Octavia

She and Lincoln rode in silence toward the nearest village; technically they were backtracking, but Lincoln wasn't sure how close they were to the next village along their journey, and they'd passed this one just the day before. Echo had advised them to stay away from the villages of the Plains Clan, and so they'd only seen it at a distance, from the top of a mountain, but now they started to descend that same mountain, making a beeline right for it. Echo hadn't elaborated as to why they should avoid the villages in this region, but now Octavia could think of little else.

"Are the Plains Clan dangerous?" she asked Lincoln.

He looked surprised that she'd spoken at all after hours of silence, but he said, "They are mysterious. Little is known about them or their people."

"Echo seemed to think they were dangerous," she insisted.

"I think Echo knows very little about them, and it's her way to err on the side of caution," he replied.

"Is my brother going to die?" she asked abruptly, swallowing hard.

Lincoln leaned over from his horse towards hers and grabbed her hand, giving it a firm squeeze. "Not if we have anything to say about it."

She shot him a grateful look and squeezed his hand back before letting go.

It was almost a three-hour trip from where they'd left Bellamy to the village, which sprawled at the base of the mountain, and Octavia was acutely aware of each passing minute since she knew Bellamy needed them to be quick. The village wasn't large, not nearly as big as tonDC, but there was a marketplace in the town square, where Lincoln hoped they would find the remedy they needed.

They rode their horses toward the centre of town, attracting many inquisitive gazes as they did so. It was clear they'd been immediately pegged as strangers, but no one seemed to treat them with fear or apprehension, just curiosity, and they moved freely through the village.

Even if Octavia had not known where they were, she still would have known that this was no Trikru village. The people dressed differently, did their hair differently, and seemed to speak a dialect that was slightly different from the Trigedasleng that Octavia knew. She could understand some of what was being said, but certain words sounded completely foreign to her. No one spoke directly to them as they continued along the pathways.

At the centre of town was a large clearing, surrounded on all sides by a series of booths, set up so the vendors could sell their wares. But Lincoln didn't seem interested in any of this, and he kept looking around like he was searching for something in particular. Before she could ask what that might be, he approached a man and spoke to him, and Octavia recognised the word fisa, which she knew meant healer. They were directed to a small hut not far away, set apart from the others due to its huge garden, which appeared to be filled with medicinal herbs. Octavia could see smoke coming from the hut's chimney, so she was hopeful that someone would be home. They dismounted near the gate, and Lincoln took the lead in approaching the front door.

The woman who came to the door was exactly who Octavia might have imagined- her face was kindly and lined, she had long, graying hair that looked like it might have never been cut in her entire life, and behind her an iron pot bubbled away on a fire in the centre of the room, filling the whole hut with a truly pungent odour.

"Osir laik Lincoln en Okteivia kom Trikru." Lincoln introduced them. "A friend of ours has been bitten by the kalipau. We beg your help, wise woman." Octavia watched as he inclined his head slightly in a sign of respect, and quickly she did the same.

"Ai laik Lala kom Grassakru," she answered politely.

They were invited into the hut and given cups of tea. Octavia wanted badly to speed this along, get the medicine and leave, but she knew she had to be respectful and let Lincoln handle this.

It seemed Lala did not speak English, but Octavia understood most of the conversation as she and Lincoln chatted politely about her children and grandchildren, Lincoln's origins, and what had brought them to her village. Octavia noted that only with this last question did Lincoln avoid the truth, and he told the woman that he, Octavia, and Octavia's brother were passing through on their way from tonDC and that they intended to visit a friend of Lincoln's in another village to the west. He claimed they were just passing through the area and a deadly spider had bitten Bellamy in his sleep. The story was true enough. He made no mention of Echo or the Ice Nation.

The old woman clucked her tongue in sympathy and she left the hut, going out the back door and leaving them alone in front of the fire.

"She'll help us," Lincoln said with great relief.

Octavia nodded. "Thank God," closing her eyes briefly. "So Bellamy will be okay? It'll work, right… the leechdom?" She didn't even know what that was, but she trusted that Lincoln knew what he was talking about, and Echo had also seemed certain that it would help.

"The faster he gets it, the better off he'll be," Lincoln said. It wasn't the certainty she wanted, but it was better than nothing. "But we must be careful," he said. "Speak Trigedasleng or don't speak at all."

Before she could ask him to elaborate on that warning, Lala returned to the hut, carrying what looked like a copper pot. She seemed to struggle under its weight, so Lincoln quickly jumped to his feet and helped her to carry it over to a bench in the corner of the room. When she opened the lid, an overpoweringly bitter smell invaded the small room. It almost smelled like food, but not any kind of food that Octavia would want to eat.

Lincoln helped Lala to pour some of the liquid into a small clay pot with a fitted lid, careful not to spill a drop.

"Not all of it?" Octavia whispered to him, being sure to say it in Trigedasleng, but despite the fact that she was speaking the language, her accent was obvious, and Lala seemed to pause, giving her a hard look.

"No," Lincoln answered, still speaking Trigedasleng. "The rest will help others."

Octavia wanted to take the whole copper pot, to make sure Bellamy would recover, but she held her tongue, trusting Lincoln to know what was best. The old woman was still staring at her, and it made her want to squirm, but she tried to ignore it and remain neutral.

Carefully Lala melted wax along the internal rim of the clay pot, pressing the lid tightly into it to create a seal. She tied a length of sinew around and around the clay pot, tying it off tightly at the top so even on horseback the contents would not spill. She handed the pot to Lincoln and gave him instructions on how to administer the remedy, most of which Octavia could understand and some of which was lost on her.

The steps she relayed seemed to be partly medicinal and partly mystical- the liquid was meant to be applied as a salve and also Bellamy was to swallow some of it, but first they had to touch droplets of it to his forehead and to the palms of his hands with a leafy willow branch, spreading them in clockwise spirals. This part of the instruction was given equal weight as the actual drinking and applying of the medicine. Lincoln listened to all of it, nodding along, and Octavia wondered privately whether he believed in the magical part or not.

Next, there was a discussion of payment. Octavia knew that Lala would want something she would consider to be of equal value to the precious medicine she was providing them. She didn't fully understand everything that had gone into the remedy, but she remembered Echo saying it was a brew that took nine days to prepare, so she imagined it was fairly specialised.

After a long moment of thought, Lala asked them for one of their horses. She explained that her own horse had grown too old to travel further than the village, and she needed a hardy steed to take her up into the mountains to gather the more difficult ingredients she required for some of her medicines. Lincoln agreed, and after he had transferred his things across to Octavia's horse, he handed Lala the reigns to his own. She blessed them, and wished them well.

Lincoln set the pot carefully into one of the saddlebags and the two of them mounted the horse together. "Why didn't you negotiate?" Octavia asked. "Don't Grounders haggle? A horse seems like a lot for a pot of medicine."

"A wise woman such as her would never ask for more than what is fair," he answered, shaking his head. She could feel his voice rumbling through her chest where it was pressed up against his back. "Healers are considered sacred, unquestionable. It would be unthinkable to try to negotiate with one- you accept their gift and pay them gratefully for their work."

Octavia couldn't help but think of how she'd treated Nyko- a healer, what Grounders would call a wise man- after Lincoln had been take captive in his own village. She couldn't help but feel guilty, even though she knew she would have done nothing different if allowed to do it over, since it had saved Lincoln from a torturous death. "No wonder Indra told me that Nyko was their only healer when I brought him to tonDC to trade for you," she remarked.

Lincoln nodded his head. "Yes. Healers are considered off-limits, even in times of war. She was only willing to trade me for him after she realised that Sky People do not hold that same belief."

"Well lucky us, then," she said sincerely, tightening her arms around his stomach momentarily. She could tell by his posture that he didn't totally agree with her, but he said nothing about it.

"This medicine will help your brother," he told her. "Hopefully it will save him."

"How often do people die from this kind of spider?" she couldn't help but asking.

Lincoln said nothing for a long time. She watched as they reached the edge of the village and then into the forest again, turning back towards the mountain. Finally he said, "It is a very dangerous spider."

"He can't die, Lincoln," she said fiercely, as if her words alone could keep her brother alive. "He can't."

Lincoln reached for her hand and squeezed it tightly. The view began to change as the horse angled upward, starting to climb the steep incline. "And we are doing everything we can to stop that from happening," he said softly, reassuringly.

Octavia took comfort in those words, but as she watched the landscape rolling by, she could feel a nagging fear growing in the pit of her stomach, as if a deep instinct was telling her that things would not be so simple.

That was when she saw the figures at the top of the mountain.