The day after the whole thing with the acid fog, Lincoln was working. He gave her a pouch full of shells and beads and told her to go check out the market. The market was in full swing when she got there. Colorfully woven rugs hung from the stalls, protecting the wares from inclement weather and thick pieces of wood served as a sloped roof, many decorated with intricate chalk drawings. Trades people sold their wares, enticing people in with shouts of bargains and sales. Incense and perfumes were being sold at one booth, filling the air with their putrid scents. Octavia stopped to smell each one, having never before smelled such delightful things. One smelled of the thick, green pine trees in the woods at home while another smelled like the earth and sweat with a taste of mint. It reminded her of Lincoln. Booth after booth she went to, stopping at each to examine its wares. She bought a blue crystal statue of a butterfly and some costly colored pencils. Octavia had gotten the pencils for Lincoln. She didn't know when she would give them to him, just that she would do it when the time was right. At the edge of the market was a large hut filled with clanking and banging noises. She cautiously peaked her head in to find a pair of legs sticking out from under some strange contraption. It looked familiar. The person cursed wildly and rolled out from underneath the thing, giving it a good kick to the side.

"Damn piece of junk."

The person removed a mask from their face revealing a girl with brown eyes and dark hair. Still murmuring to herself about the contraption, she looked up, suddenly noticing Octavia. The girl narrowed her eyes at her.

"Hey! What are you doing in here? No one's supposed to be in here."

Octavia attempted to placate the girl.

"Sorry, I'm kind of new around here, I'll just leave."

The girl suddenly looked interested.

"New you say? Hmmm… You must be Octavia then."

Octavia stumbled making her way out the door.

"How does everyone know my name?"

The girl smiled at her and extended her hand towards Octavia.

"My name's Raven."

Octavia took her hand, shaking it. The girl, Raven, had a rough texture to her hands, years of hard labor forming callouses. They talked for hours, Raven telling her all about the island and its people. They talked so much, that eventually Lincoln had to come find her looking much too happy that she had made a friend. She had made a friend, hadn't she? As Lincoln and Octavia walked home, Lincoln's happiness slowly faded away until she was left with a grim looking Lincoln. She was afraid to ask what was wrong, had she done something wrong, but she reminded herself that she didn't care if she had done something wrong, she was done following rules and had been for a long time. Eventually she mustered up the courage to ask what was wrong.

"The council has decided to go to war with a neighboring tribe settling to close to our territory."

Octavia was not shocked. War was a common occurrence amongst all the tribes. That wasn't what shocked her, the next part did.

"I'm leaving in the morning."

Now this, this shocked Octavia.

"Leaving? But you just returned. There is no way you could possibly be prepared for war so soon."

"The council was already setting war plans in motion while I was away."

"Oh."

The rest of the night was spent in silence.

Early the next morning Lincoln left, along with many other of the village's men and women.

It wasn't until much later that a breathless scout came crashing through her door, speaking of a trap.

Octavia felt her body go numb. Lincoln was in danger. She quickly pulled down a sword mounted on one the huts walls and took off. She ran to the boats, only able to find a tiny, beat up canoe. Not caring she hopped in and rowed for her life- or well Lincolns.

When she arrived on the other side she cautiously moved through the forest. In the distance sounds of a battle reached her ears and Octavia ran. She ran like she had never run before, like the wind.

War cries filled the air along with the sound of dying shrieks of pain and the clash of swords and the thwack of arrows. Octavia dodged blow after blow, calling out for Lincoln desperately at each turn. She reached the far end of the battlefield when her luck ran out. She had reached a rock faced wall and was steadily being backed up into it by a hulking man. She raised her sword in a defensive position and in her dance of war got a few quick hits in, but still he kept coming. He had backed her against the wall, sword raised high when a slicing noise filled the air and the man's head rolled off of his shoulders. Lincoln stood behind him, covered in blood, sweat, and dirt. His face was streaked with paint and he was panting with exertion. He quickly pulled her away from the battle and into the silence of the forest. He checked her for injuries frantically and upon seeing none pulled her into a rough kiss. Octavia kissed back, biting his lip hard. He growled at her and walked her back to a tree, bowing her back with the force of his next kiss. Together they writhed in the forest, the sounds of the battle raging on dimly in the background.