This Black Blood is Without End

Chapter 17 – The Storm

Author's Note:

Hello friends! So, I've been sitting on this chapter for a while, and kind of just not satisfied with it for some reason, and just finally decided to set it free into the world and move on already so I can get to the next part of the story... Lol. Not really sure why this was so hard, as I normally don't struggle like this, but I guess writer's block had to happen to me sometime! Plus life has been crazy busy, so that didn't help (damnit, life! Just leave me alone so I can write fanfiction all day long! Is that really too much to ask?).

Anyways, finally back to Clarke and company. Things are going to be a giant messy mess next chapter, so that should be a blast to write. Thanks for reading and I hope all of you kind readers are doing well! :)

-FlyUpInSky

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During the first moments after they entered the cave the darkness was complete… Stifling. After a few more tense seconds during which they stood frozen and unmoving just inside the cave's entrance, a flash of lightning lit the skies outside and its hot, white light flickered all around them, revealing a dirt floor cluttered with tumbled rocks and boulders, and jagged walls that immediately widened into a large, oblong chamber with a low ceiling. Clarke held her breath when things went dark once again, ears straining against the growing roar of the falling rain and the excited pulse of her own blood in her veins. Beside her, Bellamy took another two steps into the cavern, the soft gleam of his drawn sword just barely visible in the near perfect darkness. Another flash of lighting filled the cave and her eyes darted left and right, searching for movement, for someone lurking in the nearby shadows, for Octavia bloody and unmoving on the floor… For anything.

"There!" Bellamy said, his voice an urgent whisper as the light flickered and disappeared once more, and though she couldn't clearly see him, Clarke knew he had taken another step further in.

"Careful…" Martek cautioned, reaching a hand forward as if to hold back the young prince, his words a low growl that could only just be heard over the noise of the storm. His warning went unheeded, however, as the other man's voice immediately rose in a shout meant to carry.

"Octavia?!" he called, the name travelling through the dark of the cave and returning to them as a mournful echo, and Clarke could feel the twins tense beside her, preparing themselves for an attack. If they had hoped to keep the element of surprise on their side as they explored the cavern, then Bellamy had just swiftly destroyed that chance. Clarke herself tensed and crouched, her longknife unsheathed and raised in front of her, unnerved by the fact that when the lightning wasn't flashing none of them could see beyond more than a couple paces. An attacker could be creeping up on them right now, poised to strike and take then down unawares.

"Bell?..." a feminine voice replied several long seconds after the last echoes of Bellamy's shout had died. Clarke recognized Octavia immediately. "Bellamy, is that you?!"

Another flash of light and crackle of trailing thunder, and Clarke finally saw what Bellamy had noticed moments earlier. On the far side of the cavern, across from where they stood at the entrance, a small figure crouched against the wall, the pale oval of her unscarred face peering out from behind the dark fall of her long, tangled brown hair. It was Octavia, shackled and bound, and as soon as she saw her Clarke felt the tight fist of worry she had been holding deep in her chest suddenly ease, relief flooding her tensed limbs. Bellamy rushed forward, crossing the distance in several quick bounds, somehow managing not to trip and fall despite his haste and the uneven ground. He reached his sister just as the flickering light disappeared, his arms grabbing her up in a fierce hug that was only slightly hampered by the chains that held her. Clarke tried to follow after him, but the ensuing darkness made it difficult. The twins quickly solved the problem with a candle pulled from the pack on Martek's back, Riva striking a quick spark into tinder and lighting it easily and in far less time than it would have taken Clarke to do it in the dark. With the soft, flickering yellow glow of the candle guiding their steps, the three moved together deeper into the cave, finding Bellamy and his sister huddled together against the far wall.

Clarke looked Octavia over with a healer's eye. Dirt marred her face and it looked as though she had shed a few tears, but otherwise she appeared mostly unharmed, and she was answering her brother's hurried questions clearly and with a calm, steady voice. She almost couldn't believe they had actually managed to find her alive and unharmed, especially after everything that had happened, and also considering all the more likely, less savory outcomes. Regardless, Clarke couldn't completely shake her worry. Maybe it was just a combination of the growing storm and the nearness of the Mountain, but it felt like something terrible could happen at any moment… or was about to happen.

"Octavia, are you okay? Are you injured?" she asked, kneeling down next to the younger woman. Bellamy moved back slightly to make room for her and Octavia's gaze met Clarke's.

"Clarke! Damn it's good to see you, too!" she said, smiling a bit ruefully and shaking her head. "I'm fine. Twisted my ankle a bit, but I'm fine. How did you guys find me?" she asked, looking from one to the other. "Actually, never mind that, I don't care how you found me… Just get these damn chains off of me!"

Considering what she must have gone through, Octavia sounded remarkably calm. However, Clarke could hear the edge of fear in her voice when she said the last bit, and she could see the angry, red tears of skin around her wrists where the girl had obviously been struggling to free herself. Clarke's own wrists ached in sympathy, and she rubbed at the layers of scars which still marred her skin, just one of the physical marks which she carried on her body as a legacy from her time spent in the Ice Queen's dungeon.

"We'll get you out of here, 'O, I promise," Bellamy reassured his sister, standing beside her and motioning for Martek to help him with the shackles. Riva held the candle close for better light, and the two men set about testing for weak joints in the chains with their weapons.

"Octavia, who did this to you?" Clarke asked, seeking answers while the two men worked. She was happy to have found her unharmed, of course, but there had to be an explanation as to why the girl was here alone, alive and seemingly unguarded.

"It was just one man… I didn't learn his name, but he was definitely Trikru," Octavia said, her face scrunching into an expression that was part exasperation, part anger. She quickly described the man who had taken her and chained her up here in this cave, and there was no doubt that he was a member of the Woods Clan.

"We found two dead Reapers a ways back on the trail… Was that his handiwork or yours?"

"His," she confirmed, shaking her head at the memory, a glint in her eye that seemed to be a combination of amazement and appreciation. "He killed them so fast, Clarke… I've never seen a warrior move as quickly as him. It was incredible!"

"Well, let's hope we don't run into him on our way out, then," she replied, first rocking back on her heels, then putting a hand on the ground to push herself back up to her feet. The man might have left, but surely he would be returning at any moment to recover his prisoner, and likely with more of his people along to help. Their best chance to make it out of this mess unscathed would be to free Octavia quickly and escape into the cover of the storm. Better to take their chances against the storm outside than wait for a Trikru band to corner them in this cave and slaughter them like caged animals. The boys seemed to be struggling with finding a means to break open the shackles and chains, and she stepped closer to lend a hand.

"Let me take a look," she offered, her thoughts filling her with urgency. They needed to free Octavia and get the hell out of here.

"Bastard got these jammed shut real good," Bellamy grumbled, "We might need to just dig the anchor point out of the rock and worry about removing the shackles back at camp."

His sister seemed to startle at this, her shoulders twitching at his mention of returning.

"Back at camp?" she echoed, glancing back up at her brother, an all-too-familiar stubborn note entering her voice. "I'm not going back there, Bell."

Bellamy shook his head at her words, denial clear in both his expression and the obstinate set of his shoulders.

"Of course you're coming back with me! It's the only place that's safe for you… Don't be an idiot."

The siblings glared at each other as Clarke set about examining Octavia's bonds, carefully pretending as though she wasn't paying any attention to their argument. They bickered back and forth as she worked, the volume of their voices rising with every word.

"Damnit, I love you Bellamy, but you can't control my life!" Octavia finally shouted, the words equal parts anguished and enraged. Her brother had just finished threatening to tie her up and drag her back to the Azgeda encampment by force if necessary, and his misguided threat had clearly struck a nerve.

"My whole life I've felt like a prisoner in the Ice Nation… Today was the first time that I've ever actually felt free. Why don't you understand that?..."

Her words trailed off, leaving her face sad and a little lost, and Bellamy's beset with a stricken, confused expression. Clarke had never felt more like an intruder between them before, and she wished circumstances would have allowed the siblings to have this argument in a time and place that allowed for privacy. Over the past week, she felt that she and the younger girl were beginning to form a budding friendship, or at least a shared respect and understanding, and she knew that this was a conversation long overdue between the two.

She glanced over at the twins and was unsurprised to find them exchanging a long, enigmatic look between themselves. Spirits only knew what those two thought of this whole mess.

An awkward silence had fallen after Octavia's last words, and the cave went quiet except for the continued sounds of the howling wind, rain and thunder outside. The storm seemed to be growing even stronger by the moment. Already tree branches were cracking and falling just beyond the cave's entrance, unable to withstand the ferocity and speed of the wind. If the storm got much worse, Trikru and Reapers might be the least of their problems.

"Riva, could you give me your knife? The small, thin one," she asked, holding her hand out to the other woman. She had seen her pull that knife from her inner sleeve more than once already, and she thought it best suited to the task at hand. "It should be narrow enough… I think I can see where I can spring the lock loose."

The impassive young tracker handed the knife over without comment and Clarke worked the blade into the gap in the shackles, cautioning Octavia to hold still and trying to be careful not to cut her skin. After several attempts, she managed to wrench the mechanism free, and the first thick ring of metal fell open and slipped off of the girl's wrist and onto the cave floor with a loud clang. An excited sigh of relief fell from each of their mouths at her success, and Clarke quickly got to work on the second shackle. Octavia sprang to her feet the moment both her hands were free, then bit off a curse as she put her weight back on her injured foot.

"Are you going to be able to walk?" Bellamy asked with concern, breaking his silence and grabbing her elbow to help her stand upright.

"I'll be fine," his sister growled, angrily shaking off his helping hand, then shifting her weight awkwardly until she stood on her own, though she had to balance most of her weight on her good foot.

"This isn't the time to be stubborn, 'O," he replied, and although his words were true, Clarke still found herself wanting to roll her eyes, but didn't. Coming from the prince of stubbornness, his words were a bit ironic. She was quickly losing patience with both of them at the moment.

"There's no time for any of this! You two can argue all you want later, but we need to leave… Now. And quickly."

"I agree," Martek added, stepping between the two dark-haired siblings and quietly offering his arm to Octavia. The girl slung her arm over his shoulders without complaint and allowed him to half carry her across the cave towards the entrance. The others followed, Bellamy with a scowl on his face, and Riva with a tight lipped smile, still holding the small candle.

"I'm glad I'm an only child," Clarke muttered to her, soft enough that only the silent woman could hear her, and Riva's small smile grew a little larger.

When they reached the entrance, Riva blew out the candle and stowed it away, and Bellamy stepped out to the edge of where the rain fell in a thick, unrelenting wall of water. He squinted out into the gray darkness, shaking his head at the sight.

"This is no normal storm," he muttered, just barely audible over the noise of the rushing water, and his words were chased by an answering crackle of lightning and thunder. Clarke turned towards him to say something to the effect that she would rather take her chances with the storm than with Trikru warriors, but was immediately stopped from doing so when she saw him tense in alarm, his hand reaching for his sheathed sword.

"Someone is coming!" he hissed, and the others all startled at his words. "Get back, against the walls!" He added, motioning them all back and further into the darkness of the cave with one arm. With the low visibility caused by the rain and thick clouds, it was impossible to see more than a few feet beyond the cave's entrance, but the flash of lightning had briefly revealed the outline of a dark form carefully working its way up the flooding ravine and towards the cave, and Bellamy had just happened to be looking out at the right moment.

Clarke pressed herself against the cave wall next to Riva, unable to clearly see either Martek or Octavia, but assuming they were doing the same on the opposite side. She drew her longknife from its sheath at her lower back, pulse thudding in her veins, and saw Bellamy pull his sword just before he crouched down behind a shelf of rock near the cave opening.

There was nowhere to run and no time to hide further. Silently they waited for whatever might emerge from the storm beyond, weapons ready.

… They didn't wait long.

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Lincoln wiped his sodden sleeve across his face in a useless attempt to clear the water from his eyes, then bent his head against the driving rain and pressed onwards up the gentle slope of the ravine, watching his every step carefully as water rushed over the rocks and past his feet. The storm that he had been feeling beyond the horizon for almost two days now had finally arrived, and had done so with a vengeance. He'd been almost an hour on his way back to the nearest Trikru encampment to warn them about the presence of Azgeda on their lands when the storm had forced him to stop and rethink his plans. In the forest alone, at night and without shelter, a storm like this could easily kill you. Falling trees were an obvious danger, but just as dangerous were flash floods, lightning, and vast avalanches of mud that could quickly overtake and bury even the quickest and most careful man or woman. Deciding that making the journey back to his people in this storm was too great a risk, he had reluctantly turned and hurried back towards the cave where he had left his prisoner.

His prisoner, that Azgeda girl…

He wasn't sure why he had taken her, or why even he had helped her hide in the first place. When he had first heard the sound of Reapers on the hunt, his immediate thought had been that they must be chasing one of the young Sky People. Almost without realizing what he was doing, he had found himself hurrying to intercept. Whether it was wise of him or not, he couldn't deny that he now felt partially responsible for the curious young people who had fallen from the sky. They were isolated from the rest of their kind, alone and struggling to survive in a strange land. After fighting beside them more than once and watching them for days, he found that he couldn't just stand by and let Reapers pick them off one by one.

Besides, he had made an agreement with their leader, Lexa Black, and something about her – something in the steady, penetrating gaze of her clear green eyes on his, and the firm clasp of her hand on his forearm as he swore to speak to his people on her behalf – had taken a grip on his soul and wouldn't let go. They had shared something between them in that moment, something which had gone beyond the surface words spoken. A shared dream for a better future for their people. She was a warrior just the same as he was, but just as he did, it seemed that she also dreamed of more than war.

So, rather than slip deeper into the forest and hide as he so often did when he heard Reaper patrols nearby, Lincoln had instead rushed towards them and prepared to ambush them in their path. It wasn't until after he killed the first two that he saw who, exactly, he had rescued.

Azgedakru here, this close to the Mountain and within Trigeda territory?

The girl hadn't spoken of any others, but he knew that she must not be alone. It was terrible timing, to be sure, and if there were others of her kind nearby, then it undoubtedly spelled trouble for his clan. He had been headed back to the Skaikru camp to tell Lexa of the time and place that had been arranged for her meeting with the war chief, but after brief consideration he had realized that this new threat now took precedence.

If the Ice Nation had war parties nearby then his people were in danger. They would need to question the Azgeda girl and learn everything she knew before her people could attack.

"Help me."

The girl's words to him echoed in his skull as he neared the cave entrance, the plea desperate. Insistent. It had been more of a demand than a request, really, and his lips twitched into a smile now at the memory. Rather than leave her behind, he should have immediately taken her with him back to his people for questioning, but he hadn't… It might have been cowardly, leaving her hidden in the cave, but it had seemed the only option he could stomach at the time. She may be the enemy, but the thought of watching that vibrant, fierce young creature being tortured and questioned for information had filled him with a sensation close to horror. She was young, determined, fearless… Though she apparently wasn't yet old enough to have earned her scars, nevertheless, she hadn't seemed a child to him.

Leaving her behind had been cowardly, but it had been a compromise with himself that he had needed to make. He'd hoped that getting away from her would clear his head and remind him of his duty, and make turning her over to his people easier in the end. Now the storm had forced him to change his plans, and he would have to face her once more.

He found himself both dreading and strangely looking forward to it.

Lincoln stepped out of the driving rain and into the cave, and the dry darkness wrapped around him like a welcoming blanket. He blinked, eyes struggling to adjust to the lack of light. Though the sun was surely now beginning to set behind the thick clouds above, there was still just enough dim light outside the cave to be able to see, and he knew it would take a few seconds for his eyes to become accustom to the near perfect darkness of the cave.

Someone lunged at him, their dark form and flashing blade just barely visible in the corner of his eye. Caught completely by surprise, it was his warrior instincts alone which saved him. He dropped to his knees, barely managing to evade the blow, though he could feel the wind from it passing over his close-shaved head. Not waiting to give his attacker time for another swing, he pulled his knife free from his belt as he fell, and with a snarl, launched himself from the ground at the dark figure he could now sense in front of him, striking out low with his knife, letting the momentum of his strike carry him into the other man.

Together, they hit the floor of the cave, and Lincoln felt the hot wash blood splash his hand.

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As Bellamy swung his sword at Octavia's captor, the thought which rang through Clarke's mind most loudly was neither fear nor anticipation, but instead a sudden fury as she realized too late the prince's intentions.

Damnit, that idiot is going to kill him!

She should have known he would strike to kill and not to disable. The last thing they needed was to kill a Trikru warrior on Trigeda lands, regardless of the circumstance. How did Bellamy expect to be able to convince the Woods Clan that their delegation was here with peaceful intentions if the first thing they did upon arrival was murder one of their warriors?

Outlined by the gray glow of the rain outside, she saw the warrior drop to his knees as though alerted by a whispered warning only he could hear, Bellamy's sword missing him by only a hairsbreadth, then lunge forward with all the frightening agility and speed of a striking rattlesnake. The two men collided and fell, grappling and rolling on the ground, blades hunting for each other's lifeblood as they both grunted with effort. Her eyes struggled to follow the conflict in the dim light. Bellamy kicked free of the other man, and she saw what looked like Martek slide from the deeper shadows to strike at the Trikru warrior where he lay on the ground. The man rolled, again evading a surprise blow that surely would have been lethal had it landed, and sprang to his feet before the two Azgeda warriors could strike again, facing them in a low crouch with his back to a cave wall and his knife held in front of him, a slim flash of silver in the blackness. He hadn't had time to pull either of the swords strapped to his back, but Clarke didn't doubt he was just as adept at killing with the small knife he held. Riva had left Clarke's side to join the men, and the three Skaibona warriors circled their opponent with deadly intent.

No! We can't kill him!

Clarke opened her mouth to shout those exact words, but was surprised when someone else beat her to it.

"Don't kill him!" Octavia shouted desperately, "Bellamy, don't… Don't kill him! He saved my life!"

The anguish in her young voice cut through the cave and the violence, the purity of it ringing through them all. Bellamy and the others froze in surprise at her words, and the Trikru warrior saw his chance, ducking even lower to make a swift dash past Martek, rushing towards the entrance and escape.

He was fast, but not fast enough. The man's breath left him in a gasp as Martek's weight settled on him from behind. The tracker had leapt to intercept, catching him and bringing him to the ground in a tangle of limbs and blades. Bellamy soon added his weight to the man's back, gripping his hand and beating it against the stone ground until his knife flung from his grip. Even unarmed the man continued to struggle, the two other men just barely keeping him pinned beneath them. It wasn't until Bellamy struck him with the hilt of his sword once, twice, three times, that he finally lay still, stunned by the blows. The prince raised his fist to hit him again.

"No, Bellamy, stop!" Octavia shouted, and suddenly she was there at his side, gripping his wrist with both hands. "Stop hitting him! You'll kill him."

Bellamy looked up at his sister, his face unreadable in the darkness, but Clarke didn't need to see his face to know that he was unconvinced.

"Bellamy, she's right… We can't kill him. Don't forget why we are here! If you kill him here and his people find out about it, any chance for a treaty will have died with him."

The group seemed to collectively hold their breath as the prince considered her words. Finally, he lowered his fist, and Octavia released her hold on his wrist at the same time Clarke released her held breath.

"Fine… We'll leave him alive, for now. Riva, the shackles. Martek, keep a good hold of him in case he's faking," Bellamy ordered, his voice firm but calm, their words apparently having worked to help him put his anger aside. "He was going to leave Octavia locked up here in the dark, so now we'll do the same to him. Sounds only fair to me… Let's chain him up and get the hell out of here!"

Riva moved to obey and Octavia stepped back to lean her weight against a wall, shuffling a bit awkwardly as she favored her injured ankle. Bellamy stood up slowly, taking a step towards his sister, then stumbled and fell to one knee, rainwater splashing down on him as he landed half outside of the cave. Clarke took an involuntarily step forward, her brow drawing down in concern when she saw his hands reach down to his side.

"Bellamy, are you alright?" she asked, kneeling beside him a moment later, her hands reaching to where he clutched his side. His dark eyes met hers, face pale, mouth open in surprise and pain. He shook his head, wincing, and she pulled his hands away so that she could feel with her own, fingers being of better use than eyes in the dim of the cave.

"I think… that tree bastard stabbed me!" he groaned, and he had no more than said the words then she felt the warm rush of blood across her fingers that confirmed it, the steady flow pulsing weakly with each beat of his heart.

It was a lot of blood. Clarke felt her own pulse rise in alarm.

"Octavia?" she called, her voice calm, firm and in control, not letting her concern show. It was her healer's voice, the one she used in surgery or when treating wounds, when she knew that she needed to be the calmest person in the room or someone might very well die.

"What is it, Clarke? Is he hurt?" the girl asked, hobbling towards them.

"Bring me my bag, please… Quickly," she ordered. As she did so, she pressed her hands tighter against the wound, not willing to take the pressure away even for the short time it would take to locate her bag. Judging from the amount of blood she was feeling, this was no shallow cut under her palms. Bellamy sagged beneath her hands, slouching down to the ground even further until he was nearly laying down, another low groan leaving his lips. Once the adrenaline of the fight had subsided, his body was now reacting to the wound, and he was probably feeling the pain from it fully now.

"Son of a bitch!" he gasped, and she felt him begin to struggle beneath her.

"Hold still, Bellamy, just hold still! I'm going to help you, okay?… Octavia! My bag, now!"

His weak struggling was an unconscious reaction she knew, as his body instinctively sought to fight against whatever was hurting him. Clarke didn't let him pull away, stubbornly keeping her hands in place, letting her body weight partially pin him to the ground to keep him from moving further.

"Riva! Bellamy is hurt. I need light, quickly!" she shouted. Octavia arrived at her side with her bag, her face pale and worried, and Clarke quickly switched places with her, pressing the other girl's hands against her brother's wounds. Bellamy was no longer speaking or struggling. Instead, his head had started to loll to one side as he fought off unconsciousness, his eyelids fluttering. She dug through her bag for the bandages she needed, her fingers finding them easily despite the lack of light.

"Clarke…" Octavia whispered, her breaths shuddering and words choked from her lips as though they were painful things, "Clarke, there's a lot of blood…"

The girl was clearly fighting to stay calm, and Clarke hurried to reassure her.

"Octavia, listen, your brother's been stabbed, but I can stop the bleeding," she told her, not letting any hint of doubt enter her voice. She slid next to her, pushing her hands away so that she could blindly press a folded bandage to the wound she still couldn't properly see.

"Here, put your hands right here. I need you to keep pressure on the wound, okay? Hold it firm, like this," she instructed, and the other girl immediately did what she asked. The moment Clarke's hands were free she turned to look back into the cave, searching for the twins. They had the Trikru man pinned on the floor still and Martek was clamping the shackles on his wrists, his sister helping him to close the clasps.

"Riva, I need light!" she shouted again, and this time she let the urgency enter her voice. The twins looked up at her words, and Martek motioned his sister away.

"Go, help them. I've got this one," he said, standing to drag the enemy warrior, now bound in chains, towards the back of the cave.

When the candle light finally fell upon Bellamy's wound, Clarke had to stop herself from sucking in a surprised gasp. The bandage she and Octavia had been using was already soaked through with blood. The wound was relatively small, only about three inches wide, but it had evidently struck deep into his abdomen, and thick, dark blood oozed steadily from the puncture. Once she had a good look at it, she quickly pressed the bandage to it once more, giving herself several seconds to think before speaking.

"Clarke, tell me you can fix this," Octavia said through gritted teeth, her words almost a growl. Clarke looked up at her, seeing the ferocity in her eyes, and wondered if Octavia would accept any answer other than yes. The girl's determination was almost a physical thing, pressing against her threateningly. She met her gaze and nodded steadily. The wound was serious, but shouldn't be life threatening if treated quickly.

"Yes, I can, but this could take some time. He won't be going anywhere tonight... Not until we get this wound stitched and properly treated. Now, everyone get over here and help me move him."

Working together, she, Octavia and the twins carefully moved Bellamy further into the cavern and away from the entrance. Using dry wood found stacked against one wall, they built a fire for better light and Clarke quickly got to work on the wound, her hands sure and steady despite the flickering light. It was bloody work, but this was what she had been trained for. Being confronted with terrible injuries no longer scared her as it had when she was a small child. Instead, tending wounds filled her with a sensation of peace, of being in control. No one would die under her hands if she could help it. She refused to watch a friend die, even one for whom she felt so many conflicted feelings of anger and betrayal, and there was comfort in knowing she had the skills needed to save him.

More than an hour later, Clarke leaned away from Bellamy with a sigh, finally looking up at the others surrounding her. Aside from asking – or rather, demanding – their assistance from time to time, she had spared no thought for her concerned audience, but had instead given her full attention to the injury under her fingers. After cleaning the wound with water and a splash of alcohol, she had used one of her treasured metal needles to sew the wound shut with string that had been boiled and carefully packed away so as to stay clean. Several layers of bandages had been wrapped tightly around the wound to control the bleeding, and she was thankful that Bellamy had stayed unconscious during the entire procedure as it had made stitching and wrapping it much easier. He lay still and unmoving, his breaths low but steady, and Clarke felt satisfied that she had done well in closing the wound. In the morning, once the storm had cleared, he should be able to travel, though they would probably need to make a drag sled and pull him back to camp as trying to walk so soon would likely reopen his wound.

"Is he going to be okay?" Octavia asked, running her hands through her brother's sweat-slicked hair. Their earlier feud over her return to the Azgeda camp had apparently been forgotten, and Clarke couldn't help but smile slightly. No matter what else might happen, no matter their disputes and differences, the two siblings clearly loved each other. It would take something more serious than an argument, no matter how heated, to break their bond.

"He should be fine. He lost a lot of blood and the cut was deep, but he got lucky… It looks like it didn't hit anything vital and the bleeding has mostly stopped. I doubt he will be able to walk in the morning… We'll have to make a litter and carry him."

The others took in her words in silence, all of them looking down at the man. Octavia was no doubt relieved to hear her brother would be okay, and the twins were no doubt worrying over the added risk and the difficulty of travelling unnoticed over such rough terrain with a wounded man who couldn't walk. They all started in surprise, therefore, when a sound came from behind them, deeper in the cave. At the edge of the firelight, their prisoner jerked and shuddered in his chains, his head shaking with confusion as he regained consciousness and realized where he was and what must have happened. His eyes met all of theirs, filled with rage and burning darkly in the firelight. His arms yanked hard against their chains, corded muscles flexing and straining, and for a moment Clarke feared he might actually have the strength to break himself free… But the chains held, and he sagged back against the wall after several tense moments, his body trembling from the failed effort.

Clarke sighed and looked away, then reached for her bag of medical supplies once more. When she stood and approached the prisoner, she was surprised to find Octavia at her side, her hand gripping her forearm tightly, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"What are you doing?" she asked, and Clarke raised an eyebrow at her accusatory tone. She shrugged off her hand, a bit tiredly, and Octavia reluctantly released her grip. She suddenly felt every one of the difficult miles they had travelled that day, as well as the strain of the last few hours, and she wanted nothing more than to lie down next to the fire and fall asleep for days.

She was a healer, however, and there was still an injured man to see to before she could find her rest.

"I'm just going to take a look at his head wound, Octavia," she explained, annoyed and a bit mystified by the girl's protectiveness towards their captive.

"Oh, of course… Sorry," the younger girl said, stepping aside so that Clarke could pass, and she had the decency to look a little embarrassed.

This is going to be a long night.

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It was a very long night.

As the storm raged outside, Clarke watched with rising concern as Bellamy tossed and turned in unconsciousness, sweat beading his forehead and glimmering on the exposed skin of his chest. The others slept in turns, one person remaining on watch at the cave entrance in case of any more unwanted visitors. Though she napped briefly several times, Clarke stayed mostly awake and at Bellamy's side, only leaving him to wet a rag in the falling rain and place the cool cloth on his forehead. It seemed to do little to fight his rising fever and discomfort, and uneasiness trickled down her spine as she watched his condition steadily worsen. As dawn approached, she found herself staring at the prisoner in his bonds, his knife held loosely in her hands and his meager possessions strewn out around her on the cave floor, her expression blank as she considered what must be true. What she had hoped to find had not been among his things. He stared back at her, silent, unblinking, his eyes dark and knowing.

In the moments just before the sun peaked the horizon, Clarke gathered the others around her, knowing her own face must be as exhausted as theirs were, and told them.

"Bellamy is going to die."

Octavia tensed, her eyes widening, fists clenching at Clarke's words. The twins didn't react, their faces already set in weary sadness, and that was enough to tell Clarke that her own suspicions were not unfounded.

They know it too… They've known since the moment Martek picked up the Trikru knife.

"What are you talking about?" Octavia demanded, cutting through her inner thoughts. "I don't understand… The bleeding's stopped, you stitched the wound. You said you could heal him, Clarke!'

"The wound is poisoned," she explained, her tongue dry in her mouth as she spoke, and she could hear the echoes of her mother's voice in her mind. Her mother had once had to explain this to her, not so long ago, and Clarke felt a strange numbness settle into her as the past bled into the present.

"I've seen this before… So have they."

She indicated the twins with a tilt of her head, though her eyes never left the prisoner's where he remained chained against the wall, watching them all.

"The blade was poisoned, and it's killing him… Slowly."

Octavia shook her head, jaw clenching.

"No… No! Clarke, there has to be something… There has to be a way to help him!"

"There is," she agreed, still not taking her eyes from the prisoner's. "There is an antidote. If we give it to him in the next day or so, we might be able to save him."

"So make it and give it to him!" Octavia demanded, her voice rising in frustration.

Clarke shook her head.

"I would, but not even my mother knows how it is made. I don't have any with me and I don't know where to find some… But he does," she said in a voice like iron, pointing towards their captive. All eyes followed her pointing finger, and the prisoner stared back at them, as silent and defiant as he had been since waking in chains. Clarke finally tore her eyes away from him and looked at Octavia.

"And if he doesn't tell us where to find some quickly, your brother will die."