The sun shone bright and hot as Clarke walked down the stream towards the base of the dam. The closer she got to it, the less the noise allowed her to think. Only the most basic thoughts flowed through her mind, and it was a huge comfort to Clarke. The only thing that mattered at the base of the artificial waterfall was survival. To her that was the best feeling in the world. The dull pain building at the back of her skull and the grumbling in her stomach reminded her of the lack of food over the past three days. Her next meal was within sight, all she had to do was make a spear and start fishing.
A large, fallen tree trunk lay sprawled out not too far from the waterfront and Clarke figured that to be as good a place to rest as any. Shedding her backpack, Clarke eased down onto the log and pulled out the Commander's knife. If she didn't so desperately need it, she would have chucked the thing into the water and forgotten about it. Having any reminder of the Commander around her made the blood in her veins boil, but this was survival. Clarke would do what was necessary to live.
Taking the branch she picked up earlier, she laid it across her lap. Not the thickest limb she had seen since she came to the ground, but it looked sturdy enough for her to wield. Stray stems remained and Clarke broke them off easily enough with her hands. Looking the ends over, one had a slightly more jagged and rough appearance to it than the other, and Clarke decided that would be the tip of her spear. Placing the edge of her knife on the wood, she slowly began to whittle away at its exterior.
At first, the going was steady with the outer layers quickly falling to the ground. After several minutes of carving, however, her arm felt almost dead. Without any food for three days, the physical task she took on became extremely laborious. The dull throb at the back of her head had erupted to a full blown headache and she winced every time she took another chunk off the end of her spear. Her carving was rugged and uneven and the surface of the point was anything but smooth.
After a few more cuts, her arm finally gave out. With a small cry, Clarke threw the knife to the ground beside her pack and shook her arm out. The skin on her palm was slightly raw from the knife handle and using it so much, and she barely had the energy to lift her arm. Grabbing the canteen out of her pack to take a few sips of water, she inspected her handiwork. "Terrible," Clarke muttered to herself. The tip of the spear looked sharp enough, but that was about as good as it got. The edges surrounding the spear were extremely uneven and the point wasn't completely rounded. She had carved off way too much on one side, and not enough on others. At least it looks usable, Clarke thought, trying to find any positives from her endeavor.
Clarke attempted to stand back up, but dizziness caused her to collapse immediately. Sprawled out on all four limbs, she rested her head against the cool rocky ground beneath her. Heavy breaths went in and out of her, though they did nothing to subside the feeling. She attempted to get up and her right arm gave out on her, half rolling onto her shoulder and landing on her back. Her left arm reached out and found the canteen, pulling it to her side feebly as her fingers worked on unscrewing the cap. She sloppily gulped down the remaining contents, water spilling down her cheeks and chin. After taking the last drop, the canteen slipped from her fingers and rolled onto the ground beside her.
You really overdid it this time, Clarke, she thought to herself, too tired to speak the words to herself. Her gaze took in the warm green of the leaves that surrounded her, gently swaying in the breeze. Above, in a clear patch of sky, a flock of black birds flew by. For an instant, Clarke wished she could be one of those birds. Alive and free, soaring wherever they pleased above the mess of the world below. Water streamed down the side of her cheeks and she started to sob. Her body had finally become a physical representation of the current state her mind was truly in, pained and utterly exhausted.
She had been a fool to think her pain was gone, it had only been hiding. At this point, she was too tired to even fight it anymore. If she were to look in the water, she was afraid to see what would look back. A part of her wasn't even sure if she would recognize herself. She wondered if her father would recognize the daughter he had once loved so fiercely. She knew he wouldn't like what he saw.
"You're pathetic."
Clarke's heart dropped at the voice behind her. Rolling to her side, she raised her gaze to see a tall, powerful warrior standing before her. Dark blonde hair flew freely in the wind, and hazel eyes gazed straight into her soul. Recognition dawned on her, and Clarke found herself dumbfounded. She would never forget those eyes, and the dead person they belonged to. "Anya!" Clarke exclaimed, pushing herself to her knees. Now I know I'm going crazy. "You're not real. I saw you die," she panted, her head spinning.
Anya surged forward and took hold of her head in a vice like grip. "Real enough for you, sky girl?" she asked, venom dripping from every word.
Clarke's heart quickened as she desperately tried to pry away from Anya's death grip. It's not real, it's not real! she repeated to herself. The pain in her cheeks and the fierce eyes staring her down defied that statement. That gaze held all the fury that Anya showed her shortly after their escape from the Mountain and had her desperate to vanish into nothingness at that instant. "What do you want?! Why are you here?" Clarke demanded.
"What Lexa ever saw in you, I'll never know," Anya said with disdain.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Clarke asked. Hearing the Commander's name caused a dagger to tear through her heart. "She only saw me as a means to an end, nothing more. I doubt that bitch sees anyone as anything other than an opportunity to get what she wants." The statement came out more venomous that she intended, but believed the words nonetheless. She would never forgive the Commander for what she did.
Anya simply laughed at her. "You aren't fit to be a leader, you're not even strong enough to take care of yourself." Anya huffed and grabbed a fistful of Clarke's hair. "Look at you, you're worse than a child. Even children know when to ask for help. You are weak, Clarke of the Sky People."
Clarke whimpered as the strands of her hair felt like they were being ripped from her skull. She kept telling herself that this wasn't real, but the pain from her head and the furious woman before her kept tearing that thought apart. "Go away!" Clarke screamed, trying to will the spirit in front of her to vanish.
The expression on Anya's face turned to more of a snarl, and she leaned in to be just inches from Clarke's face. "Do you just run away from all of your problems, Princess?" Anya taunted. "Lexa didn't. She faces her problems head on."
"Stop it!" Tears flew down Clarke's eyes as she desperately tried to pry Anya's hands off her hair.
"You came down in your metal home from the sky," Anya's voice boomed. "You trespassed on our land." Anya began to stand as she pulled Clarke's hair with her, forcing the younger girl to stand as well. "You tried to broker a false truce. You came under the guise of peace and declared war. You tried to kill me and only succeeded in killing Tris, a child."
Clarke dug her fingers into Anya's hands violently at the last statement. "No! I did everything I could to save her! She shouldn't have been there! She wasn't supposed to be there! It wasn't supposed to happen like that!" All the memories of things she had done on the ground slipped out of their prison and jumped to the forefront of her mind.
"Three hundred of my soldiers died at your hand and not a single one of them got to raise a sword against you." The veins on Anya's neck bulged as she continued on her tirade, eyes fierce and cold as they stared into Clarke's soul. "You escaped the mountain and roped the Heda into your war for your people. You were willing to let so many die to try and save your precious few. My people were nothing to you!"
"That's not true!" Clarke choked, pressing her hands over her ears. "Your people were in there!. I wanted to get them all out!"
"Perhaps." Anya started slowly dragging Clarke to the water, despite her cries of pain. "For one moment, you were the leader Lexa thought you could be. You destroyed the Mountain Men to save your people." For a moment, Anya's voice almost sounded pleased, but that guise dropped quickly. "Yet here you are, being a coward."
Clarke's grip tightened around Anya's hands at the accusation. "I am not a coward! I need to pay for what I did to those people in the Mountain."
"You abandoned your people, Princess!" Anya's voice surrounded Clarke now, thundering at her from every direction. "You left them when they needed you the most! You are no true leader, you aren't even worthy of a clan. Perhaps I should let you die, it would be a fitting death. Alone, afraid, and too pathetic to even provide for yourself." Anya spit as she released Clarke. "You disgust me."
Clarke sank to her knees and clutched her head in her hands, rocking herself gently. Sobs escaped her as her grief consumed her. "I... I..." she couldn't even finish the sentence, her mind too scrambled to think.
"You're not done yet, Clarke of the Sky People. Your fight is not over yet. No, you will keep living." Anya grabbed Clarke by the shoulders and hoisted her to her feet. "You are living Clarke, and you are hungry. See another day, that is your payment to the dead. Endure your grief, suffer through it." A quick shove sent Clarke to the ground hard, some of the air in her lungs escaping from the impact. "And now, Princess, you need to wake up. You have work to do." Clarke didn't have a chance to open her mouth before a swift kick to the cheek had her seeing black.
Clarke woke to her head throbbing and a growling in her stomach. The clear night sky gleamed overhead, and a cool breeze blowing across her face. That felt so real, Clarke thought to herself. She was there, right in my face. Her hands, my hair, everything. It was all so real. Clarke shook her head. I'm going crazy, she realized. The lack of food contributed to the condition, she knew, but she also knew grief was overwhelming her. She began questioning the most simple things, not sure if they were hallucinations or not. I made the right choice. Anya's right. I am no leader.
With a sigh, Clarke tried to get up onto her feet. Her shoulder protested as she lifted herself up off the rocky ground and she let herself sink back down. Reaching out with her hand she found the crude spear she had crafted and used the round end to assist in standing and slowly made her way to the stream, knleeing down to take several sips of water. While getting rid of the dryness in her mouth, it did nothing to soothe her ravenous hunger.
Still slightly groggy, Clarke splashed her face with some water with a groan. Her limbs felt heavy and every motion was extremely laborious. Looking down in the water below, Clarke barely recognized the woman staring back in the reflection. Exhaustion was painted across her face and it looked noticeably thinner as well.
Look at you, you're worse than a child.
Anya's words still rang through Clarke's head, constantly repeating and taunting her. It was her fourth night without any food, and medically Clarke knew it would only get harder for her the longer she went without nourishment. Peeling off her shoes and socks, Clarke waded out into the stream in her bare feet. Tightening her grip on her poorly crafted spear, Clarke raised the spear to a striking position. I am eating tonight. The darkness made the fish near invisible, but her patience had dried up at this point. "You aren't a child, Clarke. You can catch a fish."
Lashing out, the spear struck through the water and a satisfying thud vibrated through the shaft. Eagerly raising her weapon out of the water, Clarke's shoulders dropped at the tip not holding a fish. Undeterred, she once again readied herself into a striking position. Once again, she shifted her weight downwards and thrust the spear in the direction of the dark silhouettes the fish gave off. Retracting the spear brought disappointment for the second time, and the rumble in her stomach added to the frustration. After the third attempt failed as well, her blood was boiling.
"Fuck!" Clarke screamed. Each failure piled onto the mounting frustration within and eroded at her composure at the same time. Anya's voice still played at the back of her mind, only now laughter was added into the mix. Her sixth failure removed the words all together, just Anya's incessant laughing remained. A lone black bird perched in a tree not far from the shore watched on at her struggles, silently judging her failure to feed herself. Angrily, Clarke put all of her weight into the next strike with a cry of frustration. The additional force caught her off guard and her footing slipped bringing her crashing into the water and her spear lazily bounced off a rock below.
Soaking wet and screaming, Clarke repeatedly jabbed her spear into the now murky water, no longer caring where she aimed. She ignored the pained cries her sore muscles gave and focused only on the water. Faces began to appear in the cloudy ripples on the surface. People that she had killed, betrayed, been betrayed by all stood there in judgment of her. None said a single word, but their haunting gazes tore right through her. Their stares told all that needed to be said.
Striking into the middle of one of a Grounder's head made it disappear into the depths of the water, but another replaced it. They won't stop! Clarke thought, panic beginning to take hold. She struck again and again, removing faces only for them to have another take its place. Tears flew from her eyes as she fought her losing battle. Each successive strike wore at the remaining strength she had, each one becoming more and more clumsy. The silent faces circled around her, closing in on her position. Finn's face appeared and a gasp escaped her and she threw out a wild strike that sent her off balance again. This time all her weight landed on top of her spear and she heard the shaft snap as it gave way to the weight.
Plunging into the water, Clarke remained submerged for a while, too tired to surface. The slow flow of the stream and calming ambiance of being underwater brought a calm to her racing thoughts. You're hallucinating, Clarke. None of this is real. The burning in her lungs forced her to resurface and she drew in a deep breath as she did, brushing her soaked hair out of her face. Looking down, the water was once again clear. Spinning around, none of the faces were visible and she let out a sigh of relief. She could see the shaft of her spear with the tip broken off of it floating behind her and let it drift off. With the tip snapping off it would most likely be extremely splintered and would require more effort to carve again than just making a new one.
Not bothering to move, Clarke cupped her hands and took a few drinks of water. The feeling of water rushing into her empty stomach was not comforting, but it was all she had at the moment. Resting her hands on her knees, she focused on the sound of rushing water around her. I don't know if I can do this, she thought. The idea had seemed so simple; just plunge the spear in and a fish would magically come out. Her present exhaustion was her rude awakening to the harsh truth. Opening her eyes, a smile burst onto her face. At the bottom of the stream, caught against a pile of rocks was a fish with the tip of her spear buried into it.
Elated, she snatched the remnant of her spear and ran to the shoreline. Every inch of her body willed her to eat it right then and there, but Clarke knew better. The risk of infection would be too high, and getting sick out here alone could spell her death. She had to live on, this was her punishment.
Gathering some loose wood and leaves nearby, Clarke made a small pile just outside the edge of the forest. While in general her survival skills sucked, she had at least learned how to start a fire. All of the one hundred had learned at one point or another while on the ground. Within a few minutes, Clarke had a respectable fire going and her prized fish cooking. While waiting for catch to finish, she nuzzled up next to the fire, trying to dry herself and her soaked clothes.
The gentle crackle and heat from the fire eased some of the tension from Clarke's body. Just the thought of having fresh food available to her made her mouth salivate. She stared at her meal, trying to will it to cook faster. She allowed it to cook for a few more minutes before pulling it off. She was a little dismayed that a few parts were black where she overcooked it, but her stomach held no such reservations. The first bite she took was followed swiftly by a groan of relief. Nothing had ever tasted so good, and the meat seemed to just melt in her mouth. Several times she found herself overzealous and bit into a bone, temporarily interrupting her bliss. Before she even knew it, her meal was finished and her stomach demanded more. She dreaded the thought of fishing again, but knew she would need to eventually.
Shifting her gaze up as she wiped off her hands on her pants, her heart froze in an instant. Off in the distance, she could make out seven torches in the darkness heading in her direction. My fire! Clarke grabbed fistfuls of nearby dirt and flung it onto the flames, begging it to die down. She could hear shouting off in the distance and the torches began to move towards her at a much faster pace. Shit, shit, shit! Putting her socks and boots back on, Clarke grabbed her pack and made for the waterfall. She could tell from the shouting that they were not Arkers, but Grounders. Simply hiding by the trees would not work. Her only hope would be the waterfall.
Reaching the base of the dam, she noticed a small alcove mostly obscured by the water crashing down from above. The Grounders in the woods were almost to the shoreline and Clarke threw her pack into the alcove while hauling herself up as well. Replacing her bag on her back, Clarke retreated into the darkness of her cover, though she kept an eye on the torches approaching. Once they emerged from the tree line, Clarke's suspicions were confirmed.
She counted seven Grounders wearing garbs she had not seen before. She couldn't make out much above the roar of the water, but she did hear the name 'Nia' said several times. The group spotted her extinguished fire and she cursed herself that she didn't have time to dispose of the wood. What Clarke supposed was their leader began pointing in several directions and barking out orders. Thankfully, the dam was not one of the ways the leader pointed, but Clarke still inched backwards a tiny bit more to remain hidden. She noticed that one of the Grounders held a flag, and she could barely see what looked to be a blue hand with a spiral in the center of it. Nothing I've ever seen before. Definitely not Woods Clan.
She figured if Grounders were out looking for her, Lincoln must have made it to the Commander. She prayed that they would not find her. Finding the alcove she resided in sufficiently dry, Clarke removed her pack and laid down to rest. She wouldn't risk leaving just yet, that would have to wait until she felt confident the Grounders had moved on. Closing her eyes, she let the crashing water drown out all other thoughts as she drifted off to sleep, praying when she woke it wouldn't be to the sharp end of a sword.