Tunnels sprawl out under Polis, and as Lexa takes another turn she can't help but feel the comparison to the webs spiders spin in the warmth of a rising sun. But here, under Polis? It's cold. Her usual coat replaced by the more stiff bodice Shana and the other handmaidens wear, their clothes built more for armour than for comfort. Lexa stops for a moment at an intersection, her gaze peering down the dark tunnel. A quiet drip echoes out around her, and she feels the tension in the air. She raises her arm then, the torch she holds burning brightly.
"Heda?" and Lexa looks over her shoulder at another of her handmaidens who accompanies her.
"Wait here," Lexa says quietly before she turns right and begins walking down the long tunnel.
Tracks lie underfoot, the walls sloping above her tiled and dark, cracks wind their way throughout the tunnel and rocks lie underfoot, cleaning or moving them a too monumental task. Her steps continue for a long while, her eyes ever constant as they track each shadow that flickers, each sound that echoes and each shifting she imagines.
She sees it slightly at first, another burning torch in the far distance, the flickering of it subtle enough for her to consider her eyes to lie, to merely be searching for signs of life. But as she nears it she sees the shifting form of a person and she knows he waits.
"Heda," he says quietly, his voice echoing out around them.
"You are early," Lexa answers, her gaze trailing over his body to find signs of weariness and travel.
"I do not have the luxury of taking my time," he shrugs. "I am sure you understand," and she knows she doesn't miss the quiet mirth in his voice.
"Your warriors are ready?" she says, her eyes peering out behind him in search of others.
"They will be," and he gazes behind himself briefly. "I did not bring them," he says. "It is harder to hide hundreds of warriors than you would expect."
"I would expect it to be hard to hide any number of warriors from your mother," Lexa answers.
"I would expect it to be so," and he chuckles. "She still searches for me," and he sighs. "She almost caught me last full moon," and Lexa sees him gesture to a cut on his cheek before sighing once. "Clarke will not approve of this" he says after a moment, a smile finding its way into his voice.
"She will not," Lexa shrugs.
"I found Echo," and he pauses once to take in her reaction. "She thought I was an assassin, almost took my head off," and he laughs quietly. "She tells me Clarke is not happy with my disappearance."
"She is not," and Lexa feels the small guilt that lingers within her chest.
"She has not agreed to challenge Nia?" Roan asks.
"She has not," Lexa says. "She will not," and Lexa looks away for a moment.
"Has she told you why?" Roan asks, his arms almost folding across his chest before he registers the heat of the torch he holds.
"No," and Lexa looks into the flame briefly in thought. "I believe she does not wish to be making decisions that affect thousands of lives," and she shrugs. "I do not blame her."
"Azgeda would be more easily changed with Wanheda at its head," Roan says.
"Yes," and Lexa thinks for a moment. "Wanheda's power would give all those who object to Azgeda being more open to the Coalition pause," and Lexa meets Roan's eyes in the dark. "You can do the same, it will only take more time," and Roan nods his head.
"The Northern Azgeda are tired of war," he agrees. "If they fall in line then all of Azgeda will do so eventually."
And so Lexa nods her head once before turning to leave.
"Then you will issue your own challenge to Nia once I defeat her champion," Lexa says over her shoulder.
It all happens in less time than it takes for the body to fall to the ground with a splash of blood.
The gunshot echoes out through the air, Entani's voice rages and shrieks out in pain and anger and Clarke feels the spray of blood as it hits her in the face.
Ontari flinches with the shot, the sound scorching her body. Clarke sees her eyes squeeze shut in anticipation of the pain, of the blood. But Ontari's eyes open cautiously, nervously. Her eyes widen as she looks down at herself before meeting Clarke's shocked stare.
Clarke's eyes snap to Pike who wobbles backwards, confusion flashing across his face as his hand drops the gun by his side as they come to grasp at the arrow shaft embedded in his throat. Blood gurgles past his lips, it bubbles and froths out the wound and his breaths come pained, wretched and wheezing, a bubble of blood and mucus and phlegm dripping from his mouth as he wobbles once more on his feet before he falls to the ground.
The other woman stares, her eyes widen as she sees Pike fall to the ground, her face turns to meet Clarke's for only a moment.
And Clarke lunges. She lunges forward, the woman's gun firing off just past Entani's head causing the healer to scream out in surprise as her own shocked face takes in Ontari who remains rooted to the ground, her eyes unfocused and stunned. Clarke's body collides with the other woman, her hands still tied behind her back, and as they crash together they both fall to the ground.
It's a scramble of limbs and tied hands. But Clarke manages to hook her leg around the other woman's long enough for Entani to recover from the shock. And then Entani dives on top of the woman, her own hands tied behind her back as she brings her head backwards before slamming it down onto the woman's nose, the sounds of bone breaking and the gasps of pain that escape Entani, her ribs clearly broken, pain wracking her body.
Clarke hears the sounds of feet coming, she hears the calling of her name and she feels the ground thump under her as she continues to wrestle and bite and smash her head against the pinned woman under her. But strong hands grip her by the shoulders and pull her away, and Clarke sees the flash of white fur and a sword that pierces the woman's chest, silencing her screams for good.
"Clarke," and Clarke's head turns to find Jenma kneeling before her as Leeton begins cutting her hands free, Bronat shaking Ontari's shoulders in an attempt to free her from her daze. "Where are the others," Jenma asks, her eyes searching for the other Azgeda warriors.
"Over there," Clarke gasps out, head jerking out towards where Ontari and Entani had both emerged from, and she knows her mouth bleeds when she tastes the blood. And so Jenma nods once before she races off, the other Azgeda not occupied with helping quickly racing after her.
And it takes Clarke a moment to notice that the arrow that pierces Pike's throat bears the brown fletching of Trikru, and as her eyes move from his body and towards Entani, she finds Anya standing close by, another arrow already knocked as her eyes peer into the dark that begins settling around them. Clarke finds Lincoln kneeling over Entani's sobbing body, the pain of her ribs enough to leave her maimed on the ground as the adrenaline wears off.
"She needs a healer, Clarke," Lincoln says as he meets her gaze as Clarke's hands are freed and as she scrambles over to Entani.
"Entani," and Clarke's hand wipes a sweaty strand of hair from the woman's face. "You're going to be ok," and she reaches for Entani's hand, the skin sweaty and clammy.
But as Entani's mouth opens with a grimace Clarke recoils at the cough and blood that sprays past her lips. And Clarke knows Entani's wounds are severe, she knows the woman needs more than just a grounder healer.
"Lincoln," Clarke hisses to him. "How quickly can you get her to either the Mountain or to Arkadia?"
She sees Lincoln squint into the fading light as he thinks over her question quickly.
"I can arrive at Arkadia before the moon is at its highest," he says quickly, his bow already slinging over his shoulder as he bends to scoop Entani into his arms, Clarke's request already understood.
"I'll go with him, Clarke," and she looks up to see Octavia standing close by, the woman's eyes nervous as she eyes the state Entani is in.
"Go," Clarke hisses, "you're going to be ok, Entani," she finishes, her hand giving Entani's one last squeeze as the other healer grimaces once more before Lincoln nods and stands cradling Entani to his chest as he begins moving away, Octavia staying close as she helps steady him over the rocky terrain.
"We were ambushed, too," Anya says into the tension.
"I can tell," Clarke says as she eyes the smoke that smears Anya's face a sooty dark.
And Clarke turns back to Ontari to see Torvun finally freed, his eyes glaring harshly at the corpses of Pike and the other woman. Ontari's eyes meet hers, her shock and stunned state having worn off somewhat, but Clarke thinks she can still sense the unease in Ontari's motions.
"You're ok, Ontari," Clarke says as she moves to her, but as she eyes her broken nose and blood covered lower face, she can't help but to grimace. "I need to set, that," Clarke says quietly as she gestures to Ontari's nose, and she sees the woman nod once before her jaw clenches, Clarke's fingers already reaching forward.
Clarke whispers a quiet sorry as Ontari whimpers and as her eyes close and water from the pain. Anya hands her a small healers pack though, fresh bandages ready for her to use, and so she lets a small thanks fall from her lips as she begins to wrap it around Ontari's face, careful in applying pressure before she ties it off.
"We should return to Polis, Clarke," Anya says. "This was a trap. They knew we were coming," and Anya looks around them as the sounds of approaching feet begin appear. "The Azgeda have returned," and Clarke follows Anya's gaze to find Jenma and other Azgeda either helping those caught in the explosion, or carrying the dead on their shoulders.
"We need to light their pyres first," Clarke says as she struggles to her feet, Torvun rising with her as he meets her gaze cautiously. "We're stopping at Arkadia first."
And not for the first time, Clarke feels a burning rage bubble in the corners of her mind.
Clarke steps awkwardly over a large rock, the heat from the burning pyres long since gone. Ontari walks silently besides her, eyes focusing somewhere on the ground by her feet, her fist clenched tightly around her knife, her other arm holding close to her side, her shoulder's pain making itself known on her face.
"Entani will be ok," Clarke says to her quietly, but as the words leave her lips she feels the memory of Entani's ragged breathing and the spray of blood that had escaped her on a cough. "She'll be ok," and Clarke isn't so sure she speaks only to Ontari now. "She'll be ok."
Ontari doesn't answer though, she merely spits a mouthful of blood out onto the ground as she kicks at a rock before rolling Clarke's hand from her shoulder and walking ahead quickly, her mood dark and listless in the settling dark.
"Entani is strong, Wanheda," Jenma says quietly as she comes to an even stride besides Clarke. "You should not fear," she finishes as she swipes a strand of hair behind an ear.
"Yeah," but Clarke feels her own anger still lingering, and she knows Thelonious must have given Pike warning, or that Nia cares less about her people than Clarke had previously thought.
The mixed Trikru and Azgeda war party rest late that night. Clarke gazes up into the sky overhead and as she eyes the moon she thinks it at its highest as a cloud drifts past lazily. And she knows daybreak will be soon, perhaps not even more than a few hours and so she turns to face the rest of the Azgeda warriors.
"We rest only until daybreak then we move," she calls out, the Azgeda warriors around her nodding their acceptance of her orders, and she sees Anya nod once to the Trikru who remain.
"We must talk, Clarke," Anya says as she begins moving towards her. "It can not wait."
And so Clarke rises, Torvun already falling into step besides her.
"They knew we were coming," Anya says quietly as she turns to face Clarke as the trees swallow them.
"They did," and Clarke feels the grinding of her teeth as it reverberates through her head. "You think Jaha gave us up?"
"It would explain how they knew," Anya says.
Clarke worries her lip, thoughts shifting between Entani's pain stricken face and the threat that lingers over Wells' life.
"Where was he?" Clarke asks after a long moment, only now just realising that Jaha had not beed present. "Were you attacked by Mountain Men, too?"
"Yes," Anya says, her head tilting in thought. "Perhaps not more than ten, they fled. We did not give chase. You needed aid," Anya finishes.
"Yeah," and Clarke knows her words come numbed and somewhat barren.
"Your healer is strong," Anya says after another awkward pause, her eyes softening so little that perhaps Clarke thinks she imagines it.
"Entani will be ok," Clarke says. But perhaps as she meets Anya's gaze, she feels her words to be less sure than she would like. "Get some sleep," Clarke finishes, already turning back to the camp. "We move soon," and she doesn't miss the raising of an eyebrow across Anya's face, or the ever quiet presence of Torvun who remains more subdued and close as he shadows her steps with a small limp, his own wounds not serious enough for concern but aggravating enough to bring frustration across his lips with each step.
"Are you ok," Clarke asks as she pauses, eyes trailing over Torvun's body, wet and bloody patches smearing his furs.
"I am fine," he grunts out, but as Clarke eyes him more closely she thinks it a lie.
"Take your shirt off, she sighs, already sweeping away a branch from the ground before she points for Torvun to sit before her. "And don't move," she finishes as eyes Torvun's bare back, his skin cracked and bloodied, wounds from the shrapnel cutting their way across his flesh.
"This doesn't hurt?" Clarke asks as she eyes his wounds.
"Perhaps a little," Torvun says. "Not as bad as Entani, though," and he falls quiet, and Clarke knows he thinks of the healer.
"It's not your fault," Clarke says quietly as she rummages in her healers pack for something to help clean his wounds.
"Perhaps it is not my fault," and Torvun shrugs his broad shoulders. "But perhaps I could have done more."
And Clarke knows arguing with him at this moment is pointless, and so she hums a noncommittal as she pours a strong Azgeda disinfectant over small tweezers before she begins pulling slices of metal from Torvun's back.
It doesn't take Clarke long to finish with Torvun's back, and as her fingers smear the last of the paste against his wounds she lets a sigh fall from her lips.
"I don't have enough bandages to keep this clean for long," she says. "When we get to Arkadia I'm going to reapply this, ok," and she pats him on the shoulder as she rises. "Get some sleep Torvun, we move soon."
And so Clarke steps from Torvun and begins winding her way between the few Azgeda who already lie on the ground, furs underneath them, bodies pressed close together in warmth.
Clarke finds Ontari lying on her side under loose furs, and as she settles down besides her she feels the woman stiffen slightly at her proximity.
"Do you want to talk?" Clarke asks as she gazes up into the stars before rolling onto her side to face Ontari's back.
"No," Ontari says simply, her voice muffled and muted by the bandage wrapped around her nose and half her face.
And so Clarke lets a sigh fall from her lips as she turns onto her other side, hands tucking under her head as her eyes close and as her mind chases a too fleeting sleep.
Clarke wakes with a start, her mind restless in the early of the night. She feels Ontari's shallow breathing besides her and she knows the other woman only partially asleep, not quite enough for her mind to rest, and so Clarke pauses in her motions and lets her eyes wander over the Azgeda who lie on furs, tents remaining packed in anticipation for an early and much too fast exit from the area.
Clarke's gaze shifts up into the sky overhead and she feels the slowly building worry that gnaws at her mind and that wriggles behind her eyelids. She knows Entani's lungs to be punctured, her ribs to be broken, and she knows not if Lincoln and Octavia were able to get her to Arkadia in time.
Clarke gazes out at the horizon then, and she eyes it for a long moment, and she thinks she sees the sun as it slowly begins to crest, as it slowly begins to spread its warmth and bleed the night away. And so Clarke sits up, rubs a hand over her face and curses the ache in her body caused by the explosion.
And as Clarke rolls out of the furs she eyes Ontari who wakes to her movements, who remains ever quiet, her face more swollen now, her eyes blackened and her chin dribbled with blood. Other Azgeda warriors wake to her motions too, she eyes a few who stretch, a few who slip into the trees to relieve themselves and a few who already stand, already begin moving about the small camp.
Jenma approaches carefully, her steps slightly unsure as she approaches Clarke who still sits on the furs, and Ontari who merely looks off into the distance.
"I can send Bronat or Leeton ahead," Jenma says cautiously, her gaze falling to Ontari's quietness.
"It's ok. We'll be there soon enough," Clarke say and so Jenma nods once before moving away.
"It's not your fault, Ontari," Clarke says more quietly now, the words only for Ontari to hear, her gaze careful as she eyes the silent woman who sits cross legged on the ground. "Entani's not your fault."
But Ontari merely glares at her once before looking away. But Clarke reaches out, fingers tugging at Ontari's furs to draw her attention.
"It's not your fault," Clarke repeats, fingers squeezing Ontari's shoulder.
"Entani might be dead," Ontari says simply. "It is my fault."
A sigh leaves Clarke's lips as Ontari stands, kicks at a branch and walks to where the horses are, her mood worsening and her thoughts turning to the dark.
"Give Ontari time," and Clarke turns at Torvun's voice to find him crouching down by her side. "We will see Entani soon and then she will see that Entani is fine," and Torvun smiles wanly at Clark.
"Yeah," and Clarke worries her lip. "She'll be ok."
The war party moves quickly, their eyes more watchful of the trees that race past and any sign of movement, their close encounter with the last of the Mountain Men leaving them paranoid and tense. Clarke ducks under a low hanging branch, her hair whipping behind her as she pushes her horse as it rides at the forefront of the warriors, Anya close behind her who leads the remaining Trikru.
Clarke peers into the sky only briefly to check the time before she spurs her horse faster, Arkadia not far now. She hears a horn echo out from close by, the deep baritone of it signalling an Azgeda scout's presence and so Clarke raises a hand in greeting, the gesture sure to be seen by whichever Azgeda scout remains hidden in the trees.
And so they break from the trees.
A war camp sprawls out before her, many hundred strong, and as she eyes the colours she sees most to be the browns and greens of Trikru, the few Azgeda present lingering together at the edges of the camp, a distrust between clans ever present. Clarke urges her horse forward, its pace now more slowed as she begins winding between warriors and tents, many of them recognising her before bowing heads briefly as they make way for her and the war party she leads.
Arkadia stands out from the tents, too, the jagged, twisted hulk of metal reaching up into the sky, and as she nears she sees guards standing watch in the guard towers, weapons sung over backs in a friendly unease. It surprises her to find Raven standing not far from the main gates, the mechanic in conversation with a number of Trikru, Octavia and Lincoln standing by her side too.
Clarke pulls her horse up and she dismounts quickly, her feet already taking her to the gates as Octavia and Lincoln move to meet her half way.
"Is Entani ok?" Clarke says simply as she moves through the open gates of Arkadia.
"She's been in surgery," Octavia says. "Abby can tell you more," Octavia shrugs apologetically. "Sorry."
And so Clarke steps around Octavia, and Ontari merely snaps at her to move before they make their way to the Ark's main doors. The Azgeda warriors with them move quickly, those who are wounded being helped as they move through the corridors, their feet echoing out through the loud clanging of the metal plating beneath their feet. Skaikru step aside too, the Azgeda who move through the corridors glaring harshly at any who get in their way.
They round another corner and come face to face with the doors to the med bay, other Trikru and Azgeda warriors milling about outside with wounds Clarke assumes from sparring. But she pushes through, an Azgeda warriors snaps out a warning to a Trikru who glares too harshly at her only for another Trikru warrior to urge him backwards, Clarke's stormy demeanour not lost on many of the warriors present.
The doors slide open quickly to reveal a number of hospital beds occupied by wounded warriors, but Clarke only spares them one brief glance before her gaze settles on the familiar dark hair and braids that fan out around a swollen face. But Ontari reacts first, she pushes past Clarke and moves to Entani's bed in only a few short strides. Clarke spares the Azgeda with her a brief look before following, the wounded Azgeda being helped to their own beds.
Clarke comes to a stop besides Entani, the woman's eyes closed and her breathing laboured but even.
"She's going to pull through," and Clarke turns at the sound of her mother's voice. "She's strong," Abby finishes.
"Thank you," Clarke whispers as she feels a silence begin to settle over her, and she knows she feels the easing of tension in her shoulders and the breath that escapes her lips.
And so Clarke turns her attention back to Ontari to find her holding Entani's hand quietly as she sits in a chair by the unconscious woman's bed, words falling from her lips too quiet for Clarke to hear. But Clarke smiles as she sees Ontari reach forward and brush a strand of hair from Entani's forehead and tuck it behind an ear.
"Octavia says you walked into an ambush," Abby says quietly, her gaze falling on Ontari's bandages and swollen face.
"Yeah," Clarke shrugs. "Everyone got hurt," and she thinks she'll avoid bringing up Pike's actions.
"I'm glad you're ok, Clarke," Abby says quietly as she glances to Ontari and Entani once more. "I'll leave you guys to it," she finishes with a sad smile.
"Hey," and Clarke reaches for Abby's hand as she turns to leave. "Thank you," and Clarke makes sure their eyes meet. "I mean it," and she squeezes it.
"You're welcome, Clarke."
"It's too late for us to start going back to Polis now," Clarke says as she lies back against a tree stump by a camp fire, the sun dipping below the horizon as it paints the sky a gentle pink haze. "Get some rest, guys," and she gestures in the direction of where the other Azgeda who have been stationed at Arkadia have made their own.
And so Jenma and the others nod once before moving away from Clarke, some grouping together, others moving towards the sounds of laughter and revelry so often found in war camps.
"You're like some kind of boss, Clarke," and she looks to see Raven walking towards her, hand rising in a wave.
Clarke lifts a shoulder, her mind still not quite sure how to process what has happened in the last twenty four hours. "You're here in Arkadia," Clarke says instead.
"Yeah," Raven answers as she sits opposite Clarke, the fire between them as it flickers and dances in the slight breeze. "We surveyed the damage at Ton DC, so now we're here to see if we can spare anything. We'll head back there tomorrow probably," and she stifles a yawn. "Where's ice girl and the big guy?" Raven asks as she gestures around them, Clarke's solitude not lost on her.
"Ontari's with Entani," Clarke says. "I told Torvun to get checked too."
"Yeah," and Raven looks away briefly in thought. "I'm sorry about your friends," she says. "It sounds like Pike turned into a monster," she says cautiously.
"Yeah," Clarke echoes. "The ground changes us."
"Most for the better," Raven says easily. "Food?" she asks as she holds her arm out, a plate of dried meats and cheeses on it that Clarke eyes for a lonely moment.
"Yeah," and Clarke smiles briefly. "Thanks."
"I know I give Ontari a hard time, bu—"
A loud crack echoes out through the air before it falls silent. Clarke's head snaps up, Raven's eyes widen as she turns to sound. The war camp falls silent, too, and Clarke knows it only happens in a few seconds, but she hears the quiet unease begin to spread throughout the warriors around her, many settling in for the night.
She feels the tension build for a moment.
And it snaps.
An explosion rips through the sky and Clarke's eyes widen a fraction before realisation dawns on her.
The Mountain Men attack.
Clarke races to her feet, Raven already scurrying to hers. Clarke hears the shouts of warning and then the war camp explodes in a flurry of activity. Gun fire rips through the air, bullets hiss from the tree line that looks down the rolling hill before spearing into the warriors at the war camp's edge. And Clarke's eyes widen as she realises Azgeda forces are there, that Azgeda forces are the ones at the edges of the war camp, and she feels the rage burn into her senses and fuel her anger.
Arkadia's guard towers ignite in a flame of light, their flood lights turning on as they point in the direction of the tree line, and she hears the return gunfire, the Skaikru guards firing overhead. She sees a Trikru warrior bounding over a fire, healer packs strapped across his shoulders and carried in his arms, the healer clearly anticipating the many wounded that will end this fight.
Clarke feels the dirt kick up at her feet and she thinks she hears her name called out through the commotion that rages around her. But she runs, her feet take her through the warren of tents and warriors who rush in every direction, almost all she passes with bows in hands, some more experienced than others, but all fire their arrows into the trees as they begin rallying, warrior meeting warrior.
Clarke sees a flash of white fur that dives to the ground and so she races forward, grabs the Azgeda warrior by the elbow.
"With me," Clarke yells at the woman who nods before falling into step behind Clarke as she continues to duck and swerve and wind her way closer and closer to the edge of the war camp as bullets splash the ground in front of her, as bullets maim and wound and steal the life of warrior after warrior around her.
Clarke sees another Azgeda warrior who carries a wounded warrior further into the heart of the war camp and away from the bullets that shred into their numbers.
"Get her to safety," Clarke yells over the commotion, she sees another few Azgeda grouping together, one carrying bundles of arrows, his eyes furious in the firelight that explodes around him. "With me!" Clarke yells at them, her hand waving, and she sees recognition dawn on their faces before they race after her, her feet taking her faster and faster and closer to the Mountain Men.
She sees a warrior fall to the ground, hand clutching at her chest before her eyes gloss over as quickly as life had been smashed from her. And Clarke feels the roar rip from her lips, and as she breaks into the Azgeda camp she feels herself be swamped in the white and greys of Azgeda, the furs and banners that flutter in the wind blood smeared and dripping red.
The war cry rips from Clarke's lips as her hand raises as she rallies the remaining Azgeda to her side, and she pauses for only a moment to see them huddling close to the ground, weapons being drawn, arrows being knocked. Her gaze moves from Jenma and Bronat and Leeton before settling on Torvun who lies close by, his chest heaving with the exertion and the run she is sure he braved to find her in battle. And her eyes settle on Ontari who lies close by, her face unwrapped from the bandage, her face already bloodied and her eyes furious in the firelight.
And so Clarke rises, and the Azgeda rise with her.
And she runs.
Her feet carry her further and further from the war camp, her eyes scan the tree line and she sees the burst of gunfire before the air around her crackles and burns. And she knows she senses Azgeda warriors fall to the bullets, she knows some die by her side and she knows many will lie wounded on the ground as they wait to bleed out. But she doesn't stop, her eyes find a rocky outcrop to her left that looks down upon the trees and so she yells out for the archers to break off and move left, and she sees some being hit by bullets, others diving behind trees before scaling the rocks to gain the high ground in their counter attack on the Mountain Men.
Clarke spares only a quick glance over her shoulder to see the Trikru warriors racing up the hill too, their numbers already swelling, already outnumbering the Azgeda, and she sees Anya racing at the forefront, she sees a Trikru warrior struck down, and she sees another burst of fire that rips from the guard towers that defend Arkadia.
Clarke leaps once over a fallen tree and she feels the deadening of sound as the forest swallows her as quickly as it had appeared.
The gunfire still echoes down the hill, and she knows that the Mountain Men focus on the Trikru, she knows the Trikru numbers seem a priority and so she holds a hand up and the Azgeda around her pause, they quiet and she knows they wait for her command.
"We kill them all," she says simply over her shoulder as she slips the panther skull over her face, her eyes glinting in the moon light that dapples overhead.
And so the Azgeda stalk forward silently, and Clarke knows that now she has become the hunter.