Clarke woke to the roaring water next to her ceaselessly fall from the dam above. Some slight pinching in her shoulder and neck let her know that sleeping had been rough the previous night, though she was grateful for the lack of dreams that went with it. Rolling her head around to loosen the muscles, Clarke rose up into a crouch and scanned the area. The morning sun shone brightly through the forest, and a slight chill filled the air around her. The shore that she could see from her vantage point showed no signs of the Grounders from the previous night, though that did not mean they weren't close. Clarke just hoped they had decided to give up on the area and continue pressing forward. That she hadn't been found was a miracle, but also threw them off of her trail.
Slightly more energized from the proper rest and the food from the previous night, Clarke waded out into the water to reach the shore. The constantly soaked clothes were starting to become an annoyance, but lack of other clothing options forced her to deal with it. Once on solid ground, Clarke unwrapped the bandage from her hand and examined the wound. The skin was still irritated from the looks of it, but thankfully not infected. She figured it would still take another day or so to fully heal as she dipped her hand in the cold water to rinse it off. Taking another spare cloth from her back, she wrapped up the injured hand in a fresh bandage and slung her pack over her shoulder. Right, time to make another spear. She felt the knots of anxiety coil in her stomach, but pushed the feeling away, determined to do better this time.
Heading into the forest, Clarke kept her eyes peeled to mostly the ground and low hanging branches. She needed a stronger limb this time. Another broken spear might take her spirit with it. Rotted logs and twigs were all Clarke saw as she wove through the various trees and plants scattered about. The trees also lacked a sufficient amount of branches low enough for her to grasp. Seeing no candidates in the immediate area, Clarke pressed further on. She kept her stance low and footsteps as light as she could; for all she knew her pursuers were still nearby.
Birds sang and the sound of shifting leaves were all the sounds Clarke could hear besides her own footsteps. Thicker branches started to appear on the ground the farther in Clarke got. Slowing her pace, she knelt down to look at a fallen limb. The edges were fairly smooth and the wood looked fresh. Pulling out her knife, Clarke cut bits of the bark in the middle section. She smile when the wood looked as good as the ends. This will do, she thought to herself.
Snap!
Clarke froze instantly. Instinct made her press her back into the nearest tree and lower into a crouch. The Grounders found me, was her first thought. Heart racing, she poked her head out around the trunk of the tree. The whole forest seemed still, yet she knew something was out there. Something had broken a branch nearby. She prayed this wasn't another hallucination.
Once the initial panic passed, reason started to come back to her. Grounders don't make that much noise, she said to herself. After fighting and spending so much time with them she learned Grounders blended into the surroundings well and rarely let you know they were near. She also knew from the lack of shouting that whoever it was wasn't from Camp Jaha. Even though she hadn't been found by those she wanted to see the least, it wasn't a comfort. Not knowing what was out there unnerved her.
Grabbing the pistol out of her pack, she felt the cold surface of the grip. The chill slowly made it up her arm and small bumps formed on her forearm. Holding a gun used to make Clarke feel safe and powerful, now it just served to distress her further. Rustling in the leaves to her left caught her attention and she peeked out from the other side of the tree. A sigh of relief escaped as she saw a meaty boar walking not too far away from her. She licked her lips at the sight, thoughts of its meat not far off. The fish was good, but that boar would feed me for a while. Gently dropping her pack to the ground and tucking the pistol inside, she unsheathed the Commander's knife. I have to do this quietly.
Emerging from her cover, Clarke crept slowly towards the unsuspecting boar. With each step she gripped the hilt of the knife tighter. She noticed the tusks on the animal looked to be about twice as long as her feet and made a mental note not to get killed by them. Clarke oriented herself to be directly behind her target to keep the element of surprise. Just a few more feet. A quick stab to the neck and this will all be over. I hope.
Crack.
Her next step put a bullet through all her plans. The boar spun around and squealed in surprise, turning and bolting straight at her. Clarke, unprepared for a charge, barely dove out of the way of the tusks as the boar tried to impale her. She hit the ground hard as she rolled to the right. Wasting no time she hopped back onto her feet and readied herself. The boar charged again and this time she prepared and jumped off to the side and took a slash at the beast's side. Her blow connected and heard a cry of pain from the animal.
Her strike must not have had any effect on the boar; it spun around and once again charged at her. Steadying herself, Clarke once again jumped to the side when the boar reached her and took another stab at her opponent. Her timing was off this time and she felt a sharp pain in her left leg where a tusk connected with her leg. Clarke yelled in pain as she collapsed to the ground. A squeal from the beast let her know she connected this time too. Judging from the blood on her knife the cut went pretty deep.
Clarke clutched her leg as she watched the boar run off, leaving a trail of blood behind it. She hissed as she brought her hand away from her leg and saw it drenched in blood. Part of her didn't want to know how bad the wound was. She crawled back to her bag and pulled out another strip of cloth. Sitting up she ripped the fabric of her jeans to get further access to the wound and wrapped her leg tightly. Whimpers of pain escaped as she tightened the knot.
Great job, Clarke, she thought to herself. She mentally kicked herself for being so dumb. Her hunger had gotten the best of her and clouded her judgment. Any fool could have seen that taking on that animal would be a huge mistake without using her gun. Grounders would have been able to kill it with only a knife, but Clarke was no Grounder. I bet the Commander and Indra would be laughing their heads off right now, she thought. Exhaling, Clarke gently got to her feet. Her leg protested but at least she could put weight on it. She dreaded the walk back.
Gingerly walking back to her safe haven at the dam, leaning on the branch she picked up earlier for support, Clarke moved for the artificial waterfall. She had learned her lesson from the last time and would be sleeping in the hidden alcove from now on. Stopping at the edge of the shore, Clarke dropped the branch and her backpack. She gently pulled down her pants to just below her knee to assess the damage. The cloth she had wrapped around it already had been drenched with blood, so she removed it and let it fall to the ground. Thankfully the cut wasn't too deep, but it was wide enough that it would not stop bleeding and needed stitches. Clarke cursed to herself at the lack of stitching supplies. Her only other option was to cauterize the wound.
Clarke struggled to gather nearby loose branches to build a fire. With each step the pain in her leg grew worse and she knew she needed to stop the bleeding. Satisfied that she had enough for a small fire, she filled up her canteen before she waded out into the water. The coolness of the rushing water against her wound resulted in a hiss from her, but she pushed on. That pain would be nothing to what she was about to experience. She boosted herself up with her good leg once at the alcove and began setting up the fire.
It wasn't long before the first embers emerged and Clarke fed more sticks to the flame. She took care not to feed it too much. She wanted to keep the flames somewhat small and hoped the waterfall would hide whatever smoke was produced. Once the fire was fully blazing, Clarke stripped down naked and tossed her wet clothes near the flames. Might as well get them dry while I do this. She took her filled canteen and also placed it close to the flames. Lacking alcohol, heated water would be her next best thing to clean the wound.
While she waited for her water to heat up, Clarke assessed her injury further. The cut was longer than she initially thought and she let out a small groan. The length of the wound meant she would need to cauterize it in two parts. She couldn't afford to mess this up. If she didn't do it right, the wound would get infected and that would cause her major problems. Let the knife get too hot and she would give herself severe burns that would likely get infected as well. No pressure.
Figuring the water was hot enough, Clarke scooted the canteen close to her and put the Commander's knife in the flames. Unscrewing the container's top, she picked up a spare stick and put it by her side. Steadying herself, she slowly poured the steamy water into her wound. She instantly regretted the decision as her leg screamed in pain as she let out a whimper. The pain died down quickly but the wound still throbbed annoyingly.
A couple moments later, the knife was burning orange and ready for her first go. She bit down on the stick as she grabbed the hilt of the blade and took a few deep breaths. Fuck this is going to suck. Steadying herself, she pinched the cut together gently and lowered the knife to her flesh. Instant pain consumed her. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she threw her head back. A cry erupted out as she let the knife drop from her grip and she rolled on the ground in agony. Urgency forced her back up as she knew she needed to get this done quickly. She looked at her wound after putting the blade back in the fire. Breathing heavily, she winced at the sight of the mangled flesh around the cut. Half of the wound was sealed and she could tell the bleeding had stopped immensely. Come on, just one more quick burst and it's all over.
Clarke took rapid breaths as she removed the knife from the flames. She clamped down on her stick as she pinched the remaining section of the wound closed. The pain was worse this time and she bit down harder on the stick. Knowing the anticipation would only make it worse, she thrust down the smoking metal to seal the wound. White flashed before her eyes and the stick in her mouth snapped in half. A larger cry erupted this time and she threw her knife to the corner of the small alcove. Her hands shook as they instinctively hovered over her ailing leg. Tears flew from her eyes. Heart rate soaring, she collapsed to the ground.
Clarke stared at the flowing water for what felt like an eternity before the pain in her leg began to subside. She knew the worst was over and all she had to worry about now was an infection. Sitting up, Clarke assessed the damage she had done to herself. The bleeding had stopped but she would have a nasty scar. Part of her felt relieved. It didn't compare to all the pain and suffering she had caused, but it was a start. She grabbed a fresh cloth from her bag and gently covered her wound. She didn't have very many strips left. She hoped it would be enough to help her avoid infection.
Clarke threw on her now slightly damp clothes, feeling exposed in the nude. She contemplated carving out her spear to attempt fishing tomorrow but decided against it. Exhaustion was starting to consume her and she needed to stay off her leg for the time being. She used the remaining water from the canteen to douse the fire. She prayed the smoke and her screaming hadn't alerted anyone again. If people came here a second time she doubted she would go undiscovered again.
Her eyes drooped as she pulled out the blanket from her pack. Sleeping here the previous night had proved advantageous and she enjoyed the dreamless sleep the waterfall enabled. Using her pack as a pillow she lowered herself into a sleeping position and tried to make her injured leg as comfortable as possible. The dull throb proved annoying but soon Clarke's eyes fell heavily and she drifted off into another dreamless sleep.
Clarke woke to stiffness in her injured leg. A groan escaped her lips as she forced herself into a sitting position. She threw off the warm blanket and pulled down her pants to inspect the wound. The area of the gash looked raw and mangled but showed no sign of infection. She whispered a silent prayer in thanks. She grabbed the last piece of cloth from her pack and applied a fresh bandage to the area. Standing proved to be easier than she thought. There was some pain, but a quick hop let her know the leg would hold up to everything she would need it for.
The fresh crispness in the air eroded the last remainders of sleep and Clarke gathered her supplies. The cool water felt refreshing as she eased herself down from her alcove. She drank a few scoops of water once she cleared the waterfall and filled her canteen to the brim. Glancing back to the shore, Clarke squinted as she tried to make out her sleeping spot. She nodded to herself when she could not see it from her position. Part of her wanted to return and never leave again, forgotten by the world. It would serve as both her prison cell and her private refuge. Her own private hell.
The past few days had been extremely trying on Clarke's psyche and she felt extremely on edge. The constant visions had her questioning her sanity. Even the most simplest of things she began to wonder about. One of the only things she could count on as being true was the hunger in her belly. Clarke moved to a nearby log and once again began carving herself a spear. She had more energy than last time and at first the carving went easily. That did not last and she soon found her arms burning from the constant motion.
Overwhelming exhaustion in her arm forced Clarke to take a small break. She scanned the trees on the opposite bank as she shook the tension out of her tired muscles. After a moments rest she was good to go and tightened her grip on her knife. She didn't get past a single stroke before she froze. Her gaze slowly shifted upwards to see the group of Grounders she had seen earlier further down the opposite bank. Her hand flew up to cover her mouth. Why are they back here! Her heart pounded against her chest as Clarke slowly gathered her belongings and backed into the trees. From what she could tell the Grounders hadn't spotted her yet. She hoped to keep it that way.
Every step sent a hint of pain to her leg wound. Clarke knew it would not open up if she ran; it would just be a matter of how much pain she could endure. She nearly managed to escape into the cover of trees when she heard shouting coming from behind her. When Clarke turned her head the Grounders were running straight toward her, with a woman in the back barking out orders. Clarke spun around and took off as fast as her injured leg would take her.
Her steps were clumsy and noisy. Cracked branches and heavy footprints let them know exactly where she was going, but Clarke did not have a choice. Hiding would not be an option this time. The shouting got nearer and her heart sank when she heard exactly what was being yelled. My name. If these Grounders were real, they were after her. For once, she prayed that her pursuers were yet another hallucination.
Tossing a quick look over her shoulder showed that she was losing ground quickly. She desperately willed her legs to move faster. Her breathing had turned to panting at this point. She was in no shape to be running. Every breath made her lungs feel like fire, but she kept on running. Up ahead she noticed a tunnel entrance and for a half second she contemplated running the opposite direction. She knew exactly where that tunnel would lead her. Half a second after that she dashed into the darkness.
The twists and turns allowed Clarke to ease her pace a bit. The darkness would provide decent cover from the Grounders. Shouts of her name urged Clarke to keep moving deeper into the tunnels. Lancing pain around her cut forced Clarke to slow her pace to a brisk walk. Slower pacing doused the fire in her lungs, but the beating in her chest only quickened with each step. The dark tunnels were much cooler than the outside air and Clarke's wet clothes only made it worse.
The near pitch blackness of the tunnels brought back frightening memories of the times she had spent hiding from Reapers. She could still hear the screams of the victims and laughs of the Reapers if she truly listened. The feeling made her skin crawl. Ghosts of thousands of murdered Grounders and those turned into monsters lingered here. She understood why the Grounders had never sent a small army into the tunnels to defeat the Reapers. Clarke knew there were no enemies here except for the ones chasing her, yet the place still gave her the creeps.
Shivering and in pain, Clarke pushed her way through the long and dark corridors. From the echoes in the tunnels, it sounded like her pursuers had gotten lost. Sound had its own way of playing tricks and Clarke couldn't count on them not finding her. Rounding a corner brought her face to face with the still open door to the mountain. No. No! I won't go in, she thought to herself. She slammed her eyes shut as she backed away slowly. Cries from her mystery pursuers forced Clarke to move towards the door.
I can't... I can't... Clarke repeated to herself. All those people... all of them dead. Because of me. Tears flew down Clarke's cheeks as she debated her options. Stay and get captured or worse, or go into the mountain and face the genocide she had committed. The Grounders' voices were no longer echoes and Clarke knew they were close. Clarke let out a quiet whimper in resignation and slid through the open door and into Mount Weather.
The very air of the Mountain smelled rotten and dead. Clarke forced herself to walk through the cold steel corridors. So much pain and death had happened at this place and she helped contribute to that in a brutal way. A few bodies of guards Clarke and her crew had killed lay strewn about the corridor. She did her best not to puke and kept her eyes away from the floor as much as possible. Gone were the bright lights that lit up every passageway in the complex; replaced by a dim glow that indicated the backup power was almost depleted.
"Clarke kom Skaikru," a woman's voice called out.
Clarke spun around and saw the seven Grounders that had been chasing her since the waterfall. No! They caught up too fast. Her plan had been to have enough time searching the complex to find another place to hide. Plan foiled, she took off and heard more shouting and the pounding of footsteps behind her. The throbbing in her leg slowed her greatly and Clarke knew she didn't have much time until they caught her.
Her next turn offered her only chance at respite. What appeared to be an open trash chute stood before her. With not much choice in the matter, Clarke hoisted herself over the edge and let herself fall. She yelled as gravity took hold of her and slid her down the shaft. It seemed she traveled for almost an eternity before she finally hit the bottom hard, cursing as she landed and rolled to a stop. Groans of pain followed shortly and Clarke grabbed her leg in a futile effort to soothe it. For several moments she watched and waited for any signs of the Grounders following her down, but none came. Relieved, Clarke put out a hand to push her back up. A scream erupted as she felt the cold skin of a human leg.
Heart dropping she raised her gaze to see that she landed in the mess hall and the place she had condemned an entire race to die. Sobs erupted as she backed away from the room before her. No, why here? I shouldn't be here... all of this is my fault! A strewn out foot caught her foot and threw Clarke onto her backside. Staring straight at her was an older gentlemen, eyes wide open and piercing right through her with his deadly gaze.
She screamed as she scrambled backwards and felt another bump. This time she ran into a middle aged woman and Clarke vomited when the body fell over at the contact. Her eyes drifted to the small figure that lay next to the woman and her world stopped. "No," she whispered. Sitting beside the dead woman was a child that couldn't have been more than five years old. Clarke broke into a full on sob when she saw this. I killed him! The realization crushed her heart. She had killed innocent children to save the lives of forty seven people.
"No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no," Clarke repeated over and over again. Her head spun as she crawled away from the dead child. There was no escaping the dead faces and all seemed to be staring straight at her. Accusing her, hating her with cold fury. Clarke made it to the middle of the room before she could go no further. Surrounded by the dead of an entire race she had exterminated with the single pull of a lever, Clarke broke. A chilling scream surged out of her and lasted until her lungs gave out and her throat was raspy.
Clarke cupped her head into her hands and pulled at her hair. Curing up into a ball, Clarke determined right there that she would wait to die there. She no longer felt the will to live. She was a monster and monsters had no places in the world of the living. Laying there motionless, it wasn't long before the last of Clarke's energy had been depleted and she gave way to exhaustion. She felt sleep coming and did nothing to fight it; only praying that she would never wake from it again.