Welcome back everyone! Exciting times here: the fic has reached double-digit chapters! Wahoo!
What a scary episode this week. Glad to see ghost stories still exist in a post-nuclear fallout space colony. And Sinclair! NO! He's always protected and helped the kids, I'm so upset to lose him ):
There's a lot of plot points/questions in this chapter that you might have to dig at to figure out. But everything will become clearer as we go on! For now, enjoy a little mystery ;)
Warm thank-yous to everyone who's reviewed the story! I live for your comments and they are the highlights of my week.
Without further ado, onto the Great Migration!
"Make sure her hands and feet are covered! And her head! She'll lose a lot of heat there," Abby instructed.
Clarke was up on the wagon strapping in all of the sick people who couldn't walk. Her mother was referring to Octavia, who Lincoln had just brought out. She hadn't woken up yet, which wasn't exactly a great sign, but she wasn't feverish either. The biggest concern during the move was going to be exposure. Clarke was busy making sure everyone was as tightly packed as possible, and tucked in as much as possible. To keep them all warm, and to keep them all immobile during the trip.
Camp Jaha was a mess. People were shouting and running around, many of them panicked and on the verge of tears at the thought of leaving their safe home on the ground. Many of the Arc people hadn't been more than a mile away from Camp the entire time they'd been on the ground.
They were nearing an hour of hard work and rushed packing, and it finally looked like they were getting somewhere. Lexa's camp had been packed up and was ready to move out in much shorter time, and with a lot more finesse. Now there were some grounders walking throughout the camp offering to help, and more often than not they were being rudely turned away.
"Abby!" Wick called, jogging through the packed snow and dragging a furious Raven with him.
"What's wrong?" her mother asked. Clarke kept her head down but paid attention to the conversation.
"Raven needs a place on a wagon," Wick said, "with her leg she can't—"
"I can walk just fine," Raven snapped, "so mind your own business."
"I do need someone to keep an eye on the sick," Abby said.
"Then you do it," Raven said, "I'm fine."
Abby shook her head, "I'm walking at the back of the group. I have to make sure no one falls behind."
"Raven," Wick said in a tone that made Clarke's stomach lurch. He really cared about her. She could remember times when Finn had talked to her like that—saying one word but saying so much more. I love you. Let me help you.
"I'm an engineer, not a nanny," Raven muttered, and crossed her arms across her chest. But it was clear she was giving in.
Clarke decided to jump in, and sat up so that she could be seen from their vantage point, "I'll get you a gun, Raven. You'll be our guard."
Raven considered this for a moment and then nodded sullenly, "At least I'll be useful." Clarke took that as a small victory for herself. At least Raven hadn't turned her down just to show she was still mad.
"You're always useful," Abby insisted.
"And a pain in my ass," Wick laughed, and he leaned down to kiss her. Clarke turned away so she didn't have to see it. The phantom pain of Finn's absence felt too real and she needed something to do to keep herself from remembering all that she was missing. And everything she'd never have. She left to get Raven a gun without looking back.
By the time Clarke had finished arguing with the guards for Raven to have her own firearm, the camp was ready to move. That wasn't entirely correct—there was so much they were leaving behind simply because they didn't have the space to load it all with all of the sick, injured, young and elderly that needed to ride on the wagons too. It was embarrassing how badly Clarke felt she'd failed in getting her people organized.
Raven was perched near the front of the wagon, sitting with her back to the grounder who was going to be driving. Clarke propped herself up with a foot in the axis of the wheel, and handed the gun over to Raven.
"Here," she said, "keep them safe. If anything happens—"
"Both your mom and Jackson, as well as you, are in earshot. I got it," Raven snatched the gun.
Clarke felt stung at the dismissal and hopped down without a word.
"Clarke," Raven called, and she leaned over the edge of the wagon. Her face softened and she smiled softly, "thanks, for this." She held up the gun.
"You're a good shot," Clarke smiled back, "take care of them."
"Do not use the fayogon," Lexa growled beside Clarke. Clarke nearly jumped out of her skin, and Raven's smile instantly became a snarl and she retreated back into the wagon. Clarke accepted that small victory: Raven was trying to avoid Lexa so she didn't start a fight, hopefully out of respect that she was Clarke's fiancé. And Bellamy's.
"We know how to keep a low profile," Clarke said.
Lexa was eyeing the spot where Raven's face had last been, and she slowly turned her gaze to face Clarke. She'd put on her war paint again. Up close again, Clarke realized that it might not be paint after all. Lexa's blood was unusually dark, or at least it dried black if the well-faded and flaked off symbols on Clarke's and Bellamy's foreheads were anything to go by. Clarke wouldn't be surprised if she used her own blood as war paint.
"We should not be taking this route," Lexa said again.
"Bellamy and I decided," Clarke reminded her, "you were outvoted."
"Your democracy could get us all killed," Lexa said.
Clarke walked away from her, hoping to end the conversation there, but Lexa followed her. People were looking at them, they couldn't help but stare wherever Clarke, Lexa or Bellamy went with their red collars. Clarke slowed down so Lexa could walk beside her and decided that she wanted to be a little petty today.
"I thought you liked to fight, or are you used to running away now?" she hissed.
Lexa didn't flinch at the insult and it angered Clarke that she could brush off an accusation just like that.
"I pick my battles," Lexa said after a moment, "that is why I am still alive."
"And I finish your fights," Clarke growled, "so shut up and do what I tell you."
Lexa glared at her and Clarke glared right back. Part of her wanted Lexa to go for her sword, to give Clarke a reason to attack her. She would lose, most likely. Lexa had been trained from a young age to be a warrior, by Anya no less. Clarke didn't have that kind of experience, but she had a rage with the intensity of the sun inside of her and nowhere to release it.
"Heda," a familiar voice cut in, "the horses are ready."
Clarke and Lexa stopped for Po, who was standing at attention behind them. Clarke hoped he hadn't overheard them fighting.
"Where are you riding?" Clarke asked.
"I will lead the way," Lexa replied coolly, as if Clarke hadn't just insulted her seconds ago, "Clarke, ride with me."
Riding with Lexa had been one of Clarke's favorite things about their alliance. It had been one of the things that had led to her growing fond for the Commander. She couldn't stomach the idea of having to spend hours riding with Lexa now.
"I think Bellamy would love to ride with you," Clarke lied, "he loves horses. Besides, I have to stay with the sick to monitor them."
Clarke would much rather walk for hours in silence with Raven still angry with her than spend five more minutes pretending to be civil with Lexa.
Lexa's eyes glittered dangerously, "Let's ask him," she said.
Bellamy was sending Miller and Bryon on one last check around the Camp to make sure no one was left behind. He looked mad as Clarke and Lexa walked up to him. Clarke wasn't entirely happy to see him either. He'd been nothing but angry at her—for good reason, she'd gotten them into this mess—and also all but useless since he spent all his time sitting with his sister rather than helping keep the camp in order. Lexa had assigned him a lean, lanky towering waif of a guard, and all she did was stand around and glare at everyone. Clarke was happy that Po was much more helpful.
"What?" Bellamy snapped, and realized Po was following right behind them and tried to adjust his tone, "can I do for you two?"
"Lexa wants you to ride up front with her," Clarke explained, "the horse is ready to go."
"I hate horses," Bellamy said.
Lexa's expression didn't change, but Clarke knew she was laughing at her.
"I need to stay with the sick and keep an eye on everyone. Besides, with my bow, I'm best suited to guard everyone walking, not sitting out in front doing nothing," Clarke explained. There wasn't much she could actually do for the sick while they were on the move, but no one else needed to know that.
"No," Bellamy said, "I'm walking with the people. They need to see their leader on the ground with them."
"I'm their leader too," Clarke reminded him, "if anyone should be on the ground it needs to be me." If Bellamy walked while she and Lexa rode horses, a symbol of power and otherness, then it would only create a larger gap between Clarke and the people of the Arc.
"We have a horse for you too, Bellamy," Lexa explained.
Bellamy shook his head, "I'm not riding anything. I'm walking."
"I'm walking too," Clarke said.
"And let her lead the way?" Bellamy nodded at Lexa, "uh, alone? No, you should be there. To keep her company."
"No," Clarke insisted.
Bellamy held up his hands like he was helpless to do anything, and he had the same smug look on his face that he'd had when they first landed on earth and Clarke wanted to hit him, "Sorry Clarke, the horse is ready. Nothing I can do."
He backed off and left Clarke with Lexa.
"We must leave now," Lexa insisted, "we've wasted most of the morning getting your camp ready. There are not many more hours of sunlight left."
"Fine," Clarke snapped, "lets get going."
Clarke didn't win any favors walking her horse through camp and announcing that they were leaving. People were panicked and didn't know what to do or where to go, or they weren't moving fast enough and yelled at her for rushing them. There were too many sad faces: teary and terrified at the thought of leaving the Arc for the first time in their life.
Bellamy, Kane and her mother were all helping get people in line. There was a line of armed Arc guards herding people into a disorganized mass. Clarke moved her horse past them, mindful to keep her distance in case the horse stepped on anyone. She left the gates of Camp Jaha and made her way to the front of the column of people, where Lexa and her clan were waiting.
Lexa was wearing her black cloak with the hood drawn up. It made the green of her eyes stand out against her dark skin and caused her to look more like a beast perched on the back of her huge horse than a human.
"Well?" she asked, impatient. She wasn't even holding the reigns of her horse, and it was standing perfectly still. Clarke had always been a little jealous of Lexa's skills with her horse.
Clarke pulled up beside her, trying to pull to a stop with little effort. Her horse shuffled forwards in the snow and Clarke had to twist in the saddle to talk to Lexa.
"We're ready," Clarke confirmed, "my mom and Kane will make sure everyone keeps up."
"We have to drive them hard and fast. It will not be an easy trip," Lexa said, and turned to a fully-covered grounder near her, "sound the call. It's time to leave."
The grounder pulled back her shawl to reveal Indra's determined face. She nodded once to Lexa and took the horn from her belt and blew three short notes. Instantly the entire group got to their feet and started collecting their bags and provisions. Clarke envied the efficiency.
"Clarke," Lexa said, neutral in tone, "would you like to lead the way?"
Clarke's neck ached from twisting to look at Lexa, and her horse was ahead already. She took a moment to put on her head wrapping, covering her ears and chin and nose to protect from the cold. She didn't ask if Lexa was ready and kicked her heels into the horses' side and started off at a trot. Lexa's massive black horse caught up with her quickly.
"Perhaps you will want to conserve your energy," Lexa suggested, "our people are on foot, they would appreciate a slower pace."
Clarke was happy her face was covered so Lexa couldn't see her embarrassed flush. She should have known better than to charge ahead. It made her angry that Lexa set her up like that.
"You said we needed to hurry," Clarke responded instead of admitting her mistake.
Lexa narrowed her eyes briefly, turning away from Clarke to look at the trail ahead, "Hurry, yes. But drive them into the ground, no."
"Then you set the pace," Clarke muttered, "since you're so good at it."
"Mafta op ai," Lexa insisted.
Lexa was being dismissive, and altogether neutral, but still far too playful and friendly for Clarke's liking. She and Clarke had been close, once, but now things were different and Clarke would never forget what Lexa had done to them. To her. Just because they were going to be married didn't mean anything had changed.
Clarke's stomach lurched at the thought. Her horse crunched snow under its hooves, sure of its step even though Clarke could barely make out the trail. She let the reins go slack in her hand, as her horse was content to follow Lexa's horse, and turned in the saddle. Behind them, stretching out in a long line were their people. Grounders and the people of the Arc. There was an obvious gap between the two groups, with armed guards—including Bellamy, Clarke was sure—walking behind the grounders with their weapons drawn. Her people were still filing out of Camp Jaha, crowded around the wagons. Clarke couldn't spot her mother in the crowd, but knew she was somewhere in the back.
All the fires were out in the camp, something Clarke had never seen. There were no lights on in the Arc. They'd shut down all power, leaving only the emergency backups that could only be activated if certain parts were returned. Raven, Wick and Sinclair had closed the main airlocks, making the Arc virtually unusable to anyone but someone from the Arc. The camp, even though people were still walking out of the main gates, looked desolate. As if it knew it was being abandoned.
Clarke had never felt any loyalty to Camp Jaha. It had barely been her home. She still thought of the drop ship and the camp that the 100 delinquents had made when they first arrived on earth as her home. After leaving the drop ship she'd mostly been in Lexa's camp, and then on her own. Her heart wasn't breaking over leaving the camp like most other peoples were, and a part of Clarke felt bad that she didn't love their home like they did, but the other part of her was glad to put it behind her. It was the place where Finn died, where she'd killed him. She'd managed to stop tricking herself into seeing him while she was awake, and now maybe she could stop seeing him in her dreams.
Lexa led them into the trees, and Camp Jaha faded from sight.
Clarke tried to keep her distance from Lexa. It was bad enough that she was riding up front with the Commander, while her people travelled further back with Bellamy. They all probably thought she was siding with Lexa because of their previous alliance, and that Clarke was just abandoning them again. But not Bellamy, of course. Bellamy walked with them and didn't ride a horse like Clarke did. The thought made her grind her teeth in frustration. If she could have been back with her people she would be, but Bellamy was right. One of them needed to keep an eye on Lexa. It should have been him, but he was less concerned with forming a united front for their people and more concerned about making Clarke suffer for what she'd dragged both of them into.
It wasn't like she was happy about getting married to Lexa either. They'd had no other choice, backed into a corner like they were. They could have waged war against Lexa and lost many more lives, and let many more people get sick and die, or they agree to her terms and marry her. Clarke wondered if she could have lived with herself if they hadn't gone through with the engagement.
Clarke glared at the Commander. Her black winter cloak soaked up the light around her, making her appear as a living shadow from behind. With her space-black horse as well she looked like a nightmare come to life. Wells, Clarke remembered, had once been interested in an old Earth text that talked about the end of the world and the four horsemen who would accompany it. She couldn't remember all of their names, except for war and death. Lexa fit both those descriptions.
It would be too easy, from where she was, to take her small bow and fire an arrow into Lexa's chest. Or her head. Or maybe her spine, and let her suffer without being able to run so that all of the Arc people could take their turn cutting her like how the grounders did it.
"Clarke," Lexa turned in her saddle to look back at her, "join me."
They'd agreed to keep up pretences even in front of Lexa's people, so Clarke didn't argue. She sped her horse up and fell in line beside Lexa.
"What?" Clarke asked impatiently. She was just starting to forget the cold with her daydreaming.
"I have to say again that crossing the bridge is a terrible idea," Lexa explained, "our enemy expects us to take that route. Going around them is sure to buy us a few hours. Besides, Azgeda does not know our land like I do. They won't know there's another place to cross so they will be unable to guard it."
"It's still too warm for good ice to form, right?" Clarke asked, "and none of my people can swim. Your route is too dangerous. Bellamy was right. We have guns. That will drive them back."
"Your people have always had guns and yet you struggle daily to survive," Lexa insisted, "guns do not make you master of the world. You must have strategy to handle warfare."
"Your strategy doesn't make me feel very safe," Clarke snapped, "considering your strategy was to leave me behind, and force me to kill all those people."
Lexa, shockingly, looked humbled by Clarke's attack. She remained silent for a moment, staring ahead, before she said softly, "I did not make you kill those people."
"You did!" Clarke nearly shouted, "we had them. They would have surrendered and returned all of our people but you left—" she wanted to say me and her heart stuttered in horror at admitting that to Lexa, "you left my people to die."
Lexa turned her gaze to face Clarke now, but it wasn't the intensity Clarke was expecting.
"They offered me a deal. They deliver to me my people, and I retreat. Our plan was based on many weak theories, hopes and dreams that it would all go according to our plan. I was offered a guarantee that my people would be safe. For the price of strangers who had done nothing but antagonize me and court war, my people would be safe. Would you not have taken that deal too?" Lexa asked.
Clarke felt sick. She could see the weights and balances in the logistics of the scenario. She could see the risk assessment Lexa had made, and she could almost feel the chasm where emotion should have come into play. She understood it too well.
"I would never betray my friends," Clarke growled.
"Were we friends?" Lexa asked. Clarke thought back to their kiss. Lexa was probably thinking the same. Of the potential that had been there, and the attraction.
Clarke held her gaze and hoped Lexa could feel the burn of Clarke's rage, "You lost any hope of being anything to me when you abandoned me."
"Hate is an exhausting emotion," Lexa said after a moment, "it feels like power, like a bonfire in your body but you realize too late that it is burning you alive. It leaves you hollow."
"That's rich coming from you," Clarke said, "have you ever felt anything in your life? You told me you loved Costia, but I find that pretty hard to believe."
Of course Clarke had seen Lexa angered or irritated during their time together, but Lexa had a way of detaching herself from her emotions that made it seem like she just pretended to have them in order to pass as human.
Lexa narrowed her eyes, and Clarke glared right back. If Lexa thought Clarke would ever defer to her, she was wrong.
"Emotions—love, hate, all of them. They will destroy you," Lexa finally growled, "which is why you should let the hatred go."
"Because it's better to be heartless?" Clarke asked.
Lexa looked back to the path ahead, and her voice was surprisingly somber and soft, "Yes," she said, "it is better to feel nothing at all."
They had been on the trail for a few hours when news came from Bellamy. Indra jogged to catch up to Clarke and Lexa's horses.
"Heda, Wanheda," she panted, "chichnes kom Wangona"
Clarke looked back down the train of wagons and horses and people. Her people seemed further away then when they'd started the trek. Wangona meant Bellamy was doing something. It had better be important if he was stopping them in the middle of nowhere for it.
"English, Indra," Lexa said.
"Skaikru is weary and must tend to their ill," Indra said, "they are stopping."
Clarke was sore from riding and welcomed the chance to dismount for a little bit.
"We'll break here," Lexa agreed, "but only briefly. No fires. Keep watch, we are nearing the bridge."
"Yes, Commander," Indra nodded, and started spreading the orders down the line.
"This is a terrible idea," Lexa said as soon as Indra was out of earshot, "what is Bellamy thinking? We don't have time for this."
She had a slight accent when saying his name that Clarke hadn't noticed before. Instead of the 'ah' sound in the middle Lexa pronounced it with an 'oh' sound. Thinking on how Trigedaslang words were written Clarke had an idea of why.
"I'll find out how long they need," Clarke said.
"I'll join you," Lexa insisted.
Clarke felt like Lexa was starting to smother her. She wouldn't let Clarke out of her sight all day. Was this how the rest of their life was going to be? Carefully watching one another to make sure they didn't sabotage each other?
They dismounted and let their horses rest for a little bit. The snow was lighter in the forest, though it still came up to the tops of Clarke's boots. Snow continually blew off the branches and into their faces, making it feel like it was still snowing. With the dark clouds overhead it was a possibility that it was still snowing. Everything was dark and cold and Clarke was nervous. They were heading into dangerous territory and such a large group was a target just asking to be attacked.
Clarke didn't bother looking for Bellamy amongst the other guards. He'd be back checking on his sister. Her stomach twisted nervously. What if something had happened to Octavia? That would be more than enough reason for Bellamy to stop everyone.
People were cold and miserable, and too tired to gossip. They gave Lexa, Clarke and Po bitter looks from the corners of their eyes as they passed through. Clarke kept her head high and tried to ignore Lexa following on her heels.
Jackson rushed past them, carrying a medkit from the wagon they'd stored their medicine on. He was running for the cart hauling the sick. Clarke started running after him.
"What's going on?" she asked.
Her mother was in the wagon, and from Clarke's position she guessed that she was preforming CPR.
"Jackson hurry up!" her mother snapped.
Bellamy was standing on the side of the wagon, watching nervously. Clarke hauled herself up on the side beside him to see what was happening. An older man, dark hair streaked with grey, was laying prone on the wagon floor. He was pale and unresponsive.
"He, he just started shaking," Raven said quietly, noticing Clarke. She was sitting in the corner by Bellamy watching Clarke's mother try to resuscitate the man, "I think it was a seizure."
Clarke could already see his lips were going blue.
Jackson leapt into the wagon beside her mother, maneuvering around the unconscious sick bodies.
"I think this is a terrible idea," he said. He was holding a stun rod that the guards used.
"Just do it!" her mother snapped.
Jackson used the rod on the man. His whole body tensed, back arching off of the wagon for the seconds Jackson electrocuted him, and then dropped back into a heap when Jackson released.
"Again," her mother ordered.
Lexa hopped up on the far side of the wagon to get a better view. She was watching intently. Clarke couldn't stop glancing between her and the dying man her mother was trying to save.
The man collapsed back onto the wagon as Jackson stopped the electricity.
"Again," her mother ordered.
"Abby he's gone," Jackson said.
"Again!" her mother snatched the prod out of Jackson's hands and shocked the man. Clarke recalled the last time this had worked—when they'd had to prove to Lexa that they could cure Reapers by saving Lincoln's life. They'd only just avoided all-out war.
The man collapsed onto the wagon. Clarke was holding her breath. She hated that there was nothing she could do. Then, softly, the man gasped. His chest was moving. He was breathing!
Everyone let out a relieved sigh.
"Sekenomon," Po whispered, in obvious awe.
Jackson started checking the man for any other signs of distress. Clarke's mother hopped off of the wagon. She looked weary and pale, with sweat on her forehead. Clarke ran forwards to hug her.
"That was incredible!" she said. Her mom hugged her back, needing the support in the moment.
"Is this what we stopped for?" Lexa asked.
"Yes, but also because we need to rest or else we'll run everyone into the ground," Bellamy said.
Lexa shook her head, "This is a bad spot. The bridge is very close. Azgeda will be watching these woods; they will know we are coming. We must prepare for fighting."
"Then we need to rest," Bellamy insisted, "I'll have the guards set up a perimeter."
"We should not be taking this route," Lexa muttered, "you stop our travel for one life, and yet you plan on risking many more by walking into a trap."
"Trap?" Clarke's mother echoed, "what trap?"
BOOM!
An explosion knocked the snow from the trees and sent it flying around them. Clarke tackled her mother, knocking her to the ground and to safety. By the time the snow settled and they could see again, everyone was on their feet and shouting in alarm. There was a column of smoke rising above the trees. Po, Lexa and Bellamy's guard all had their swords drawn.
"The bridge," Lexa said.
"Did grounders just blow up a bridge?" Raven demanded, "what the hell?"
"Lexa," Bellamy snapped, "what the hell was that?"
"That is not a weapon we know," Lexa replied.
"Was that the trap?" Clarke's mother asked.
Clarke couldn't imagine the chaos if they'd been on the bridge. How many of them would have died.
"They must have rigged it to fall," Clarke wondered out loud. That had to explain the sound, and the dust cloud. Because otherwise…
Raven shook her head, "That was an explosion. Like, a bomb. That wasn't just knocking out the base of it and collapsing it."
"We have to go see if it's standing," Clarke said.
"I'll take some scouts," Bellamy said, "what the hell are grounders doing with bombs."
"I'm going," Clarke insisted.
"Then I am too," Lexa said.
"We'll make it a party," Bellamy muttered.
They wanted to take a small party, on foot, to scout the area. After accessing the distance to the bridge and the ambush they might be walking into, they decided to take the horses. A speedy retreat was their best option for getting out alive.
Unfortunately they couldn't risk unhitching too many horses from their wagons, in case they needed everyone to run they didn't want to leave behind any wagons. So the scouting party had four horses in total, and were riding two to a horse.
Given the choice between riding with her or Lexa, Clarke wasn't relieved that Bellamy picked to go with her, but then Lexa insisted on having a grounder with every Arc member and so Bellamy was stuck with his other fiancé. Good. It took a helping hand to boost Bellamy onto Lexa's monstrous horse.
It meant Clarke was riding with Indra behind her, uncomfortably pressed together. She was thankful Indra trusted her skills enough with a horse to lead them in and out of danger, and tried to pretend it wasn't because Indra was better with a bow than she was. The other two Arc guards' faces had been priceless as they mounted their first horses, but their guns were going to be necessary if there was going to be a fight and the grounders wouldn't touch them.
The silence of the woods was deafening. Clarke kept her grip on the reigns tight. She wished for more branches or leaves, for some kind of cover. She felt so exposed on the back of her horse, with its hooves crunching loudly in the snow. Surely any grounder warrior would hear them coming.
Lexa had a small bow in her lap as well, and appeared to be guiding her huge horse with her knees. Clarke thought for a moment about trying the same, but knew that her riding skills weren't that good. She would have felt better with her bow in hand though.
It occurred to her belatedly that she, Bellamy and Lexa shouldn't be walking into what could be a very dangerous situation together. They were the three leaders of their people—one of them needed to be kept alive at all costs. Two of them, if Clarke was being honest. Lexa had to be kept alive to keep the grounders in line, and either Bellamy or Clarke needed to be around to control her. Clarke wasn't about to bring that up, though, because Lexa and Bellamy would say she was the one who should return to wait with their people. They were both trained warriors, and Clarke was not, but Clarke was too curious to turn around.
It took almost half an hour at a steady trot before Lexa signaled them to halt. Bellamy slipped off the horse, which was a long way to jump, and lost his footing in the snow and fell into the horse. Clarke let out a slow breath of relief that he didn't shout in alarm. The horse didn't seem to notice anything had happened. Lexa landed silently in the snow beside him, arrow drawn and bow pulled taut.
Indra dismounted behind her, and Clarke followed suit. She wasn't sure what to do with her horses reigns, but the other grounders and Lexa were leaving their horses untethered, so she let the reigns fall loose and hoped the horse would stay.
It felt good to have her own bow in her hands. Clarke wasn't stealthy by any means, compared to a grounder, but she could pick her way across a forest floor carefully and quietly to get in a better position to shoot or to eavesdrop on unsuspecting people. Over a snow-covered distance she wasn't sure where to put her feet, and accidentally stepped on a twig that snapped loudly in the crisp, cold air. She froze as eight pairs of eyes all turned back to look at her.
"Step lightly, Wanheda," Indra said. Clarke wanted to tell her off. She wasn't Indra's second to scold, that was Octavia, but she kept her mouth shut. They paused on the tree line, overlooking where the bridge had been. The rubble was still smoking, dust and snow swirling above the deep ravine. The whole area looked deserted. Clarke didn't trust her instincts and waited for Lexa or Indra to make the call.
Lexa strode forwards confidently, carefully watching the far side of the ravine. Po and Tara—Bellamy's bodyguard, Clarke had discovered—were the two grounders Lexa had brought with her. They kept their bows drawn tight, while the Arc guards and Bellamy kept their guns up and trigger fingers ready.
"Azgeda," Lexa growled into the cold air. Her breath steamed like smoke from her lips.
Clarke moved forwards to stand beside her. They were at the edge of the ravine. There were footprints all along the bank.
"They were here?" Clarke asked. This was too close to their people. Closer than Clarke had imagined them being.
Lexa shook her head, "I can't tell. The explosion helped mask any fresh prints—see, they're all covered in snow? We can't tell how recent they are."
"This is the only way across?" Bellamy asked.
"This is the safest route. Smaller groups may risk other areas, but this is the only safe crossing for miles," Lexa said.
"Then it could be anyone's footprints," Bellamy said.
Clarke moved away from them, following the track of the footprints. There were lots of them, stepping over one another in various spots. They were different sizes. Finn had tried to teach her how to read tracks—he was, had been, a genius at Earth Skills—but Clarke only had a head for people. Politics and medicine were only useful when there were people around. She didn't know how to handle the absence of them.
The bridge was made from something almost-stone. There was a word for it that the original grounders used, but Clarke couldn't remember it at the moment. It was cracked in large chunks, and there were twisted and warped pipes of wire fitted throughout the chunks. The explosion had happed closer to the far side, and so there was a stretch of the bridge on their side that was still standing. The gap was too wide for them to think about trying to repair it, let alone get all of the wagons across. There was no way they could cross here. It was cleared of snow closer to the break, as if someone had come through and swept all the snow towards the banks of the ravine.
There was a log half-covered in dust and snow that seemed out of place on the bridge. It was the only thing, besides bits of rubble, on the otherwise empty bridge, and close enough to the bank that it might have been placed. Clarke stepped out slowly, testing the weight of the bridge. She moved slowly but surely, leaning back in case she needed to run.
The still-standing portion of the bridge seemed sturdy enough, though Clarke didn't want to stay too long to test it. The log was maybe a foot long, and wrapped in chains. It was much heavier than Clarke expected and she shook most of the snow off of it as she lifted it so she could look at it while standing. There were footsteps pressed into the snow all around it. She dusted the rest of the snow off with a puff of breath. There was a symbol carved into it—a sideways '8'. She had no idea what this was, but it felt like it was a clue.
Lexa grabbed her from behind and nearly carried Clarke off the bridge.
"What are you doing?" she asked, and whirled on Po, "why weren't you watching her?"
"Apologies, Heda," Po said quickly, "Wanheda looked sure of herself."
"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" Bellamy snapped, "you were completely exposed!"
"What is this?" Clarke held up her find, showing the carved symbol. She wasn't some child for them to yell at for being reckless. She'd been living alone for months and could take care of herself.
Clarke didn't miss the look of panic on Lexa's face. She masked it quickly, it was mostly a quirk of her brows, but the color drained from her dark skin. Indra muttered choice words in Trigedasleng.
Bellamy appeared to notice the reaction too, "Well?" he prompted.
"It's a taunt," Lexa finally said, "that is the symbol for the commander."
"They want you in chains—as a prisoner," Clarke clarified, looking at the log in her hands, "so they are declaring war."
"Yes," Lexa turned away and pretended to scan the trees, "Azgeda and I have been at war for many years. It's not surprising." Considering Lexa's reaction to the log, there had to be something else to it. What was she hiding?
"What about the bridge?" Clarke asked.
"It didn't fall on its own," Bellamy confirmed, "there's scorch marks. You probably would have seen them if you were paying attention."
"I found evidence to confirm it was Azgeda," Clarke snapped.
"Oh, as opposed to who?" Bellamy asked, "there's no one else but other grounders out here."
"With access to explosives?" Clarke asked, "it could have been someone else from the Arc."
"No one else survived," Bellamy reminded Clarke, as if she hadn't been there to see the stations falling from the sky like the rest of them.
"No thanks to you," Clarke shot back before she could stop herself. Bellamy's patronizing was rubbing her the wrong way and he'd been nothing but an asshole to her since they'd gotten engaged. She hadn't forgotten waking up, stripped in her sleep to her underwear, to him and Lexa mostly-undressed and practically sleeping on top of her, and she wasn't going to let them take advantage of her like that again.
Bellamy looked humbled by Clarke's retort for a moment, and she walked away from him before he could think of anything else to say.
Lexa snatched the log out of Clarke's hands. She stared at it as if she was going to commit it to memory. Before Clarke could say anything, she tossed it off into the snow.
"They are trying to keep us from the mountain, but this is a good sign," Lexa said.
"How?" Clarke demanded.
"They are not an army—not yet. They would have challenged us instead of hindering us. They are trying to buy time. This means that if we push hard we should be able to make it to Mt Weather before Azgeda arrives in full force," Lexa explained.
"How are we going to beat them there when we can't get past the ravine?" Clarke asked, "it'll take at least another day if we have to go through the mountains."
"They will expect us to take the mountain path, and I can only assume there is an ambush awaiting us there," Lexa said. She started walking back towards the horses.
"Then we're heading into a fight for sure, and we're going to be weaker and more exposed," Clarke muttered.
"We should fight," Tara said, "we have Wangona with us."
"There is one way," Lexa offered, "they won't know it, and it will get us to the mountain tonight."
"No," Clarke said quickly, "we already said no to the river. It's too dangerous."
"Heda is right," Indra said, obviously supporting her leader over logic, "the ice bridge will move our forces quickly."
"And we must move fast," Lexa insisted, "we can try further down the river, there may be a shallow place to cross. But it will take us another day to reach the mounain."
"We can't be out overnight," Clarke groaned, trying to figure out a plan, "we don't even have everything we packed—so much got left behind in the rush."
"That is not my concern," Lexa said sternly.
"What's going on?" Bellamy asked. He and the Arc guards had finished doing a final sweep of the area. The horses were waiting where they'd been left, pawing at the snow to try and find anything to eat. Lexa's massive black horse lifted its head—it was easily taller than any of the other horses—at the sound of her voice.
"We must take the river," Lexa insisted.
Bellamy's eyes widened in surprise, and he said aggressively, "I thought we told you: no river."
"Niron," Lexa smiled, sending chills down Clarke's back, "we agreed to use the river as backup, in case the bridge was being watched, don't you remember?"
Bellamy seemed to remember the group of people around them. Clarke could feel her leather choker tight on her neck.
"How far is the crossing?" Clarke asked.
"The river runs through the ravine," Lexa explained, "but the land levels out with it a few miles from here. It should take us less than an hour to reach it."
"It's the opposite direction of the mountain trail," Clarke observed.
"Less likely to be guarded," Lexa insisted.
"It's dangerous," Bellamy said.
"Life is dangerous," Lexa said, "you must take this risk. Trying to spend a night, exposed, with no shelter will hurt us all."
Clarke looked up at the weak winter sun. The sky was overcast with wispy grey clouds, already making the shadows darker. It would be sunset soon, and then they would be travelling in darkness. And once that happened they'd have to use torches to light the way and that would make them easy targets for any invaders. They were too exposed, out here in the open. They would have been better off staying in Camp Jaha and waiting for tomorrow morning, rather than rushing out in a panic at midday. This was unorganized and poorly planned on their part from the start. Clarke couldn't imagine her people supporting her or Bellamy if they were marooned in the mountains in winter overnight, on top of having to be fearful of being ambushed as well.
"The river," Clarke said, "how safe is it?"
"We cannot be sure until we see it," Lexa said, "but it is well-used in winter. I think it is our best choice."
"We can't survive a night out here," Clarke said, and hoped Bellamy would hear her. He wasn't even looking at her, "we need to get into Mt Weather tonight," she took a deep breath, "we have to use the river."
Bellamy finally looked at her and he looked furious. Clarke couldn't believe she was agreeing with Lexa either. Part of her was happy for Bellamy's anger. He couldn't just treat her like she was a bother and then expect her to support him just to spite Lexa. He was hotheaded and impulsive, and she needed to think for their people. Unfortunately, at this moment, what Lexa thought was best and what was the better option happened to be the same thing. It made Clarke feel ill.
Lexa swung herself onto her horse in one fluid motion, and had to help pull Bellamy up behind her, "Hurry," she said, turning her horse in a tight circle as the rest of them were mounting their horses, "we must cross the river before the sun sets."
The river was wider than Clarke expected. It wasn't like the crossing point where they could swing across, near the drop ship where Jasper had been struck with a spear during their first day on the ground. She couldn't see the bottom of the water because of the sheets of ice that had covered it. The water came racing out of the ravine and this crossing point was a bend in the route where the water calmed enough to freeze. Everywhere else it was rushing past. It scared Clarke. She had been on earth for months and still didn't know how to swim. It was a safe assumption that no one from the Arc could swim, especially not against a current this strong.
She had never seen ice like this in real life. In theory the original grounders used ice for all sorts of recreation and some even lived on the ocean when it was frozen over. Seeing it in person, Clarke didn't feel as confident in that history. How could you be sure you weren't going to fall through?
The light was dying. They didn't have much time to waste just standing around and staring.
"I'll go," Lexa said, "follow my exact path," she instructed.
It was brave, to be the first to go out. Clarke wasn't sure if she'd run to Lexa's aid if she did fall through the ice. But if Lexa fell, then the Arc people would be stranded amongst a clan of grounders who would have no qualms about attacking them and taking Mt Weather for themselves. They couldn't risk Lexa, she was still too important.
Clarke took a deep breath, "No," she said, "I'll go."
Clarke could see Lexa run through the logistics of arguing for or against Clarke's choice. Clarke knew she had the best idea, so Lexa would agree.
"Go slow," Lexa instructed, "test your weight before you commit to a step, and be ready to run. If the ice begins to crack, lay flat."
Clarke nodded, tightening her grip on the reigns. Her horse snorted nervously. There was a gap between the shore and the ice where she could see water. Clarke slid off of her horse.
"Clarke?" her mother asked. She'd made her way to the front. She took one look at Clarke's face and knew what Clarke was about to do.
"I'll be fine," Clarke said before her mom could argue, "besides, we all have to cross eventually."
"Wanheda, allow me," Po said, offering. Probably to try and make up for not stopping her walking onto the broken bridge earlier.
Clarke cut him off with a shake of her head. This was something she could do. Be brave for her people.
She reached out with her foot, planting it on the ice and tested the give. The ice held. Clarke hopped forwards with her other foot and suddenly she was standing on the ice. Over water. It was the first time since being sent to the ground that she was standing on something other than the earth. She hadn't fallen through yet, and let out an uneasy breath.
"In peace may you leave the shore," she muttered darkly to herself.
Her next step didn't kill her, and neither did the next. Her horse was convinced to follow her after a few tugs from Clarke, and the ice creaked dangerously but did not crack. Clarke could barely remember to breathe as she inched across. She was sure she could feel the current of the river under her feet, and it was all too easy to imagine dropping into the cold current and being swept away. The earth version of being floated. When Clarke was halfway across Lexa ordered everyone to file onto the ice.
The grounders seemed much less afraid than Clarke was. They moved slowly, following Clarke's steps closely, but they moved with a looseness and ease that Clarke didn't have. Clarke didn't pay them much attention, choosing to focus more on where she was putting her feet. The ice, under the snow, seemed to be different colors in places. It was uneven and lumpy as well from chunks of ice hurtling down the river and crashing together to form the sheet of ice that they were crossing now. It made for tricky walking, since Clarke had to pick her footholds carefully.
It was a small hop to the other side and then Clarke had reached the far shore. She let out a long ragged breath, relieved to feel solid earth under her again. Her legs were shaking. She hadn't realized how scared she really was.
The grounders were nearing the halfway point on the ice, so Clarke drew her bow and started scouting the shore. She hadn't been attacked, so it was likely that there weren't any Azgedakru in the area. They didn't even know about this crossing, if Lexa was right. But it never hurt to be cautious, especially on the ground.
Lexa had brought her horse across when Clarke returned. Clarke observed the people crossing rather than talk to her. She knew barely any of the people with Lexa, which was strange considering Clarke had all but lived with them for nearly a month. Maybe she'd been more focused on saving the kids in Mt Weather than she'd realized. Most of the grounders with Lexa were not what Clarke was expecting either. They were old, much older than she'd expected, or very young. There were young children too that Clarke hadn't paid attention to, walking close to their mothers' sides or being carried under a warm fur coat. All of the grounders were armed, and would fight if the call came, but this group was far from being an army of robust warriors.
Lexa probably hadn't been expecting to be attacked in her own territory, Clarke reasoned. She'd sent all of her stronger warriors ahead to clear out Mt Weather. It made sense, but seemed incredibly out of character for the Commander. To do so, to leave herself so exposed without proper warriors was almost… arrogant. And foolish. Neither were words she would have thought applied to Lexa.
The line of people was widening as they crossed, more confident on the ice, and the wagons were moving with minor difficulty. The horses didn't have much problem getting footholds on the uneven ice, but the wagon wheels hopped and skidded around on the uneven surface. It seemed to be holding. Clarke was thankful to be across already, but she was worried for the people of the Arc. They were bringing up the rear and would have to cross after everyone else.
Some of the grounder children were tossing rocks onto the ice just downriver from where the procession was moving across the river. They were playing some sort of game, digging up pebbles in the snow and bouncing them on the ice or seeing how far they could throw a stone. It made Clarke nervous. She wanted to stop them—what if they broke the ice and caused everyone to fall in?
"It's a game," Lexa explained, "you bounce the stones on water to see how many times it will skip."
"Bounce a rock?" Clarke furrowed her brow, "on water?"
"They have been playing all summer," Lexa said, "they have never seen snow."
That surprised Clarke. All of the children were old enough that they should have seen snow, "They… they aren't from around here?" As far as Clarke knew the grounders were very fierce about boundaries and clans and who belonged where. Po being an outsider was a huge shock to her, but maybe Lexa was more accepting of outsiders? That could explain why she'd been willing to make an alliance with Clarke rather than kill the Arc people outright, back in the beginning.
Lexa's soft expression hardened and she turned away from Clarke, "They have not seen snow," she repeated, "don't worry about them."
As if to spite Lexa one of the children had tossed a heavy stone out onto the ice and it broke through.
"It's thin right there," Clarke shuddered, "anyone could fall through."
"Many do," Lexa agreed, "but you found us a safe path. All will be good."
Clarke didn't like that Lexa was trying to comfort her and didn't reply. Across the ice she could see her mother and Bellamy directing the first of the Arc people onto the Arc. They all looked terrified.
Clarke climbed back onto her horse so she could be seen better and waved at them. Hopefully seeing that one of them—one of their Chancellors, no less—had already made it across would give them all hope. Her mother waved back, and to Clarke's surprise Kane gave her a wave as well.
Miller and his father were amongst the first from the Arc to step onto the ice. They moved much slower and more awkwardly than the grounders did. They were stiff-limbed and inched along, afraid to lift their feet in case they slipped and fell. The light was getting dimmer and the shadows were growing. If Clarke was right they still had at least two or three hours to get to Mt Weather. They would be travelling in the dark and cold for sure. She didn't like that one bit.
The wagon with the sickest people was nearing the halfway point on the ice. Wick was walking beside it, chatting with Raven. Clarke watched him purposely slide on the ice, showing off, and then he legitimately tripped. Raven laughed at his sprawl and while she couldn't hear his response Clarke could hear the happiness in his voice.
It was drowned out by an animal call. It sounded like a scream, rising higher and higher in pitch. There were three—four— five! Five answering calls. Clarke had heard these demons but had never seen one.
"Pakstoka," Lexa whispered, looking around, "they sing for the hunt."
"Pakstoka," Clarke repeated nervously. She pulled her bow from the sling on her back, "do they hunt people?"
"They eat the weak and the sick," Lexa said, "but they would not attack a group this large. We are safe, Clarke."
The people on the ice were moving faster after the calls. The sick wagon had lost traction and Wick and Bellamy were pushing it from behind. Clarke's mother and Kane were still on the far shore encouraging people to step out onto the ice. That was where Clarke and Bellamy should be, if they were good Chancellors. Clarke still felt guilty about stripping her mother and Kane of their power so suddenly. It was obvious that the two of them were good at leading. They had much more experience.
A chunk of snow fell from the bank and landed on the ice just upriver. Clarke caught the movement but didn't think anything of it until Raven, who was leaning out of the wagon to talk to Wick, screamed.
It wasn't snow that had fallen—it was an animal. Huge and shaggy, with spotty fur in patches of light grey, tan and white that faded into the ice and snow around it. Clarke had to squint to make out the shape of the animals. They had pointed ears, bushy tails and long snouts with black noses. And lots of big, yellowed teeth. Four of them were on the ice upstream of the Arc people crossing the river, and running right at them. Bellamy raced to arm his gun, putting himself between the pakstoka and his sister.
Clarke launched her horse forwards. It wasn't as afraid of the ice as she was, and carried her quickly towards the fight. Horseback was too bouncy, and Clarke couldn't guide the horse without holding the reigns. It meant she couldn't use her bow and control her horse at the same time. She pulled it to a stop several yards onto the ice, and took aim.
Her mother screaming stopped Clarke cold. She snapped her head up, losing her target. There were more pakstoka on the far shore. Bellamy fired one shot, clipping one of the animals in the shoulder. It went down but wasn't dead and got back to its feet. The gunshot rang loudly, echoing up the ravine upstream and through the woods around them. It was as if the entire forest held its breath in anticipation.
"No guns!" Lexa shouted, rushing past Clarke. She wasn't on her horse.
Clarke watched in horror as Kane bludgeoned a pakstoka that had leapt onto her mother. It jumped away, but there was blood on its teeth. People were screaming, Clarke included. Her mother! She had to get to her!
Lexa kicked Bellamy's gun out of his hands. She drew her sword, shouting commands. The grounders were calling for the Arc people to run for the safety of the shore. The Arc people were frozen in fear.
In a wave of frothing mouths and large fangs the four pakstoka hit the line of people on the ice. Lexa was knocked down, out of sight. Two of the animals went for the sick wagon, overturning it with their momentum.
On the far shore Clarke saw her mother take Kane's hand and get to her feet. Jasper was there with them. He looked like he had a weapon to bludgeon the animal with.
"WanhedaI!" Po shouted, coming up beside her.
"My mother!" Clarke pointed. Jasper, Kane and her mother were no match for an animal like this, not without a gun, "save her!"
Raven was screaming. She was being dragged upstream from the sick wagon by a pakstoka.
"Raven!" Clarke shouted. She forced her horse forwards, clearing the distance to the wagon in moments. The sick were stunned, laying prone on the ice. Most of them were still unconscious. A pakstoka leapt out of the wagon, surprising Clarke's horse. It reared in panic and Clarke was thrown from its back. She hit the ice, hard.
Clarke pushed herself to her feet. She'd dropped her bow, she couldn't see it. Raven was in danger—she didn't have her gun.
"Hold on!" Wick shouted.
Raven kicked the animal in its mouth and it shook her like a doll. Wick had his axe raised for a swing, rushing blindly for the rescue. Clarke followed suit. She had a knife in her belt. It was barely longer than the pakstoka's teeth. It would have to do.
"Get away from her!" Bellamy shouted behind her, and then the sounds of fighting.
The pakstoka barred its teeth at Wick, red with Raven's blood. Wick didn't think, didn't stop. He rushed the animal, shouting in rage. The ice was thin, it was cracking under his feet, Clarke could hear it. She was right behind him. The pakstoka leapt at Wick, Wick swung down to take its head off. He missed. The axe went through the ice.
Clarke remembered what Lexa had said—lay down if the ice is cracking. She could feel it bending under her weight. Raven was dragging herself away from the attack, to where she'd dropped her gun, but was frozen staring in horror as the pakstoka sunk its teeth into Wick's throat. Clarke threw herself onto her stomach, sliding forwards to grab Raven's outstretched hand. Wick and the pakstoka hit the ice, hot, thick blood sprayed into Clarke's face, and the ice broke and she and Raven tumbled into the water below.
It was so cold the air was knocked out of Clarke's lungs. She was clinging to Raven's hand, or Raven to hers. Maybe they were frozen together. She'd never been so cold. Her skin burned. Her eyes felt frozen but she couldn't close them. It was a flurry of bubbles and rushing water. A snap of the pakstoka's teeth in her face before it spun away with the current.
They hit the bottom of the river hard, Clarke's arm wrenched underneath her. She didn't let go of Raven. She'd never let her go. The water around them was so dark. Light shone through spots above them—Clarke could see feet, she realized. Shapes of her people above her as she and Raven were swept underneath them. There were large dark spots—blood, Clarke realized distantly. She couldn't feel her fingers. Everything felt like it was burning. Was it possible to be too hot and too cold at the same time?
The current tumbled them head over heel, and Clarke caught a glimpse of Raven's face. She couldn't feel Raven's hand in hers anymore and could only hope they were frozen together. Raven's face was limp. She was unconscious or… or…
No, Clarke decided. She couldn't let Raven go. Her heels scraped the bottom of the river and she summoned all the strength she had left and pushed. They hit the ice, scraping along it. Clarke dug her toes into cracks between the ice. It was much smoother underneath, there was nothing to grip onto. She had a knife in her hand. It was hard to think. Her chest was hurting—she needed air. But there was no air here. Raven was dead weight, tugging Clarke towards the dark expanse of the river. It would be so easy to let go.
Clarke was so cold she couldn't feel her knife in her hand. She gripped it with numb fingers that wouldn't cooperate. The current caught her as she moved to stab the ice and she and Raven tumbled several more feet along the underside of the ice. As Clarke spun she shoved out with all her might and her knife struck the ice. She was spun around, clinging to the handle, as the river tried to take Raven from her. Clarke pulled her knees up, bracing her feet against the ice. The river could have them once Clarke was dead. She tried to push, with her hand and with her feet, but the ice wouldn't budge. With only one hand to cling to the knife with, Clarke couldn't get the momentum to chip her way to air. If she wanted to live she'd have to let Raven go.
In peace may you leave this shore… in love may you find the next… Clarke thought to herself. She couldn't remember the rest of the words. Everything felt very far away. It wasn't cold anymore.
There was a shadow above her. It was dark. Clarke closed her eyes.
A cliffhanger!
Quick note: The wolves are mutant futuristic wolves, so they're bigger than the average grey wolf. And also very interbred with dogs, which is why they've got spotted fur. It's not mentioned but some of them have floppy ears and curled tails as well. Not that it's like… a pressing plot point or anything. But these are smart animals that, thanks to the dog genetics, do have a capacity to read people very well that wolves lack. That might be an important plot point (hinthint)
And for the nice, extra heartbreak. When Lexa is talking about 'it's better to feel nothing at all' you can bet that she's thinking about Costia ):
And now I have some bad news. Moving is getting hectic, so I'm putting this fic on a short hiatus. I don't know when it'll update again for sure, but if all goes well I should have another chapter out before May ends, but I just don't have time for editing and writing on top of moving cross-country. Sorry everyone!
You can check me out on tumblr (name's the same) where I occasionally post status updates on this fic, or you can PM me if you're really curious about the fic.
I love chatting with y'all, and your feedback gives me life. Let me know what you think about the chapter! Who blew up the bridge? What does the chained log mean and why was Lexa so scared of it? Is Raven going to survive? What about Wick? Are they ever going to make it to Mt Weather?