From the moment she awoke, Clarke's brain began working in overdrive. Her head hurt, but as the day wore on the sharp ache turned into a dull throb, and she forced the pain to the back of her mind. Instead she focused on her situation, always looking for anyway out of it.
As the hours wore on however, it became clear to the blonde that any kind of escape from her captors was not going to be easy. For one thing, there were simply too many of them. The first time they stopped to allow the horses a rest, Clarke finally got a chance to look around and see how many Grounders there were, and what she found was nothing if not discouraging. There were ten Ice Nation warriors in total, all decked out in either swords and knives or spears, or bows and arrows. Each looked hardened, scars evident on their faces or neck or hands, and Clarke knew that slipping away from any of them would be more than just a challenge. At first glance none looked familiar in any way, until she got a good look at one of them, a man with a sword strapped to his back who walked with a small limp when he dismounted from his horse. Looking at him a second time, Clarke felt her jaw clench when she realized he'd been the only warrior to attack her and Lexa and live. When he caught her glaring at him, he simply returned the look.
Their number was not the only reason Clarke would have a hard time sneaking away: she quickly found that becoming their prisoner meant losing any sense of personal space or privacy. When they traveled she rode with either Maloch or Jojesh, the two obvious leaders of the group. Maloch would push himself against Clarke when she rode in front of him, often times his elbows digging sharply into her sides, and she had to fight to keep the wince from her face whenever it happened. Riding with Jojesh was a little better: though still a prisoner with her hands bound in front of her, her second captor left a small amount of space between them, and the only times his arms touched her were when the horse would shift and her body would sway, her ability to steady herself in the saddle lacking without full use of her hands. The first time they stopped to rest, a leather rope only a few feet long was quickly attached to her bound wrists, and from the moment her feet touched the ground to the next time she found herself lifted into a saddle, one of her captors kept hold of the other end of the rope. Even when she complained of needing to relieve herself her rope would be handed off to one of their three female warriors, and one of them would accompany her to a nearby bush. Her captors gave her no chance at escape, at least one pair of eyes on her at all times, and that knowledge made the panic she managed to hide begin to surface whenever she allowed herself to think about it.
For a day and a half the Ice Nation party traveled, Clarke constantly on the lookout for anything that could help her escape her current situation. She listened whenever any of her captors spoke in Trigedasleng around her, hoping to pick up on something that she could use to her advantage while keeping her facial expression blank as though she had no idea what was being said, and tried to ignore them whenever any of them spoke in English to her, their words meant only to scare her more than she already was. She kept her expression controlled, schooled just as Lexa's so often was, but on the morning of her third day of being their captive, she nearly lost that control as she looked around her. Her eyes widened and she only just managed to keep her jaw from dropping when she realized where they were and where they were heading. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Maloch throw her a smug grin from where he rode beside her and Jojesh, and she had to bite the inside of her cheek so hard it started to bleed to keep herself from either cursing or crying. Instead she just sat straight, her head held high and glare on her face as Jojesh and the other warriors simply kept their horses moving forward, doing her best to ignore Maloch and any others who may be watching her for her reaction as they got closer to their destination.
Only a few minutes later the ground shifted beneath them as the horses all began to make their way up the slope in front of them, and soon they broke through the trees, many of the horses stopping just outside of them. Maloch did not, urging his horse forward a few more steps before he turned the animal and brought it to a halt, eyes immediately falling on Clarke's face. The young leader did her best to give away nothing of how she felt, did her best not to let any of her emotions show, but the tilt of the warrior's grin told her she wasn't entirely successful.
They were at her cave. Somehow, someway, they had found the place that Clarke and Lexa had come together, found the one spot they thought they'd kept hidden from everyone else.
Maloch was the first of the warriors to dismount, the scuff of his boots hitting against the snow loud enough for them all to hear before the other Grounders began to dismount as well.
"We'll rest here for a short time," he called out to the rest of them, his gaze holding Clarke's as she held her head high from where she still sat atop Jojesh's horse. His lips curled up into the smallest of smirks before he continued, "Span out and keep your eyes open: there are many spots around here where prying eyes could be watching." Clarke felt bile rise in the back of her throat but didn't let the effects his words had on her show. Smirk growing as he held her gaze, a moment later he turned and walked towards her cave, pushing the fur that still hung at its entrance back so that he could disappear inside.
A few warriors moved to follow his orders, disappearing back into the trees while a couple others remained behind to keep an eye on the horses. Jojesh reached up and pulled her from his horse, setting her feet on the ground and not letting go of his rough grip on her arms until her shaking legs had stilled and she had her balance under control. The moment she was steady, he looked up at the nearest warrior and tossed his end of her rope to him, telling him, "Watch her." Clarke looked over to the warrior, biting her cheek again and wincing when she saw it was the same warrior who'd attacked her and Lexa what felt like a lifetime ago. He nodded to Jojesh and the leader returned the nod before he too walked away, disappearing into the trees.
The moment Jojesh disappeared, the Grounder holding her rope looked at Clarke and grinned before he gave the rope a sharp tug, causing her to nearly stumble forward. He led her back towards the trees, her rope in one hand and his horse's reins in the other, and the moment they reached the nearest tree his arm reached out, connecting with her stomach and shoving her to the ground. She grit her teeth as she all but fell backwards, her back hitting against the tree hard before she slid down it, the cold snow quickly biting at her as she was forced to sit. Her captor simply grinned again before he turned around, his attention moving to his horse as he moved to one of its saddlebags and opened it, and the moment he turned Clarke felt her pulse speed up. This could be her chance.
For a long moment, Clarke looked around her, taking in her surroundings and planning. Barely moving so as not to draw attention to herself, she scanned the area around her, trying to take in every detail. Maloch had yet to reappear from inside the cave, so at least she didn't have to worry about him. Jojesh had disappeared into the woods, for what reason she couldn't guess, but with both of the leaders missing, she knew this might be her best chance for an attempt at escape. With Maloch's order a few of the other warriors had disappeared as well, so now only five of her captors were in sight, none seeming to pay any attention to her. For the first time since she'd woken up, no one was watching. Even the man still holding the other end of her rope didn't seem to be paying attention to her, his focus on his horse as the fingers not wrapped around the leather continued to dig through his saddlebag. Eyes dropping to the hand down at his side, Clarke could tell that his grip on the rope was loose, his attention elsewhere. If she timed it just right, she should be able to yank the rope out of his hand before he even knew she was moving.
After making sure she knew where each of the Grounders around her were, she turned to the side slightly, eyes flickering to a tree only a few dozen yards away. It was the tree Lexa had carved her target into so many months ago, and even now Clarke could see the arrow that still stuck from the center of it. She'd left it there during the weeks she'd used the target for practice, always looking to it to judge her own work, and had forgotten it the day Lexa had told her about the discovery of the Tesla survivors. Now, if she could reach it in time, it might be the one thing that would get her out of this mess. That one arrow might just be enough to save her.
Taking another quick sweep around her, she felt her heart beat so quickly that it felt as though it had begun to vibrate. Her nerves jumped through her, tension building in the back of her neck as her throat went dry. For the first time since she'd been captured, no one was directly next to her, no one was paying her any attention, and this was her chance. So she took it.
As she'd looked around, she'd begun wrapping the rope around her hand slowly, and now without any warning she gave it a hard jerk. As she'd hoped, her guard had been too focused on his saddlebag and let his grip on the rope relax, and with the force of her yank the rope sprung from his fist. He looked down in surprise the moment he felt it leave his grip, fingers opening in shock, and when he looked back at the prisoner he was supposed to be watching, she was already rolling to the side, springing to her feet a moment later. He turned and ran after her, trying not to let his limp slow him down as he swore at himself for letting his guard down.
The moment Clarke's feet were under her, she was racing towards the tree, ignoring the shouts she heard behind her as her captor yelled to his fellow warriors. She could hear his footsteps as he chased after her, but she pushed the loud steps out of her mind, her sights narrowing in until the only thing she saw was the arrow sticking from the target before her. The distance closed between herself and the tree, and she felt as though the speed of her heart only doubled with every step she took. Finally she reached the tree, throwing herself against its bark as her fingers wrapped around the smooth shaft of the arrow. Its head still remained lodged within the tree, the entire thing hidden from view just as it had been when Lexa had first fired it so many months ago, and Clarke grit her teeth as she tightened her grip. Back then, she would have had no hope of being able to pull it out; back then she would have needed a knife to pry it loose from the bark, but for over a month now she'd been firing her arrows just as deeply into her targets as this one was. Normally she'd have to wiggle it around for a few seconds to loosen it, but at the moment she had no time for that. She could hear the steps of her pursuer closing in on her, and knew she would only have one chance.
All at once, she felt fingers curl tightly around her bicep, another hand clutching at the back of her jacket, just as she yanked at the arrow with all her might. For a brief moment, it felt as though it hadn't been enough, that the arrow would remain inside the bark, but then she was moving and the arrow was moving with her, its stone edge retreating from the tree. The warrior who held her turned her around roughly, unaware of her prize, and without thinking about it, she harshly thrust the sharp arrow head up, catching him along the neck. His eyes widened in shock, darting down to see the weapon now in her hands, and then they flickered back to Clarke's face. The blonde met his look with a harsh glare as she quickly thrust the arrow into his neck a second time, the entire stone disappearing beneath the skin. She didn't look away, didn't break eye contact with him as a thin trail of blood began to slip down his neck from around the shaft of the arrow. "This is for Lexa," she growled softly, and she watched his eyes widen just before she yanked back, forcefully pulling the arrow out and along the side of his exposed throat. Hot blood poured forth, some of the sticky red splattering across her face while more of it covered her hands, and then she was pushing him away, hearing him splutter as his hands desperately reached up to grasp against the wound even as he fell backwards.
Clarke didn't wait to see if she'd struck deep enough to kill him; the moment he was down, she turned and raced into the trees, her fingers still clenched around the bloody arrow as her arms swung in front of her. She'd done all the planning she could, and now she just ran, ran without thinking, without looking behind her to see if she was being followed. This was her chance, possibly her only chance, and if she just kept running, kept her feet moving and body going, she might get away. She knew the cave wasn't too far from Polis, a few hours if she ran the entire way, so if she just kept going, kept running, maybe she would be able to escape her captors and reach Lexa. Maybe she could get away and destroy the Ice Queen's plans before she ever even got to act on them. All she had to do, all that was truly necessary, was for her to just keep running.
She didn't get far.
Clarke heard the two horses behind her, felt their hooves beating against the ground the closer they got, but refused to stop. There was no hope, not of out-running horses, but even knowing this she couldn't force herself to stop. She felt the tears building in the back of her eyes as she heard them get closer, but she refused to let them fall. Her breath was already coming in quick, short gasps, her fear tiring her out long before the actual movement could, but still she kept going. And then the two horses and their riders were in front of her, and even as she tried to change directions she knew it was no use. One of them pulled up close to her, cutting her off a second time, and when she tried to turn again she felt a sharp boot hit her back, sending her sprawling forwards. She dropped the arrow, and with her hands tied, she couldn't catch herself, wincing as first her knees and then her elbows struck the hard ground, the snow doing barely anything to cushion the fall. She tried to ignore the pains as she struggled to get up again, tried to keep running, but then one of the warriors was next to her, hands roughly pulling her back to her feet. She struggled against the grip, tried desperately to shake them loose, and only stopped when she felt a sudden blow strike her across the face. The intensity of the blow turned her vision white for just a second, and she winced as the force of the hit made her bite her tongue, blood immediately flowing from the wound and coating her teeth. The man who struck her grabbed onto the rope still tied to her hands, forcefully pulling her over to his horse, and when he turned back towards her she spat in his face, the blood and spit mixture hitting his cheek. He growled, raising his hand and she flinched, expecting it to come down a second time, but before it could the second warrior had her fingers wrapped around his wrist.
"No," she told him, hard eyes looking from him to their prisoner. "We take her to Meilok, that's it." He growled, his glare never leaving as his focus remained on the blonde, but he nodded. "Fine," he replied before he quickly pulled himself back into his saddle. He tugged on the rope, forcing Clarke to take a step forward, before adding, "But she will walk back." He tied his end of the rope to his saddle horn and the woman merely nodded, quickly mounting her own horse, and then the two flicked their reins and started back in the direction they'd come from. The moment his horse moved, Clarke felt herself be tugged forward as well, and only just managed to catch herself before she fell once again. Her captors kept the pace of their horses quick, quick enough that she was all but running to keep up and stay on her feet, and she glared at their backs as her knees protested every step. The coppery taste of blood still filled her mouth, and all she really wanted was to be able to wash it out, but knew better than to think she'd get the chance any time soon.
She hadn't gone far, so in a matter of minutes they once again broke through the trees at the top of the slope, Clarke's cave in view. She looked over as they passed the tree she'd pulled the arrow from: her first captor's body laid beside it, eyes open and arms fallen to the side. His hands and chest were dark with his blood, the red splashes that had hit the snow where he'd fallen a stark contrast to the white around him. He didn't move even as two other warriors moved around him, their eyes flickering up to Clarke as she was all but dragged by them, and she couldn't help but feel satisfaction when she looked over at his still form.
The horse she was tied to sped up a bit, and she nearly stumbled as she was jerked forward, her attention forcefully pulled from the dead warrior. A moment later and both horses were pulled to a stop, their warriors dismounting quickly. The Grounder whose horse she was tied to reached up and deftly removed the rope from his saddle horn, giving it a hard yank once he held it again, and once again Clarke was forced to stumble forward. Both of the warriors moved away from the horses, and Clarke had to clench her jaw as they moved to the fur that still hung from the cave's opening. They pushed it aside, disappearing into the cave, and the blonde was forced to follow.
The first thing Clarke noticed as she entered the cave that had been her home for over three months was the heat: Maloch had started a fire, and as always it hadn't taken long for the inside of the cave to warm up with its heat. She had to blink a few times as the shadowy light within its walls replaced the bright light outside, and before her vision could fully adjust she was being pulled forward again and then a foot pushed against the back of her knees, forcing her to fall forward. She winced as her knees once again fell roughly against the hard ground, but grit her teeth to keep any noise she might make from the pain silent.
"What is this?" she heard Maloch ask, his voice whipping through the space between them. She looked up and found him standing on the far side of her cave, his eyes trailing over her before moving to the two warriors that now stood at her back.
"The prisoner tried to escape," she heard the man behind her say, and he must still have had the rope in his hands because he gave it a little tug and she felt her arms jerk slightly to the side. "She killed Maks and then ran. We caught her and brought her back so that you could deal with her."
Clarke didn't take her eyes off of Maloch as he slowly began making his way across the cave. His eyes never left her, and in the flickering light of the fire she saw one corner of his lips turn up briefly, almost in a smile but not quite. "How did she kill Maks?" he asked, his tone light, almost casual, as though he wasn't talking about the death of one of his warriors.
"She pulled an arrow from a tree," the woman behind Clarke informed him. "She used it to stab him in the neck."
Maloch stopped walking only when he was standing in front of the kneeling blonde, his bright eyes still not leaving the girl's face. He knelt slightly, one hand reaching out so that his fingers could grip her chin, and then he used the grip to tilt her head to the side. She watched him take in the sight of her cheek, looking at the bruise she could tell had formed where she had been hit. A moment later he moved her head back, once again meeting her eyes, and she did something she knew was possibly very stupid and likely only to earn her another injury: she spit at him just as she had the man behind her. He didn't even flinch as the bloody spittle hit his cheek, didn't even seem to notice it other than to once again almost smile at her. His grip on her chin tightened momentarily before he released her, standing up again, and Clarke fought to keep the shiver she felt from running down her spine. He was much too calm, much too in control, and something about that scared her.
Once again standing, Maloch looked past the kneeling blonde, not even bothering to wipe the spit from his cheek as he looked at the two warriors behind her. He stepped forward calmly, holding his hand out, and a moment later the rope was being handed to him without him needing to say a word. He looked down at the leather in his hands, wrapping it around his wrist a few times before he asked almost uninterestedly, "And how did she get the injury to her face? Did Maks do that when she attacked?"
"No," Clarke heard the warrior who'd hit her reply, "I did it. She tried to fight back when I caught her and-"
The rest of his explanation was cut off, a loud smack erupting in the cave causing Clarke to jump. She looked behind her and saw the warrior's face turned to the side, blood already trailing from his lips and a bruise matching her own growing along his cheek. Maloch flexed his hand, drawing Clarke's focus to it, and it wasn't hard to put together what had happened.
"Idiots," the man growled, glaring at both of the warriors, "You know the Queen's orders: no harm is to come to the Sky girl until the Queen decides what to do with her. If you cannot follow that simple order, perhaps Maks is not the only fool who deserves death. Now get out before I decide to slit your throats as she did his." The two fled, leaving as quickly as they had entered, and Clarke had to fight with herself to keep her expression blank as though she hadn't understood any of what had been said. A moment later and Maloch stepped up beside her, one hand slipping beneath one of her arms and beginning to hoist her up.
"Now Clarke, you do not belong on your knees," he teased, his tone suddenly as light as it had been before he had threatened his own people. The sudden shift in his temper only made her shudder again. He looked over at her, raising an eyebrow. "At least not at this moment."
Shakily the blonde stood, trying to hide her fear of this man and managing to meet his grin with her own glare. The glare only made his grin widen before he dropped the rope he'd been holding, surprising her. Seeing that surprise, he raised his eyebrows and told her, "If you wish to run again, go right ahead. I doubt you'll make it any further than you did the last time, but I do enjoy chasing you." Seeing something flash across his face, Clarke simply remained where she was, meeting his look as she clenched her jaw, almost wincing again when she felt a sharp sting pulse from her injured tongue.
Seeing that she wasn't going to try to run, Maloch's grin only grew once again before he turned away from her, moving deeper into the cave. His footsteps were easy, almost slow as he moved, and Clarke watched him carefully, sure that there was a purpose behind his movements. "You are wise not to run," he finally called out, not turning towards her, and she could hear a shift in his tone as he added, "And clever, to think to use that arrow to kill one of my warriors."
"You don't seem all that upset about it," she replied, shifting slightly where she stood. She saw him shrug and still he didn't turn to her as he told her, "If he was foolish enough to give you the opportunity, then he deserved his death. The Queen has no need for idiots like him."
Clarke had nothing to say to that, so instead of trying to come up with something she just continued to watch him as he seemed to look around him. His eyes roamed across the cave, and then he was moving close to one of the walls, and she could see he was studying the art she had added to them during her time living here.
"These are very good," he informed her, looking over his shoulder and throwing her a grin. He quirked one eyebrow at her before he said, "I assume it is you who did them; I have heard many things about your Commander, but never have I heard that she has a talent for drawing."
"The Commander is full of mysteries," she simply replied, choosing not to tell him any more than that. His grin only grew into a smirk, eyes quickly raking over her before he told her, "That I have no doubt of." He turned then and took a few steps further back, stopping beside another of her drawings, and this time didn't bother to turn around as he said, "Still, I doubt your Commander would choose to create a drawing of herself."
Clarke clenched her jaw so hard she felt the muscles in her neck strain as her eyes flew to the drawing he now stood beside. She could easily still remember the night she'd drawn it: it had only been a few weeks before Lexa had shown up with the news about the Tesla survivors, and when she'd told Lexa she wanted to draw her, the other girl had simply smiled and nodded. Clarke still didn't know how long she'd worked on it, looking from the Grounder to the rock in front of her, working with the chalk in her hand to get every detail just right. Lexa had laughed at the way her tongue stuck out the side of her mouth, had shook her head whenever Clarke playfully told her she wasn't allowed to move yet, and then had barely even looked at the portrait of herself when the blonde had finally declared she was done. The Commander had given it a quick look, told her it was wonderful, and then somehow convinced the artist to come back to their furs so that she could show her how much she appreciated the care Clarke had taken with the portrait. It had been a night like so many others they had spent together, and now she knew the memory would be forever tainted. No one but she and Lexa were ever supposed to see it, see any of this, and the fact that Maloch now stood beside the portrait, his cruel eyes drinking it in, made Clarke's stomach roll and blood boil.
"How long did you know?" Clarke asked, managing to maintain some kind of control over her tone. "How long have you known about this place? About the Commander and me? How did you find out?"
Maloch turned, simply looking over his shoulder again and giving her another smirk, shrugging.
"Longer than you think," he answered, his tone smug as he purposefully ignored the last question. He looked back at the portrait in front of him, and Clarke heard the amusement in his voice as he continued. "You and your Commander believed you hid yourself away from the world, but we were watching. You thought you were safe, but we could have attacked whenever we wanted." He reached forward, hand idly reaching towards the drawing, and Clarke couldn't keep herself quiet.
"Don't touch it," she growled, taking a step forward, and this time he turned his entire body towards her, eyebrows rising again.
"Or what?" he asked, the corners of his mouth flickering up. "You will attack me as you did Maks?" He let out a small chuckle, shaking his head before telling her, "You have no arrows here to pull out of the wall, and even if you did, I am not so easily beaten as he was. It would take much more than that to kill me." As if to prove her threat meant nothing to him, he reached forward again, and then his hand was on the wall, roughly brushing down the portrait. He started at Lexa's forehead, his fingers breaking the lines that created it and then dragging the chalk down across the rest of it. Clarke watched as first Lexa's face and then her neck were smudged, the lines that made up the drawing she'd spent so long on broken. She couldn't tear her eyes from it, couldn't look away as the portrait became distorted, the face she'd spent so many hours staring into forcefully morphing before her eyes. She felt Maloch's eyes on her, felt him watching her reaction, and fought with herself not to give him one. All she allowed herself to do was clench her jaw tighter, her hands bound in front of her curling into fists.
Maloch pulled his hand away from the wall once his fingers had moved down the length of the portrait, his lips curled up into a cruel smirk. Turning away from the blonde, he slowly began making his way towards the back of the cave. As he moved, he struck his hand out again, dragging it along the length of the wall and through any of the other drawings he passed.
"You and your Commander thought you were clever," he called out, his voice easily carrying over the crackle of the flames between them. "Your Commander, your dear Lexa, thought she could hide you away in this cave and no one would ever find you. She believed she could have you, that she could hide you here and you would be safe." Reaching the rear of the cave, Maloch stopped next to the baskets Clarke had had to leave behind, his fingers moving away from the wall to glide along the tops of them. She watched him, bile rising in her throat as the intensity with which she glared at him grew with every word. His eyes flickered over to her, meeting the glare, and his eyebrows rose. "Do you feel safe right now, Sky girl?" Eyes turning back down to the basket, his foot reached out, the toes of his boot slowly pushing against it until it fell over. Its cover had never been particularly strong, so the moment it fell against the ground, it sprang open, the few dishes she'd gathered scattering along the dirt. She'd taken all the food she had left when she'd gone to find the Telsa survivors, but the furs she'd left behind fell out along with them, as did the spare knife she'd had and the few other knick knacks she'd gathered. He moved to the second basket and did the same to it more forcefully, and the clothes and other items in this basket flew out across the ground. Looking up from the mess, Maloch smirked, meeting her glare again. "Your Commander tried to hide you, but clearly she failed. You chose the wrong Commander, and now you will have to decide if your Lexa is worth what we have planned for you."
Clarke heard every word he said, but her attention had split the moment the second basket had toppled over and its contents had spilled across the ground. Among those contents was the small bag of chalk Lexa had brought her so long ago, the bag skidding to a stop not far from the fire. Maloch hadn't seen it and even if he had, he wouldn't have known what was inside, but Clarke did, and she had to fight not to stare at it. If she could get to it, if she could sneak a piece of chalk from it without him seeing, maybe she'd be able to leave a trail for Lexa to follow. With her most ruthless captor standing right in front of her though, it was going to be a challenge getting it without being spotted.
Maloch took a step forward, a plate shattering beneath his boot as he purposefully walked on it, and she stepped to the side, looking as though she were merely trying to keep the distance between them, but in reality trying to move closer to the pouch. His eyebrows rose, as though the two were having a perfectly polite conversation, as he looked down at the items around his feet.
"How would she react if she saw this?" he asked, kicking a cup and sending it hurtling towards the wall. While he looked down, Clarke took another single, small step forwards. "If your Lexa saw this place as it is now, what would she do?" His grin grew then, face lifting and eyes once again meeting Clarke's. Reaching down, he didn't break eye contact with her even as he grabbed a shirt from the ground. "She brought all of these things to you, thought they would help you. What would she do if she saw them now?" His fingers moved to the bottom of the shirt, and Clarke watched with a straight face as he slowly ripped it apart, the sound of the tearing fabric fighting to be heard over the crackle of the flames. The moment he'd ripped a piece of the shirt off, he tossed the useless fabric into the fire, watching the blonde's face for a reaction. Other than the slightest twitch of her eyebrows, she gave none. The lack of reaction only made his grin grow.
"You were happy here, in this cave, alone with just your Commander beside you," he mused, stepping forward, not caring that one of the furs now laid beneath his boots. He dug his foot further into it before taking another step, what remained of the shredded shirt hanging out of the side of his fist. Eyes moving back to the wall where a dozen or more pictures still showed, he allowed his focus to shift from the blonde to her artwork again. "You do not need to try to deny it," he informed her over his shoulder, "I could tell. I watched you a couple of times, and could see how content you were. And when your Lexa showed up..." A corner of his mouth twitched. "Then you were even more content." Reaching the wall, he brought the shredded cloth up, dragging it along the wall and smudging every drawing in front of him. "It always made me feel powerful," he admitted, his voice quieting even though the tone seemed stronger. "Knowing that at any moment I could end your happiness. You two thought yourselves alone, thought no one knew, but I could have captured you whenever I wanted. Or killed you. I had all the power over both the Commander and the great Wanheda, and neither of you ever knew." The cloth wiped across Lexa's portrait, distorting it even further.
Fury boiled beneath Clarke's skin, an anger she hadn't known she could feel battling with the bile that rose in her throat at his words. Her skin crawled, the hair on her arms standing on end at just the thought of him watching: watching her, watching her practice with her bow, watching her moving around outside her cave, watching her reaction whenever Lexa rode through the trees. He couldn't have been there all the time, she knew, couldn't possibly have been watching always, but not knowing when he'd been there, hiding in the trees, tainted every memory she had of this place. This was where she and Lexa had learned how to move on, move past what had happened at Mount Weather and just what they meant to each other, and knowing that Maloch had witnessed even one second of their time together made her want to both vomit and tear his eyes out. She couldn't allow herself to react though, wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing how his words effected her. So rather than focus on what he said or how he was so effectively destroying not just the cave but all the memories she'd made in it, she focused on something more important.
His attention solely on her drawings, Clarke used Maloch's distraction to slowly inch her way towards the pouch still lying not far from the fire. She could feel beads of sweat run down the small of her back, the heat inside the cave mixing with her nerves, but she ignored them. Her eyes remained stuck on his back, not daring to look away for fear that he would turn around and see what she was up to. Slowly, inch by inch, she made her way across the dirt floor, and only when she was close to the pouch did she finally allow herself to tear her eyes away from her captor and down to her prize. Her heart beat ferociously in her chest, so loudly she was afraid he'd be able to hear it. She took a final step and the pouch was laying at her feet, the end of the leather tie holding the bag closed laying on the ground beside the toe of her boot. Eyes flickering quickly back to her captor, she found Maloch still contentedly destroying the art she'd added to the cave wall, and quickly bent over, careful not to fall over as she did so. With her hands tied, her fingers had a hard time pulling against the knot tied across the top of the bag, and with every second that ticked by her mouth got drier as her nerves increased. Her eyes flickered back to the man across the room, still blessedly distracted, and then the knot was finally undone, the small pouch opening and the few pieces of chalk still there finally visible by the flickering firelight. Nearly crying in relief, Clarke's fingers slipped inside the pouch, wrapping around a stick of the chalk and pulling it out.
Footsteps at the entrance to the cave made Clarke's heart stop in her chest, and then the fur hanging at the mouth of the cave was pulled back, and the blonde's head shot up as she dropped the pouch to the ground. Jojesh stood just inside the cave, the fur falling closed behind him, and his eyes moved directly to Clarke. Her fingers curled around the piece of chalk in her hand, trying to hide it from him, and for a brief moment that felt like an eternity, they just stared at each other. Clarke didn't dare to move, didn't dare to do anything, afraid any kind of movement would make her guilt even more obvious, and waited for this second captor to destroy any hope she had of leaving Lexa a trail to follow.
A moment later her eyes nearly widened in shock as the man turned away from her, his facial expression not changing as he turned his attention to Maloch who'd yet to look away from the wall.
"Meilok," he said to the other man, his tone even, "We should be leaving. We have spent enough time here: we are wasting daylight."
Clarke heard Maloch let out an exasperated sigh, and she stood quickly just before he turned back around, shooting her a small grin before looking at the other man.
"I suppose you are right, Jojesh," he agreed, taking a few steps forward and purposefully stepping on anything in his way. "The Queen expects us back soon." He moved closer to Clarke, who subconsciously tightened her grip on the piece of chalk she still held, trying to make sure it was hidden from his sight. Reaching her, he leaned down and grabbed the end of her rope from the floor, tossing it over to Jojesh who easily caught it. As he did so, he met Clarke's eyes and lifted his eyebrows as he told her, "She very much wishes to meet you, and we do not want to put that off. The Queen can be a intimidating when she doe not get what she wants." Neither Clarke nor Jojesh said anything in return, the blonde just giving him a glare while Jojesh looked at him uninterestedly before turning around and beginning to walk out of the cave. The rope pulled her forward slightly after he'd taken a few steps, and Clarke moved to follow, but just before she turned she saw Maloch move over to the small pile of wood still sitting on the other side of the cave. Before she could see what he was doing, Clarke was forced through the opening of the cave, the fur falling shut behind her. Even so, she didn't have to wait long to find out what he was up to: not more than a few moments later, Maloch followed after them, carrying a thick branch with him. One end of the branch was glowing, small flames leaping from it, and when he met Clarke's eyes once again his smirk grew before he held the flaming end up to the fur dividing the inside of the cave from the outside. Soon the flames leapt from the torch to the fur, the hide going up in flames before the blonde's eyes. She forced herself to swallow around a hard lump in her throat, the heat of the burning fur doing nothing to break through the cold that had settled inside her chest.
Jojesh did not allow her to watch the flaming spectacle for long: soon he was urging her forward, pulling her down the slope to where the rest of her captors had gathered with their horses, waiting for their two leaders and prisoner so they could leave. As they moved, she could hear Maloch's boots crunching in the snow behind them, but she refused to turn around to even glare at him.
The moment they reached the rest of the Ice Nation Grounders, Jojesh roughly pulled her closer to him, his fingers immediately going to the bindings around her wrists. Deftly he began to untie one of them, shocking Clarke. Clearly she wasn't the only one surprised, as a moment later she heard Maloch growl behind her, "What are you doing?"
"She killed Mats," Jojesh answered simply, just as the leather loosened around one of her wrists. He slipped it off, and before she could make so much as a move he was twisting both of her arms behind her back and then slipping the leather back around her wrist, tying her hands together even more effectively than they'd been in front of her. "She is a danger with her hands before her. With her hands behind her, she poses no threat."
Clarke saw Maloch step forward, once again entering her field of vision, and easily heard the contempt in his voice as he said, "You fear an untrained Sky girl who is already tied up, Joujesh?" Her captor looked up and met his look even as he finished securing the knot in place, before he replied, "She has proven already to be more than she looks: I will not take any chances." Clarke saw Maloch just smirk, his eyes trailing down first to her tied hands and then to her face, before he turned and walked towards his horse, letting the matter drop.
One of Jojesh's hands moved to the center of Clarke's back and she was pushed forward, nearly stumbling from the sudden movement, and another of their warriors led his horse over to them. Without another word his hands were on her waist and then he was lifting her up, dropping her into his saddle. She swayed slightly, unable to catch herself with her hands tied behind her, but the next moment he was dropping into the saddle behind her, his arms moving around her to grab a hold of his reins. With a light kick to his horse's sides and a slight tug on his reins, he turned his horse around to join the others, and then they were off again, his arms and Clarke's leg muscles keeping her in the saddle.
As the horse stepped forward, Clarke noticed the body of the man she'd killed still lying in the snow, already forgotten by those she traveled with. Smoke from the the burning fur rose from her cave, clouding the air behind them as they began forward again, and the blonde's brow pulled down as her fingers curled tightly around the chalk still in her fingers. A sense of determination settling into her chest as the smoke filled her lungs. Her captors believed her helpless: she'd show them she was anything but.
Sorry for the slightly late update and for the lack of Lexa; she'll be back in the next one, so you only have to wait a little longer to find out how she's doing. There will be some chapters for a while that only have Clarke or only have Lexa in them, as well as parts of chapters that will focus on other characters. Some chapters will have them both, but many won't, simply because they each have very different story lines developing from here on out. Hope you enjoyed the chapter, and that you're all looking forward to more as much as I'm looking forward to writing it! Thanks!