A/N: Without further ado, I nervously present chapter two which had the potential to be uploaded waaaay earlier if it weren't for the fact that I rewrote it 3 times. Probably would have done it a fourth time but i refused to be late on a deadline i set for myself... SO, enjoy the last of the "slow going" chapters and thanks to those who have read and left feedback so far! Enjoy!
Had Clarke known she would run into the same, especially intimidating brunette, she would have made a better attempt at finding her way home.
Clarke immediately recognized the girl's daunting crossbow and soon after identified the bag on her back to be the one she had stolen from Clarke the previous day. If there was any room left in her to feel anything other than fear, she would have felt anger, but the terror evoked from the weapon swinging in the girl's grasp filled that gap.
When their eyes met, Clarke could see the girl's expression harden in what she placed to be anger. Her heavy boots stomped closer to Clarke and only stopped when they were a few feet away. Again, Clarke found the thief towering above her, provoking her to scramble to her feet just to decrease the height difference. Still, the girl was the slightest bit taller than Clarke, making her feel inferior (and not any less fearful of the intense glare on the brunette's face). She gripped onto the tree behind her, hoping it would offer her a sense of safety. It didn't.
When the girl spoke, Clarke was not surprised when she didn't understand the words. What surprised her more was that the girl was still attempting to communicate despite Clarke's obvious confusion.
Clarke thought about turning and running but something told her that an arrow could shoot a lot faster than she could run and she did not want to find out if she was correct. Before she had a chance to weigh any other options, the brunette was speaking again, but this time, the words were questioning, as if she was interrogating Clarke. Trying to get the point across that she didn't understand, Clarke shook her head and watched the girl's eyes narrow.
Clarke pondered momentarily on what the brunette had asked, wondering if shaking her head had answered the question in a way that upset the already angered girl. Thankfully, she relaxed after a moment
Once again, she began to talk, much less demanding than before, apparently coming to a realization. Clarke gripped the tree harder in anticipation.
"Why are you still here?"
The question caught Clarke off guard, half from the tone she asked it in, and half from the fact that it was in English instead of the unknown language. The tone had regained its demanding nature, corresponding with the brunette's furrowed brows and gritted teeth. In the moment, Clarke realized how different this girl looked from anyone she had seen around town- not that she would remember, it had been so long. But still, this girl had a strange pretense about her that Clarke could not put her finger on.
Her skin was tanned-but not the type of dark skin that most are born with. This tan was acquired from long hours spent in the sun. Her hair was intricately braided and styled to create one fluid design, but the braids had started to come undone, making the girl's hair frizzy and overall messy. She had peculiar markings on her shoulders and arms, which were surprisingly exposed despite the chilly weather. Clarke had never seen anyone like this around her town, only adding to the perplexity of the brunette and the current situation.
Clarke's eyes trailed off to the crossbow, reminding her that she hadn't yet answered the question she was asked. When she returned her gaze back to the girl's face, there was an obvious look of impatience staring back at her. Clarke opened her mouth to speak, but the incessant questions buzzing through her mind made it hard to form any coherent words. She watched as the brunette lowered her chin and raised her eyebrows, waiting for an answer. The look was enough to prompt a response from Clarke (and form a knot in her stomach).
"I'm lost," Clarke croaked out, sounding far more pathetic than she had intended. The girl tilted her chin back up in understanding but didn't reply. Clarke pondered momentarily on the amount of English that the girl may or may not know before speaking again. "And now I have no food, thanks to you." Clarke continued, mustering a slight attitude, but overall still sounding fearful.
The girl readjusted the crossbow in her hand, evoking a flinch from Clarke (which seemed to be what the girl had wanted).
"You're foolish for trespassing into unknown territory alone." Her eyes flickered down to Clarke's bike, then back to Clarke. "You're even more foolish for biking through a forest when you should be taking shelter." She (who was still sporting the stolen backpack; Clarke hadn't forgotten) spat, sounding disgusted at Clarke's decisions as if they affected her. Clarke sighed heavily and looked at her tattered shoes, desperate to avoid eye contact and hide the slight blush skimming her face.
As if I didn't know...
"I'm still working on it." She muttered, loosening her grip on the tree behind her. She could hear the girl snort, furthering the redness in her cheeks.
"Still looking?" She confirmed, her eyebrows raised, telling Clarke that the statement sounded unrealistic to her, too. She nodded anyways.
The brunette sighed and tapped the weapon on her leg, making Clarke flinch, again (she was starting to think this girl got pleasure out of her weakness). "You didn't get very far." She pointed out, deepening Clarke's embarrassment. Unable to think of a fit response to the statement, Clarke remained silent. The silence lasted a few seconds before the brunette sighed again and turned to face away from Clarke. She lifted her hand and shielded the morning sun from her eyes, scanning the trees in front of her.
"Take this path. Don't make any turns. It should lead you back to the roads, if I remember correctly." The girl motioned to a slim trail and turned back to face Clarke.
Clarke's jaw slackened in surprise, confused as to why the girl (who had just robbed her a day before) was offering her help. She almost let a smile of gratitude come to her face, but caught sight of her backpack and quickly resumed her neutral expression.
"Could I have my stuff back, now?" Clarke asked, feeling gutsy, but the way the girl's hands squeezed shut at the question made her regret it. The brunette sighed and stepped closer, wriggling the backpack off her shoulder and holding it out for Clarke to take. "I don't need it, anyways." She grumbled. Clarke snatched it from her fingers and clutched it to her chest, immediately noticing how much lighter it was.
"Can I have the food back, too?" She pressed, doing her best to keep her voice from portraying fear. The girl scoffed and turned to start walking in the opposite direction.
"Leave now, before I change my mind."
Clarke pulled the straps of her noticeably lighter bag over her arm without a moments hesitation and stood up her bike. The girl had already started to walk away by the time Clarke was on her bike and pedaling down the trail that she had been pointed down.
The trees started to clear and after about half an hour of biking, Clarke could see the road. An accidental smile came to her face as her tire rolled onto the pavement. No food, no shelter, but at least she wasn't lost anymore.
Once she was out of the forest, it seemed to be the only thing that occupied her mind. She had deduced that the brunette must have shelter in the forest, despite the fact that she was unable to find it. If she did have a place to stay, was she alone? Who else was staying with her? What language was she speaking and why didn't sound like anything she had ever heard before?
She forced the questions from her head when she arrived back in the nicer part of town. She slowed her pace when her favorite café came into view. Remembering her lack of food and slight hunger building in her stomach, she pulled onto the sidewalk and brought her bike to a stop.
The door was surprisingly unlocked, allowing Clarke to easily get inside. The café was dark, but from what Clarke could see, the place had already been raided. Empty cups and napkins littered the floor and gave off a depressing vibe that sent chills up Clarke's neck.
After her encounter with the brunette and the crossbow, Clarke found herself wishing she had some sort of weapon to protect herself with. She did a quick visual sweep of the restaurant, and once she was sure that no one else was inside, she flicked on a light switch and started her search for food.
Behind the service counter were a few stale pastries that Clarke took without apprehension. Had it been a few days ago, when she had a full bag of food, she would have left the desserts to mold, but her current desperation meant she couldn't pass up any opportunity for food.
She nibbled on one of the pastries, sparingly, as she continued rummaging through cabinets and closets, rarely discovering anything more than a few crumbs. At one point she found a tub of coffee beans that she gladly took, deciding that coffee beans had caffeine, and caffeine was energy, and she would need energy if she was going to survive on such little amounts of food.
When she was sure that all the nooks and crannies had been looked over, she exited the coffee shop, staring down at her pitifully, empty backpack.
Maybe the bombs will miss.
Clarke pulled her bag over her shoulder and rubbed her tired eyes, hoping that when she pulled her hands away, she would be safely in bed, as if the last twenty-four hours had been a dream- a nightmare- that she would be able to laugh about one day.
When she did pull her hands away, she was still standing on the sidewalk.
Clarke couldn't help but let her mind wander back to the brunette she had run into. Anger brewed inside her when she remembered that the girl was the reason she was currently starving.
She looked towards the sky and saw there were at least a few hours of daylight left, prompting her to check a few more restaurants and buildings for scraps and anything else that could be useful.
Night finally began it's fall on Clarke's town and she had made little progress in her search for resources. Feeling defeated, she made her way back to her dingy apartment complex and leaned her bike against the rack, unable to bother herself with locking it up.
At least you're not sleeping outside tonight. She thought as she ascended her staircase, trying her best to find something- anything -to be thankful for. She was afraid that if she didn't have something positive to keep her mind on, she would simply give up and spend the last of her days curled up in bed with a nice book or a movie. The thought didn't sound as bad as it felt, almost pushing Clarke to pull out her copy of The Princess Bride and start watching it. She refrained, however, deciding to tune into her favorite automated message-note the sarcasm.
The television buzzed to life and presented the bright blue screen with the latest news on the upcoming disaster. It hadn't changed in days and Clarke wasn't sure if it ever would, but she forced herself to listen to the message twenty times-she counted- before moving on to doing something else.
She wandered over to the nightstand in her room and ran her fingers over the notebook on the surface. She knew the contents of the journal were pictures she had drawn over the past few years. She flicked open the cover and sighed at the first picture; a lake scene. She missed being able to relax on a park bench and draw what she saw, without a care in the world. Things had obviously changed since then. She grabbed the book and a few sketching pencils, anyways, before retiring to her bed and opening the notebook to a blank page.
She held the pencil over the page, contemplating if she would draw what her subconscious had already decided. The pencil tapped the page only to be jerked back in an instant, thanks to Clarke's indecisiveness.
Finally giving in, she started drawing a sharp jawline and messy braids, unable to get the image from her mind. She couldn't do the braids justice, finding it hard to recreate the elaborate style, but she was sure that she had nailed the face structure and angry scowl that the girl seemed to always hold.
Clarke wasn't sure what compelled her to sketch the face, but it didn't surprise her that she wanted to. She had a habit of putting to paper what her mind couldn't free itself from. Today just happened to be an intimidating brunette with the knack for stealing.
Just as Clarke started recreating the tattoo that had been on the girl's shoulder, she heard the buzz of silence replace the sound of the automated voice on her TV. She set her drawing aside and left to her living room to investigate.
The screen had seemingly frozen, shining neon blue through her dimly lit apartment. Clarke tilted her head at the sight, wondering what had caused the sudden end of the message.
She didn't have long to ponder the question before a blaring alarm filled the speakers, making Clarke jump back in surprise. The screen image had replaced itself with a new, screaming red picture that only furthered Clarke's fear in the sudden alarm. For a few moments, she stared at the screen, preceding her decision that the alarm could not mean anything good.
If her instincts were correct, the alarm could only mean one thing.
Still on her mind, she remembered the girl, and hurried back to her room for her bag. If the bombs were truly coming (or already here), Clarke needed to leave. Quickly.
She grabbed the backpack and saw her notebook, staring at it for a few seconds before stowing it inside the bag. She pulled open her fridge and grabbed the last of her water bottles, before scrambling out her door and back down the stairs, neglecting to turn off her noisy television.
She cursed herself audibly as she pulled her bike from the bars and jumped on, knowing her idea was questionable and far from fool-proof.
Still, she biked past the buildings and neighborhoods in record time, arriving at her destination before she had time to decide what the rest of her plan consisted of. She could hear other TVs playing the absurdly loud alarm, only adding to the hopeless feeling in her gut.
She hopped off her bike when she came to a familiar trail, running down it in hopes of catching sight of a particular brown head of hair. After running for quite some time, she stopped and checked her surroundings, her chest heaving in exhaustion. A memorable sense of being lost reclaimed her, reminding her of the day before when she had been in that exact position.
Clarke's heart still thumped wildly behind her ribs and before she had a chance to decide, she was calling out; yelling for help. The screams felt useless but she continued anyways, shouting the same word over and over until her throat was raw and her face was wet with tears she hadn't known were falling down her cheeks.
Seconds passed like minutes, dragging on endlessly as Clarke wandered around, still yelling, despite her diminishing voice. She had long since abandoned her bike in the dirt, just focusing on her hope of finding the brunette from earlier.
Just as she was ready to give up, a hand roughly gripped her shoulder and spun her around, instantly shutting her up. Her eyes couldn't believe what she was seeing in front of her.
It was the girl. The one that had taken her supplies, threatened her with a crossbow, and left her to sleep outside, but something about her looked different, now. Her face showed concern, probably for her own life and not at all for Clarke's, and she wasn't holding the well-known weapon, as if she had known she wouldn't need to use it.
When Clarke fully comprehended what was happening, she couldn't help but feel incredibly embarrassed. Her red, tear-stained cheeks and trembling hands probably looked absolutely pathetic, but at this point it shouldn't have been a shock to the brunette. After all, she had already seen weakness in Clarke twice before then.
The concern on the girl's face vanished in seconds and replaced itself with her notorious look of pure annoyance.
"You just don't learn, do you?" She growled, dropping her hand from Clarke's shoulder and running it through an untied section of her hair. Clarke wiped her face and cleared her throat, embarrassment and anger making her regret the plan completely.
"I need somewhere to stay." Clarke's voice cracked when she spoke, the sound muffled by her snotty nose. The girl looked amazed by this statement, probably wondering why Clarke thought she would care. But when she realized what Clarke meant by the words, her face twisted in confusion, then fury, again.
Their eyes locked in a stare down, both too stubborn to be the first to look away. Clarke, however, was left triumphant when the brunette groaned loudly and ran another hand through her hair. She turned and started walking away, only to stop and face Clarke after a few steps.
"Don't slow me down."
It was obvious that the command was said through gritted teeth even though Clarke couldn't see her face when she said it. Still, she felt relief wash over her and an involuntary smile spread across her lips.
Clarke ran to catch up with the girl, desperate to not ruin the advantage she had just gained. "I promise you won't regret this." She assured her, seeing the girl's lip twitch in agitation at the promise.
"Stop talking or I will regret it."
Clarke gladly walked in silence.
A/N:Ta da! The two lovebirds are together! I hope you enjoyed Clarke's dorkiness as much as I enjoyed writing it. Don't worry, Lexa's a dork too, she's just MUCH better at hiding it. Let me know what you think! Also, merry late Christmas to those who celebrate it!