Octavia

Right away when she spotted the figures at the top of the mountain, Octavia had nudged Lincoln and directed his attention to the figures that seemed to be waiting for them at the top of the mountain. He hadn't stopped the horse, but he had paused and said, "We could go around? Skirt the mountain… but it would add a few hours to our journey."

"No," she said immediately. "No, Bellamy doesn't have time for that."

"Hold on tight," he said apprehensively as he urged the horse to continue up the mountain. Octavia did as he said, clenching her arms around his waist. What was creepiest about the figures was that they didn't move, as if they were waiting for them. There were four, all on foot, but they were silhouetted from behind so she couldn't make out any other details. She didn't see any weapons but she knew that didn't mean anything.

When they finally crested the hill, one of the figures hurried to them, yelling out, "Stop!" Now Octavia could see that he had a weapon, a sword, and that the three others behind him all had bows held at the ready.

Lincoln slowed the horse a good distance from the man who'd spoken. "We are just travellers, passing through," he called out cautiously in Trigedasleng. The man took a step toward them and Lincoln drew his sword, pointing it in the stranger's direction. The other three men all set arrows to their bowstrings and readied them to fire. "What is it that you want?" Lincoln asked the leader.

He was a stocky man with strong arms and a large scar across much of the left side of his face, even cutting through his beard so that it grew unevenly across that part of his jaw. He fixed them with an unfriendly stare, one that made Octavia nervous. Her eyes flickered warily between him and the archers.

Finally the man spoke. "I was told by the villagers that you have something that I seek. Hand over what I want, and you will not be harmed. Refuse, and you will be shot through with so many arrows that this mountain will be your grave."

The words were shocking and Octavia was scared, but she knew to let Lincoln do the talking, not wanting to complicate things further with her foreign accent.

Carefully Lincoln said, "We have made fair trade with the wise woman of this village. The medicine that we carry will save a life that is in dire need. If you are also in need of it, the woman has more. Seek out Lala, in the village square."

Octavia held her breath, waiting to see what the men would do. She knew that, if these men did not take no for an answer, they could go back to the village and get another dose, but they might have to relinquish the other horse, and then it would take them days to reach Bellamy. Her heart was pounding in her chest.

"I am not after your leechdom, trikruhef."

"Then what do you want?" Lincoln asked apprehensively.

When the man's eyes riveted to her, Octavia felt herself shrinking back a little, pressing herself more into Lincoln's back. The stranger smirked and said, "I want your woman."

"Back away," Lincoln growled, pointing his sword at the man's nose. "Leave now, and you may keep your life. Touch her, and you'll die where you stand."

"Not for that," the stranger said with a roll of his eyes. "She's a Sky Person. There are bounties on Sky People… the mountain will pay highly for her."

"Mount Weather is gone," Octavia couldn't help but retort.

"Ah, she speaks," the man said. "And now I have no doubt that she is a Sky Person."

"And she's also right," Lincoln said. "Mount Weather has fallen. The Sky People destroyed it."

"I know," he answered, as though it was of very little consequence. "The wanheda is famous in these lands."

"What good is she to you?" Lincoln asked, the confusion in his voice matching Octavia's own feelings.

"I already told you," the man growled. "We will take her to the mountain and exchange her for bounty. I did not say which mountain."

Octavia felt her heart freeze as she realised the implication of what he was saying. "Lincoln…"

"I don't know," he answered quietly, reading her mind. "I don't know what he's talking about."

The man advanced toward them again, raising his sword. "We are done talking. Give her to me now."

"Just wait a minute!" Octavia exploded. "My-" She broke off, realising she had almost put Bellamy in danger too. "Our friend," she recovered, "is dying and he needs this medicine now, not later."

"That is not my concern, Sky Girl. Now get off that horse or we will put a dozen arrows into your man."

"Hold on to me," Lincoln ordered her, and her fingers had just barely had time to tighten around his stomach when he turned the horse and started it across the mountainside. The terrain was brutal, and the animal couldn't move quickly.

The first arrow hit her left shoulder, and she felt it like a physical blow rather than sharpness as it glanced off the bone of her shoulder blade and came loose, ripping a sizable gash. She hissed in pain and she felt Lincoln tense as he realised she was hit, but there was nothing they could do about it- she was behind him on the horse, they were running away, so she was going to have to take the brunt of the men's fire.

"Keep moving," she called urgently. "Just get out of range- I'll be fine!"

He urged the horse forward, but a moment later another arrowhead exploded through the side of her stomach, the shaft sticking straight through her body. The pain was profound, and she had to let go of Lincoln with one hand to press it against the wound, tucking the arrow between her thumb and forefinger. She could feel the blood coursing out of the wound, sticky and hot, but she didn't dare look down. She was careful to keep the arrowhead from cutting Lincoln.

Behind her, she heard the men yelling and cursing at one another, shouting about how they needed her alive. She hoped that argument would buy them enough time to get away, but the she heard words that made her heart sink, "Stop aiming for him and shoot the horse!"

Lincoln urged the animal to run faster, but with the rocks and loose earth beneath its feet, it really couldn't do anything more than a slow canter.

Even still, she knew they would have to be out of range soon of the men running on foot, and that this would be the worst of it. But before that thought had even fully formed, the horse let out the most horrific squeal and it stumbled, pitching forward. At first Octavia thought it had caught its hoof on a rock or the exposed root of a tree, but then she saw the arrow sticking out of the animal's neck and she knew it was much worse.

The horse pitched sideways, stumbling, breathing hard, the breath coming not from its mouth now but from the gash in its neck, which squirted dark red blood onto the earth. It fell to one knee, and then collapsed. The next thing Octavia knew, her hands were slipping from around Lincoln's waist and she was rolling over and over down the mountainside. Each roll caught at the arrow lodged in her side, the shaft wrenching back and forth inside her body and causing absolute agony.

She tried to stop rolling, tried to look for Lincoln, tried not to pass out from the pain, but it was impossible. She was at the mercy of her own momentum, and her body was rebelling against the pain, anxious to steal her awareness of it. Lincoln was nowhere, her attackers were nowhere, and all she saw was the spinning green of the hillside. Her body was still cascading down when the darkness pressed in and enveloped her completely.