Lexa sits back in her throne, her thoughts turning over the conversation she had had with Clarke the previous night. And she sighs, the light of the moon streaming in from the sheer fabric of her tent that hangs above her head. She turns to face Gustus then, his eyes careful as he takes in her appearance.
"It is not severe," she says as she sees his eyes move to her shoulder.
"It was a risk, Heda," he answers. "You do not know if Clarke is loyal to the Coalition or Nia. Yet you risk your own life to save her from the acid fog."
"Clarke is loyal to Azgeda," she says, her finger tapping lightly against the handle of her knife. "I do not think Nia holds her loyalty."
"You are sure of it?" Gustus questions as he moves to stand in front of her, his arms coming to fold across his chest.
"I am sure Azgeda holds her loyalty but perhaps not Nia," she begins. "I do not know if she meant to, but Clarke revealed that Nia uses her for something."
"We assumed that was so, Heda. But you do not know for what," comes the answer. "Nia would not have known of Skaikru, Heda. Rumours spread, but the Azgeda Capital is far from where Skaikru fell. And you have kept knowledge of Skaikru limited to the area."
"Yes," she agrees, "but Nia is smart, she is cunning, she has spies, even here in Trikru lands, I am sure of it," she muses, her gaze falling to the model of the Mountain that sits atop her war table.
"You think Nia wishes to use Clarke in our fight against the Mountain? To gain the Mountain's tech? To have Azgeda take control of it when the Mountain falls?"
And so Lexa lets her mind wander for just a moment, lets her thoughts sift and coalesce into a more concrete image before she brings her eyes back to Gustus.
"It would explain why Nia sent so many warriors," she says.
"Then why not kill Clarke? The Mountain falling under control of Azgeda would bring chaos to the Coalition. The clans would not stand for it."
"Yes, Gustus. That is true. But If she is not loyal to Nia, but to the clan then her death would be a waste," and she pauses as she thinks over the young Azgeda woman. "And I wish to avoid that unless it is necessary."
"But you think Clarke can help the Coalition? I do not think Azgeda will change, Heda. I do not think Clarke can change Azgeda. No single person could," Gustus adds, "Trikru and Azgeda have waged war for generations. The hate runs deep," and he pauses, his eyes careful as he eyes her, the unspoken words easy for her to read.
She sighs quietly, "Trikru learn to hate Azgeda from birth, Azgeda learn to hate us in turn. So yes, Trikru and Azgeda will continue to hate each other even if the Coalition continues to exist for generations more. But for now," and she pauses, turns her eyes to the knife she now spins through her fingers. "For now we shall continue to watch Clarke. She handles these war meetings well so I will continue to let them spiral and force Clarke to act in them unless I must intervene. And we will wait. We will wait until Clarke makes the first move."
"And that will tell us where her loyalties lie?" Gustus says, a hand coming to comb through his beard for a moment.
"Yes, Gustus. If she defends Skaikru or if she defends Azgeda it may reveal where her loyalties lie. And if she defends Nia if clans question the Kwin, then that too will shed some light on whether she lives or dies."
And Gustus nods for a moment, his eyes thoughtful as he turns to face the war table, his eyes moving over the model of the Mountain. But he turns back to her after a short while, his hand coming to rest against the knife at his hip, his thumb worrying the leather wrapping out of habit.
"And Anya, Heda?" and he pauses, an uncertainty living in his eyes briefly. "She does you no good disobeying your orders so blatantly. Will that not antagonise Clarke further? Perhaps she is not the best to lead Trikru forces that work with Azgeda. Not with her past experience."
"Anya went too far," she agrees, but maybe she can empathise, maybe she can relate and understand. If only because she shares in the other woman's fury. "I will have Indra work with Azgeda."
It's still dark when Clarke ducks out of the tent, her eyes adjusting briefly to the quiet that sits lowly over the Azgeda war camp and so she tugs on the new furs she wears around her shoulders carefully. And she pauses for just a moment, a dry stick underfoot that she applies a small amount of pressure to before it cracks, the sound deadened by her fur wrapped boots. She lets her eyes meet Torvun's then, his furs soft and dark.
"I do not think Ontari will appreciate being left behind," he whispers quietly as he falls besides Clarke.
"She'd mess it up," she whispers, her eyes careful as she peers around herself.
And so they move from the tent, a quiet nod sent to the Azgeda on watch as they leave the camp. They pass into the trees then, the quiet rustling of the leaves a gentle noise that helps to mask their movements as they move deeper and deeper through the forest.
Torvun reaches out then, his fingers a quick squeeze against her shoulder and so they pause, his eyes careful as he peers out around himself, his finger hooked and his thumb pointing up quickly.
Trikru.
And so Clarke crouches low and she waits. And she thinks she hears the barely there movements of feet through the forest, roughing against the cool of the ground and she thinks she hears the quiet sighs of a tired warrior as they make their way towards Ton DC. And so they wait until the person passes, until they are sure they are alone once more. And then she smiles for a moment as Torvun rises, his eyes ever careful around him. And maybe she'll have to test just how good his hearing is after the Mountain. If only because she thinks he hears everything.
They near Ton DC then and so they pause behind a tree, low bushes at its base, and they let their eyes follow the guard that moves before the gate, the lone torch that burns all the light that gives the Trikru guard warmth.
Their eyes meet then, a quick nod all she sends to Torvun before he grips her shoulder with a firm squeeze before he rises, before he stumbles forward and before he groans out in pain, a hand coming to wrap around his groin.
And so Clarke watches for a moment longer as the Trikru guard reacts quickly, an arrow already notched, his bow aimed at Torvun.
"Help," and it comes out gruff, pained and pathetic as Torvun falls to the ground quickly, "I was bitten," he continues, his speech slurring.
"What are you doing?" the guard snarls, his eyes peering out behind Torvun.
"I was relieving myself," and he coughs roughly, "but I was bitten," and he lifts his hand, his palm coming away reddened and dripping.
"And you came here? To Ton DC?" and guard asks, a hint of derision colouring his tone.
"I did not want to show my own healers," Torvun whimpers. "You must understand," he pleads.
And so Clarke smirks briefly in the dark, the Guard coming to kneel before Torvun, his eyes careful as Torvun begins removing his pants. She sneaks out of the bushes then, her eyes careful as she peers around her. And it only takes her a moment but she reaches the gates and she slips through, Torvun's pained explanation of what had bitten him all she hears.
She moves through the village quickly, her destination already planned. But she hears steps approaching and so she presses herself against a building, a villager walking past, a tired yawn leaving the woman's lips.
Clarke waits for a moment before continuing and It doesn't take her long to avoid the few that move through the village, the dark of the night keeping her hidden. And she comes to her destination, a number of tents and smaller buildings close together that house the many Trikru warriors that stay temporarily in Ton DC. And she knows which one she searches for. The biggest tent, she thinks. And so she slinks forward, the furs on her feet dampening her movements, the brashness of her actions not expected, allowing her to move through the sleeping warriors quickly.
She finds it in the centre of the tents, and it's large. A lone torch burning at the entrance and so she rolls her eyes once more, the lack of guards an arrogance she thinks a foolish thing. And so she walks forward carefully, her body a low crouch that keeps her within the shadows, and her hand reaches out tentatively, just a small pressure against the tent flap as she pauses and waits for a moment and she waits for a sound to be heard. But the careful breathing from inside remains even and steady so she peels the tent flap open, slipping through it quickly. And she pauses. She lets her eyes adjust once more, she lets her eyes search the interior of the tent and she finds a table, armour and weapons resting lazily across the surface, a fur and leather coat draped across the back of a chair and a bed in the far corner, furs and a sleeping body resting in it.
And maybe it's a foolish endeavour she has found herself on, despite the conversation she shared with the Commander. But perhaps she doesn't like being messed with and she doesn't like being left to fight more reapers than intended. And so she pulls the rolled piece of paper from her sleeve, her feet carrying her towards the table quietly. And she unrolls it swiftly, her eyes catching the white of the hand painted in its centre. And so she smiles as she places it against the sword and armour. And she smiles, just a quick turn to the sleeping woman before she ducks out of the tent.
Fuck you Anya.
"I still don't know how you made it look like it was bleeding," she laughs as they walk through the Azgeda camp, the weight on her shoulders a little less now that she is surrounded by her own people once more.
"It is simple," Torvun shrugs, his eyes a quiet light in the glinting of the moon that shines in the sky.
She snorts at his response though and she turns to face him, "what did the Trikru guard say?"
"He told me I was weak, that all Azgeda was weak, and that I should bed an animal," and he laughs, his voice a soft baritone that carries around him gently. "But yes, I think Ontari would have attacked him if she were present, if only to defend Azgeda honour," he finishes with a small smile.
She wakes slowly, her mind content to sift through her early morning thoughts for moments longer. But she feels the pressure of Entani as the other woman rolls into her, a yawn escaping the healer's lips as she stretches.
And she hears Ontari grumble and wake at the sounds of Entani rising from the bed. And so Clarke takes one last breath and she holds it for a long moment before she sits up and throws the furs from them.
"I do not like these war meetings," Ontari mutters as she rolls off her sleep shorts, her hair a braided mess that falls across her shoulder. "We get little done. All we do is discuss nothing. And we wait for Skaikru to remove the acid fog."
"That is why I do not go," Entani snorts, her own fingers quickly working through her hair as she moves across the tent.
"I don't think Trikru will be a problem anymore and the other clans will follow suit," Clarke adds, a small smile finding its way across her lips at last night's mission.
"We shall see," Ontari mutters as she stands, her skin glowing in the soft light of an early morning as she moves towards her leathers and furs, her chest binding unwrapping before it drops to the ground.
The walk up to Lexa's tent is quiet, Ontari's eyes ever careful as she eyes the Trikru they pass, but Clarke can't help but to let a smile linger across her lips as she images the greeting Anya will give her. And perhaps she even feels Torvun move just a bit more enthusiastically next to her.
They come to Lexa's tent, a guard holding up a hand briefly as he ducks through the entrance to announce them before he exits again, a wave of his hand showing them in. And so she follows Ontari, her eyes adjusting to the dark of the tent for only a moment before she finds Anya staring at her, fingers tight around her the knife at her hip, a scowl resting firmly in place.
And Clarke meets Anya's stare with her own smirk, a small shrug lifting her shoulder for a moment.
"Sleep well, Anya?" she asks as she moves to the side of the war table where Kane, Raven and Bellamy stand, her eyes already falling to the models that sit on the map and she smiles again as she hears Torvun snort by her side.
"Who are we waiting for?" Clarke asks then, her eyes scanning the warriors already assembled.
"Lake clan," someone mutters and she looks up to see a warrior, the muddy red of his clothes casting a gentle shadow over the table.
The tent flap opens then, Jomm and two others walking in, their arms swinging lazily as they move to stand by the table. And Clarke smiles when she hears the same warrior mutter under his breath, annoyance colouring his tone at having to wait for Jomm to arrive.
"Skaikru," Lexa begins, her voice quickly silencing those around the table, "how does progress go with the Mountain?"
And Kane motions for Raven to step forward, her eyes just a bit careful as she looks around her before they settle on Lexa.
"We think we know how the Mountain gets its power. Our guy found blueprints, so it looks like the dam," and she points to the map on the table, "it powers the whole Mountain, like I said, but it looks like they've got back up power. So it needs to be timed right," and she looks back to Lexa briefly, "we can't take it out until we're ready to storm the Mountain. So…" and she swallows again, "so we still can't make a move until the acid fog is down."
And Clarke's eyes roll when she hears Jomm curse loudly, when he swears and slams his fist down on the table.
"I am tired of waiting!" and his eyes move from warrior to warrior. "Skaikru offers us nothing but talk and promises of soon," and his eyes narrow, his finger coming to point at Kane, "Skaikru's leader does not even speak for the clan. You are worthless."
Clarke looks around the war table quickly, her eyes coming to find a few other clans in agreement, but she thinks most eye Lexa carefully, most wait to see which way the Commander will lean before committing themselves to an argument, but as her eyes fall on Lexa's she finds the woman eyeing her steadily, a careful glint living with the green gaze that holds her own.
Her eyes turn back to Jomm, his body having moved into Kane's space, his finger pressed against mans chest. And she finds Bellamy standing tense, his fingers gripping his rifle firmly, his eyes moving from Lexa to Jomm to Kane.
"Enough!"
Jomm turns at the sound, his eyes widening for a moment.
"I've had enough of you, Jomm," Clarke says, her chin lifting as she steps towards him, Ontari and Torvun moving close by her side. "We're all in this together," her hand comes to rest against her knife, her fingers tapping against the blade noisily. "So," and she comes between the Lake clan warrior and Kane, "you will shut up. And wait until the acid fog is destroyed."
"Back off Azgeda," he hisses, his fingers coming to grip the handle of his own knife.
"Or what? You'll attack me? You'll kill me?" and she smirks, her chin lifting in defiance as Torvun growls deeply, "Did you forget what happened to Quint?" and she presses forward, crowds his space and forces him to take a step back. "Skaikru is under my protection. And you know what that means? Skaikru is under Azgeda protection. So you better think twice before threatening them," and she pauses, lets her gaze hold his for a long moment. "We all want the same thing," she looks around the table, "we want the Mountain destroyed, we want to cure the reapers, we want to live without the shadow of the Mountain," and her eyes turn back to Jomm, "so we will get along. We all put our difference aside and we all work together."
Clarke steps back then, her eyes still holding Jomm's gaze, if only to ensure he doesn't attack, but she finds herself back besides Kane, Jomm's jaw clenched painfully, but thankfully silent.
The rest of the war meeting goes by as smoothly as can be expected, the occasional shouting match springing up as to which clan will be working with which, whose responsibility it is to ensure supplies are shared and who will have the honour of storming the Mountain first when the main entrance is breached. But Clarke finds herself content to sit by and watch for now. But the Commander's words cut through her thoughts, and so she looks up in the silence that follows.
"We come to an agreement," Lexa begins, "we focus on the reapers for now," and she looks around the room, a number of heads nodding in agreement. "Good," she says, "we will meet again tomorrow."
And so the warriors begin to file out, Jomm sending one last glare towards Clarke and the Azgeda and Skaikru that stand near her before he ducks out the tent.
"Thanks, Clarke," Raven says then, a smile rising her lips, "Jomm's a dick."
And she hears Bellamy snort and Kane sigh tiredly, "his attitude — and other's — will change once we cure the reapers. They'll see that Skaikru has more to offer, medicine, technology that can help," Clarke says, her own smiling returned. "But yeah, ignore him. He won't do anything now, not when Azgeda stands with you," and she nods her head once more as the Skaikru say their goodbyes before ducking out of the tent.
And so Clarke, Ontari and Torvun go to follow but she hears Lexa call out to her.
"Clarke, remain," and it's just a quick glance and nod to the other two Azgeda before she turns to face Lexa.
She finds Lexa still standing by the table, Gustus and Anya by her side and she lets a small smile finds its way across her lips once more as she meets Anya's gaze.
"Leave us," Lexa says then, her eyes flicking to Gustus and Anya for just a moment.
"Anya tells me you left a message in her tent," Lexa says once they find themselves alone, her eyes curious as they scan across her face.
"Yeah," she shrugs, "maybe I did."
And perhaps Clarke sees just a ghost of a smile live within Lexa's eyes, "I am sending Trikru out to capture a reaper," she says, "they will work with you. Indra is leading them," Lexa finishes.
"That's good to hear."
And there's a pause, something that lingers and builds between them as Lexa looks at her from across the table and Clarke finds her fingers come to rest by the knife on her thigh, her thumb worrying it as she holds Lexa's gaze, her lip coming to worry between her teeth.
"I apologise," and Clarke is sure her eyebrows shoot up rapidly. "Perhaps I have allowed myself to overlook clan behaviour towards Azgeda," she continues, her eyes a calculated gaze that holds steady.
"I—" and Clarke pauses for a moment, "look, we want the same things. Well, some of the same things. For now we just get along, ok? Deal with the Mountain, work together. Go back to our clans," she finishes.
And Lexa lets the silence hang between them for another long moment as her eyes move to the wound across her cheek.
"Does it hurt?" she asks.
"Not really," and Clarke shrugs once, "I've had worse," she finishes.
And she thinks a small twitching of Lexa's lips flashes across her face before the Commander schools her expression, her hands coming to rest by the edge of the table, her eyes gazing towards the model of the Mountain.
"Tell me, Clarke," and she looks up to hold Clarke's gaze, "how would you attack the Mountain?" she asks, her eyes steady.
And the question throws Clarke for a moment, her eyes turning to the map and she takes in what she sees, the dam that powers the Mountain, Ton DC that sits in its shadow and even the Ark and the forests that they all find themselves in.
"We're going to lose a lot of people," she says then, and she is sure of it. If only because the Mountain now has half of Skaikru on their side. "But we have to have more people. More warriors. Thousands here, right?" she asks as she looks up to Lexa.
"Yes, many thousands from the clans are here in Ton DC and the surrounding forests."
And Clarke turns her gaze back to the model of the Mountain, her lip held between her teeth for a moment in thought as her brows furrow.
"I'd send a small force in first," she begins, "I'd attack from the front. Make as much noise as possible, make them waste as much time and effort trying to keep us from the main entrance. But if there was a way inside…" and she trails off, her mind moving through what she knows. "The dam," and she meets Lexa's eyes. "If the Mountain is using it then that must mean they have a way of getting to it."
And Lexa nods, a small smile falling across her lips.
"I'd get inside the Mountain though, even a small force could do damage, could give those at the main entrance enough time to blow the doors and get inside."
And she holds Lexa's gaze for a moment, their eyes meeting across the map and she sees the fire of a burning candle dance in her gaze and cast a lazy shadow over the curve of her cheek.
"You handled Jomm well, Clarke," Lexa says then, and Clarke snorts at the words she hears.
"He's an idiot."
"Yes, he is," and again a small smile finds its way across Lexa's lips for a moment before she speaks once more. "Skaikru look to you for guidance," and Clarke's eyes turn disbelieving and so Lexa pushes forward with her words. "It is true. Perhaps you do not see, but Bellamy, Kane, they both looked to you when Raven was interrupted. They waited for your reaction."
"I'm not trying to be a leader," Clarke replies, her eyes turning down to the map, "I'm just trying to make sure everyone gets along."
"You were born for this, Clarke," and she looks back at Lexa. "Same as me."
And Clarke lets the silence hang between them and she traces the shadows that fall over the map, she follows the finger Lexa brings up and down against the wood of the table and she follows the light that dances across the face before her.
And maybe it's curiosity, maybe's its foolishness, maybe it's just her inquisitive nature, but she looks up again, lets her eyes meet Lexa's once more. She lets her eyes follow the movements Lexa's own eyes trace as they ghost over the scars on her face, as they fall to the furs across her shoulders and as they take in the white that clings to her clothes. And maybe she sees the small tensing of her body, the small flinching away from the Azgeda before her.
"Azgeda killed someone you loved."
And maybe it's more of a statement, maybe it's more of a guess, more of a hand reaching out in the dark. If only to hold onto words that they shared perviously, if only to understand the person who stands before her. If only so that she may one day use what she knows to benefit Azgeda.
But maybe she's a fool. And maybe she's just trying to survive life on the ground without fumbling around blindly.
But Lexa's eyes snap up to hers. They pierce into her and they— And they what? There's a moment's anger, a simmering of a snarl that flashes across her cheeks, a burning hatred that lives within the green eyes that look back at her and a hardening of her features. All for just a beat of her heart.
But the green eyes close for a moment. She sees the chin rise and the jaw clench and the fingers fisting painfully by the woman's side.
"You don't have to answer," Clarke says then. "I get it. None of my business."
But Lexa opens her eyes slowly, she lets the light dance across her face as she sighs just once before she leans over the table, her eyes moving to trace the map before her.
And she lets the silence hang between them once more. And maybe it's only seconds, only a few short breaths but for Clarke it feels an age. It feels a long moment that stretches and pulls.
"We all make sacrifices, Clarke," and Lexa meets her gaze. "We do what we must to survive."
She ducks quickly, air rushing over her head and so she dives, she rolls and she comes to her feet, an arrow flying forward, and she smiles as the reaper drops to the ground, her arrow embedded in its stomach. And it's only a moment before three Azgeda jump onto it, as they smash their fists into its face until it's a bloodied mess.
But Clarke only spares it a second, only enough time to ensure that they have it under control, and then she's running, she fires another arrow, this one striking a reaper locked in combat with a Trikru warrior and so she smiles just once before Torvun brushes past her, his sword swinging easily through the air as he disarms his own reaper before Ontari rushes forward in the opening he creates, her sword quickly embedded into its chest.
"We need them alive!" Clarke hisses, exasperation colouring her tone as Ontari merely shrugs, her lips pulling into a smile far from appropriate for such a bloody moment.
"We have two—" and she glances past her shoulder, "three already, Clarke."
"That's not the point," and Clarke fires another arrow, this one striking a reaper in the back, and she smiles as she meets Lincoln's gaze from across the raging battle between them. And maybe, despite the short moment's she has shared with him, she thinks the quiet man the most likeable of the Trikru she has met.
And Clarke turns, another smile finding its way across her face as she hears Entani berate the three Azgeda subduing the reaper she had wounded.
"What good is healing a reaper if they can not talk afterwards!" she shouts at them as they sheepishly move to protect her as she kneels, already wrapping a clearly broken jaw.
She turns back then to see Torvun throw a reaper over his shoulder before he drops his knee into its throat, his fist colliding with its chin forcefully, the reaper going limp as consciousness is smashed from it.
A shadow falls across her then and she ducks as she hears the growl, and she drops her bow, the notched arrow thrown at the reaper that attacks her and she reaches for her knife, her feet already back peddling. A sword swings at her then, and she brings her knife up across her body, the jolt of the blades that collide stinging her wrist but she ignores it and rolls, her free hand throwing up dirt as she comes to her feet. And as the reaper lunges once more she sees a flash of brown rush at the reaper from the corner of her eyes before the reaper is smashed aside. And she smiles as Octavia looks up, her lips pulled up into a grimace of her own as she removes her sword from its chest.
"We're even now," she says, a quick smirk sent Clarke's way before she rushes off, sword already swinging through the air.
The fight comes to a swift end, the Trikru and Azgeda standing amongst a number of dead and subdued reapers with only a few wounded of their own.
Clarke catches Indra's eyes then, a quick nod passed between them and she finds the older Trikru warriors much more likeable too. And so she turns, helping a wounded Azgeda to her feet as they begin the quick march back to their horses.
The ride to Arkadia takes just a bit longer than usual, the bound reapers slowing their progress, but they arrive at the gates, the sun still sitting high in the afternoon sky. They drag the reapers to the med bay then, Ark guards following, their rifles held tensely in their hands as the combined Azgeda and Trikru warriors move through the halls of the Ark.
And it's a tense thing as they come to a stop, the med bay doors sliding open slowly, hardly a word exchanged between both clans. But the doors open and they file in, the snarling of the reapers all they hear.
It's not long until the reapers are subdued, the guard's shock sticks enough to reduce the reapers to a whimpering mess for long enough that Jackson can inject them with a sedative, something stronger that allows the reapers to be strapped into beds.
And so Clarke steps back, a hand coming to swipe over her forehead as she looks for Abby in the med bay. Her eyes move from person to person then, her gaze falling to the Azgeda that had remained behind the first time she had been to Arkadia only a few days prior.
"Where's Abby?" she asks Jackson, her gaze coming back to where he stands over a reaper, a chart held in his hands.
"She's coming now," he says, his eyes gazing up for a moment in thought.
"Thanks," she says as she turns to help Entani with the wounded Azgeda.
It isn't long until Abby enters the med bay and so she smiles when she sees Clarke, just a quick wave exchanged between them both before Abby moves to the reapers, Jackson already in tow.
"Most should be able to return now," Entani says as Clarke comes up besides her, the warrior whose leg was amputated the most seriously hurt. "But she will have to remain," and Clarke takes her in then, eyes closed, her chest rising slowly, her breathing a laboured, pained thing as she sleeps, the drugs in her system still keeping her from the waking world.
They arrive back at the war camp late in the afternoon, their numbers just a few less, the wounded Azgeda and Trikru too injured to travel having stayed behind at Arkadia. And so she moves to her tent, her mind too tired for much more in the waning light.
And so she pulls the furs from her body, she peels the leathers from her tired limbs and she climbs under the furs, her mind already surrendered to the sleep that she knows she will enjoy.
It's quiet. It's a comfortable warmth that rests over her. And she knows it must be late. Or early. If only because the outside world is quiet, just a quiet hooting of a bird and the careful steps of warriors stumbling through the camp in the dark, their attempts not to wake others an appreciated thought. Clarke takes the time to let her thoughts settle then, the raid on the reaper camp of the previous morning sifting through her mind for only a moment before she rolls further into Ontari, the woman's arm held comfortably around her.
And so her eyes begin to flutter closed once more. She thinks she feels sleep calling to her, pulling her back into a peaceful slumber. But she feels it gently.
It's a quiet thing. A tentative thing. Something careful and unfamiliar. And so she stiffens. She pauses in her movement and she listens. And she is sure there is someone else in the tent.
And so her eyes roll.
If only because she thinks it must be Anya. And so she brings a hand up to her eyes and she sits.
Her eyes move to where she feels the other person and her eyes fall onto a figure.
And it takes her only a moment to recognise that the person is not Anya. And it takes her a moment to register that an intruder lingers in her tent. And then she yells out, and it's a quick, frantic scramble out of the furs, and Entani rolls out of the bed with a pained curse as Clarke comes to a stand on the bed and Ontari sits up too, her eyes falling onto the figure for only a moment before she lunges.
And it's a painful few seconds that follow.
Ontari lunges for the figure, a curse falling from her lips as she swings, her fist whistling through the air before her strike is blocked, her arm is bent at an odd angle and she curses out in pain and she is thrown to the ground before a foot collides with her face. Clarke trips on the furs around her feet, her face coming to crash against Entani's head as she rises from the side of the bed. And it's an angry swearing that leaves Entani's mouth before she launches herself at the intruder, and Entani ducks a swing, brings her leg up and kicks hard into the person's stomach. But the kick is blocked, it's thrown to the side and a hand comes up to bloody Entani's nose before she is kicked harshly in the groin and a punch is thrown into her breast, a pained grunt all Entani can voice before a fist collides with her chin and she drops to the ground unconscious.
Clarke throws the furs around her at the figure, and she launches herself forward. And the cool air prickles her skin as she catches a glimpse of Ontari's bloodied face, cradling her arm to her chest before Clarke collides with the intruder. And she reaches out quickly in the dark, her fingers snaking for the person's throat, but the shadow twists, snakes their head back briefly before bringing it forward with a sharp snap, their skull colliding once more with Clarke's cheek. And maybe for just a second she takes the time to again curse her wretched cheek before pain explodes across her stomach, a knee bringing her to her knees before she is kicked swiftly in the ribs.
And she falls to her back, the figure coming to loom over her before the person settles themselves over her chest.
And it's a woman, Clarke realises, as a face looms over hers. And the features are proud, her face sharp and her gaze cunning, the dark of her hair braided back out of her eyes.
"Who are you," Clarke hisses as a hand comes around her throat.
And a smile graces the woman's lips, her eyes moving across Clarke's face for only a moment.
"I am Echo," she says. "Kwin Nia sends her regards."