Hey guys, welcome back. Here is a thank you to all that are following and has favorited this story so far. The concept is pretty worn out but its an idea that struck me and I figured its something different to write other than oneshots and drabbles. Here's a few things you should know:

a) I'm a coffee addict, so the writing may not be perfect.

b) This story is centered around an eventual Bellarke reunion (naturally)

c) I'm writing this story with intentions of it flowing a certain direction. If you're perceptive, you've probably already caught on. If not, you eventually will.

Chapter 5.

Enjoy.

Clarke awoke to the sun's light illuminating her eyes and warming her face. As she rose, she could feel the muscles in her back and shoulders tense from sleeping at such an awkward angle. She winced as she sat straight up and placed her hand on the aching muscle and began working the tensed muscle. Her stomach growled, obviously wanting more recognition, and that was the first indication she needed to find food and water – fast. It didn't take but a moment for her to heed her body's warning and soon enough she pushed from the ground and decided today was the day she'd begin planning. Before she could kill anyone, she had to kill something for food first. She grabbed her jacket from the ground and dusted off the dirt before sticking her arms through the sleeves. She looked up and placed her hand on her face to shield her eyes from the sun as she observed which direction she would begin her travels. She kicked out the remaining embers from the fire she built last night, stuck her sharpened stick and rusty knife in her boot, and grabbed what little supplies she was able to scrounge last night. She didn't have anything to carry her items in which meant she'd have to hold them until she was able to come up with something better.

She decided she'd travel east since she knew another village was nearby which would be a day of traveling. In addition, she knew that area was loaded with various berry and other food sources and she hoped she would get lucky along the way. After she had breakfast and her stomach was no longer a growing concern, she'd take an hour or so to rest and formulate a plan. For now, she had to settle for her plan to find food instead of her plan to find Lexa.

She had walked for what felt like a million miles, and then some, when she really had only walked maybe a couple of hours. Between the sun's rays and her body weakening from the lack of nutrition, her energy was beginning to deplete but she knew she had to continue. The moment she began to question if she could make it in the wilderness, alone, and thought about returning to Camp Jaha is the moment guilt once again flooded her emotions which caused her brain to automatically resort to anger... and that anger, that desperate need to drive a knife through Lexa's stomach and watch life drain from her body at Clarke's hand, is exactly what made her put one foot in front of the other. The more she thought about inflicting one final death upon the person she so desperately wanted to see dead, the more anxious she became and the extra shots of adrenaline kept her body from crumpling to the ground. After what had felt like days of searching, Clarke finally pushed her way through a thick wall of bushes and came to a small clearing. She titled her head to see through the canopy of trees that blocked very little of sunlight and determined it was around the afternoon. She looked around the small clearing and decided this was as good as place as any to begin hunting.

She crept along the outside of the clearing, sticking to the bushes where the forest began to thick, and found a tree. She pulled the rusty knife from her boot and instinctively began carving an "x" on the middle of the tree. Once she was satisfied with her mark, she piled the few items she was carrying beside the tree and mentally mapped the area around her. She then began collecting sticks that had a certain width and certain shape. She tested their durability before trailing back to the tree where she left her belongings. She sat down beside the tree and pulled the rusty knife from her boot. She then began picking up the sticks and sharpening them with the knife one by one until the tips had a sharp edge, just like she had done with her other stick. Once each and every stick she gathered had an edge that satisfied her, she collected them, gathered two large leaves from a tree, and stealthily walked to the middle of the clearing. There, she began pulling weeds and grass out of the earth until there was nothing left but dirt and began digging into the ground with one of her sticks. The process took her about an hour and a half to complete but she dug until there was a circular hole in front of her. She took the sharpened sticks and began sticking them into the ground one by one, creating a "trap" much like the one that almost claimed her life just days after the hundred was sent to the ground; the trap she fell into and would have died from but her hand was caught by Bellamy.

Bellamy.

Suddenly, her stomach began to tighten which she quickly blamed on the lack of food and decided she needed to finish this trap – and fast. After the sticks were securely stuck into the earth, she placed the two large leaves over the hole. She then took the knife and used the tip to cut the skin on the bottom of her arm. She cut deep enough so she would bleed but not enough to cause a serious injury. She held her arm over the leaves and squeezed her arm until several drops of blood dripped onto the leaves. Once she was satisfied with the amount of blood, she licked her arm and made a mental note to create a gauze out of whatever she could find. She quietly stood up from her spot, carefully looked around the clearing, and began to retrace her steps back to the tree with the mark – making sure to be as quiet as she most possibly could. Once she reached her tree, she sat down, rested her head against the bark, and knew it was a matter of waiting.

Between the lack of proper nutrition and water, her body must have finally caved from exhaustion. She heard a series of noises that caused her head to jerk and her eyes to suddenly open. Had she dosed off? She looked around her and saw the sun was still out but she could tell from the fading shades of light, the sun would soon be setting. As she searched her surroundings she saw two bodies in the distance. A large body which Clarke could only assume was an adult and a much smaller body that resembled the size of a child. Her eyes grew wide from panic. They were about five feet away from her trap. Her first instinct was to run; run away from the Grounders because they were dangerous. The peace was over. They had every reason to kill her. Instead of running away, however, Clarke jumped from her spot and began charging to the middle of the clearing.

She saw as the grounders instantly turned with panicked expressions and they drew weapons. She wasn't worried so much about what they would do to her as much as she was worried about what they would do to her food. She had no idea if her trap had caught anything to eat but the fear of no food outweighed her fear of death. After all, death would eventually claim her if she didn't get food soon. She heard one of the grounders shout – the smaller one, the child - but she ignored them; running straight for her trap. She didn't meet their eyes or pull the knife that was in her boot. Instead, she slid on the ground as she approached her trap. She couldn't control her heavy breathing as a glimmer of hope exploded through her tired, hungry blue eyes. The leaves to her trap were folded in and there were traces of blood on the green edges. She quickly moved the leaves away and saw a brown rabbit, still twitching from reflex, who had four bloody spikes sticking out of its side. The sound of crackling leaves caused her attention to shift from the rabbit and she suddenly remembered she was in the presence of grounders. She looked up to see two pairs of eyes staring at her.

One pair of eyes belonged to an old woman who was dressed in grounder attire. Her face was almost covered in wrinkles and aging spots and her brown eyes were tired but alert. Her long black hair was tied in the back aside from two long braid strands whose length reached her arms. There was a long scar that curved from her eye socket down to her jawline on the left side of her face and two long tattoos that began on her forehead, over her eye, and stopped mid cheek on the right side of her face. She was a larger woman who Clarke noticed did not wear the usual grounder attire she is use to seeing.

The second pair of eyes belonged to the child who had medium black hair that was tied in the back. It was just a boy with large, frightened brown eyes who held a knife in his hand and clung to the older woman. His face did not have any tattoos or scars and Clarke only assumed that was because of his age. He couldn't be a day older than six or seven considering his frame was still lanky from his body not yet producing significant muscle. The fear in his eyes caused Clarke to ease and she looked back at the rabbit that was still twitching in her trap. She didn't want to hurt either of them but she was prepared to fight for the food that she had rightfully caught. Even if that meant grabbing her rabbit and running as fast as she most possibly could.

"That trap, you make it?" The old woman asked. Her voice was just as tired and worn as her body.

Clarke looked back up at them, meeting the old woman's eyes and she slowly nodded. She watched as she old woman placed an aged hand on the boy's shoulder and he quickly looked up at her. The old woman nodded at him and the boy began reaching behind him. Clarke's instincts suddenly kicked in and adrenaline began flooding her body. Her heart began to race as she carefully watched the boy, ready to spring into action if she needed to. The boy paused, his eyes even more afraid than before, and slowly he pulled a canteen from behind his back. Her eyes widened as she heard the sound of liquid slamming against the sides of the container. The boy held it out to her, his arms shaking, from a distance and she could easily see the boy was scared of her next move just as much as she was scared of his move. What in the hell did she have to fear from a little boy? Clarke reverted her eyes from the container back to the old woman, who nodded at her, and she took the canteen in her hands very carefully. She unscrewed the top and smelled the contents, making sure to keep her eye on the two standing before her.

Water.

Without missing a beat, Clarke put the container to her lips and began drinking the water that was just given to her. Under any other circumstance, she would question why two grounders would be offering her anything else other than a death threat but at the moment she didn't care. She was dehydrated and thirsty and took two long gulps from the container. The amount didn't quench her thirst by any means but it was enough to satisfy her until she was able to find more. She screwed the top back on the container and slowly handed it back to the boy, making sure her eyes were softer than before. She looked to the old woman,

"Thank you," she said. So what was the catch? Clarke wasn't familiar on grounder customs but she has been around them long enough to know nothing was freely given. She expectantly looked at the old woman and saw the recognition that Clarke was waiting for whatever the old woman wanted.

"You make another?" The woman asked, hinting at the trap just inches in front of Clarke's knees. Clarke followed her eyes and put two and two together. She looked back at the woman and nodded.

"Yes," she replied.

Her reply made the old woman relax which made the boy relax.

"But first," Clarke said, turning her attention back to the dying rabbit. She picked up the rabbit by its ears and instantly its body began to reflexively thrash against her. She pulled her sharpened stick from her boot and in one quick motion, she slid the tip along the rabbit's jugular and for a moment, the sound of sliced arteries and skin filled the silence around them. She watched as blood began to spill from the slit and in just a matter of seconds, whatever life was left in the brown rabbit spilled onto the grass.

"We should eat," Clarke murmured, looking at her catch.

"We?" The old woman questioned. "That is your kill."

Clarke looked at the old woman and nodded at the boy.

"He's hungry," she said and reverted her eyes back to the woman. "And so are you."

Clarke could easily see the hunger in their eyes but it was the old woman's question that captured her attention. They were hungry and needed food – fast – just like her but the woman was too old in age to participate in anything overly physical and she knew the boy didn't have enough skill to hunt like an adult. They needed her help. That's why they didn't kill her (aside from the fact neither of them were capable) and offered her water instead. A trade for a trade. Clarke was more than accepting of these terms and conditions if it meant surviving and staying alive long enough to complete her long term goal.

Not the longest chapter, by any means, but the build-up is definitely getting there.

Review?