The sun has already begun its journey towards the horizon by the time Clarke steps out from the building. She rolls her shoulders and can't quite stifle the groan as the days of travel begin to settle more firmly upon her body.

"Tired?" Ontari asks as she pauses beside her.

"Yeah," and Clarke can't help but to think life would have been much easier had she never done all the things she had done in her life.

"What will we do now?" Entani asks and she leans against the building's rusted and battered wall.

"I don't know," Clarke says, and she doesn't. She doesn't know how to even begin to investigate, not really, anyway. For it had been simple to say, to tell Anya, Indra and Costia what she thought she would do, but now, as she thinks over it, as she thinks of what to investigate, she isn't so sure she knows what to look for. "We'll figure it out," she says as she begins to walk towards where the Azgeda warriors had made camp at the outskirts of Ton DC.

She passes more warriors, too, ones from Glowing Forest who seem just slightly wary of the increase in Azgeda numbers, some from Lake Clan, from the Plains Riders, even a number of Skaikru who she thinks must have been travelling between the Mountain and Arkadia.

Torvun steps just a little closer to her as he seems to sense slight hostility in some who pass, and yet Clarke can't quite bring it herself to care, to worry, not when her thoughts try to sift through the things she knows and the things she knows that she doesn't know.

"Clarke," her name calls out to her over the wind, and as Clarke looks up she finds Wells walking her way, a slight sheen of sweat clinging to his forehead and his lips breaking into a cautious yet hopeful smile.

"Wells," and Clarke finds herself changing direction and towards him.

"I didn't think you were coming here," he said as they both come to stop before each other an awkward distance.

"Yeah," and Clarke wonders how long it will take for old wounds to heal completely. A thought comes to mind though, and Clarke looks around for a moment as she lets it take hold. "Do you have a moment?" and she wonders if revealing more of Roan's suspicions, of her orders, to be wise, or to merely cause more panic.

"Yeah, sure," and Wells looks around too. "Follow me."

It doesn't take Wells long to guide Clarke and the others to a secluded part of Ton DC, where the noise of others just barely reaches their ears. Torvun turns his back to them and leans against a nearby wall of a large building as he turns his gaze outwards. Ontari and Entani both stand a little closer, too, each one seemingly happy to let Clarke take the lead in whatever discussions are to happen.

"What's this about?" Wells asks as he blinks for a moment as he steps into the shadow cast by the nearby building.

And so Clarke takes a breath, worries her lip and thinks it best to speak as truthfully as she can.

"Have you noticed anything strange, Wells?" Clarke asks.

"Strange?" and he crosses his arms, eyes narrowing just a fraction. "Strange how?"

And perhaps it's merely the fact that history seems to be repeating itself, that the fear of tech is once more driving her actions, but Clarke can't help but to feel the slightest hints of a headache beginning to build.

"Anything to do with technology?" she says.

"Ah," and Wells looks away in thought, "what do you mean? Like stealing stuff?"

"No," and Clarke sighs. "Someone was messing with our radio," and she watches as Wells begins to think, as his expression takes on an expression she had seen many times before when they had played chess as children. "I want to know if it's a one time thing, or if it's something we need to take seriously," and she pauses, grits her teeth. "You understand," and she knows he remembers Nia, the Mountain, and how their tech was seemingly at the centre of all problems faced by the grounders.

"I haven't noticed anything," Wells says, and Clarke hears the sincerity. "You don't think it's my fathe—"

"No," and Clarke shakes her head. "Thelonious won't be responsible for whatever has happened," and Clarke can't see how the man would be capable, not now when he is nothing but a prisoner tucked away in the depths of the Mountain. "I'm not worried about him. But keep your ears open," she continues. "If someone, or something looks odd, let me know. Get in touch. It could be nothing," and she shrugs. "But I don't want to risk it being something."

"Yeah," and Wells runs a hand over his face. "Try Raven at Arkadia?" he says. "Monty, even," and Clarke thinks that a good suggestion. "I haven't seen or heard anything suspicious, but they'd have a better understanding if something odd was happening to our technology."

The hallways of Polis tower remain cool this time of the year, but day light streams through the windows, and washes the stone a vibrant yellow with each rising and setting of the sun. There are times when Lexa thinks the colour, the vibrancy of life that sings out around her seems so very removed from the horrors and the death that have graced the halls she walks through, but she knows them to be ghosts long gone now.

And so she shakes her head ever so slightly as she leans back in her thrown, lets her gaze travel from ambassador to ambassador that raises question and annoyance and grievance.

The nightbloods stand aside, each one shadowed by their first who stands behind them, hands resting on a blade strapped to their body in readiness for attack. Jani somehow catches her eye though, and the girl smiles just barely, the twitching of the corner of her lip the only sign of emotion she lets play across her face before she turns her attention back to the conversation that flows back and forth.

And so too, does Lexa turn her attention to those before her, to the ones that glare at each other, and to the others that share furtive glances, careful looks of understanding.

She sees Elios lean forward though, she sees his eyes glinting in the light and she can't help but to think the man ready to engage in yet another barbed insult, in another demand for things to be different. And though he seems not to be the most hostile, not to be the most cunning or even the most dangerous, she finds him to be the most annoying. But for why, she can not quite place.

"Enough," Lexa says, and she fights back the smile as she sees Elios deflate, whatever argument he has anticipate now snuffed from existence. And perhaps, for just the slightest of moments, Lexa can't be blamed for thinking her actions just another small victory for her in whatever childish battle she now finds has replaced her days of waging strikes against reaper camps, or battles against Mountain Men and Azgeda. "We will reconvene tomorrow," she lets her voice call out. "For now rest, enjoy what little of the day there is left and do not argue with each other more than you already have," but Lexa sees a woman begin to stand, begin to gesture, mouth already opening in question. "Yes, Kahlan. You will have your fruit," and Lexa can't help but to think the woman's smile striking and victorious. "And you will ensure that Lake Clan is allowed to travel through your shared border without worry of further inspections for now."

"That is acceptable, Heda," Kahlan says as she bows her head.

And so the ambassadors begin to file out of the thrown room, she sees their personal guard falling into step behind them, and she watches as Elios casts one last glance around them, to the nightbloods and to the Polis guard that stand beside her thrown. But Lexa's gaze also settles on Ilian, on the man who seems tired, who seems wary of the talk, of what she is sure he thinks of as never ending bickering and childish insult.

"Ilian," Lexa calls out to him, and she watches as Elios turns, eyes them both for a moment. "May I speak with you in private," and Lexa wonders just what she will say to the warrior.

"Heda?" he asks as he takes a step towards her, but she gestures outwards and to side doors that hide away her private study, her private war room where conversation is more easily kept away from keen ears.

"I wish to talk with you about Elios," Lexa says as she lets the door close behind them with a thud, the only thing to break the silence being two of her guard who follow them inside.

"I would apologise for Elios' behaviour," Ilian says, head bowing ever so slightly. "But I do not wish to apologise after every ambassador meeting," and as he straightens Lexa can't help but to see mirth in the man's gaze.

"I would not hold it against you," she says as she begins to move towards a large table that dominates the room.

But Ilian must begin to sense just how out of earshot this room truly is for Lexa sees him glance around, to the two Polis guards that stand by the only entrance, and to the map of the clans and all known lands draped across the table.

"I mean no disrespect, Heda," Ilian begins as his arms cross. "But I do not know why you wish to talk with me."

"I do not wish for you to turn against your clan, Ilian," Lexa says. "Simply to ask you why Elios can not see the benefit tech will bring our people."

Ilian pauses at that, and Lexa watches as his gaze turns to the map of the clans, to the Mountain, to Arkadia, to the surrounding forests and to his own clan's borders.

"Before the Mountain," Ilian says as he looks up to meet her gaze. "I was a farmer," and he begins to run his finger tips over the map's surface. "Of sheep," and he smiles as he lifts his arms for a moment as if seemingly holding up a memory with motion alone. "But when the Mountain attacked. When you called for all the clan's warriors, I came," and he pauses, looks away and Lexa thinks that he tries not to let a memory take hold. "As did my father. My brother," and Ilian sighs with a heaviness that Lexa understands far too well. "I am not the only one to lose what I love," he continues. "Elios lost a son and a daughter, Heda," and Ilian shrugs briefly. "He distrusts tech. Thinks it is a plague that will only destroy."

"But you do not think that," Lexa says and she thinks she sees the barest flickering of thought behind Ilian's gaze.

"Tech has destroyed more than I could imagine," Ilian says. "But it has helped rebuild more than I thought possible," and Lexa senses a pain in his eyes. "It helps our people just as much as it destroys our people."

"But you think it is different now?" Lexa asks.

"Perhaps," and Ilian seems to consider his words, seems to try to put together thought as carefully as she wishes some ambassadors did. "In the wrong hands tech has caused the coalition pain and suffering," and he shakes his head, rids whatever darker thoughts were beginning to take hold. "But under guidance from those that wish us no harm, it has been a blessing. It has helped return life to those that would have been lost. It has provided food for those that would once have starved," Ilian pauses once more, and Lexa thinks the man tries to hide whatever demons of his past behind a calm exterior. But Ilian lifts the hem of his shirt, and as he does so Lexa finds that the motion reveals a scar, a wound from a battle. But from the way the stitching seems so precise, from the way the wound should have maimed, she knows it is the product of Skaikru and their tech. And so Ilian meets her gaze steadily. "Elios has not seen the light yet."

The moon hangs high in the sky. Barely an animal braves the dark, and Clarke feels the calm in her mind, she feels the tension in her muscles. A quiet rustling in front of her is the only thing to give away the presence of the deer, and she peers out, she tries to see shape amongst the bushes. Movement comes, just barely noticed, but she knows it to mean that the deer moves, that it treads more carefully, that it wanders, wary and nervous, yet unsuspecting of attack.

A bird call echoes out quietly, its tone light, cheerful upon the wind, and Clarke knows it to mean Entani, perhaps even Ontari have both seen its movement, have both anticipated where it is to travel.

And so Clarke begins to creep forward, she feels the fletching upon her lips and she tries not to let the aches in her arms shake her aim too much. Torvun presses ever so softly against her, too, the man's own bow drawn, eyes searching for exposed flesh.

Clarke lets her breath still, she lets her eyes focus on the outline of the deer in the distance, and Clarke lets her mind ease as she draws her arrow back fully, as she sights down its length and as she takes in a low, steady breath. She lets the beats of her heart ease, she waits until she feels her heart beat once, twice, and when she thinks she feels the rhythm, when she thinks she feels its pattern, she fi—

A snap breaks the silence, the sound echoes out around them, and Clarke fires. She fires and she misses. A curse is heard somewhere nearby, Ontari's voice angry and disgusted at whatever motion she had done to give away their presence. But Clarke's gaze snaps back to the deer just in time to see her arrow strike it in the shoulder.

But she knows.

The beast already begins moving before her arrow has struck and so it doesn't surprise her to see the beast dart away with a yelp of pain, of surprise and instinct. Clarke gives chase though, and she feels Torvun already moving, already breaking through the underbrush. Two shadows leap forward, too and Clarke knows them to be Entani and Ontari, both women fast and fleeting as they snake through the forest floor.

Clarke leaps over a fallen tree trunk, she casts her gaze outwards and to the moss covered forest floor and she hears more than sees the deer as it darts left and right and away.

It doesn't register quite as fast as it should, but Clarke realises that she recognises the forests she runs through, she recognises the trees. And she does for she remembers stalking reaper and Mountain Man, she remembers waging battle and she remembers the tunnels. And so it doesn't surprise Clarke when the trees open up to reveal a clearing of sorts with the dark opening of a tunnel recessed into rock.

She sees the deer though, its limp more pronounced as it continues to dart forwards. Torvun and Entani break through the trees at the same time, and Clarke blinks in the dark as she sees a flash of an arrow that is fired over her head and towards where the deer runs. But that arrow misses just barely as the deer slips into the tunnel's opening. Ontari curses once more, and Clarke eyes the tunnel opening, whose mouth seems more wild now, less used and daunting.

"Reaper tunnels," Entani says quietly, and Clarke watches as the healer peers into the tunnel, into its depths.

"It does not look like anyone has ventured into them since the Mountain," Torvun says as he comes to stand beside the healer.

The realisation that animals have seemingly found shelter in the reaper tunnels doesn't surprise Clarke, if only because she thinks the tunnels must hold bad memories for many grounders that had once been terrorised by the Mountain and the reapers.

"Yeah," and Clarke squares her shoulders. "It wouldn't surprise me if people have been avoiding these tunnels since the Mountain." And for just a moment Clarke feels her skin prickle and crawl, she even feels the shiver that runs through her spine as she eyes the blood trail that disappears into the tunnel's darkness. "Come on," and Clarke grits her teeth as she knocks another arrow and begins to creep forward. "It's wounded. It can't have gone far."

It's creepy, that's the first thing Clarke notices. The lack of sounds, the lack of bird song and even wind, causes the hair on the back of her neck to stand up. Torvun walks beside her, the man holding up a burning branch that they had lit earlier, and as Clarke's gaze moves across the ground, the rock and stone, she tries to find a trail of blood, anything that would give sign of where the wounded deer has travelled.

Entani and Ontari both walk behind her, too, and though she is sure Ontari would never admit it, Clarke is sure that the other woman feels the same creepiness settling within her mind for she seems to be walking much closer to Entani than is required.

"Here," Torvun whispers as he pauses, leans down and inspects a disturbed piece of ground. "It paused for a moment," and then he gestures forwards again.

"I do not like these tunnels even when reapers no longer exist," Entani says ever so quietly as they continue walking forwards, and as Clarke turns back to the woman she finds Entani holding her spear tightly, eyes darting from shadow to shadow before briefly looking over her shoulder and to the dim light coming in from the entrance in the distance.

"Yeah," and Clarke turns to Ontari, "it's creepy," and she can't quite hold back the smile as she watches Ontari seemingly flinch to a shadow that creeps a little too close.

But she hears it then. A groan, something pained and weak, but Clarke knows it to be the deer, and so she peers out into the distance, into the dark that swallows the way forward.

They come upon the deer then, its body slumped on the ground, blood pooling out around it, and Clarke can't help but to feel sorry, to feel the need to apologise for whatever suffering she has caused in the hunt.

And so she takes in a deep breath as she kneels down beside it, pulls out her knife and plunges it into the deer's heart as cleanly as she can.

"Come on," Clarke says. "Let's get back to Ton DC before it's too la—"

Entani curses though, and Clarke looks up to see the woman hobbling ever so slightly as she kicks at something sharp on the ground she must have tripped over.

"Ok?" Clarke asks, and she watches as Entani squints down at the ground.

"Clarke," and Entani bends, she reaches for whatever she had stood upon before picking it up and holding it to the light. "Look."

It takes Clarke a moment to register just what it is that she sees, but as Torvun moves closer, as he holds the light higher in an attempt to cast the light further around them, Clarke thinks she gasps, she thinks she feels her lips turn just a moment cooler.

In Entani's hand is the broken remains of something, of plastic, twisted and shattered, crushed and warped by something heavy and strong.

"Tech," Entani says, gaze moving to Ontari as if in confirmation before back to Clarke.

And so Clarke moves closer, she lets her eyes adjust to the light and she reaches forward to take whatever it is in Entani's hands.

Clarke doesn't know what to make of it, she doesn't even really know what to think, but she knows it can't be coincidence, can't be happenstance.

"Perhaps it was left during the siege of the Mountain?" Ontari asks, and Clarke looks up to see the woman eyeing the broken piece of plastic in her hands with suspicion and guarded curiosity.

"I don't think so," Clarke says as she turns over the dark piece of plastic. "It doesn't look that old," and she worries her lip, eyes the lack of dust, of signs of age.

"You think someone left it here?" Entani questions and Clarke eyes the way the healer seems to be chewing her lip in thought and worry.

"I do not think so, Entani," Torvun says as even he moves closer to inspect. "Clarke is right. Not many would wish to brave these tunnels, especially Trikru or Skaikru. The memories of the reapers is still too fresh."

"So what, Clarke?" Entani says, "you think it is a sign of King Roan's suspicions?"

"I think it must be," Ontari adds.

"Yeah," and Clarke wonders why someone would wish to break tech rather than steal, use or exploit. "We should get this back, too," and she wonders who she could tell, could show without causing suspicions to ran rampant. "Let's g—"

But she hears it ever so slightly. It's a creaking, a barely there thing that fills the air. And Clarke is sure if she was out in the open, if she was amongst the trees and wind and bird call, that the sound would be lost to the lands.

But here? In the tunnels? Where sound echoes and carries? She knows what she hears.

Torvun hears it too, and his body tenses for only a fraction of a second before he begins to move.

Torvun yells out a warning, his body shifts and moves and he drops the burning flame to the ground. Clarke spares Entani and Ontari both only a fraction of a second's notice, just enough that she sees them register the bowstring being drawn, and then she moves too, she dives to the ground and she curses out and snarls as her face slams into the gravel as an arrow snaps by overhead and slams into the tunnel walls with a deafening slap that echoes out around them.

And before Clarke fully grasps what happens around them, she hears weapons being drawn, and she feels rough hands reaching for purchase upon her body.