Blood pounded in her ears as she ran. Her knuckles turned white with the force she held her knife. The sound of hooves and calls filled the night, and glimmers of torchlight shimmered out of the dark. The surroundings blurred together; mud-caked hair flew out behind her as she fled.
Despite every precaution, it had taken barely over a month for Clarke to be caught. She was an invader in foreign Grounder territory. She had crossed a significant amount of territory before beginning to settle in. She kept to herself mostly, outside of the villages. Occasional supply trips into surrounding villages provided the necessary food, and the opportunity to try and collect news about Camp Jaha. It was scarce, what with the distance she had attempted to put between her and the horrors of Mount Weather.
Though her grasp of Trigedasleng was improving, the calls of the warriors on her tail were unrecognizable. They were gaining. They had been chasing her all day, and though her legs were wearing, she kept pushing. If she kept running, she would lose them, or find somewhere to hide. She had to, if she wanted to live another day.
The calls became louder, more frantic. Clarke quickened her pace, adrenaline her only fuel. The hoof beats grew softer, and the pursuing horses snorted in alarm. She risked a quick glance over her shoulder, and what she saw froze in her mind as she whipped back around, continuing to dart forward through the trees.
As though they had met a wall, the horses had pulled up short, eyes rolling back and forth in terror as they snorted. Bathed in the glow of the torches, the faces of her pursuers were wary. More than a few weapons were in their hands as they peered into the trees. More calls passed between them, words Clarke didn't recognize. One in particular echoed repeatedly through the group. 'Kripa' they said. Despite the distance Clarke was putting between them, they didn't move forward to pursue.
Hardly daring to believe her luck, a hysterical laugh crawled out of her throat. She had managed to outrun them. Her legs shook beneath her, but she wasn't going to rest until she put a good mile between them at the least. Clarke kept up a steady pace for another twenty minutes, slowing to a jog as the adrenaline faded and exhaustion set in. The babble of water nearby turned her from her course. A tiny stream of water glittered in the moonlight, beckoning Clarke with the promise of quenching her now ravenous thirst.
Stowing her knife in her belt, the blonde knelt to fill her water skin. Watching the water trickle in, Clarke found her mind wandering back to the chase. Why had they broken off their pursuit? All at once too, stopped in a group near a gnarled old tree. She had never seen a Grounder show fear, but the cautious looks on their faces were the closest she had seen. Surely it wasn't because of her; the horses wouldn't fear her in any case.
Suddenly, Clarke found herself uneasy. The image of the anxious horses was forefront in her mind. Those horses were trained for war, present in more battles than Clarke herself. They were nearly as blood-soaked as their riders. What frightened war horses? Frowning, she stowed away the water skin. She would have to be wary. If she had crossed a border, the Grounders here would be different than the ones she left behind. Each clan was unique, and each had its own set of rules.
The stars mirrored in blue eyes as Clarke studied the night sky through the branches, looking to get her bearings. She was headed south from Camp Jaha and Tondc. She had studied maps of the North American continent as it was before the nuclear apocalypse, but she didn't know what lay in that direction now. Lexa was the only one with a map of the territories and capitals of the twelve tribes. For all Clarke knew, she could be wandering into something far worse than she left behind.
No, what could be worse than the slaughter behind her? The images of the dying soldiers, the civilians burning in their own skin in the depths of the mountain that had once sheltered them rose in her mind as she walked. Her friends, and her charges followed shortly thereafter. Monty, hunched against the cold and haunted by the slaughter. Jasper, his eyes full of accusations for Maya's death. Bellamy, brows furrowed in worry as he let her go on alone. Shaking her head free of the memories, Clarke walked on. She had left that life behind her.
She continued walking far beyond the stream before beginning to look for a place to rest for the night. The chill wind burrowed its way beneath her clothes, raising goosebumps. A twig snapped. The knife was in Clarke's hand at once. Her body was rigid as her eyes searched the trees. A swift movement caught her eye, and she whipped to her right. The trees were empty. Warily, she turned her head this way and that, searching for the enemy.
A tap on her shoulder brought her whipping around, knife poised, only to be frozen by a few simple words. "Don't move, and don't scream." Try as she might to drop her knife, Clarke found herself stuck staring into the eyes of a girl. She couldn't have been much younger than Clarke herself, what with her loose blonde curls, and her shining eyes. "Why did you come past the border? Be honest."
Clarke's mouth opened to spill out words before she could even consider what was happening. "I was being chased, and the horsemen stopped chasing me at a certain point. I didn't know there was a border."
"Do you know where you are?"
"No."
"Do you know what we are?"
"What does that mean?"
"You're one of them, aren't you? The people who lived in space."
"Yes."
The girl cocked her head, looking Clarke up and down. Despite the seemingly open and kind face before her, Clarke felt like prey being sized up by a predator.
"Does anyone else know you're here?"
"No."
"Good." The blue eyes pooled into red, black veins crawling up delicate cheekbones. Clarke barely got a glimpse before the younger girl lunged forward, sinking sharp teeth into Clarke's neck. The elder grunted, but didn't move. Despite how much she wanted to, she didn't scream either. She simply stared up at the winking stars, listening to the sucking noise just below her ear until the blackness came to claim her.
"It's a myth, sweetheart, nothing more. No one could have survived in space that long."
"She spoke English, Klaus! Look at her, she's not a warrior. She doesn't have any of the normal tattoos or marks that they have. How else would she know English?"
"There are a number of possible explanations, love."
"And you won't even consider mine?"
A dull throb began behind Clarke's eyelids. The blackness eased back as she drifted towards consciousness, beginning to focus on the bickering voices nearby. She remained frozen there, doing nothing to alter her breathing or her movement. Her head was propped up against something hard, and she could feel a twig digging into the back of her leg. Behind her felt chilly, but before her felt warm. Judging by the flicker of lights through her eyelids, Clarke could surmise she was in front of a fire.
"I compelled her and asked her if she was in space. She said she was!"
"All of Lexa's people are on vervain, Caroline. She was lying."
"I fed on her! There's no vervain in her blood."
"A clever ruse then. Make her believe she lived her life in space. Or maybe she's resistant to compulsion. Some humans are."
"So you're willing to consider she's one in a million humans who can resist compulsion, but not that she might have told me the truth?"
"We're done discussing this, Caroline."
"You are so infuriating!"
This last retort was yelled, and footsteps retreated off. There was a sigh of frustration and the sound of wet leaves kicked into the air. Clarke remained still, listening to the night sounds and the beat of her own heart. Who were these Grounders? They didn't talk like any she had met before.
"Domestic troubles?" A new voice, tinged with the same strange accent as the other man. Klaus, wasn't it?
"Go away, Enzo. I'm not in the mood to deal with you right now."
"And here I was thinking we were friends."
"Well, that was your first mistake. Your second one was coming over here to pester me when all I want to do is rip someone's head off."
"If I were you, I don't think I would rip the head off of the only person in camp who believes your space people theory."
There was a pause then, and Clarke could hear herself breathing in the stillness.
"You believe me?"
"I don't have to believe you, love. It's obvious she's not from around here just by looking at her." Despite herself, Clarke could hear her heartbeat speed up in her ears. "You would think Klaus would jump at this opportunity."
"Wait, what do you mean?"
"If you haven't noticed, we haven't had many new recruits in the last fifty years. I doubt many of us would have survived in a tiny space ship. They probably have no idea what we are. That means no vervain. They'll be easy prey, and maybe there are a few who'll make good recruits. I haven't eaten a good meal in a century."
If it was even possible, Clarke felt her blood run colder. They ate people?! Was that why they had brought Clarke here? To be a meal for these psycho monsters? It took a great effort to keep her hands from curling into fists, and to keep her breathing regular.
"It doesn't help that Lexa keeps her warriors out of our territory. It would be nice to feed on someone who doesn't have half a gallon of vervain in their system."
"Maybe we should get you a snack, love. You get testy when you're hungry."
"I am not testy!"
The man laughed, a rich sound. "Whatever you say, love. Come on."
And like that, the air was silent. Ears strained, but there was no sound of breathing or shuffling in the stillness. Was it… could it be? Was she alone? Heart hammering in her throat, Clarke dared to crack open an eye. A fire crackled brightly in front of her, burning her strained eyes. She blinked away the spots to see darkness surrounding her on all sides. The orange flames blocked out the stars, but Clarke was willing to bet that it was nearing morning.
Most importantly, there was no sign of her captors. There was no sign of anyone at all. This was it, her chance to get away. Leaves stirred beneath her as she rose to a crouch, flexing her muscles to try and restore the circulation. She'd been in worse situations, she reminded herself. Forcing herself into a state of calm, her eyes took in the heavily wooded forest around her. Those man-eating creatures could be behind any tree. It didn't matter. This was the best chance she would get. Glancing up to try and get her bearings, she picked a direction and moved silently into the trees.
The further she got from the camp, the faster she moved until she reached an all-out sprint. Her hair caught itself in her mouth as she ran. Terrified thoughts beat out a rhythm in her skull, until all she could see was that girl's face. Red eyes leered out of the darkness; the glitter of fangs gleamed out of every shadow.
There was a loud snap somewhere to her right. The girl paused in mid-step, limbs frozen and terrified eyes searching out the darkness. Wasn't that just how that girl had caught her before? They must have discovered her gone by now. Best to keep moving. With a sense of dread pooling in her stomach, her body turned, legs beginning to churn, before the air was knocked out of her with a huff. Strong hands wrapped around her waist, pinning her against the solid chest she had just smacked into.
"Now, now, don't struggle, love." Feral blue eyes crinkled in a smile as her arms went limp. No scream gathered in her throat: what would be the point?
"Let me go." The hiss she mustered wasn't as impressive as she would have hoped. Her captor chuckled, only a hint of amusement in his eyes.
"You're a feisty one. I like that. Most people soil themselves when I catch them."
"I'm not scared of you." A lie, but one said with a fierce scowl.
"Well, that would be foolish indeed. You absolutely should be scared of me." Dark veins crawled in his cheekbones. The blonde choked down a gag. "You're going to tell me all about your people, and when you're done, I'm going to drink from you until you die. Do you understand?"
Terror clawed at the inside of her throat. It must have slipped into her eyes, because the man with the iron grip smiled all the more fiercely. "Good. Don't worry, love, this is going to be fun.
"For me, anyway."