Escape

Chapter Two

Clarke braces herself, her knife raised above her head as the giant panther strikes. Her eyes are closed tightly, her eyelids glued together in fear. She doesn't know if she will live or die and in this moment, she doesn't think she cares. She hears a whimper and slowly opens one of her eyes to see the lifeless body of the panther hovering over her. As if on cue, the panther crumbles into a heap, falling on Clarke's frail body. She growls, pushing the lifeless creature off of her. Her breathing is heavy as she takes a moment to collect herself. She has no feeling in her hands, her feet or her heart. She feels nothing as she forces the blade into the stomach of her latest kill. She feels nothing as she slits the panther's stomach at home, releasing guts and organs onto the ground beneath her. She feels nothing as she begins to skin the animal, preparing its meat for her first meal in days.

Finishing off her preparation, she clears the leaves away from the dirt, throwing heaps of sticks and twigs into the now empty space. She throws some dry grass on top before beginning to rub two sticks together. The friction causes blisters to form on her thumbs but she does not stop, she cannot stop. Her thumbs begin to bleed, just as smoke begins to appear where the friction is taking place. She laughs to herself and it sounds almost evil as the wood begins to spark. She lowers it to the dry grass until a spark lands on the grass, creating a small flame. She adds dry leaves and wood to the pile and fans it, creating larger flames before standing logs around it, to stop it from spreading too much. A sinister grin crawls across her face as she snatches a slab of meat from the ground beside her. She throws it onto the fire as she sits back to stare into the flames.

Her back against the trunk of a dying tree, her hands involuntary come up to cup her face. She rubs her eyes, hoping to rid herself of the tears that form there slowly. The lump in her throat causes her to let out a loud yelp. She quickly covers her mouth, realising that her hunt for food and eagerness to cook it and fill her stomach has left her out in the open. With no protection. She begins to feel the emotions that seemed to be non-existent just moments ago. She feels sorrow for the life that she has taken. She wonders if the panther had a family. She wonders if their family will now go unfed, because Clarke needed to feed, she still does. Pushing the thoughts of the hungry kittens from her mind, Clarke drags herself to her feet, stumbling over to her make-shift fire.

She pulls the meat from the fire, tearing into it with her teeth. She lets out a hum of pleasure as the meat crawls over her tongue. She takes pleasure in clamping her teeth down on the panther with every slow grind of her teeth. The juices seep onto her tongue, making her tremble. She swallows, ready to take another bite. It doesn't take Clarke long to fill her quickly shrinking stomach. As the last chunk of fresh meat slithers down her throat, she hears something. Rustle, rustle, snap! Clarke jumps to attention, ripping her knife from the dirt beneath her. She holds the silver before her, in a fighting stance. Her legs are spread shoulder width apart and she is crouched slightly. She takes slow, cautious steps towards the source of the noise. She hears nothing as her feet guide her towards a clear lake.

Her stealth is not lost as she creeps towards the water, suddenly noticing how dry her throat is. She hasn't forgotten about the noise and she won't. She just needs a drink. She glares down into the water, so clear, she would be able to see schools of fish, swimming in the bottom of the lake, if it wasn't for her own reflection, blocking her view. She sighs, lowering her only weapon to her side. Shame seeps into her body and takes hold of every bone, every organ.

What she sees, it's not Clarke. This is not who she is. Her hair is stained red, from the many hunted animals she had killed. It is matted, from sleeping in the dirt for so long. She didn't know how long, she had lost track of time out here, in the woods. Her face, smeared with dirt, harboured many cuts and bruises, but this is not new to Clarke. She begins to think, why her? Why had she been the one that Finn had fallen in love with? Why had she been the one chosen to lead the people of the Ark? Why had she been the one to pull that stupid lever? Why had she been the one to fall in love with The Commander? Her sky blue eyes begin to water and she wants to leave, but not before she drinks. She leans in close to the water's edge, lowering filthy hands into the clean water below. The water turns brown from the filth covering her hands, but she brings it up to her lips anyway, gulping the water until she loses breath. She stands, confusion swallowing her as the sounds of the forest slip away. Silence. She turns, to face the barrel of a gun.

"Don't move."

"Bellamy?" Clarke squints her eyes, protecting them from the blinding light of the sun. She takes a step towards him.

"I said don't move!" He yelps, his hands trembling around the gun. "Get her."

Clarke is stunned as two young men grab either of her arms, pulling her towards the man with the gun. She begins to struggle, but is stopped when the butt of the gun collides with the joints of her knee. She falls to the floor momentarily before being dragged to her blistered feet by the two men either side of her. She looks to them, confusion lacing her features. Bellamy? He was kind of an arsehole when they landed in the dropship, but he is okay now, he looks out for Clarke. He may have just lost himself again but the two boys, they had always been so sweet. Why would they do this to her? She notices that Bellamy is several paces ahead and opens her mouth to speak.

"Monty, Jasper, what's going on?"

Monty shakes his head sadly, "Chancellor Finn requested we come find you and bring you home."

"Chancellor Finn?" How could this happen? Clarke is devastated. She thought it was bad before…

"A lot has changed since you left us, Clarke." It is Bellamy's turn to speak now, and Clarke doesn't appreciate the direct dig towards her. "Finn has been appointed Chancellor."

"I get that." Clarke responds, with a roll of her eyes, "But how?"

"Everyone believes that he destroyed the mountain," Jasper scoffs, "And those who don't, were bullied into voting for the douche."

"Why does everyone think that?" Clarke questions, her blood running cold.

"That's what he's telling everyone. With you gone, there's no one to question him. It's mine and Monty's word against his and you know how much your mum and Kane adore him." Bellamy turns his nose up as he speaks. "They think he's so perfect."

Clarke gulps, tears slipping down her cheeks at the realisation of what this means for her. Finn has no evidence but neither do they, it was impossible for their people to see Clarke and Bellamy from the control room. He will punish her for leaving and she hates Bellamy for listening to him. She hates Bellamy for not sticking up for her, for himself. She hates Bellamy, but she should hate Finn. Bellamy has never hurt her, in anyway, yet she hates him because she can't hate Finn. Clarke drags her feet through the dirt in the woods, the boys no longer holding onto her so tightly. She sees Bellamy's jaw clench and guesses that he must be thinking.

"What are you thinking about?" Clarke asks, unable to contain her curiosity.

"Nothing." His voice is so icy, so cold that Clarke decides not to press any further.

What Clarke doesn't know, is Bellamy is thinking of her. He's worried what will happen to Clarke when she returns. He wonders how Clarke will react when she finds out what Finn has been doing while she's been gone. He worries for Clarke's physical and mental wellbeing. He hates himself just as much as Clarke hates him. He didn't want to come and find Clarke, he'd rather be at home with Octavia. It's not that he doesn't care about Clarke, it's the exact opposite, she needs space and as long as she's away from Finn, she's safe. Pulling himself from his thoughts, he speaks.

"It's getting dark, we should rest."

No one says anything as the boys begin to set up their tents and Bellamy does the same. He fumbles with the fabric, frustration evident in his expression. He cannot fix this thing. Clarke chuckles quietly to herself, walking over to Bellamy and silently extending her hand. Bellamy looks up at her, exhaling, as he hands over the tent. With one sharp flick of her wrists, the tent is up. She sends a smug smile hurling towards Bellamy as he huffs and begins securing it to the ground. Clarke takes it upon herself to pull two sleeping bags from Bellamy's bag, launching one at the man's head. He chuckles, pulling the fabric from his face and Clarke allows herself a small smile. He gestures towards the tent, mockingly taking a bow.

"After you, Sky Princess."

Clarke smacks him round the back of the head before clambering into the open tent, Bellamy not far behind her.

"I'm sorry, I didn't bring any spare clothes, I didn't realise you'd be this dirty," he chuckles.

The two lay side-by-side as Clarke flicks him in the ear. "Why did you come for me?"

"Clarke-,"

"I don't want to fight, Bell. I just want to know why you didn't stand your ground."

Bellamy is ready for a fight, he doesn't want to talk to Clarke about this. Then he looks at her, and sees the pain in her eyes. She doesn't want to know, she needs too.

"Ever since you left," he sighs, "Finn thinks he can do what he wants, have anything he wants. He's relentless Clarke. He's Chancellor and anyone who disobeys his orders…"

"What?" Clarke is wide-eyed and afraid.

"Is dead."

Clarke doesn't know why, but she rests her head on his shoulder. She has always felt comfortable with Bellamy. There are no feelings there, her heart belongs to someone else, and she feels that it always has, but Bellamy is like a brother to her. She hopes he feels the same. He doesn't move and Clarke slowly drifts into the most comfortable, yet worst sleep she has ever experienced on the ground. She dreams of Finn proposing, something that should be wonderful, but is terrifying. She dreams of The Commander leaving her alone, in the middle of a battlefield, when she needs her the most. She dreams of pulling the lever with Bellamy. She dreams of orphaned kittens and she dreams of Camp Jaha, under Finn's control, shrouded by destruction.

"Clarke, wake up," she feels someone shaking her.

"C'mon, we gotta go." Bellamy whispers as he pulls her to her feet.

"What's happening?" She croaks, her voice dripping with sleep.

"Just, grab your sleeping bag and meet me outside."

Clarke quickly gathers what little equipment she has, throwing it outside of the tent, for Bellamy to pack. She scrambles out of the tent, collapsing it quickly and helping Bellamy shove it messily into his rucksack. They begin walking, Jasper and Monty only paces behind them. They don't need to hold onto Clarke anymore, they trust that she will not run from them, for their own safety.

"Bell, what's going on?" Clarke's voice is thick with concern.

"We have to be back in two hours."

"But the Ark is a three hour walk from here." She reminds him.

"I know a shortcut."

The rest of the walk to Camp Jaha is spent in silence, all four of the travellers too scared to speak in case it would slow them down. The Ark is in sight and they want to run, the three boys toward The Ark and Clarke, away from it. Clarke finds herself wondering what would happen to them if they were late. She looks down at the watch her father had given her. They have fifteen minutes. All four begin to pick up their pace until they are standing outside the gates. The gates creak open, painfully slowly, to reveal an all too familiar face.

"Hello, my love."