A Moment of Memories

They did not speak for some time. Lincoln watched as she concentrated on the task at hand – gathering dry twigs. He smiled; the task did not require such mental effort. In spite of everything – heightened adrenaline, coupled with fatigue, coupled with uneasiness, Lincoln's heart soared at the sight of her. Catching her elbow, he pulled her in close. Arms around her waist, he pressed his forehead to hers and closed his eyes.

"Tell me," he heard her say. Her voice was firm.

Lincoln sighed. "The story is long and we do not have…" he began.

"Fine!" pushed him away. "Don't tell me." The collection of firewood once again became her focal point. "I've seen this all before anyways: Finn, Clarke, Raven." She stooped to the ground, almost muttering to herself. "I know how this ends."

Lincoln looked at her quizzically. While he recognized the names of Octavia's people, he did not understand her meaning. Smiling to himself, he raised Octavia to her feet, turning her around to face him. "The story is long and we do not have the time for me to explain in detail," he started again. "But, if you let me, I will tell you what time will allow."

Octavia's gaze softened. "I know she's your friend from the east, but you never speak of her. Now without warning you're entire being is consumed with the possibility of finding her. I've never seen you this concerned about anyone since, well, since…"

"Since I met you" Lincoln finished the sentence for her. She smiled ruefully. "You are my furé," Lincoln said, pulling her in close. He felt her body relax in his embrace. Furé was name of the white flower which he had used to guide Octavia to his secret cave. It had only been a few moons since their first meeting there, since the first time she had lain with him as his woman. So much had transpired since then; it seemed like a lifetime ago. Lincoln allowed himself a moment of memories, a moment to breathe in the scent of her hair. Then he took her by the hand and to lead her back to camp.

"Come. I will tell you everything."