Oh look another chapter! Slightly shorter than the other ones, but I should be putting the fourth up soon so keep an eye out for that. Tell me what you think :)
"In any book I'll ever read
you'll be the line that sticks out to me"
Toes (acoustic) – Lights.
The next morning the girls woke up to the gentle wash of light that was flooding the cave. They had slept side by side, covered by Clarke's unzipped sleeping bag and warmed by the dying flames of the fire. Now, there was nothing but a pile of ashes and the stubborn smell of smoke. It made Clarke's eyes water. Lexa didn't notice it at all. They moved around the cage without saying a word, it was easier that way. The time bomb still ticked.
Surveying the space before her, and admittedly Lexa (but only for a second), Clarke picked up her beg and went to leave when she felt a hand reach out to hers. It was the first time their skin had properly touched since Clarke had helped Lexa redress - they had mostly avoided contact with awkward dodges and sympathetic smiles – and it sent a shiver down Clarke's spine. She pulled back in shock.
Lexa noticed Clarke's discomfort. "Sorry," she said, pulling her hand sharply to her side. She looked down at the blonde with cautious eyes.
"What do you want, Lexa?" asked Clarke, raising her eyebrows.
"You know how to read." Lexa observed. Clarke didn't respond. "What do the words say? The ones on the wall?"
Clarke glanced to the passage and the words that were painted there. "It's a quote about war. Plato." She didn't know much about Plato, but had definitely heard the quote before. She had spent part of the night wondering why it was on the wall at all. Lexa, who stood watching Clarke with the same inquisitive look on her face, clearly didn't know who Plato was. Bellamy would know, thought Clarke.
She moved out of the cave without explaining, knowing that Lexa would follow. It was only in the full light of the coming day, surrounded by the forest and the Commander's loyal guards did she continue. "Only the dead have seen the end of the war." Then Clarke watched Lexa glance to the entrance behind her, contemplating the words. Her face was stern, and in the open air Clarke could see how pale she had become overnight – her wounds were still paining her.
"That's a pleasant thought," mused Lexa as she went to greet her warriors. Clarke was shocked at the brief smile that crossed the brunette's features, but didn't say anything. The Commander's humour, Clarke realised, was not shown often. And it was a dark humour. Made sense really, with the life that girl had.
Following Lexa, Clarke walked over to the Grounders. For a moment, she was confused. At the Guards' feet lay a small pile of furs. The dead warrior, Clarke figured, they must have retrieved him before they'd woken up.
Clarke looked up, feeling Lexa's stare burrowing into her face. "Are you ready for the village, Clarke?" the girl asked. Clarke nodded. "Good. We shall leave." Now the jovial tone had completely vacated the brunette's voice, replaced with a reserved sincerity that Clarke couldn't quite read. The confusion came back as they set off.
Their walk through the forest was, for the most part, in silence. The Grounders strode in front of the girls, keeping a slow but steady pace. This left the two leaders to walk behind, and Clarke wondered if it was by coincidence that the guards were ahead, or if it was the result of some non-verbalised agreement out of respect for their Commander. Lexa walked with a limp, the muscles of her back having grown even stiffer during her sleep.
They walked together like they had as they made their way to Mount Weather – just minutes after their first kiss. Then, they had been surrounded by bloodthirsty warriors and the anticipation of a battle, but now there were trees and a sense of uncertainty which had settled itself deep into Clarke's spine.
"You don't have to come with us if you don't want to Clarke," Lexa spoke at some point during the third hour of walking. The same clouds Clarke had seen the night before still sat in the sky. They looked like rain.
"Where else would I go Lexa?" and with that Clarke looked adamantly forward, avoiding the girl's concerned eyes. They went back to silence, both hearts ticking louder in each chest.
The village, it seemed, was not a village at all - at least not in size. When they arrived it reminded Clarke of the towns she had read about in books, with its busy streets and busy people. It probably span for several miles.
"The villages get bigger as you near Polis," explained the Grounder who carried the body – he had seen her scan the sights before with wide eyes. Clarke didn't know any of their names. Lexa moved to walked ahead but stayed silent.
The streets weren't actually streets either, but the roads of the village were lined with houses and huts made from mud and wood that had been bound together like rope. Everyone they passed looked up, and excited whispers followed the group as they moved through the village. Soon a small crowd walked behind them, "Heda!" and "Sky Princess" echoing in hushed tones. It made Clarke's ears burn, but she – as the crowd followed her – followed Lexa. She still hadn't said anything, and it made Clarke feel even more confused than before.
Suddenly Lexa came to a stop. They had reached a small clearing, which Clarke could only assume was the village centre, the place for meetings and village parties. She looked at Lexa for an explanation, but was answered only with the side of the brunette's face. Lexa was staring at a woman who stood before them.
The woman had piercings on her face and in her ears, and her tanned skin was covered in tattoos, but her hair was greying and her stance was hunched. Clarke looked between Lexa and the woman, waiting, and watching. It couldn't have been a minute, but Clarke recognised the tension that ran through Lexa's muscles and wondered if she was about to witness a fight. Age, she knew, did not affect the Grounders, they were warriors until the day they died. Still, neither moved, eyes locked in steady stares. Slowly, the woman took a step forward, and then another until she was stood before the Commander. Neither broke eye contact. Clarke watched on.
To the sound of cheers and applause, Lexa threw her arms around the woman in a tight hug that was immediately returned. Over Lexa's shoulder, Clarke could see the woman's wide smile, and the tear that fell from her closed eyes. Clearly, they knew each other well.
The woman pulled back, rubbing tenderly at Lexa's shoulders before turning to address the crowd that had gathered in the clearing. It was no longer small, as if half of the village had turned up to investigate the Commander's arrival. The woman spoke words that Clarke couldn't understand, and she could only watch as some men walked out of the crowd and up to the guard, taking the body from his arms with a respectful nod. Lexa was speaking to the woman now. Again, that unpleasant feeling of being an intruder filled Clarke's veins, so she wrapped her arms around her waist and dipped her head towards the ground; she didn't want anybody to see her face.
That was how she first knew it was raining. The drops fell onto the ground and turned the loose dirt dark as they grew heavier. She hadn't felt them on her body. In fact, she just felt empty, the numbness which had started when she told Bellamy she had to leave was back. She pushed at the dirt with her foot, watching it colour the leather as the rain fell harder.
"Come on, Clarke," muttered Lexa, having moved to the girl. She placed a hand between Clarke's shoulder blades and nudged Clarke softly forward. Clarke let herself be moved and led through the clearing. It was emptying anyway now the rain was falling and Clarke had nothing to say. Lexa's hand felt warm on her back, like fire.
Lexa took them further into the village, down roads they hadn't walked through on their way in. Less people came here, Clarke noticed, the homes were further apart. It gave Clarke the feeling that this side of the village wasn't as lived in but she walked with Lexa nonetheless - after all, where else would she go?
They came to a stop after several minutes of walking where the huts truly were far apart. Clarke thought they looked abandoned – nobody else was around to suggest any different. She looked up at Lexa to see the girl was already watching her with patient eyes. Her gaze made Clarke feel small.
Lexa dropped her hand from Clarke's back, grasping her wrist instead, and pushed through the door of the hut they had stood in front. Inside it was dark and it smelled like dust but it was out of the rain and the cold it had brought with it. Clarke shook herself free of Lexa's grip and looked around the room.
From the outside, it hadn't looked large, but Clarke could now see it was as big, if not bigger than the Commander's tent back in Ton Dc. Once the initial dust had cleared, she could even smell the underlying tones of the ever present Earth – so, so different from the bitterly metallic taste that she'd been brought up with on the Ark. On the walls of the hut there were torches, and Clarke's eyes followed Lexa as she lit them – the girl moved with determination and confidence despite her injuries; she'd clearly been here before.
"This is where we'll stay until the rain stops," said Lexa, turning now to face Clarke and brushing the dirt off her hands onto her trousers. In lighting the torches she had walked away from Clarke, and the space between them was once again charged with the unspoken. In the confines of the hut it buzzed as steadily as the rain fell outside, it hummed and it ticked and ticked some more. "Don't worry, Clarke," Lexa spoke on, regarding the blonde through eyes half-closed with tiredness. "It should not rain for long."
The two girls remained still, trapped by each other's stare. To break eye contact now would be to stand down, and Clarke, frankly, was having none of it. So she watched as Lexa lowered her gaze to floor, watched as Lexa's shoulders dropped, and watched as the girl lowered herself gingerly to sit on the bed behind her – Clarke hadn't noticed it when she first scanned the room. Now, the mighty Commander of the Grounders sat with slumped shoulders, elbows on her knees and head in her hands. Her face was hidden.
Clarke still didn't move. "Where are we, Lexa?" she asked, but Lexa didn't respond. "Where are we?" Clarke spoke again, louder this time. The underlying tension of everything that had happened whipped through the space between them.
"We're in the village Clarke," replied Lexa to her hands. Clarke could see them shaking slightly, the muscles in the girl's arms were clenched.
"Where are we?" repeated Clarke, harsher and demanding. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined she would ever speak to the Commander in such a tone. She thought back to earlier times when she had only just met the girl, when Lexa was sat in her throne in the war tent, scrutinising the blade in her hand and spinning it with a threatening precision. Then she had looked as strong as any warrior Clarke had ever seen. Today she was weakness embodied.
"We are in the village," Lexa said, glancing up at Clarke with sad eyes before turning to look at the furs of the bed. Her hands were clasped together now, clenched and rigid. Her voice was quiet as she continued. "We are in the village where I grew up. This is my home, Clarke."