serious blonde blanching as she yelled down to the river bank. "Octavia!" So that was her name. His lips unconsciously mimed the word, committing it to memory involuntarily. Within seconds the dark little head broke the surface of the water, and Lincoln released a breath he hadn't known he was holding.
The release of tension was palpable, her dazzling smile inviting her companions into the dark and cold waters. And that's when it happened. She was abruptly jerked back under, a flash of absolute horror marring her features before she disappeared altogether.
He closed his eyes, wondering at the sudden clenching in his chest. He didn't know why, but he felt for the girl. There had been something about her… innocence that spoke to him. He whispered under his breath, a silent prayer for the lost so often chanted in these woods.
Her friends, however, were not so quick to give her up for dead. Their ignorance in the face of the serpentine water monster was apparent when they darted down to the riverbank. He watched in fascination as they worked together, first distracting the creature, then braving the danger themselves to haul her, injured but alive, back to the edge of the water.
It was not something his people would do. Survival was too important, and risking your life for someone stupid enough to endanger their own just didn't happen amongst the tree people. He saw it, and he knew so did the hunting party. It seemed to be a kind of weakness, one they would undoubtedly prey upon.
He quietly descended from his vantage point, backing silently into the woods. Something shifted almost imperceptibly inside of him. The small one's joy, the abandonment with which she held herself open to the world. It was strange and magnetic, something he felt should be preserved at all costs. Even amongst her own people it seemed to be rare, the blonde leader marching with dogged determination, her companions warily following behind.
There was a spark in Octavia, one echoed in his own soul, so often tamped down, beaten out. His heart picked up it's pace. He wouldn't let that happen to her, against all odds in this dangerous and cruel world they lived in, she would come out the other side with that glowing ember still inside.
He pulled out his journal, drawing a quick map to the site of the newcomers camp, marking the spot with a distinct X. Suddenly he didn't feel like an anomaly, like someone who was born with an inherent weakness. He felt human, in the way of old that was talked about sometimes around dying campfires. He stopped trying to push down the feeling inside of himself, focusing instead on the beaming smile of the one called Octavia. He would be her protector.
(Thanks for reading, I had fun writing this, please feel free to leave whatever comments you like, all feedback is welcome)