Life had a way of coming full circle. It always did, and it always would. Echo remained crouched in the shadow of a grey-barked tree. The moss of its trunk more lichen and grey blues than mighty green moss seen further south.
Echo's body still held signs of life spent trapped in the Mountain. Her limbs weren't as strong as she wanted them to be, her breath still came more laboured than she liked, but she ignored it as much as she could.
She had left Clarke under guard mere hours ago, and as she continued to retrace their steps and hide their tracks she knew a decision needed to be made. Echo was no fool. She had gleamed more than Clarke had meant to let slip, that much she was sure.
Echo had lost count of how many days she had spent caged in the depths of the Mountain. But during that time she had grown close to the others, no matter how much she had tried to distance herself. She had felt remorse when others had been taken, and she had felt sadness when they never returned.
Through it all she had understood why Lexa had formed the coalition, she had seen just how vile the Mountain truly was. Of course she had known, she had heard the stories and even fought against and killed reaper and Mountain Man alike. But it was an entirely different thing to be captured and caged like an animal.
And that, as well as time, had been what had made Echo think, consider, and understand that there was more to life, more to serving, than killing, than following orders blindly.
Echo had done so many things in her life, from killing her friend and taking her name, to befriending Costia only to trick and take her back to her capital. And Echo had done all those things for hesitation was death.
She was proud to serve her clan, she was proud that her actions had made sure her people had survived battles, and skirmishes and had defeated enemy after enemy.
And yet, despite her pride, she felt remorse at the lives she took, if only because she now looked at the things she had done with a different perspective.
Birdsong interrupted her thoughts and as Echo looked up into the sky she saw the bird flit one way and then the other. Something was close, not dangerously close yet, but enough that it startled bird and gave her warning.
Echo began to move, her movements slow and steady as she slipped from bush to bush and shadow to shadow as she began to circle back the way she had come.
And there it was again.
Circles.
To return back the way she had come.
To find yourself back at the start.
Lexa, in all her mighty glory, had seemingly become attached to a another, and just as it had happened before, it had happened again. Echo was now part of a ploy, a plan of subterfuge and danger, and her goal was to capture, trick, somehow get Lexa's other half into the hands of her queen.
But this time was different.
There was no Mountain to stay Lexa's hand.
That had been taken care of by the one thing Nia had tried to destroy years ago.
And Echo knew that without a Mountain to defeat, Lexa's wrath would be squarely aimed at Azgeda and the threat of destabilising the Coalition would not deter Lexa's hand this time. Echo knew Lexa would blame Azgeda with or without proof.
It was simple, really, Echo thought.
Skaikru would fight alongside the Coalition regardless of how Lexa had betrayed them. Azgeda would be blamed whether there was proof or not. And Nia would use wanheda's death openly and would flaunt her newfound power. And there was a chance, a strong chance, an almost certain chance that Azgeda would be thrown into war. And that was something Echo couldn't be responsible for. She was loyal to her queen. She was loyal to her people. But most importantly, she was loyal to her clan. And queens could come and go. There would always be another. But there was only one Azgeda.
Echo took in one last deep breath before she steadied her thoughts and made a decision that could cost her everything. And with that Echo made another firm foot print in the snowy ground as she began to sneak back to where Clarke and her compatriot were walking.
Alexandria walked the length of the medbay, her thoughts stuck between worry for Klark, for Lexa and for Nessa. She didn't need to be told that something had happened to Klark to know that something had happened. The fact that Lexa had stormed off with warriors by her side, and the fact that even more guards were now standing outside the medbay doors was sign enough. Alexandria tried not to worry even if she knew that a fruitless endeavour.
Over the last few days Nessa had been healing. That had been a relief. At first Alexandria had worried Nessa would never speak properly again, but with Skaikru medicine and Abby's care Nessa had progressed well. Better than could be expected.
And so, as Alexandria came to the far wall and as she turned to pace back the way she came. She found herself smiling as she looked upon Dhorma who was in mischievous conversation with Nessa who remained propped up in the bed, a bandage still around her neck but her eyes brighter and more healthy than they had been just days earlier.
There was a subtle anger that seethed in the back of her mind, that made her want to wrap her hands around whoever was responsible and wring the life out of their eyes. She knew who it was, and she was sure Lexa knew, too. But Alexandria didn't think Lexa would do anything. Not unless Klark was hurt. Then she knew the coalition would be thrown into chaos.
And no matter how much she wanted for those responsible to be punished, she knew it best for her people, for her daughter and for those she cared for, that the coalition remain strong and at peace.
And so Alexandria sighed, shook her thoughts and ignored the ache in her neck as she began to walk back to Nessa's side.
Treason was an odd word. Her oath to her clan was strong, she would never break it. But what Echo was about to do could be considered treasonous by some. She didn't even realise it had been happening until she had been freed from the Mountain and had helped a too weak Trikru warrior stand and walk free. But she had realised that the Coalition, the the clans working together was something Azgeda could benefit from. But only if they were part of the Coalition themselves.
Echo paused in the shadows of a tall tree as she made the last purposeful footprint and she took the time to consider everything she knew, everything she did and everything she would soon do.
Other Azgeda assassins had already returned to Azgeda with the message that the girl was in fact the Commander's sister and that the initial attack had failed. But they also would have delivered the message that Wanheda had been there, too and that those who remained in the forests had shifted their plan and would be trying to capture her. Echo knew she'd be punished for not delivering on either one of these goals, but she didn't think she would be blamed for its failure. Not when so many unknowns had been in place.
The one thing she was completely certain of though was that Azgeda would be blamed if Wanheda was captured. They would already be blamed for this attack, but her clan could navigate the accusations and threats if no one was killed. It wasn't too late to stop her clan from being thrown into chaos.
And if anything else, Azgeda was a patient clan. It could wait until another opportunity could be taken advantage of whose repercussions weren't so uncertain.
And so Echo nodded to herself, she accepted the fact that the other spy was about to die and that she would need to get out of Trikru territory as quickly as possible and return to Azgeda with a hole-proof reason for why she returned alone.
Clarke wasn't exactly a master at understanding human physiology. But she was sure the ground shouldn't be swimming with each step she took, and that her skin should feel like it was on fire at times and ice cold at others. She was sure some kind of infection was setting in from any number of open wounds, or that her injured wrist had somehow been so very much more serious than first thought. Maybe even her ribs, the surgery and the open incision that had slowly been healing could have split open somehow and was now making her insides her outsides.
Whatever it was, she hated it. She hated walking blindly forward in the dark and she hated the fact that she still hadn't quite figured out a way to get free without ending up dead.
The man gripped her shoulder then and pushed her into shadow of a tall tree, the light from the moon doing little let her see what was around her. Clarke didn't complain though. She was used to being stopped abruptly or turned to walk in another direction without warning. She was even a little thankful for it gave her time to rest, to try to clear her head and organise her thoughts. The man settled down next to her, one hand resting atop his knife, the other pulled into his furs for warmth.
It didn't take Clarke long to lose herself to her thoughts, and before she really knew what was happening she found herself falling into an unpleasant slumber.
Clarke dreamt she was somewhere warm, she dreamt she was somewhere kind where scares and fears were kept away by something gentle and quiet.
But she woke with a start. The sky overhead had begun to lighten from the deep purple to a barely light grey. Stars still sparkled overhead and the moon only just began to drop ever so slowly in the sky.
Clarke blinked back the sleep and she tried not to linger on the fact she was a prisoner, she tried not to linger on the fact that her life had taken so many turns that she knew not which direction she headed.
Though she tried to ignore the things Echo had said to her in days prior, she found them never far. She didn't mean to linger on the fact that for some reason she had tried to justify Lexa's actions to the spy. She tried not to linger on the fact that she had defended Lexa in her entirety to the woman who had offered her revenge, had offered her a chance to make Lexa feel even a sliver of the things she had felt.
But Clarke knew. She knew why she defended and justified and make excuses. She didn't think she'd ever forgive Lexa, or perhaps simply not for a long time. And she thought it unhealthy, she thought it a dangerous thing to fall victim to. But accepting what Lexa had done could only be good for her, if only because it would help her move on.
If it came down to it though, Clarke could justify supporting Lexa over Azgeda simply because what Lexa had done was for her people. She had given up Skaikru in the hopes that her people would be saved in the cross-fire. And as Clarke thought of the things she knew of Azgeda she thought it unlikely that their ruler would do the same. Not with what she knew of Costia's fate.
If anything, Clarke wouldn't help Azgeda simply because they had come after Nessa, they had tried to kill her, and they had wounded her so deeply that Clarke had feared the child dead.
And Clarke never meant to grow attached to the girl, but she did. And she owed Alexandria so much, probably more than she could repay. So if Clarke boiled down all her emotions into one single conclusion. It was that she would do whatever it took to make sure Nessa and Alexandria remained as safe as possible.
Clarke didn't realise she was grinding her teeth until a pain seared up her jaw and she cursed herself. But as she looked around she realised quite suddenly that she was alone, that no one was near.
At first she thought she imagined it, and as she squinted in the dark in an attempt to see the man or Echo, she found herself unable to identify either presence nearby.
Clarke looked down at her side to see the man's small pack still there,, and she wondered if he had simply gone off in search of food while she slept, or if he was simply relieving himself. But for some reason Clarke couldn't identify, she thought his absence neither of those things.
A knot curled itself in the pit of her stomach and Clarke found worry beginning to fill her senses. Part of her thought this some cruel trick or game they played. Part of her even thought another clan had got wind of her predicament and sent their own assassins after her.
Whatever it was, she didn't like, she didn't appreciate. She awkwardly shifted from the seated position she had been in and onto her knees before she began struggling to her feet, her bound limbs making the movements awkward.
But she heard something, a rustle, a quiet tread of feet against ground and she stilled. Clarke's ears strained to hear sound, her eyes ached as she forced herself to see in the dark. And she looked from shadow to shadow, imagined movement to imagined movemen—
"We move," she would have yelped if it wasn't for the hand clamped over her mouth. "Now."
Clarke tried to make some space between her and the man who had snuck up on her without her even sensing it. But from the urgency in his tone, from the way he already picked up his pack and began pushing her forward she felt a fear beginning to spike. Part of Clarke hoped it was help, part of her dared not give in to that emotion. Not after so long.
But she heard the quiet sound again, this time closer. And the man heard it too. He tensed for a moment and then he moved.
And it was fast.
He shoved Clarke to the ground without care for her injuries and she heard the telltale sound of a sword being drawn. The snap of a bowstring came next. And then the hiss, the whistle and the snapping as an arrow was fired only for the man to block it, swipe it away and then he moved. Clarke couldn't see where he went, she couldn't hear where he was. She scrambled away, she tried to feel the path forward in the dark and she winced and gasped and cursed whatever spirit had made her so helpless.
Another arrow was fired and this time she knew it hit true for she heard a grunt and a splutter.
And then there was silence.
Clarke's breathing raced, she couldn't even try to fight it and she found herself pressed up against a tree, her knees pulled to her chest and her hands trying to pull her body into herself in an attempt and a hope to make herself as small as possible. Clarke didn't know if whoever out there was friend or foe. She didn't trust herself to call out. She didn't trust her senses and she didn't trust a thing. Not after being tricked, manipulated and hunted and preyed upon day after da—
A figure came into view, its body blurred through the tears she realised filled her eyes. The person knelt down in front of her slowly and Clarke squeezed her eyes closed, perhaps in fear, perhaps in refusal, perhaps in shock or something she couldn't identify.
"Klark," the voice was soft, it was kind, it sounded so gentle to her that she tried not to let herself believe. "You are safe, Klark."
She shook her head only to wince at the headache and she tried to clear her vision, she tried to clear her mind and to accept.
"Klark," her name was called again, this time a little more firmly as strong hands gripped her shoulders to steady her.
And so, as Clarke reached up and wiped away the tears from her eyes, she found herself looking face to face at Lexa as warriors spilled out around them, each one with weapons drawn.
"Lexa?" Clarke didn't know what else to say as whatever shock the suddenness of her appearance still lingered in her mind.
"Yes, Klark," Lexa said with a relieved smile, and this time Clarke knew what knelt in front of her was real. "You are safe."