Noise increased as they neared the walls. Judging by the sound, Polis' gona had lost their fear of Raven's doodads. They hooted, cheered, and jeered the army that tried to close in on them but was driven back to be picked off as they tried to get away.

The barrels Clarke passed were still half full, and Clarke knew more would be delivered soon. As much fun as the Natblida had in Raven's workshop, they did what was asked and more. While those devices kept the opposition from the walls, their archers continued to shoot. They found Clarke easily, her bright hair making her stand out among the others on the wall, and frequently fired in her direction. She learned their rhythm but Murphy dragged her down several times.

When dozens of arrows flew over her head at once, she looked at him. "Put it on my tab."

He laughed. "I stopped doing that a long time ago. You're not gonna pay me."

"I'll try," Clarke promised, and stood up to fire again.

100 – 100 – 100

On the north side, things were the same. Archers picked off those who tried to retreat after getting a face full of gas or limbs full of shrapnel, and they kept coming until full dark fell again.

Raven had a bad feeling and wanted both of them off the wall, but knew they couldn't go. There was too much at stake, and she was pissed at Lander for his stupid temerity and inability to let things go.

She had thought before it started that she would enjoy a fight now that she was fit and healthy again, but this wasn't a fight, not really. It was more like target practice, and every time a barrel emptied, another full one was hauled up to replace it. She was impressed with the economy of motion the solders used, with the exchanges taking little more than a minute.

At the same time, the gore sickened Raven. As bad as the many different stink bombs they used smelled, the corpses lying in the open were worse. She stayed hydrated and tried to eat when Ontari did, but this was worse by orders of magnitude than the outcome of the Mountain, the only difference being that the skin of these dead was intact.

Raven and Ontari pulled each other out of the line of fire, or were pulled down by the gona around them. Four times, Raven saw an arrow go through the head or neck of one of their fighters and watched them fall and land with a sickening thud. She was beginning to understand Clarke's distaste for fighting.

An arrow skimmed through the arm of her shirt, and it turned black as blood oozed out. Ontari whistled for a healer, and Raven's arm was wrapped without comment and with thanks. Ontari tried to make her get down then.

"Not happening," Raven answered, and dove into the barrel to grab the last three doohickeys. She was barely out of it before the replacement process began. Raven checked the wind and wished for a slingshot. She settled for throwing them as far as she could, then stood watching them land. "Damn. Not far enough."

She pulled Ontari down and kissed her cheek. "I need something in the workshop."

"Hurry," Ontari answered and watched Raven leave. She wanted to watch to make sure Raven made it to her workshop safely, but turned back to face their enemy.

Raven was as good as her word. She returned less than 20 minutes later with a pack over her shoulder. On the wall, she passed out slingshots, which was the first ranged weapon all grounders trained with. The new tool made it easy to get explosions to the tree line, and the fighters around them gleefully but carefully fired, cheering when they saw the line break and disappear into the forest.

They heard Murphy yell, "Fuck yeah!" and Raven knew the slingshots had reached them. Roger and Fay were cobbling them together from whatever they could, and completed a third batch before running out of rubber tubing. They went back to filling barrels as quickly as they could. Three full ones were outside the last time he got a chance to look, and they had enough materials to fill two more. When they finished, they were supposed to join the Natblida in the basement, but decided that if Raven could fight, they could, too.

100 – 100 – 100

By full dark, the enemy army was nowhere to be seen. Scouts said they were still in camp and estimated there were perhaps 500 fighters left, still enough to overwhelm Polis if they planned carefully.

After Ontari heard their reports, she routed the messengers to Clarke and Kemp so everyone had the most accurate information. It looked like a quiet night, so Ontari and Raven climbed down, guards following them as always. They walked along the wall until they found Clarke, and Ontari called for her to come down, too. Clarke checked with Kemp before going down. Murphy followed them to the closest food area.

All four waited in line to get something to eat and drink, even as warriors tried to move them ahead. They adamantly refused, with Ontari ordering every one back to their original place in line. When they finished eating, Raven and Ontari sat close, talking. Clarke and Murphy went to look for Roan.

They found him on the south side of the wall, close to the gate. When they were close enough to hear, Clarke realized Roan was refusing treatment from an Azgeda healer. She walked up beside the healer and looked at Roan.

He was pale and sweating profusely, and Clarke would bet he had torn some of his stitches. She stepped up beside Trea, who she knew from the hospital. "Heya."

"Wanheda," Trea greeted her with relief.

Clarke eyeballed Roan again. He looked like shit and her mother was probably going to yell at her again when she realized he was gone. "What's that?" she asked Trea.

"Pain relief. Infection prevention."

Clarke looked back at Roan. "Your problem with this is?"

"There is much to do. I cannot rest."

"Roan, take the tea or I'll have your guards hold you down so I can pour it down your throat and if you still fight, they will turn you over to my mother."

Roan's glare was weak, undercut by the threat of Abby's treatment. He held out his hand and Trea handed him the mug. Clarke watched him empty it, and said, "Mochof," when he returned the empty mug.

"Now," she said in a gentler tone, "It's quiet. Look around. Everyone is taking a break. You should, too."

"You are not."

"I am. I ate and drank a bunch of water and some tea, and I'm checking in with everyone in my kru. When I finish that, I'm going to find Lexa. And if you think she won't make sure I at least be still for a while, you should think again."

Roan huffed before answering, "Very well."

"Murphy, take him to the Tower. I'm headed to Skaikru."

Murphy nodded to Clarke before looking at Roan. "Haihefa."

Roan looked at him suspiciously.

"We need to go."

Roan huffed again, but walked past Murphy. Murphy asked Trea, "Can you stick with us for a bit in case he needs new bandages?"

"Sha," Trea answered and fell in behind him.

When they reached the Tower, Roan looked worse. Murphy got him on the elevator without arguing, and it took both he and Trea to get Roan into a chair.

Roan tried to help Murphy remove his armor until Murphy asked him to be still. That made it easier for Murphy to unbuckle and remove Roan's chest and back armor without making him move.

Murphy stepped back but stayed nearby while Trea treated Roan. She 'tskked" at him while replacing stitches on both sides, and bandaged him much more tightly than Abby had. Roan was silent throughout.

"Whiskey," he said when the bandaging was finished.

"One," Trea told him.

"One and a nap," Murphy countered.

Roan glared at him. "You are not my caretaker."

"I am until Clarke calls for me again," Murphy answered while getting liquor for Roan. He put the bottle back into the cabinet and took him the mug. Roan emptied it in one go and levered himself up with the table.

"Stitches," Trea cautioned as she got on his right side. Murphy took his left and together they helped Roan to his bed. He sat on the side while Murphy removed his boots. Trea left and returned with all the pillows in the suite. She arranged them, and she and Murphy got Roan positioned.

"Want anything?"

"Wake me when the battle starts again."

"Beside that."

"No." Roan slowly moved into a more comfortable position before closing his eyes.

Murphy thanked the healer and listened to her instructions. "Have you eaten?" he asked before she left.

"I haven't had a chance."

"Sit," Murphy told her, and went to the door. He asked the guards for food for three.

While they waited, Murphy poured water for both of them. He looked at her when it occurred to him she might want something else. "This OK?"

"Sha."

Murphy brought the drinks over and sat down across from her. "I'm Murphy."

"I know."

"And you're Trea kom Azgeda."

She looked amused. "I know that, too."

"What don't you know?"

"How Skaikru ended up so familiar with Haihefa Roan."

"You must be the only person in the Coalition who doesn't know the story."

"I heard much, but it doesn't explain you."

Murphy laughed. "I heard that before."

"So explain."

"Highlights only and hold your questions until the end."

Food arrived then, and he started once it was distributed. "We got here and it sucked and sucked and sucked, so when I got the chance to leave, I did. Big mistake. Came back, became Titus' personal punching bag until he came up with the plan to kill Clarke and frame me for it.

"He shot Lexa instead, and put us in jail. Roan got us out and handed me over to Clarke. When Clarke told him everything, he took me to Azgeda to keep me safe from Titus, and he came back with all the other muckety mucks to see Lexa. He keeps handing me over to Clarke, but she doesn't need me now."

"What will you do?"

"When?"

"When the war is over."

"I'm going home."

"Home?"

"Azgeda. I'll get my marks soon."

She smiled at him. "I hope to see them."

"I hope to show them to you."

Roan groaned loudly and they both went to his room, but he appeared to be sleeping.

"I will stay with him if you have something else to do."

"I'm not going anywhere until Clarke sends for me."

"Then I should return to the hospital."

Murphy stood up when she did. He still had the manners his mother beat into him, although they were rarely used. "If we aren't fighting again, I'd like to meet for supper."

Trea turned pink, but gave him a place and time in a steady voice. Murphy walked to the door and opened it for her. "See you then."

Trea smiled at him again. "Yes, you will."

A few seconds after he closed the door, Roan called for him.

"Food, and stop trying to fuck my healer."

Murphy ignored him, left, returned with Roan's covered plate in one hand and a mug of water in the other. He handed the plate to Roan and put the mug on the side table before pulling a chair near. "Still in pain?"

"Sha," Roan said sourly as he slowly picked up the sandwich.

"I'll get someone."

"You will get me another mug of whiskey and I will stay in bed as everyone wishes," he ordered churlishly.

"One."

"Sha. I wish to sleep."

"OK." Murphy left again and came back with a mug less than half full.

Roan slammed it down and held out the empty mug. When Murphy took it, Roan told him, "Return to Clarke. And if you stumble across another healer, send them here."

"Sha, Haihefa."

"I will be on the walls when the battle begins again."

"I know. If you get shot again, I'm gonna leave you there."

Roan laughed and swore at the pain.

"A healer will be here soon," Murphy promised and left.