Clarke dreamt of embers dancing across her skin. She dreamt of feathered touches that were just barely felt across her flesh. She dreamt of pain, of anger, of searing heat, too hot for her to understand, too intense for her to ignore. She dreamt of screams, of burning flesh that bubbled, cracked and roasted, blackened and charred before her very eyes. She dreamt of sights she wished never to see again and she dreamt of smells she wished to never smell.
But somewhere deep in the corners of her sleeping mind she dreamt of quickened breath, shallow breath, eager and wanting breath. She dreamt of fears eased by the ghosting of a hand across her neck, of fingers that took hold of her face ever so subtly. She dreamt of things she dared not accept, dared not imagine.
But she dreamt.
Clarke woke to the morning of a new day. She woke to her head resting against a soft pillow and to a fur wrapped around her shoulders. Day streamed in through the window, its ray just the barest slivers of the sun. Light particles danced before her, each little speck of light enough to steal her attention. And perhaps in the moment before she truly woke, Clarke could forget the horrors of her life, she could forget the pains that seemed to ravage her sleeping mind, could even imagine she lived somewhere with friend and family, partner or companion. But she knew life was not so kind.
And so Clarke rolled onto her back for just a moment, enough that she could steady the odd sense of anxiousness she felt building in her chest. It seemed to subside as quickly as it had begun, but for why, she could not tell.
She pulled the furs from her body, she embraced the cold of the morning and she let out the barest hints of a gasp as her naked feet touched the cool of the wood floor. But this, too, she embraced. If only because it let her know she lived, and that she was alive.
And what more could she ask for?
Perhaps a lot.
Clarke walked out of what had seemingly become her room to find Nessa sitting at the main table, the knife Dhorma had given her held in one hand, her old one laying not far from her across the table. Her other hand was splayed out over the table top. It took Clarke a second before she realised what Nessa was about to do before the girl started to stab the knife down between her fingers to the rhythm of a tune she began to hum.
Maybe it was the shock of the situation, the way the knife seemed far too large for the girl, or the ease and simplicity in which she let the knife stab down between her fingers, but Clarke couldn't help but to gasp out in shock, in fear, in a want to try to stop the girl from hurting herself.
But Nessa looked up to the sound, knife halfway jabbed between her thumb and index finger, smiled and let the knife stick into the table with a thud.
"Hi, Klark," Nessa said as she pulled the knife free and slipped it into place on her hip.
"Good morning," and perhaps Clarke felt just a little numbed at the ease in Nessa's movements, in the way she seemed so familiar with a knife. But Clarke shook her head, dismissed that odd feeling tugging at the back of her mind and she came to sit down opposite Nessa.
"Nomon is outside," Nessa said as she swivelled in her chair and let her hands tap against the table top as she eyed the clothes that sat just a little oddly upon Clarke's shoulders.
"What time is it?" Clarke asked, and perhaps for the very first time, she realised she didn't quite know the way Nessa and the others would keep time.
"Early," Nessa shrugged as she looked out the window and squinted before glancing at a candle. "Sunrise was two candles ago."
"Ah," and Clarke couldn't help but to smile as the girl's head cocked to the side, as a braid fell across her nose, and as her face scrunched up in annoyance as it began to itch.
"Nomon will want to go hunting soon," Nessa said as she pushed a small bowl of fruits towards Clarke. "We have enough food already, but it is good weather and it is always better to have more," and Nessa paused for a moment as she seemed to remember, to recall something from her past. "It is not good to run out."
"What do you need me to do?" Clarke asked as she pulled the furs of her collar more tightly against her neck as the wind crept through the room.
"I will show you," Nessa said with a smile. "We will fish with the bow," and she frowned as she turned and seemed to search for it. "I know what to do now," and she turned back to Clarke with a toothy smile and a nod of self assurance. "So I will show you."
It was late morning by the time Clarke stepped into the wild of the lands. The leathers and furs she wore seemed to fit awkwardly upon her shoulders despite the way they hugged her body. The boots she wore just barely fit, but she couldn't complain about having clothes that were clean, that were well cared for.
And so she took in a deep breath, blinked back the sun that glinted in her vision and she took a moment to appreciate what little of the world's beauty she dared embrace.
Nessa walked before her, the girl's large bow strapped over her shoulder, a quiver of arrows hanging from her hip. Alexandria walked just barely ahead, the woman's gaze turned outwards and to the trees.
Alexandria, bow strapped over her own shoulders, had been outside hanging clothes to dry when Clarke and Nessa had left their home, and not for the first time Clarke couldn't help but to feel a little saddened that even a task as simple as hanging washed clothes required those of the ground to carry weapon with them at all times.
But now, as Alexandria walked ahead, eyes peering outwards, hand holding her bow and drawn arrow, Clarke thought the woman comfortable, familiar with the steps she took.
Nessa walked behind her mother, the girl's steps shadowing every motion Alexandria made, and Clarke couldn't help but to think the scene charming, to think that she intruded just a little on something that she was sure Alexandria cherished, if only because the woman would look back every so often and smile at Nessa before turning back outwards and to the forest that sprawled out around them.
But perhaps, above all those thoughts that drifted through Clarke's mind, was the fact that Clarke knew she did little to help in their stalking, in their hunting. And she knew she did little with each quiet snap of a stick or crunch of a leaf underfoot that seemed to follow every step she took.
"Sorry," she whispered as another leaf crunched too loudly around them.
But Clarke didn't think Nessa cared, if only because she girl turned back to her with a smile and a toothy grin that seemed so very removed from the way she stalked through the forest with a bow and drawn arrow, and a knife that glinted and seemed far too dangerous for any child to possess, hanging from her belt.
"It is ok, Klark," Alexandria said as she came to a pause and crouched down beside a bush.
"It's ok?" and Clarke couldn't help but to notice just how out of breath she felt whilst Alexandria and Nessa both seemed at ease.
"I did not expect to catch prey in the forests," and Alexandria smiled. "But it is good practice to stalk even when it is not required."
"I see," and Clarke wondered if each step Nessa and Alexandria made was purposeful, was thought of, considered carefully, or whether it was done with unconscious effort, with little worry and years of experience.
"Now come," Alexandria said as she rose to her feet again. "The river is close."
True to her word the river wasn't far. The bubbling and trickling of the water filled the air, and Clarke found herself standing upon a bed of pebbles that stretched out along its sides. Splashes could be seen in the deeper parts, where the water flowed more quickly. Birds seemed to sing more loudly and the forest seemed to come alive with each passing moment.
"I will show you what to do," Nessa said as she turned to face Clarke, and she couldn't help but to feel just a little excitement, if only because she wondered just how she would go about catching fish with the bow.
"Hush, Nessa," Alexandria said as she eyed the water for a moment.
"I can do it now, nomon," Nessa said as she put her hands on her hips. "I know where to aim."
"Is that so?" Alexandria said, and Clarke couldn't fight back the slightest of smiles at the way Nessa nodded sagely.
"Come, Klark," Nessa said as she turned to her. "I will show you."
And perhaps it was the ease in which Nessa spoke, perhaps it was the way in which Nessa seemed to expect Clarke to simply follow, to pay attention, to learn, but whatever it was, Clarke found herself falling into the moment, she found herself embracing the experience, if only because it took her mind off her darker thoughts.
"We don't need to take our shoes off?" Clarke asked as she eyed the way Nessa already began to wade into the shallows of the river.
"No," Alexandria answered as she looked down at Clarke's boots. "The furs and leathers will help keep water from our skin," she said as she lifted her foot and waved it around them for a moment. "But tuck your pants into the boots before you enter the water."
Clarke did as she was told, all the while Nessa seemed to be watching her with eager intent.
"Now come, Klark," Nessa said as she beckoned her forward and into the water's shallows.
And so Clarke found herself standing beside Nessa as Alexandria watched from the shoreline. Nessa drew an arrow from the quiver tied to her belt and she knocked it to her bow and began to draw back ever so slowly as her gaze settled upon the water's surface.
Clarke's gaze followed Nessa's, and as she looked more closely, she found that she saw the shadows of fish that swam to and fro, that journeyed through the flowing current, and some were large, some were small, and Clarke thought their colours to be vibrant, she thought their scales to be a deep warmth.
Memories of the first time she had found water came to the surface though, and she couldn't help but to grimace at the memory of the serpent-like beast that had attacked Octavia, that had threatened to drag her into the depths and consume her whole.
"The water makes it harder to see where the fish is," Nessa's voice broke through her thoughts quietly, and Clarke looked back to the girl beside her to see that she was tracking one fish in particular, the pointed tip of the arrow glinting in the sunlight as she kept the large bow steady in her grasp.
Not for the first time Clarke found herself thinking it just a little sad that Nessa seemed just as comfortable with the bow as she did, that she had been so familiar with a bladed weapon that she made a game of stabbing between her fingers in time to a rhythm that sounded more lullaby and childhood song than war-beat.
"You must aim in front of the fish," Nessa continued, and Clarke couldn't help but to smile just a little at the concentration she saw upon Nessa's face. "Or you will miss," and Nessa took in a shallow breath, her breathing stilled. And then she fired.
Clarke's eyes snapped forward with the arrow, the sun glinted off its pointed tip, and she watched as it sliced through the air and struck the water's surface with barely a splash. Nessa let out a hiss of annoyance though, and Clarke saw the shadow of a fish dart away. Nessa seemed to deflate as the ripples of water ebbed from existence, but Alexandria's presence broke through her thoughts.
"Nessa," Alexandria said quietly as she stood beside the girl, her own bow and arrow readied. "You must remember that what you see, and where the fish appears to be, is never the same," and she drew back just a little further, the creak of the bowstring all Clarke heard. "The further away it is, the less you need to adjust your aim," and Alexandria smiled slightly as Nessa humphed a deflated response.
Alexandria paused for just another moment, and then she fired.
And once more Clarke's gaze snapped forward with the arrow, and she watched as it struck the water's surface with hardly a splash. But this time she saw the shaking of the fish, she saw the red that began to seep outwards, and she knew Alexandria had aimed true.
Clarke looked down as she felt a slight tug on the furs she wore, and she smiled as she saw Nessa look up at her with admiration and awe.
"Nomon is very good at hunting."
Clarke couldn't remember if she had ever eaten fish since coming to the ground, she didn't even know if she actually knew what fish tasted like. But as she sat at the large wooden table, she found her gaze drawn to the roasted fish that lay atop a large plate, its flesh steaming, grilled, spiced and aromatic.
Perhaps for just a moment she couldn't help but to think the fish reminded her of times she would rather forget, of memories she would rather never remember, but those pains, those anguishes, were quickly discarded as Nessa pulled her chair closer to where she sat.
And though Clarke didn't bring it up, she was sure Nessa normally sat at the other end of the table, if only because she could see little points of the table's surface had been chipped away in five evenly spaced apart places. But, as she looked down at Nessa, as she returned the girl's smile with her own, she couldn't help but to think the company she kept as soothing, as something good for her mind.
And so Clarke forced her worries away as she fell into conversation with Nessa and Alexandria, and through it all, she found herself thinking that she could live like this, with no judgement and little guilt for a very, very long time.
Clarke dreamt of broken bodies, of blood pooled in the corners of metal carts. She dreamt of body parts, of bile, sinew and torn flesh that clung to the surface of rock. She dreamt of growling, of terror, of being trapped and smothered by the stench of death.
But most of all, she dreamt of guilt, she dreamt of regret, of things she wished she had done differently, of actions and choices she should have done. She even dreamt of faces she had thought little of in days, of people she had once known, had cared for, had hated, feared, reviled and loved.
Her sleeping mind seemed to reach out for purchase in the fibres of her body for she thought herself shaking, she thought herself crumbling, trembling and thrashing out for release, for salvation, for something to wrestle away the pains and the fury she felt for the world.
And she hated, she hated, she hated, she ha—
Clarke's eyes snapped open with a gasp of shock. Darkness had settled around herself, her sleep furs lay bundled at her waist, and the prickle of the night's air pimpled her exposed flesh and made her shiver, shake and breathe a broken breath.
"Klark," the whisper came from somewhere beside her, its tone full of care, of warmth. Of familiarity.
"Le—" but no. It couldn't, and wouldn't be, and so Clarke shook her head and let her eyes adjust to the dimmed light that enveloped her.
Nessa knelt down beside her bed, the young girl's hair dishevelled, sleep tussled and wild. Sleep clothes lay draped over her slender frame, and her eyes were wide with worry as she held a small candle up enough that the light chased away some of the darkness around them.
"Nessa?" and Clarke blinked back the image before her.
"You were crying," Nessa whispered quietly, and Clarke felt a pang of guilt as she realised she must have dreamt a terrible dream, must have cried out in her sleep and woken the girl.
"I'm sorry," Clarke whispered, and she felt it, so very much. If only because she wished not to let Nessa be exposed to the horrors of her mind. "I didn't mean to wake you."
"It is ok," Nessa said simply as she sat upon the floor and pulled a fur blanket around herself, motions cautious of the burning candle. "I have bad dreams sometimes, too," Nessa continued quietly. "I thought that maybe you would like company," the girl finished with a bashful smile.
And that made Clarke's heart ache, it made her want to reach out and hug the girl, shield her from the things Clarke hoped no other person should be forced to face.
"I just have bad dreams sometimes," Clarke said, and she propped herself up on an elbow as she rolled over to face Nessa fully.
"Do you want to talk?" Nessa asked, and though her eyes were wide, though they seemed so full of youth, Clarke thought she sensed an understanding somewhere deep within them.
And perhaps Clarke shouldn't think of Nessa as the child she was, if only because she knew the girl to have lived a life of loss already, to have been prepared for a future full of surviving, where seeing the sunrise was never a given.
"I've done things," Clarke said, and though she wished not to relive what she had done fully, though she wished not to think too long, perhaps talking, however abstractly she could, would be more helpful than allowing her pains to fester and grow. "Things I wish I could have done differently," and she shook her head enough to clear the tears that threatened to break free. "My father died," Clarke continued, and she couldn't help but to wonder if Nessa ever imagined her own father, or if she remembered her sister who had left behind a mother and a younger sister to a life full of isolation and lonely loss. "And sometimes I blame myself," Clarke said. "Sometimes I question whether I should have done things differently," and she couldn't help but to feel the weight of her father's watch against her wrist, the sole thing she had kept on her person since being given new clothes.
"Nomon says we must learn from our actions," Nessa said quietly, and Clarke watched as the girl looked away in thought. "She says that even if we make a mistake, that it is a lesson, something we can use to make next time better," and she smiled a smile full of belief. "Sometimes I wish I did things differently, too," and she nodded. "But I know it just means I must do better next time."
And perhaps Clarke thought Nessa spoke of hunting, or maybe she gave the girl not enough credit, for she thought she sensed more to Nessa's words than what had been heard. And perhaps she could also be forgiven for thinking the girl older in moments like this, if only because she seemed to sense a wisdom, an understanding, or perhaps an acceptance, deep within.
"I worry for Dhorma," Nessa continued. "I know he is a warrior, but still I worry," and Clarke couldn't help but to think Nessa's lip trembled ever so slightly. "I have known him my entire life and I know he must fight when he is called to fight, and I know he must leave us each week to serve his clan," and Nessa wiped her hand across her face, she sniffled, and Clarke thought the motion spoke of years of regret, of longing and love. "That is why I try to be better at firing the bow each day. That is why I try to be good at hunting. So that I can provide for nomon and myself. So that Dhorma can stay longer. Maybe if I do some of what he must do then he can stay longer," and Nessa sniffled once more.
And it broke Clarke's heart to hear Nessa speak of her longings, of how she seemed to simply want a friend, someone who she could call father, could speak with, to confide in, to share in the company of.
"And my sister," Nessa continued, and at that Clarke couldn't help but to feel just a little surprise. "I do not see her often at all," and Nessa's hand fell to her waist, where Clarke now saw two knives were strapped, the one Dhorma had given her, and her older one, smaller, edge more worn and used. "I wish she came more."
And perhaps it was intrigue, perhaps it was surprise or shock, but Clarke couldn't help but to wonder why Alexandria hadn't brought up the older sister, had seen fit to leave her unmentioned, or maybe not. If only because Clarke knew not what may have happened, what could have happened. Or what was simply a sore topic, something full of loss, of acceptance that a daughter would be called to fight and not return.
"What's she like?" Clarke asked, and she watched as Nessa smiled and wiped the back of her hand across her eyes once more.
"She is the best warrior," Nessa said. "She is the fiercest warrior. Beautiful, strong, kind," and Nessa nodded to herself.
"You've seen her fight?" Clarke asked, and she wondered when it was that Nessa must have last seen an older sister.
But Nessa looked away in thought, in worry.
"No," Nessa said. "Never," and she seemed to deflate just a little. "But she leads many warriors in battle so she must be the best," Nessa continued. "She was at the Mountain, you would have seen her," and Clarke wondered if the older sister was a general, someone she had spoken to in war meeting, had argued with, had seen kill reaper with ease. "But she has her duty," Nessa sighed quietly. "So I do not see her often," and those words came out more quietly, more full of longing and loss and want.
"I'm sure she cares for you," Clarke said, and she believed it for she could think of no one who would not care for Nessa. "And I'm sure she misses you each day, Nessa, even if she has a duty to her people," and Clarke reached out and squeezed Nessa shoulder for a moment.
And so Nessa smiled, leant into the touch just a little.
"But now you are here," Nessa said. "So we will be friends. I can continue to show you everything. And we will become good at hunting together," and Clarke looked down to see Nessa pulling out her old knife slowly, fingers careful in the dark. "And friends must look out for each other," the girl continued a little more reverently now as she held out her knife, handle towards Clarke. "I have had this for as long as I can remember," and it took Clarke a moment to realise that Nessa was offering the knife to her. "When I am scared or sad my knife made me feel safe," Nessa said. "But now I have a new one," and she looked down to the other knife tucked against her waist. "You have bad dreams," Nessa said, and her voice came out soft, blunt but innocent. "So I thought my knife could be your knife," and she smiled a shy smile.
And so Clarke couldn't help but to smile, couldn't help but to banish the fears that lurked in the recesses of her mind, and she reached forward and took a hold of the knife as carefully as she could.
"I'll keep it with me forever," Clarke said, and she meant it, she meant it so very much. "Thank you, Nessa."
"We are friends," Nessa answered with a bashful shrug before continuing with a smile, "and friends help each other when they are afraid."