Clarke

It was a cold, miserable journey- hours of hard riding during the day, and nights with no fire, no way to keep warm. Clarke made sure to inject Bellamy at least every hour to two with a small dose of Red, but he was careful too, telling her if the cravings were getting too strong. She watched him closely, seeing how hard it was for him to relax, and even when they made camp for the night, his nightmares woke him frequently. Nobody slept properly, but no one complained either- it was what had to be done.

The more distance they put between themselves and Polis, the more nervous Clarke felt. She dreaded going back to Camp Jaha, seeing her friends, her mother… all the people she'd left behind. What would they think of her? Would they see her as nothing but the coward she felt like she was? Would they ever forgive her for leaving them?

She was too preoccupied with dread and worry to really think about what had happened between her and Bellamy at the hot springs. The memory of his lips against hers, his arms around her, their bodies close, had faded until it almost seemed like a dream- too sweet, too fleeting, to have actually happened.

But she knew that it had. She could see it in his gaze, in the way his soft brown eyes locked onto hers whenever she stepped close to administer the drug. Or at night, when they were all laying on their furs, trying to fall asleep, he would watch her. He never said anything, so neither did she, but she couldn't help but wonder what he might be thinking. It was too difficult, with Octavia and Lia, for them to have a real conversation, and no other opportunities like the privacy of the hot pool had presented themselves.

More than once they sighted their pursuers, usually from the top of a hillside, where it was easy to look back in the direction they'd come from. They may have been far away, but the fact that they were visible at all made Clarke sick with worry, and even Lia- usually so impassive- would become nervous as she watched them approach.

Once Lia had said, quietly so as not to wake Bellamy as he slept off another dose of Red, "Perhaps we should abandon the horses. They leave a distinct trail."

"No way," Octavia had protested immediately. "Bellamy doesn't have time for us to be on foot. The longer he's taking that drug the worse the heart damage is going to be, right?"

Lia had just pressed her lips together and said, "The dead have no need of hearts."

"No one's going to die," Clarke had snapped, her nerves beyond frayed. "They're not going to catch us… we just have to keep moving." Everyone had gone silent then, and Lia never suggested it again.

But Clarke was wrong- it soon became clear that their pursuers were going to catch them, as they drew a little closer every day. Each night they made camp for shorter and shorter times, not trusting the forest to conceal them anymore, not trusting that they wouldn't be awoken with knives in their chests.

When it did happen, finally, it happened very suddenly. One moment they were tramping through the woods, the sun high above them, birds singing, and then they heard shouts and the vicious barking of dogs.

They all stopped their horses dead, and just listened as the noises came closer- five seconds stretched to eternity as Clarke's eyes flew to Bellamy's, and she could see he was as scared as she felt.

"The scouts are upon us," Lia declared. "We must run." No one protested. They started their horses galloping despite the trees, risking that they might break a leg on an exposed root or lose their footing on a hill, each of them knowing it would all be over if that happened but having no choice but to take the chance.

"I knew we should have taken the time to get weapons!" Clarke heard Octavia yell at one point.

"Just hold onto me," Bellamy called back to her urgently, and Clarke saw his hand grab for hers to make sure she was holding tightly to his stomach.

Lia seemed intent on pointing out, "If we had delayed any further, they would have been on top of us days ago."

No one could argue with that, so they just kept going. Clarke could feel her heart pounding in her chest, the blood rushing in her ears- it couldn't be over, not now, not like this.

Finally, they broke through the treeline and into a meadow of rolling hills and tall grasses, swaying gently in a breeze. It would have been beautiful if they weren't running of their lives.

But what caught Clarke's eye wasn't the picturesque landscape, but the huddle of tents squatting low on the horizon.

"There!" she yelled, directing the attention of the others and turning her horse that way.

"Who are they?" Bellamy shouted, an edge to his voice.

"That is the banner of the Fayakru," Lia answered.

"Is that good?" Octavia asked. "Will they help us?"

All Lia would say was, "It is better than the Ice Nation."

Clarke urged her horse to run flat-out, hearing the animal panting, knowing they'd been pushing the horses for days and praying that none of them would choose this moment to collapse. The tents seemed to get no closer as they hurried in that direction, but she knew her fear was only making her eyes play tricks.

As they finally neared, they heard shouting up ahead and saw warriors emerging from the tents, wielding swords and clearly very unhappy to see them. Clarke looked over at Bellamy and she saw him shake his head, just once, and she knew he wanted them to turn. She looked both ways, trying to decide which path would be faster, safer.

But Lia kept charging forward, straight at the tents, and Clarke couldn't help but follower her, hoping the little girl knew something they didn't.

"Clarke, this is bad!" Bellamy yelled over at her.

"It's all bad!" she yelled back. "We have no choice!"

"Maybe the Fayakru will attack the Azegdakru and we can slip away," Octavia supplied, but she sounded as doubtful as Clarke felt.

The warriors formed themselves into a perimeter in front of the tents, swords held high, and just as they were about to charge directly through the camp, Lia pulled her horse to a stop, Clarke and the Blakes quickly doing the same thing.

The horses stood there, angrily tossing their heads, snorting, stamping their feet. For a tense moment nothing happened, no one moved, though Clarke could still hear the galloping of their pursuers, the growls of their dogs.

Then something amazing happened. One of the warriors signaled to the others and several of them quickly raised bows, pulled back arrows, and aimed them right at the Ice Nation's scouts. Clarke whirled her head in time to see a volley of arrows embed themselves in the dogs that had been about to reach them. The animals whimpered, reeling off their trajectories and collapsing into the grass, some panting a little before going still.

The Ice Nation's riders- eight of them, in full armour- pulled up their horses and stood just out of range of the arrows. The bowmen kept them in their sights, and for a long moment no one spoke. The tension was palpable in the air.

Lia said something in Trigedasleng, and Clarke heard Octavia say quietly to Bellamy, "She's asking them for safe passage, telling them we mean no harm." One of the men snapped a reply to Lia, and Octavia let go of Bellamy and shimmied sideways, dropping to the ground. Lia did the same, and Clarke quickly realised they had been given an order to dismount. She and Bellamy hopped off their horses and Bellamy reached out a hand to beckon her over. Only once she joined him did he seem to relax, with both her and Octavia within arm's reach of him. Clarke wished she felt as comforted, but everyone was still so tense, and she had no idea what to expect.

One of the warriors stepped forward and gathered the reins of their horses up in her hands, leading them away. Clarke's heart sank, knowing that now they wouldn't be going anywhere, and not sure just what might happen next.

Under his breath Bellamy said, "If we have to run, stay close together and head for the forest."

But Clarke knew there was no use in running; if they did, they'd be shot before they ever made it to the trees. One look at Bellamy's grim face told him he knew that too.

One of the Ice Nation's scouts yelled something across the meadow, and the man that seemed in charge of the Fayakru warriors yelled back.

"The Azgedakru say they own us, that we belong to the queen," Octavia translated along softly, and then her voice caught and she sounded excited as she said, "The Fayakru disagree- they say we have their protection."

"Thank God," Bellamy said, letting out a breath of relief. But their hopes were soon quashed as the Ice Nation talked quietly amongst themselves and seemed not to accept this. The lead scout let out a roar and started towards him, the others falling in behind him.

Only two fell to the arrows, their armour holding fast against the barrage that the Fayakru sent their way.

"Run!" Bellamy yelled, grabbing Octavia and shoving her towards the woods, then doing the same with Clarke, who wheeled off-balance for a moment before she started running, following them across the meadow. She looked around for Lia, but she seemed lost in the skirmish- or perhaps she had slipped into the tall grass like a ghost.

They hit the trees like the devil was after them, but no one chased them. Clarke caught the edge of a tree trunk, breathing hard. She looked at the Blakes and Octavia shrugged, peering back the way they'd come to make sure they were safe. They could hear the metal clanging of swords.

Then Bellamy staggered suddenly and fell to his knees, gasping, eyes huge, his hand clutching his chest.

"What's wrong?" Octavia asked sharply.

Clarke hurried over to Bellamy and dropped down next to him, putting her fingers on his neck and feeling for his pulse. It was more erratic than she'd ever felt it, seeming to skip several beats before plunging back into an irregular rhythm, first slow and weak, then so strong and fast that she thought the blood vessel would burst out of his neck.

"The Red," she said quickly, then realised where it was- with the horses, in the saddlebags. Squeezing her eyes shut for a moment, she turned back to Bellamy and put her hands on his shoulders, trying to catch his eyes as he continued to heave and gasp. "Take deep breaths!" she urged him. "Bellamy- look at me!" She watched him drag his eyes up to meet hers as she demonstrated the necessary technique, showing him how to draw in deeply through his nose, then exhale slowly through his mouth. He managed for a short time, but then seemed unable to catch his breath and reverted to gulping for air.

Clarke grabbed Octavia's arm and hauled her over, shoving her down to the ground beside her brother. "You have to calm him down," she said urgently, and watched as Octavia put her hands on Bellamy's shoulders as Clarke had just done. His skin was growing paler by the second as his eyes darted between the two women, cloudy and panicked. His grip on his chest was tight and he looked like he was in terrible pain.

"Okay, Bell, come on now, you need to breathe slowly like she said, right? In… and out… come on, in… and out… you've got to do this Bell, come on, just focus."

Clarke looked at Bellamy helplessly, and then back toward the tents. She made a snap decision and turned, running back toward the camp, knowing she had to get to those horses. She heard Bellamy yell out his protest behind her, but Octavia must have wrenched his attention back to her, because no one's footsteps pounded after her. She ran as fast as she could, aware that she was headed straight for a battle, but there was no choice- if Bellamy's heart stopped now, she might never get it going again.

When she got near the tents she dropped down and hid herself in the grass, wriggling closer and closer on her stomach toward where the horses were. It was only when she had almost reached them that she realised all had suddenly gone quiet- no more sounds of fighting. Slowly and cautiously she raised her head, just enough to see above the grass, to see who was dead and who was alive.

The Ice Nation's scouts had all been killed save one, the leader, and he was face down on the ground, being hog-tied. Lia sat nearby, her hands bound tightly, but she seemed unconcerned. She noticed Clarke and her eyes darted right to the saddlebag that held the Red, as she seemed to know just what Clarke was doing.

Clarke quickly got to the horse and grabbed the whole bag, ripping it from the horse and slinging it over her shoulder. The glass vials inside made a soft clinking sound that drew the attention of one of the Fayakru warriors, and she whipped her head in Clarke's direction, advancing on her.

Turning and running was her only option, but as fast as her legs could carry her was still not fast enough, and the woman caught up to her easily, grabbing her roughly and hauling her back to the tents.

"Wait, please, no, my… my friend- he's dying!" she cried, trying to pull away from the vice grip of the woman's hand. "Please, I have to help him!"

The woman spoke to her harshly in Trigedasleng, taking her over to where Lia was and starting to tie her up.

"Please!" Clarke said again, her heart sinking as she looked back toward the treeline, imagining Octavia was going to come running through at any moment, screaming that Bellamy was dead. She struggled, protested, but the warrior ignored her, just tying the ropes tight around her wrists and ankles. She gave Clarke a rough jerk as she struggled, trying to quiet her.

"Em pleni!" a voice rang out over the camp, and everyone stilled.

Out of the largest tent in the camp, a girl very close to Clarke's own age had emerged, looking around the camp for a moment until her eyes finally settled onto Clarke. Her skin was the colour of rich milk chocolate, her nose was wide at the base, her chin proud, cheeks rounded under eyes that were as dark as Bellamy's. Her hair was long and springy, the strands tightly coiled, though part of it had been somewhat tamed into braids that were swept back from her face by a wide band of cloth. Her large, full lips were slightly pursed as she regarded Clarke with a cool, steady gaze.

Only it wasn't the young woman's physical appearance that made Clarke's breath catch, but the decorations- her eyes were painted all the way around with black kohl, and three stripes, like tear tracks, curved down along both of her cheeks, tapering into points just above her jaw. Between her eyebrows, just above where the bridge of her nose began, sat a small, circular ornament, like a tiny gear or a cog, made of brushed gold.

"Welcome, Clarke of the Sky People," the girl said, and her voice- not the pitch, but the way she spoke, the imposing tone- was as much like Lexa's as her makeup and jewelry. To her warriors she added firmly in Trigedasleng, "Breik em au." Right away, Clarke was released.

"Sha, Heda," all the warriors murmured, bowing respectfully to the girl.

Suddenly, Clarke realised that she was looking at the next Commander of the Twelve Clans.