A/N: just a short chapter today folks, sorry.


"He who does not know his way to the sea should take a river for his guide."

- Blaise Pascal


They rested far longer than Raven normally would have allowed - at least, for herself - but she'd had no desire to propel them back onto their course, not now that she was finally noticing how pale Luna's face was. She hadn't been like that when they first got to the island, Raven was almost certain of it. Though, she could admit that, in the beginning, she hadn't really been all that interested in taking stock of Luna's physical appearance.

But she was noticing now.

And she didn't like what she was seeing.

Mostly because there wasn't really all that much to see. Apart from the slight paleness and more obvious bruising under Luna's eyes - it would be no surprise to Raven if sleep was still hard to come by after everything - there was little to take note of.

She looked fine.

Tired maybe, but fine.

Except she wasn't.

And it unnerved Raven that she couldn't see it.

What if Luna got worse and she couldn't see that either?

What if she missed it?

No, she was more than happy to spend half an hour or so lazing by some supportive trees.

And Raven supposed she could admit that she'd kind of needed the rest too.

But only kind of.

She could tolerate worse.

Had tolerated worse.

A little walk wasn't going to do her in. Raven wouldn't let it.

Her brow furrowed as she remembered Luna's words, absentmindedly tracing the thin band around her wrist.

She wondered how the other woman could be so open about her body's weakness. The confession had flowed from her easily - as easily as anything else - and there'd been no shame in her eyes, no defensiveness, not even a trace of self-consciousness. She'd just. . . said it.

Raven couldn't understand it.

Didn't think she'd ever understand it.

But she was starting to get used to that when it came to Luna.

Less easy to get used to was the empathy and compassion the other woman gave out so freely. To her. To Murphy. To anyone.

She'd stated that she didn't mind Raven's defensiveness, had even insinuated that it could be justified. No-one had ever said that to her before. Everyone was always trying to break down her walls, to open her up and fiddle around inside - and growing increasingly frustrated when they couldn't.

(number one reason things had gone sideways with Wick)

No-one seemed to get that Raven couldn't knock down those walls, she could barely even lower them. They were automatic and, even when she tried, she was incapable of finding a mullet strong enough to demolish them.

But she rarely tried.

Because Raven didn't want to demolish them. She needed them. Needed them as much as she needed food or water - more than, really, or so it seemed most days. Needed those walls if she was to stand any chance of getting them all through this, of saving her people. Saving everyone.

Raven needed to be safe.

But nobody understood that.

Nobody, it seemed, except Luna.

('We all have walls, Raven. And we all have reasons for them. But if one day you don't feel like maintaining yours, I want you to know that it will be safe for you. At least around me. I won't ever abuse that gift.')

She closed her eyes, trying to breathe through the overwhelming panic the memory of those words evoked in her.

Because Raven believed them. She believed Luna.

And she shouldn't.

She really, really shouldn't.

And she had to remember that. Had to clench her hands, feel the bite of her nails into her palms and remember.

Because Raven had only ever let two people past those walls.

And the resulting pain was worse than anything her body had to give her.

She couldn't let Luna in. Not like that.

(hated that a part of her still wanted to)

"Ready?" the other woman's voice startled Raven from her thoughts and she flinched, eyes snapping open.

Luna was watching her carefully, expression unreadable, and for a moment Raven feared that she would ask her what she was thinking, what was wrong - as if there weren't a million answers that could be given to that question at any given time - but she didn't.

Of course, she didn't.

And Raven resisted the urge to sigh with relief. "Yep."

Luna's lips creased momentarily - flickering into what might be a smile - before she touched Raven's hand - so briefly that she missed the urge to pull away - and then turned, continuing on. Luckily, they only had to walk a further thirty minutes before they reached their destination.

"The flow of water is diminished here," Luna observed, once they'd halted. "It's a good place. And the fish are small," she continued, pointing out a few darting shapes in the water bed. "But not too small."

Raven didn't know why they needed the flow of water to be 'diminished' or for the fish to be small but Luna seemed confident that it was a necessity or whatever, so she wasn't about to object. "So. . . do we need to like get a stick or something?"

She glanced around her for any suitable candidates. The pictures and videos she'd seen of people fishing on the Ark had definitely involved sticks. Long ones. And string.

Did they bring any string?

But Luna shook her head. "Not today."


"We must begin thinking like a river if we are to leave a legacy of beauty and life for future generations."

― David Brower


Luna had grown used to fishing on the deep sea, made easier by the fact that ocean life flocked to the oil rig in droves. The dilapidated platform functioned as an artificial reef and had become something of a breeding ground and nursery. When one dived under the water, schools of fish swarmed the darkness, and through that storm it was possible to make out the sponges and corals that clung steadfast to pylons. This bounty of life was easy pickings, though her people were always careful not to harvest too much, wary of destroying the little ecosystem that had developed long before they were born.

Larger animals such as sea lions and dolphins would plow through the smorgasbord, eating their fill. Luna had always dreamed that one day she would see a whale but, as far as she knew, there had been no sightings of the majestic being in over a hundred years.

It was an oasis. A haven for life in the deep.

(and she missed it every day)

Their main source of food came from what they could find out on the open sea, in their boats, and Luna knew her way around that process like the back of her hand. Knew which creatures to expect, which ones to aim for, and the best methods for catching them.

There certainly wouldn't be any giant lampreys to harpoon in the stream at their feet, which was somewhat disappointing. But before Floukru, Derrick had taught her how to hunt for fish on land, in rivers and lakes, ponds and estuaries, along the shorelines of the sea.

Many such places had fish traps set up, rocky formations constructed at the narrow point in rivers, where the water was swift. Some of these structures were so ancient they belonged to a past Luna had only heard about in nighttime tales or hidden away in the pages of books that lined the Tower's library. They were born to a time far removed from her people. A time before the Dark Days, the original Praimfaya. Now each was the property of a particular village or clan. To harvest fish from another's territory was to invite death and she and Derrick had wisely avoided such places. But he had taught her how to make nets and lures, spears that could be used to pull fish from the depths. He'd taught her how to collect the bounty from tidal pools and to use what would not fill their bellies to bait creatures that could. Most importantly, he had taught her how to be mindful in her hunting, to understand that nothing lasted forever if you used it all at once.

Greed. There was no place for it if you wanted to survive. If you wanted life to survive.

Only take what you need and use all of what you take. Return to the world those creatures that have not yet grown to their full potential; and with many, it was best to leave the females to ensure continued population. A cycle of preservation. Of life.

But there was no need to worry about that now. Praimfaya was coming once again and what they did not take would be laid to waste in a manner of weeks.

The time for caution had passed. They had failed to exercise it properly and now the opportunity was lost.

Humanity had run out of chances. There would be no more. No matter what the Sky People believed.

Luna wondered how much of the world would survive the coming blaze.

Whether it would all turn to ash, just as the first Commander had. Just as her family, Lincoln, and Lexa had.

Just as her clan had.

Raven might know but Luna wasn't ready yet to receive the answer. She wasn't sure she ever would be.

Not that it mattered. Time didn't care for her preparedness. It would force the future on her, no matter how hard she resisted, or tried to resist.

Time revealed all things.

It was the one force humanity couldn't conquer. Proof of their mortality. Their helplessness.

And their arrogance.

Inwardly, Luna applauded it for that.

"Poison?" Raven sputtered."That's your great idea?"

Luna concealed a smile at the look of bewilderment on her face. "It's not as bad as it sounds."

The other woman blinked, far from mollified. "It's poison."

"It's a plant toxin. That's all." And, yes, technically poison but not the kind they needed to worry about.

Not the kind that filled little children's blood and made them burn from the inside out. Not the kind that cut a path through a sanctuary, destroying all those who resided within.

Not that kind.

Many plants were poisonous in some form or another but that didn't mean they were without their uses. Those same plants could provide medicine, edible parts, and fibers.

Being capable of harm didn't exclude them from the ability to aid. They were so much more than just that one quality.

"They're from the scraba plant," she explained, holding out the collection of nuts she'd gathered during their last walk. Raven eyed them with no small amount of trepidation. Perhaps Luna shouldn't have told her about the occasional adventures she'd had with poisonous flora in her youth. "We utilize it and other similar plants for soap. Through that, we figured out that it had other uses." Whilst washing clothes in a stream, people had discovered fish floating to the surface around them, utterly immobile and incapable of escape - a bounty to be scooped up and eaten at the ready, with minimal effort. But that was many generations ago. Now it was just common knowledge to anyone whose diet consisted heavily of fish.

Derrick had taught her.

"They breathe the poison in, directly through their gills into their bloodstream. They can't escape it. Not in time." If the current was fast or the water was high, then it could dilute the poison and the fish would revive more quickly, or not be affected at all. Some of the larger ones may remain impervious, regardless. But in these conditions, with what they had before them, there would be no way out. Luna was confident of that.

Raven's brow furrowed. "Will it kill them?"

"No. Just stun them. It'll wear off soon enough so we have to be quick."

She remained unsettled. "Will it poison us?"

Luna stilled and from the look on the other woman's face, she regretted the question immediately. But it had been a pertinent one. "No. Some plant toxins used for this can be harmful to humans - in those cases, you need to gut and clean the fish immediately - but not the one we're using today."

Despite her words, she felt suddenly ill at ease. She had done this dozens of times, she knew it was safe. But she couldn't get the image of Adria's suffering body out of her head, the strangled gasps for breath in her ear. "It's safe."

"Okay." Raven clapped her hands together, a little too forcefully. "Let's get started then."

Banishing the past from her consciousness, Luna tried to smile as she retrieved a piece of coral from her satchel. She could feel the fascination in Raven's gaze as she used it to grate the nuts, before wrapping the shavings up into individual leaves that she'd collected during their walk. The final touch was to poke holes into each of the parcels, and then it was done.

Afterwards, Luna stood up, motioning for the younger woman to follow her as she positioned herself behind a tree, watching the water closely.

"What are we waiting for?"

"The fish sensed our presence and many have darted away. We need to wait for them to feel at peace again if we want to catch more than a few."

Raven frowned and craned her head to peer into the shallows, confirming that Luna was right. When they'd first arrived, there'd been dozens of shadows circling around, now only a few shapes were capable of being made out.

Waiting, Luna handed Raven one of the nets she'd crafted. Admittedly, they weren't her best work - suffering from the pace with which she'd rushed through them and how crippled her focus had become over the last few weeks - but they would do for the task ahead.

The mechanic looked amused. "You know we have like a boxload of nets back at the lab, right? Not sure what Becca was using them for but that storage level seems to have a bit of everything in it. There's like fifty umbrellas."

Beka Praimheda certainly seemed to have been an odd individual. Luna's thoughts were always conflicted when it came to the deceased Commander. On the one hand, she had saved her people. Granted them the ability to step out into the light and become part of the world again.

But she was also the one responsible for the blood in Luna's veins. The blood that had steadily destroyed her life. She had crafted the Flame that cost Luna the lives of her friends and the man she loved.

A 'boxload of nets' and 'fifty umbrellas' would never make up for that.

She swallowed and pushed all thoughts of Beka Praimheda aside.

The dead were gone. It didn't matter what she felt. What she thought. Beka had escaped to a place where such things couldn't touch her.

(a flicker of envy stirred in Luna's belly. . .)

She'd been aware of the nets Raven spoke of but she had always crafted her own hunting tools after she'd left Polis and could admit to needing the familiarity of old habits now. Besides, she'd found the reliable process of weaving soothing and an effective method in alleviating her boredom in recent days. "These work too."

Raven just smiled and turned away, gripping the net in her hands as she eyed the water somewhat cautiously. "If I trip over and fall in I'm gonna be so pissed at you."

Luna hid a grin. "I'll catch you before you fall."

"Uh-huh." She didn't sound convinced.

Slowly, the fish returned to their previous numbers and, taking a breath, Luna tossed the packets of poison into the water.

The past came alive.


A/N:

scraba = soap plant (from scrub, as in scrubbing something clean)[my own Trigedasleng word]

so, unfortunately, I couldn't determine from the research paper I was reading which people use this particular method of fish poisoning. The method was described in detail but didn't mention which plant was used, the people who created this technique, and where it is used.

However that wasn't entirely necessary for this fic because I'd already decided that I wasn't going to use a real-world name for the plant used in this chapter (there are so many that can stun fish, used in many parts around the world, both in the past and present, and with the way the apocalypse has changed and mutated things, it's hard to know whether those plants would exist in the 100 universe in the same form, if at all, or if other plants have taken their place. Either way, the grounders would probably have their own name for them. That's why I shift between using real plants in this fic and creating my own). But regardless, I would have liked to have given credit to the people who use this method. But no amount of google searching bred any results so I gave up. I know the location is tropical - I have a suspicion that it's somewhere in Polynesia - but I don't know for sure and I can't narrow it down.

But using 'soap' plants to poison fish has been around for centuries so the process described in this chapter is 100% realistic.

There's a reference to weirs (fish traps) also in this chapter, set up over the centuries by various Native American tribes and which survived the apocalypse. I was watching a documentary about Torres Strait Islanders and their history and the fish traps they constructed were incredible, utterly ingenious. Weirs have been used by indigenous cultures for thousands of years (and non-indigenous cultures have created their own forms as well) and I don't think it's unlikely that some of them would survive a nuclear apocalypse. At any rate, I didn't want to erase them from history or fail to acknowledge their presence.

There's a fair bit of controversy over what to do with oil rigs that are no longer in use. As it turns out, they've become extremely successful artificial reefs. They provide breeding and nursery grounds as well as food for sea life. [a quote from an article: 'They are more productive than coral reefs, more productive than estuaries," said Milton Love, a professor of marine biology at the University of California Santa Barbara. "It just turns out by chance that platforms have a lot of animals that are growing really quickly."']

I don't know. I find it really interesting that something that is such a great hazard for the environment has managed to be repurposed by nature. Life finds a way, I guess.

And it's nice to think that the oil rig was probably a haven for not just Floukru but sea life as well. That nature took something that was destructive and transformed it into a system that sheltered and nourished life. It kind of makes it the perfect place for Luna and her clan.