Author's Note: Thank you to the people who left such sweet reviews on the last chapter. 3 It's much easier to stay motivated to keep going with a story with such awesome encouragement. :) I'm sooo sorry it took so long to update. I was trying to get some major edits done on the first chapter of my novel and get it back to my beta readers, plus work, plus a crap ton of volunteer work so…. Finally here it is. I will endeavor to be much faster in the future. :)
Chasing the Storm Chapter 2: The Good Scythian
The cave wrapped around them providing womb-like shelter from the driving winds howling just outside. Its ceiling was low, just high enough that a tall person would be able to touch it if they stood on tiptoe.
Clarke knew that the tingling warmth she felt spreading through her body was not a good sign. What did it mean again? How long ago had she stopped shivering? She strained against the hypothermic fog that gripped her brain trying to stay conscious. Distantly she felt warm, trembling fingers brush her cheek.
"Hanging in there Princess?" Bellamy asked through chattering teeth. She could feel the tremors of his shivering chest as they huddled together for warmth. The dampness of her clothes clinging to her skin made her bones ache with the slightest stirring of the air. Still, wet clothes were better than none at all.
"Yea." She strained weekly. How long had they been here? It couldn't have been long if they were both still talking.
"Good. We're going to make it, Clarke," He declared. Her eyebrows knit together as her numb cheeks attempted to form some semblance of a smile. If she hadn't come to know him so well these last months she might have believed the false sincerity in his voice.
The last vestiges of daylight outside the mouth of the cave had taken on a purplish glow and the roar of rain had shifted to a softer sound. Something fluffy and white was piling up outside and drifting onto the first few feet of the sandy cave floor. It was snowing, Clarke realized. Their first snowstorm on Earth would be the one that would kill them.
"Bellamy I - I…" Clarke's numb mouth couldn't form her vague feelings into coherent words.
"Shh, I know." His arms squeezed a little tighter around her. "Me too."
A flicker of golden light outside caught Clarke's attention. At first she had thought she was imagining it but then, it came again, brighter this time. Closer this time. Suddenly the realization dawned on her that it was someone carrying a lamp. Bellamy, still holding her tightly, shuffled closer to the cave wall until an outcropping of rock obscured the entrance from view, and hopefully them whomever might be outside. Clarke could hear her own heart racing, a new surge of adrenaline keeping her conscious just a little longer. Perhaps it wouldn't be the cold that would kill them but the grounder outside.
It was hard to tell how much time had passed before they heard the scuffling of footsteps at the mouth of the cave. The yellow glow of the lantern bathed the inside of cave casting dancing black shadows behind each bump in the rock. Something seemed odd about the footsteps as they came closer, there was a heaviness to the sound as though the person was a very large man, but at the same time the steps seemed too nimble for such a man. As the figures came into view suddenly Clarke understood what she had been hearing. Not a large man at all, but a small woman with a massive horse following so closely behind her that its soft muzzle nearly touched her shoulder.
Holding the light ahead of her, scanning into the darkness for anything that might be a threat the woman seemed childlike next to the mare. As she set the lantern down the flame flickered, glinting off of flecks of gold leaf inlayed into the delicately carved leather of the horse's saddle.
"Stand." The grounder woman told her horse. Her blue eyes, though not as bright as Clarke's, held a similar air of authority and gentleness. The mare obediently stopped walking, standing almost as though at attention, lowering her head and chewing on her bit idly. "Good girl." The grounder praised, scratching the horse behind one fuzzy ear. She stepped around to the horse's side and removed a bundle wrapped in sheepskin and tied with a tan leather strap from where it had been clipped to a bright brass ring on the back of the saddle.
Bellamy sneezed.
The grounder woman jumped, whirling around and dropping the bundle. It clattered to the sandy stone with a wooden thump.
"Jesus! Mary! Joseph!" She made a gesture across her chest that Clarke vaguely remembered having seen in a history recording somewhere. The sign of the cross? Those large eyes widened, reminding Clarke a little of how Octavia had looked when they first arrived on the ground.
"It's alright, I won't hurt you." She looked at Bellamy with lambskin-gloved hands raised in front of her to demonstrate her intent. Her eyes shifted from Bellamy to Clarke, gaze softening with something akin to pity and concern. "Is she alive?" The girl asked.
"Barely," Bellamy's voice was a low, shaky rumble. "She's been drifting in an out of consciousness. Hypothermia." His words were muddied by the numbness of his frozen cheeks.
"Good God!" The girl replied, hastily shrugging off her heavy parka. "Get that wet coat off her right now."
"mm, 's fine." Clarke mumbled struggling against the stiffness of her muscles lift arms and get her jacket off. She fumbled to no avail trying to get a grip on the tab of her zipper. The grounder girl wrapped one warm, gloved hand around hers, moving it out of the way and unzipped zipper. Clarke felt a flush of embarrassment and frustration colour her cheeks as she felt Bellamy peel her jacket from her shoulders and lift her shirt over her head. This was not how she had fantasized about being undressed by the handsome rebel. It took him several attempts to unhook her bra but when he was finally successful she found herself greatly relieved to be free of the icy cold foam. Every muscle in her body seemed to melt as she felt silky soft fur envelop her skin. Her eyes fluttered closed as she drifted off again.
"Can you finish getting her out of the rest of her clothes while I get a fire going?" The grounder girl looked up at Bellamy as she finished bundling Clarke in her parka. Bellamy nodded stiffly. "And yourself too, don't worry I won't look." She stood up striding over to her horse who was shuffling impatiently.
"You can wait." She told her mare sternly, offering a friendly scratch under the mare's thick mane when she settled compliantly. "You're not going to die if I don't get you undressed right this second."
Bellamy half watched the grounder unclipping another bundle from her saddle, this one a thick roll of fur and cloth tied with two heavy straps made of brightly coloured yarn woven into chevron patterns. The rest of his attention was fixed on getting Clarke out of her soaked pants and boots. He couldn't count the number of times he'd fantasized about this but these were definitely not the circumstances he'd imagined. He accepted a thick, cable knit blanket made of an extremely soft yarn from the grounder and wrapped it around Clarke's pale legs.
"I don't have another coat but you can use the strap to hold one of the blankets on." She held out one of the woven straps off the roll of blankets in one hand and the two other blankets in the other.
"Thanks," He replied, closing his fingers in the soft, thick fur of the quilt. She turned around, picking up the bundle she had dropped earlier and setting it in the middle of the floor.
"My name's Rania by the way." She pulled the sheepskin wrap away, revealing a pile of chopped wood of varying sizes and a leather pouch. Skillfully, she arraigned some of the thinner pieces of wood in a neat pyramid structure and opened the pouch. Bellamy kept one eye on Clarke's sleeping form as he dressed himself in the heavy fur and linen quilt, tying it at his waist with the strap the grounder had provided. He gathered Clarke into his arms and moved her close to where their rescuer was building her fire. She struck a small, black stone with the blunt edge of a hunting knife sending a shower of sparks onto a small pile of tinder. The air crackled with the sound of the flame leaping to life, the grounder girl leaned forward, holding the strands of her long coppery hair that had escaped from the collar of her vest back with one hand and blew softly on the small flame. Gently she coaxed the flame to grow a little larger bit by bit and then used a small stick shove the flame underneath the stick pyramid. Before long the cheery flames danced on the wood transforming the dingy cave into a cozy home.
Still, Bellamy eyed her suspiciously as he wrapped the remaining blanket around himself and Clarke. There was something amiss about her. For one thing she was too clean, sure there were a few tangles in her hair but nothing like the vicious knots he was used to seeing in grounder hair. Even her horse, a majestic creature with a plush winter coat in a nearly identical shade of chestnut, showed little more than a day or two's dirt. He narrowed his eyes.
"Why are you helping us?" He asked suspiciously.