Warmth filled the air as Clarke came to her senses. She reached out and felt soft and warm material surrounding her. She shook off some of the sleep and took a look at her surroundings with half-closed eyelids. Her eyes shot open when she realized she was no longer in the mountain. Where am I? Heart racing, she looked down and threw off the fur blankets and stood up. Nothing adorned the wooden walls around her. She tried to control her breathing as she scanned the area for any clues to where she might be. Several boxes littered the area, some with candles burning in lanterns on top of them. What is this?
Fear started to creep in as she had flashbacks to when she woke up in the quarantine room at Mount Weather. Tossing over the area found that her bag had also gone missing. Clarke cursed having lost it. No bag meant no gun, and no gun meant less protection. Her hand moved to the sheath on the side of her hip and Clarke's heart stopped beating for a moment. My knife is gone too! From the looks of the room, not much would function as a weapon. Opening a few crates nearby only yielded emptiness and she threw the lids in frustration.
Desperate, Clarke started to look for a way out. She could see a door, but highly doubted that it would be open. Her weapons and belongings had been taken for a reason, and decided against using the door for now. She didn't know what stood waiting outside. Sooner or later, someone would have to come through and she would assess her situation then. The fact that she hadn't been bound at least gave her cause to breathe easier.
Sitting down, she wracked through her brain to figure out how she had gotten to this place. The last thing she remembered before passing out was being chased into the Mountain by Grounders and stumbling into the results of her most atrocious act. All those people, murdered by my hands, she thought. The smell and feel of all those dead bodies came rushing back to her and vomit spewed onto the floor as she hunched over. Sobs escaped before she could catch them and soon she felt overwhelmed with grief again. "What have I done?" she choked. In the several days since she left Camp Jaha she hadn't been able to fully face the real face of her crimes. Stumbling into that dining hall had been a full slap in the face.
For what seemed like hours Clarke sat in the far corner of the shack, consumed with her grief. The events of the mountain played over constantly in her head. Sending Bellamy in alone to a very likely death. The Commander leaving the Skaikru and Clarke for dead to the Mountain Men. Storming Mount Weather with Octavia and Lincoln as they went room to room searching for their friends. Kidnapping and murdering Dante. Standing and watching helplessly as her mother and Raven were tortured for their bone marrow. The hesitation she felt when she pulled the lever. She needed to save her people. It was murder, she corrected herself.
The door suddenly burst open and in walked a slender female carrying a metal tipped spear. Clarke recoiled as she looked the woman over while pressing her back against the rough wooden walls. She paused for a moment when she saw the woman had green eyes and brown hair. For one instant she thought it was the Commander coming to pile onto her misery. Upon closer inspection the woman in front of her was not the Grounder leader. The woman's face was much rougher in comparison to the Commander, and she was much too tall. The furs she wore also were a lighter grey compared to the brown the Trikru usually wore.
"I asked you a question," the woman stated, still pointing her spear at Clarke.
A small part of Clarke wished that the Grounder would stab her with the end of the spear and end her suffering. Blood must have blood, she told herself. The Commander had decided against exacting revenge on her for destroying the three hundred warriors sent to kill Clarke's friends. She wondered if this woman would be so merciful if she found out. Pain erupted on her cheek as she heard a loud smack.
"Speak! What is your name?" The woman demanded.
Clarke looked into the eyes of the woman questioning her and saw no emotion. If anything, annoyance seemed to lightly coat her expression. Her captor's grip on the spear was strong and the tip stood mere feet away from her face, ready to strike at any moment. "I..." she tried to speak, but stopped herself. If I tell her who I am, who knows what will happen. She probably knows anyways. Clarke figured that her mother and the Commander were still looking for her. She would be hauled off straight to them if she revealed her name. "I am no one," Clarke settled on. She thought it fitting; she could hardly recognize herself anymore.
The woman scoffed in disgust and smacked Clarke across the face with the back of her palm this time. She knelt down to be eye level with Clarke. She gripped Clarke's jaw with her free hand and forced their eyes to meet. "Who are you?"
"I am no one," Clarke repeated apathetically. She would not allow herself to be taken back to Camp Jaha. Monsters aren't allowed there. Clarke fully expected to be hit again, but the young woman's face softened instead. She turned and called out in a dialect Clarke hadn't heard before and soon a man came into the room with food and water in both hands. He set both items down on a nearby crate and left as quick as he entered.
The woman stood and moved to the door. She pointed to the food on the crate as she looked straight at Clarke. "You will eat. When I return, you will tell me your name." She turned and left, door closing behind her leaving Clarke alone once again.
Clarke stared at the two bowls on the other side of the room for the longest time. She knew she ought to be hungry and thirsty, but she had no desire to satisfy those needs. The thought of eating repulsed her. She had gone long periods of time without food or water before, and that was when she was on the run. If they wouldn't kill her, perhaps making herself suffer would alleviate some of the pain on her soul. Clarke let her eyes drop to the floorboards in front of her as she stared off into nothingness awaiting the woman's inevitable return.
Clarke was on the verge of falling asleep when the woman returned again. She held no spear this time, but that didn't mean she was unarmed. The young woman looked to the untouched food and Clarke swore she saw a sadness in her captor's face for just a moment. When their eyes met again it was gone. More words that Clarke didn't understand were spoken and the Grounder who brought her food last time appeared to take both bowls away. Once the door was closed behind him, the woman approached Clarke.
"You did not eat," she said, disappointment in her tone. She stopped a few feet short of Clarke and crossed her arms.
"Not hungry," Clarke lied. Her stomach begged for food but she still couldn't bring herself to eat. Judging from the way the woman pursed her lips together she didn't believe Clarke's lie. Clarke thought the woman would walk out again. Instead the woman walked a couple of steps closer to her.
"Who are you?" The woman knelt down, this time resting on her knees to sit in front of Clarke. She looked much less menacing than the last time she entered the room.
Clarke tried to read the woman's expression, but still could not find much of anything in the eyes staring back at her. She broke eye contact and stared at the ground instead. "I am no one," Clarke replied. Part of Clarke wanted to know why she was here and what the woman's plans with her were, but the rest of Clarke decided she didn't have the energy to care.
The brunette Grounder closed her eyes and then shouted."Janos!" Seconds later, the mystery man Clarke assumed was Janos appeared with a fresh bowl of food and water. The woman turned back to Clarke one last time and leaned closer. "You will eat this time." The look Clarke was given let her know that there was no fooling around; the next time would have consequences. With that, she rose to her feet and walked to the door.
When the woman's hand touched the exit, Clarke's curiosity briefly urged her to talk. "You haven't told me your name," Clarke stated.
She watched as the woman paused, hand still resting on the door. "Niylah," the woman said, barely turning her head so that just the edge of her cheek became visible. Seconds later Niylah exited and the door shut behind her.
Clarke sighed as she wondered how long this would keep up. The look Niylah had given her left no room for interpretation; eat or we will hurt you. If she were more energetic, Clarke would try to understand the motive behind all this. As it stood, she felt simply exhausted. She had no idea how long she had been in this shack, or if was even day or night. Time seemed to crawl in within the confines of the building. She was out of the elements, hadn't had a hallucination yet, and no longer had to run. Part of her would have rather been out there. The varying sounds of wilderness that had started to become a comfort to her were barely audible through the walls, like a bag had been pulled over her head.
Her body fought a constant war against itself. On one hand, she needed to eat and drink. She could tell she was much lighter than before she left, with barely any food for at least a week. Perhaps at one point she would reach a point where holding out on eating would no longer be possible. For now, she felt no desire to eat. Sighing, Clarke laid down and covered herself with the fur blankets nearby. Sleep came to her easier than anticipated and within a few minutes she drifted off to a dreamless sleep.
Clarke's eyes shot open as her blankets were thrown off and she curled up at the loss of warmth. Looking up, Niylah and Janos stood over her with looks of disapproval on their faces. Looking down, more bowls of fresh food and water sat in front of her. Clarke wished they would just leave her alone and let her die. No matter how many times they left food in the room she would not eat it. Her body felt so weak and she could already feel a headache forming, but still she couldn't bring herself to eat it.
"Who are you?" Clarke hated that question. Every time Niylah came to her she asked that question. Every time, Clarke's answer never changed.
"You already know the answer," Clarke replied. Her headache began to worsen and she had to constantly lick her dried lips to keep them from bothering her. "And I am not hungry, so you don't have to ask." Clarke prayed Niylah would turn around and leave like the previous times. She felt dismayed when the woman did not move from her spot in front of her.
After a long moment of pause Niylah unsheathed a sword at her hip and Clarke slammed her eyes shut. Any second now the blade would come down on some part of her body. If I'm lucky, she'll kill me instead. "Go ahead, kill me," she said with the slightest sense of begging in her tone. She waited for Niylah to strike her, but it never happened. Opening her eyes, she saw the edge of the sword pressed to the neck of Janos. "What are you doing?!"
"You will eat, or I will kill him," Niylah replied. Her face was stone and she showed no signs of bluffing. Clarke truly believed every word she said.
"You would kill your own man?" Clarke questioned. Clarke's head swirled in confusion. Janos had committed no crime Clarke knew of and from the look of things the two of them were together. What the hell is this? She stared at the bowls in front of her then back to Niylah. "Why are you doing this?"
Niylah's resolve did not break. "You are weak. You will eat or he will suffer from your actions."
Clarke froze and a few tear droplets escaped from her eyes. The exact thing she wanted to avoid was being forced upon her now. Another life in her hands that she was responsible for. She looked into the eyes of the man before her and she saw fear in his eyes. She didn't want this responsibility. This was everything she tried to leave behind when she left. Her mind felt so exhausted from protecting everyone, yet every fiber of her being knew she couldn't let Janos be harmed by her lack of action. Blood started trickling down Janos' neck and Clarke threw out her hand. "Stop!" She reached for the bowls and brought them closer. "I'll do it, just please don't hurt him."
"Eat," was all that Niylah had to offer in reply. The sword remained at Janos' neck, yet Clarke could tell Niylah eased the pressure off the blade.
She grabbed the bowl of food and the spoon inside it. It looked to be a soup of some kind. She could make out some type of meat and several vegetables as well. Taking one last look at Janos' pleading face, she ate her first spoonful. The taste was delicious and she couldn't help but let a small moan escape. Part of her felt guilty for it, feeling like she needed to suffer more to make up for her actions. In her heart she knew she couldn't let her self-loathing harm anyone else.
Clarke made short work of the soup and downed the water just as quickly. She set the bowls down and looked back up to Niylah. "I did what you asked. Please don't hurt him." Niylah sheathed her sword and motioned for Janos to leave. Once the door was closed Clarke let out a sigh of relief.
"You will keep eating," Niylah said. The woman walked up to Clarke and collected the bowls in front of her. "You will still not tell me who you are?" Niylah asked softly.
The change in tone caught Clarke off guard. Something about Niylah intrigued Clarke, but she still needed to keep her guard up. For all she knew, she was being kept prisoner here. Being a nobody also still had its perks, and Clarke wasn't ready to be herself again just yet. "No," Clarke replied, shaking her head. Part of her figured that Niylah already knew who she was. Clarke just couldn't figure out why Niylah wanted her to say it.
"If you will not give me your name, I'll give you one," Niylah stated. The woman stared at Clarke for a while before a warm smile came to her face. "Until you wish to stop being no one, your name will be Helen."
Helen, Clarke thought. She liked the name, though she wondered how Niylah settled on that. "Why that name? I like it, but what made you choose it?" Clarke asked. The warm faced woman before her looked almost exactly the opposite of the stone faced expression she had just showed earlier. It reminded Clarke of the Commander, though she preferred not to think of the woman.
"Your hair is blonde," Niylah said as she took a few strands of Clarke's hair into her hands. "I saw a girl named Helen in a book once," she explained. "Her hair was blonde like yours and you share her good looks."
Clarke was taken aback slightly by the comment. Her cheeks blushed at the compliment, but confusion built up further within her. "You've read books?" Clarke asked. She immediately cursed herself for sounding so ignorant. "I mean, the only books I know of were in Mount Weather. Where did you find them?"
"Many of the clans have their own collection of books. It's how we learned English," Niylah laughed. "Perhaps when you are ready, I will show you."
The sweet tones of her laughter caught Clarke by surprise. This whole situation confused her. "I thought I was a prisoner here," Clarke stated coldly.
Niylah merely shook her head. "You are not a prisoner here, but I would much prefer you stay for your safety."
My safety? "Am I in danger?" Clarke asked. How would she know if I'm in danger if she doesn't know who I am?
"There are people looking for the leader of the Sky People," Niylah explained. "The Skaikru have their own searches going, and the Heda has warriors looking for her too. Wait here." The woman left the tent briefly before returning with a few small pots. "I do not trust Skaikru and the ones Heda sent out to search for her would not tell my why they wanted Klark com Skaikru." She opened a few of the pots and Clarke saw different colors within. "For now, we need to change your hair color. Blonde is a rare color amongst us and you will stick out."
"Why are you helping me?" Clarke still didn't know if Niylah knew her true identity or not, but the question remained valid.
"I am a healer," Niylah offered. "I was scavenging inside the Mountain when I saw you curled up on the floor." A look of discomfort washed over Niylah's face. "I was a prisoner there for a long time. I was not picked many times, perhaps I looked too weak. Most of us who were held in that foul place never wished to step foot in it again. I knew supplies existed in there that would help my people, so I went." The woman took a steadying breath and calmness returned to her face. "I saw you suffering and I wanted to help."
"Thank you," Clarke said. She wanted to say more, but was unsure how to form the words. Instead, she looked over the colors before her and settled on a red. "This one," Clarke said as she pushed it towards the young Grounder. She ignored the puzzled look Niylah gave her and focused on the symbol on the woman's vest, a hand with a swirl in the palm. She had seen the symbol with the Grounders who were chasing her in the forest. While the woman was slowly gaining her trust, Clarke didn't want to reveal too much and kept quiet about that.
Niylah must have noticed her staring and smiled at her. "It is the symbol of my people. Ice Nation. I wear it proudly."
Clarke had heard of the Ice Nation from the Commander when she talked about Costia. "Is that where I am?" Clarke asked, not trying to give away her lack of knowledge. The shack felt too warm to be in cold weather, but she really had nothing to go off of.
"No," Niylah replied as she shook her head. "We are at a refugee camp for the survivors of the Mountain Men. I am staying here to help those who are not well enough to travel still. This is where I stay, but I am far too busy and I hardly rest here." She returned the other pots to their original location and left the red one where it stood. "I must leave, but I will return and we can change your hair. If you need anything, Janos will be outside the door. Please do not try to leave, Helen."
Clarke nodded her head in thanks and watched the brunette leave. Once the door closed, Clarke felt her sadness return. She had forgotten how comforting other people could be. She still had so many questions; about Niylah, the Ice Nation, the Skaikru, the Commander and others. For whatever reason, this woman had pushed away her grief enough to function as a human and Clarke was thankful for that. With nothing else to do, Clarke gathered up the blanket and propped herself up against a nearby crate to begin thinking of all the questions she needed answers to.