He was excited for his roving duty, but he had one more stop to make after grabbing a makeshift lunch. Bellamy found Octavia near the garden, and he jogged up to her as he buttoned his jacket. "O," he said unceremoniously, then paused when he saw her brooding face.

"What? Is this about Lincoln's jacket?"

Her sneer and side eye were enough to answer that question.

Bellamy cleared his throat. "Hey uh...I have a question to ask you. Something Lincoln mentioned to me."

"What is it?" She began walking along the planted row of corn, Bellamy lengthening his stride to keep her fast pace.

"You ever look at any of the mapping or notes we've started collecting?"

"Why would I do that?" she was still sulking. Bellamy ducked under a leaning cornstalk.

"Well, I mapped something the last time I was out two days ago. Lincoln...acted strange about it."

"I'm listening."

"Down in that valley, the one with a lot of animals? We used to set traps there but they kept disappearing. Not a lot of Grounders…"

"I know the place. What about it?"

"Well, I found way up on a hill, some kind of door. Looks like it might be reachable with the right equipment. Up on some rocks?"

Now Octavia paused, and in surprise, turned toward him. "Wait. A really high door. Was there a window? Handprints on the rocks below?"

"I didn't notice any handprints, but yeah," he responded. Why was he so excited?

"Lincoln has a drawing of it in his book," she nodded, now mildly interested despite herself. "He told me about it. Said I should avoid it."

"What's up there?"

Octavia shook her head, ponytail whipping across her ears. "He wouldn't really say. Something about that it was a sacred spot for Trikru, home of the Chicakeryon...one of their legends or whatever."

"Chica-keryon?"

"It means talking spirit...or something like that. A forest god that speaks to animals and Trikru. And apparently an angry one who likes to be left alone." She paused, bending to pick up an apple, presumably for Helios, and put it in her bag. "At one time I guess the whole area was walled off, but the walls fell. They're marked though, I've seen them. Trikru avoids them."

"That explains why he wouldn't talk much about it," Bellamy retorted, and he heard Pike call from far across the field. "Hey Blake, you gettin' started on that run yet?"

"Gotta go," he patted Octavia's arm, but just as Bellamy was happy to rush back to the rover, Octavia turned, her stormy expression growing.

"Bellamy."

"Yeah?"

"Whatever's out there? Just do what Lincoln says and leave it alone. We've got enough problems with Grounder conflict already."

This stopped him, and he blinked. "Yeah. Of course. I was just curious."

She gave him one final unconvinced stare before turning away.

Bellamy ignored his own projected route and simply drove by memory to the grove where the crow had shown him the cliff tower. He parked the rover and ducked as he exited, already scanning for the nearly hidden architecture. He had a strange feeling it would be gone, a figment of his imagination, but there it was, hidden atop the rocks, far above him. He grinned, giddy.

Octavia's 'explanation' had spooked him; he was silent on the drive, imagining some ferocious beast from the stories he'd read. A minotaur, maybe. Or a nymph. Or a cyclops. It was just like the Greek tales, people frightened out of an area by something they both worshipped and feared. The rifle at his hip took away most of his anxiety about a beast or animal, and the lure of the unknown drew him forward. Something was up there, even if it was just memories or bones. A secret.

He wasn't too far from the remains of the zoo, he remembered as he briskly approached the cliff. It was a dangerous area to lurk in, and it was definitely possible that some strange, irradiated monstrosity had taken up refuge in whatever the original shelter was supposed to house. Maybe that was another reason for the makeshift walls in the area, the moss-covered bricks of which Octavia spoke of.

Bellamy paused near the cliff's edge and looked straight up. Smooth, slippery, wet rock. Ferns and moss poked out of crevices. Water trickled down these breakups, and a small pebble-filled pond laced the rocky edges in front of him. The water was clear, and he could see his own dark shadow reflected in the sparse light. His boots splashed through the shallow liquid, breaking up his shadow, and Bellamy craned his neck, glancing up and down the rock wall. Then he noticed something closer-wedged into the rock wall in front of him, ten feet to his right: a small altar of sorts, bearing a smudged logo of Trikru and, as Octavia mentioned, white painted handprints lining the rock nearby. Bits and baubles lay on the altar, obvious offerings to, Bellamy could only assume, the talking spirit.

He scanned the altar. Uneaten food. Crude bowls. Crystal rocks. A large jawbone of some kind. Homemade wax candles. A bear paw. A necklace. Salvaged coins, some so irradiated that they almost glowed.

Bellamy looked back up. It was a stupid idea, all right. No equipment, no ladders, no rope, no nothing...but he felt that he had to at least try. Just as he slung the rifle over his back, tightening the strap so it wouldn't slip against him as he climbed, the crow circled above him, appearing from behind the ridge, cawing as though in disapproval.

"What? It's your fault I even found this place." He was talking to birds, on top of attempting to climb over six stories with no safety. Certifiably crazy. He could only imagine what Clarke's response would be. But it was the happiest Bellamy had felt in...well….awhile.

The crow landed on the windowsill above and cawed again, almost humorously. At least the bird was talking back.

"Well, you were supposed to show me the key," he grunted as he found makeshift holes for his feet. Bellamy labored through another step, now maybe fifteen feet off the ground. "That would've preven-"

Suddenly another noise caught his attention, and he paused, hands stuck in rock cracks. Bellamy flung his head upward, black curls cascading off his forehead. The door on the cliff swung open above him, and he only saw a pale figure for several seconds before everything turned to grey-he gagged, mouth full of water-from above him a huge wave of water crashed down, and Bellamy's hands involuntarily sprang up to guard his face. He flew backwards and downward, landing in the same small pond he'd just trekked through, coughing and sputtering at the burning water.

Soaking wet, he gagged and coughed, but then quickly remembered to scramble backwards in case another unfriendly barrage hit him, and now he blinked through still-stinging eyes. Was he hallucinating? As soon as he had the thought, he heard a strange sound. A musical laugh.

He wiped the water from his eyes. Then yelled, "HEY!" almost affronted, as though pride were important when facing an unknown enemy.

The figure paused and his vision cleared enough to get a better look. And then Bellamy's dark eyes widened. In the shadowy doorway the figure leaned even farther forward. She was …..naked? Dark curtains of wet hair lined her neck, shoulders, chest, and clung to her sides. He was too flabbergasted to even take in this image when she called down to him.

"You're lucky now! I gave you the old bath water!" Bellamy was so confused. She sounded so modern. Not tribal at all. And she had spoken English straight away. This definitely was no Triku warrior. He stared, mouth open, for several seconds. All he could sputter out, as his brain screamed at him to reply, was, "LUCKY?"

"That's right," she nodded, and the crow seemed to chuckle beside her. "The fresh bath water is scalding. Don't make me use it! Go away!"

The door slammed, and the crow chuckled again.

Still stunned, he slowly rose to his feet, mentally checking that nothing was broken or in pain-no, still just his pride-and Bellamy stood at the foot of the rock cliff.