The sun streamed down on the training ground with an intensity that always seemed the breathe new life into the aches etched into Clarke's body. Before Clarke stood targets, some small, some large, others swinging from where they hung down from structures planted into the ground. Around her were a sea of warriors, some old, some young, some wounded and others tired. The sounds of sword clanging against sword, fist hitting flesh and the steady thump of arrow or knife piercing target after target echoed around her.

Clarke planted her feet a little more firmly in the ground and she turned herself towards the furthest target, its size small enough that she needed to squint, its distance far enough that she knew she would need to aim so very far above. She ignored the eyes that watched her, she ignored the sweat that dripped from her brow and she took in one steady breath as she drew her knife, as she flipped it around so that her fingers held the tip of the blade.

Her motions were smooth, they were sure and familiar. Clarke drew back her hand, shifted her weight with the motion and she flung the knife into the air as hard as she could. It spun and spun and whistled in a steady arc forwards. And then it hit the target with a gentle thump that she barely heard over the noise of the training grounds.

And so Clarke drew her next knife, this one as equally well balanced as the first, and she repeated her motions, but this time faster, this time less thought, less conscious, and she did so for she needed to push herself, needed to move into the uncomfortable, needed to feel the strain, the very edge of her abilities. And before the second knife had even had time to leave her hand she already reached for her third, and then her forth, and then her fifth, and she continued to move faster and faster and faster until her motions became a blur, until her muscles screamed out and until she had exhausted every single knife she kept hidden on her person.

Clarke's fingers seemed light, her mind seemed just a little feint, and she took in one long steadying breath as she began to walk forward, each step she took purposeful and poised as she made her way towards the target that was now skewered with every single knife she had thrown it's way.

Once she reached her target and pulled her knives free she returned to her place and turned to face the target again, but as she reached for the first of her knives she felt a familiar sting and burning sensation running through her finger.

Clarke looked down at her hand to find black blood etching its way through the lines of her palm from a cut across her finger. She watched as her blood seemed to creep along its path, she watched how it seemed to shimmer, flicker and sparkle at times when the sun hit it just right and she grimaced as the burn seemed to take hold just a little more forcefully.

That pain always came, it always seemed to grow in intensity and it always seemed to burn just a little more painfully with her smaller wounds, with those that were never quite so severe.

Clarke continued to watch the cut on her finger as the blood slowly began to coagulate, as it began to ebb and as the flow began to lessen. In contrast to the ebbing flow of blood, the burn from the wound continued to grow, and as the burn began to radiate outwards she felt the edges of the wound begin to itch and she watched as they pull together before her very eyes. But before long the burning stopped and the wound closed itself as it always did, the only sign that she had once been hurt being the black blood that now began to dry across her palm.

A shadow fell across her then, and she looked up to find a Trikru warrior standing beside her, the tall man's shoulders broad, his sandy blonde hair short cropped, his blue eyes piercing in the sunlight and the beard that cascaded down his chest braided and fierce.

In his hand was held a clean cloth, its fabric elegant, soft and supple.

"Heda," he said simply. "For your wound."

Clarke nodded as she reached out and took the offered bandage and began to wipe away the blood from her hand, and for only a short moment she found herself silently apologising for the stain she knew her blood would leave.

"Thank you," Clarke said. "I will have it cleaned," it was the least she could do.

Clarke turned back to the target then, her mind already chasing away the wandering thoughts. Part of her expected the man to move aside, and part of her expected him to remain in silent companionship. But she didn't expect him to talk, to voice whatever thoughts she knew him to have.

"We are going to war," he said quietly, and Clarke let her arm follow through with the arc she had already sent it on as she threw her first knife towards the target.

"What makes you believe that?" Clarke asked as she reached for her second knife.

"My scouts have seen more Azgeda at the border," he said, and she looked at the taller man from the corner of her eyes. "You need not confirm it," he said with one simple shrug. "I understand," and he paused as he watched her throw another knife. "Even the traders have been seeing more profit in the last few weeks."

Clarke paused long enough to consider the entire conversation before she tucked the next knife back into its place on her belt as she turned to face him.

"I do not question your motives," he said as he took a single step back as she made her gaze harden and her shoulders square.

"Then what do you do?" she asked.

He paused then, perhaps for longer than he intended for his mouth opened to say something before it clicked shut.

"Speak," Clarke said.

"Trikru will stand with you as it has always done," he said.

"I did not expect any different," Clarke let her shoulders relax only a fraction. But as Clarke continued to look the man in the eyes, she found his words hidden, yet she found his worries clear for her to sense. "You worry for our people," and she let her voice soften just a bit as she lessened the iron in her eyes.

"I—" he paused yet again, but this time Clarke thought it not to determine whether he would speak further, but rather to determine how best to give voice to his thoughts. "Your mother would be proud of the leader you have become."

The praise surprised her. Clarke never let herself think too long of the past, if only because she knew it would do little to help the future. But as the man continued to hold her gaze, she saw a truth, a belief and a conviction in his gaze.

She watched as he sighed, seemed to chase away his own thoughts before continue, "I will prepare our warriors," he said.

And with that the blonde haired and blue eyed warrior bowed his head and turned away, his feet taking him towards where Polis lay in the distance.

Clarke didn't know what spurred her on, she didn't know why she felt the need to do so, but for a moment she found herself uncaring of how it would look, how it would sound to any that heard.

And so, before the man could move out of ear shot she called out to him.

"Father," her voice was sharp, the timber of it iron. She watched as he paused mid step, her call to him surprising. He turned then, his shoulders squared as he faced her from across the distance. "The Mountain," she paused long enough to know he met her gaze. "I will make it bleed."

Lexa held her breath, not because she believed the air to be toxic, not because she thought it would burn down her lungs and cause her to choke on her own blood. But she did for she didn't want her first breath of real air to be marred by the sweat, the stench of emptied stomaches and the fumes of the fuel that had permeated through the drop ship.

She didn't realise what it was at first, but as the drop ship doors began to groan open she found a gentle breeze beginning to brush against her forehead. It took her a moment longer before she realised that the breeze was the wind, was the air that soared through the forest. And she smiled, she couldn't help it, she couldn't fight it, didn't even dare to. Sunlight hit her face as the drop ship's doors continued to open, and it was warm, its heat more intense than anything she had ever felt on the Ark with its artificial day-night cycle.

The groaning of the drop ship's door grew louder and louder until all that remained was the screeching vibrations until the door slammed onto the forest floor before them.

And then there was silence.

Lexa found herself at the entrance, volunteers to her left and right, to her back, and the forest to her front. She looked to her side and up at Bellamy who stood rooted in place, his eyes wide, jaw clenched tightly.

And then, seemingly as one, all those around her began to move forward. Each step Lexa took echoed out around them, each step she took seemed to make her lungs scream out for a breath, and each step she took made her mind scream out in uncertainty, fear, exhilaration and awe.

She waited until her feet left the metal of the drop ship, she waited until her boots came to crunch into the ground underfoot, and it wasn't until she realised she stood on dirt, and it wasn't until she realised that she stood on the Earth. And she waited for all those things before she took in her first breath of fresh air.

It was cool, it was crisp, it seemed so very tangible, so very pure. The air filled her lungs, lessened the burning deep in her chest and Lexa couldn't help but to turn her face up to the sky, to the sun, to the wind that blew across her face.

And she laughed.

Lexa laughed, she laughed and she didn't know if it was the adrenaline, she didn't know if it was the fact that they had survived, or if it was simply the fact that she stood on the Earth. Whatever it was made her feel light headed, made her feel so very happy to be alive.

Others around her began to laugh, she was sure she even sensed others cry, shout out in joy and bewilderment. People began to move forward, some pushed passed her uncaring of her presence, and as she was jostled, as she was bumped, she found herself uncaring, if only because she knew not what to think.

Lexa opened her eyes to find some on their knees in the dirt, hands buried in the damp undergrowth, she watched a woman scramble to the nearest plant that bore flower and take in a deep breath. She saw others with their eyes closed as their lips moved to unheard word. And then she heard the chatter of birds, she heard the forest as it breathed around them.

And for the very first time in her life, Lexa didn't know what to do.

The searing flames of the drop ship had long since faded from view. Anya didn't know why she remained by the large window, she didn't know why she kept her hand pressed to the glass and she didn't know why tears streamed down her cheeks.

A hopelessness had taken hold of her as soon as the drop ship's engines had ignited, it had consumed her, made her feel stuck in place unable to do anything of use. She had expected an explosion, she had expected the drop ship to lose control and spin out of view. She had expected its engines to cut out halfway through its decent and to send those strapped inside to a fiery death.

But none of those things happened. And she had watched until the drop ship plunged into a blanket of clouds, she had watched as the hole it had punched through the atmosphere was swallowed and she had watched as those around her had gone about their day, had left her behind, had shied away from whatever foolish hope they believed the volunteers clung to.

Anya wiped away the tears across her cheeks, she balled the hand she kept pressed to the glass into a fist and she cursed her stupidity, she cursed her regret, her anger and her frustration. Anya slammed her fist into the glass, she sunk to her knees and she tried not to let her emotions carry throughout the lonely corridor.

Anya did all those things for she had never expected the drop ship to survive, if only because it had been left unused, untested for decades, she had thought it so old, so far in disrepair that it would tear itself apart and not even give the volunteers a fighting chance. But she was wrong. The drop ship had remained intact, it had survived the decent, and she had doubted.

Something clicked in her mind then, and it was something violent, something full of emotions left un-faced. Anya wiped the back of her hand across her face, she made sure any sign of tears were gone and then she rose to her feet.

Anya took one last long look at where she had last seen the drop ship before she turned from the window. She had let Lexa down, if only by giving up hope, she had let Lexa down, if only by not believing that she would succeed. Anya had let Lexa down. And as Anya turned from her reflection she made a promise to herself that she would never let Lexa down again.

Crates, supplies and storage boxes lay placed around the drop ship in what could only be described as organised disorder. People were already categorising their rations, checking supplies and going over maps of the surrounding areas.

Lexa stood around one large crate that came up to her hip. A large map was laid out over it and two rocks were placed on either end to hold it in place lest the breeze take it away. Stood around her were the members of Alpha team, men and women, all volunteers for the mission that had only moments ago seemed suicidal.

"As you are all probably aware," Lexa said as she looked from face to face that looked at her. "We're off course by about a day's hard travel, maybe more," she said as she pointed down to where Mount Weather was marked on the map. "The Ark didn't take into account how out of calibration the drop ship's manoeuvring thrusters were."

"It was always a gamble," a woman said. "We either didn't fix anything and hoped we'd land where we wanted. Or we fixed something, spend resources we couldn't waste, and still hope we landed where we wanted."

Lexa looked to the woman to find a frown plastered across her face and her dark hair pulled back and tied out of her eyes as she looked at the map.

"Yeah," Lexa said. "Raven's right," she continued. "This is where we are," and she pointed to where they had landed on the map. "There's a valley between the mountain we're on, and the mountain we're after."

"So now what?" and this time Lexa looked up to see Bellamy's arms crossed as if he didn't know what to do with his hands.

"We establish a camp," Lexa said. "Our mission hasn't changed," and she looked around at her team. "Teams will spread out, begin searching for edible plants, animals, water sources. We need to take our time and make sure we understand what we can, and be wary of what we don't know," and she nodded to a black haired man who held a jar of soil in his hand. "That's where you come into play Monty," she said.

"I'm on it," and he smiled. "Soil from first glance already seems healthy for planting crops," and he raised the jar of soil. "See," and he pointed to a wriggling worm that twisted and slithered about. "Worms."

"Good," Lexa said. "You're coming with the search parties. Categorise any plants you find, we need to know what's edible and what's not."

"Understood," Monty said with a smile.

"Our first task is to find a safe water source," Lexa continued. "Our maps say there's a river and lake system not far from here, so that's where we're going first," she paused to look at those around her, and part of her thought she'd see worry, she'd see fear and regret. But all she saw was a determination, a confidence and an eagerness to explore what was once home to the human race. "Any last questions?"

Raven shook her head and tucked her hands into the straps of her backpack, Monty shrugged his shoulders and Bellamy and the others remained quiet.

And so Lexa smiled and nodded to the twelve members of her team.

"Good. Let's head out."

Lexa was overwhelmed, she was awed, unable to really grasp what she saw. She had dreamed of the forests at times as a child, had always thought herself foolish in her youth to long for something so very far out of reach. She had wondered what it must have been like to feel the wind against her face, had wondered what the heat of a sun might have felt like. But she needed to focus, she needed to concentrate on the task at hand.

And so she paused, she steadied herself against a moss covered tree and turned back to face the way she had been walking. The others in her team came to a stop, too, some leaning against their own trees, others coming to sit where they could. She saw fatigue on all their faces, sweat beading across their skin and their hair plastered across weary brow.

Lexa had never expected that simply walking forwards would have been a struggle, but she found the simple fact of walking across uneven ground, where stick and stone, slippery mud and twisted forest floor made her use muscles in her feet and legs she had never had to use on the Ark.

She also hadn't noticed it at first, partly due to the adrenaline and excitement of the decent to the Earth, but she was sure the carefully calibrated spinning of the Ark's rings had been just slightly out of sync with Earth's gravity. Her body felt just a small fraction heavier, each step, each swing of her arms seemed to weigh her down far more than should be expected. Even breathing seemed to come a little more forced.

She thought she saw the same fatigue upon all those around her, she eyed Bellamy who shrugged the rifle strapped to his back a little higher on his shoulder and she was sure even he seemed to be feeling the weight of the world upon his shoulders. A woman, hair a light brown lay sprawled out on the forest floor, the black of her guard's uniform doing little to blend into the green of the moss and foliage and bushes that sprung and crawled and filtered out across the ground.

"Harper," Lexa said as she pushed off from the tree only to wobble for just a moment before she got her balance back.

"Yeah?" Harper asked as she lifted her head up from the ground to look her way and Lexa saw the woman's face tinged red from exhaustion.

"You ok?" Lexa asked.

"I am," Harper said as she struggled into a sitting position. "It's just Earth's gravity," and she wiped a hand across her face. "It's hard to get used to."

"Same," and Lexa stopped before her and held out a hand. "But we can't get too comfortable. The Ark and everyone else down here is counting on us to find a water source," Lexa smiled as Harper reached out and took her hand. "Come on."

"I'm so glad it wasn't just me," Bellamy grunted as he came to stand by her side. "I didn't even know breathing could be hard and all we've done is walk."

"It's a new experience for all of us," Lexa said and she turned to face those who sat and stood and rested around her. "Catch your breath, but keep a look out for anything of use, or anything that could be a threat," and she smiled at Monty who she saw already picking at the leaves of another plant he must have found interesting. "We move out in ten."

The water was calm, a pristine blue that flowed and trickled and drifted before them. Lexa stood at the water's edge, her hands on her hips and her eyes scanning the surface for any sign of fish, of sea life that could be a source of food. Bellamy stood close by, his hands clutching his rifle, the bird call that had come and gone with their journey through the forest clearly fraying his fatigued mind.

"How's it look?" Lexa called out to Monty who crouched down nearby, a clump of what she assumed to be seaweed pulled out onto the pebbled riverbed and spread out before him.

"Hopefully I'll know more when I get it back to the drop ship," he said with a tight smile as sweat dripped down the side of his face.

"And the water?" Lexa said and she tried not to let her excitement or the anticipation filter into her voice.

"There's a current," Harper answered as she finished scooping up the vial from under the water before dropping a small tablet into it. "So that's a bonus," and she shook the vial and eyed its colour with bated breath. "And we're good," she finished with a smile as the water remained the same colour.

Lexa let out a relieved sigh at that.

"Good work, Harper," and she nodded. "Fill up our containers, we'll take as much as we can carry back to the drop ship."

And with that those with her bega—

"Hey," Bellamy's voice cut into the commotion as he made a step forward and towards the water's edge. "Hey, hey, he—"

"Bella—"

Bellamy's hand reached out, grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her back with a sharp tug—

"Get back," Bellamy barked and Lexa found his gaze focused somewhere into the water, his gaze narrowed.

"What—"

But someone swearing, and the scramble of another moving back from the water's edge made her spin around and face whatever it was.

Lexa's eyes widened as she turned to the water, as Bellamy continued to pull her back, and she felt fear and something primal make her skin go clammy.

A rippling wake was forming on the surface of the water as something below its depths approached slowly, the motions smooth, elegant and far too predatory to be anything but dangerous.

Lexa's gaze fell to Monty for only a second to find that he had been pulling Harper away, her testing the water putting her in clear danger of whatever lurked below the surface.

"Everyone get back," Lexa said, and she fumbled for her own rifle strapped to her back as she started taking cautious steps away from the river.

"I've got it," Bellamy said quietly as he raised his rifle, squinted down the sights and began to track the shape below the surface.

"Hold on," and Lexa grit her teeth in anticipation, in fear, in something bordering on fascination. "Don't shoot unless it attacks."

Bellamy paused for only a moment before responding with nodded acknowledgement.

Lexa didn't blame him for not taking his eyes off whatever it was that swam below the surface, but eventually whatever the beast was seemed to lose interest in their presence for the rippling across the surface faded into what had become a chilled silence void of birdsong and forest noise.

"Let's get this over with quickly," Lexa said then. "One at a time, fill your container, everyone else eyes on the water."

There was a pause as those around looked from person to person, each one unsure of who was to proceed first, perhaps in part because they didn't quite know what kind of animal had been under the water. Or perhaps, completely because of that.

Lexa sighed to herself, steeled her nerves and eyed the water's edge for just a moment longer before she slung her rifle and began to move towards the river's edge, water container in hand as a single thought took place within her mind; don't get eaten.

The walk back to the drop ship was a quiet affair, whatever had been beneath the surface of the river clearly having spooked members of her team.

Lexa continued to eye the lowering sun in the sky, and though she tried not to show it, she found herself eager to return to the safety of the drop ship and the makeshift camp she was sure was well underway to be set up by now.

Chatter had almost entirely ceased, too, each person weighed down by the water containers strapped to their back, and by their desire to keep a keener look out for any other abnormal beasts that might be lurking in the shadows.

Raven stumbled ahead, the woman cursed and righted herself awkwardly, Harper quick to come to her aid with an offered hand. Lexa took enough time to register Raven found sure footing. Satisfied, Lexa turned to look over her shoulder, her place at the rear of her team purposeful, if only because she thought it the responsible thing to do to make sure none of her team was lost along the way.

But Lexa looked over her shoulder for she felt that same odd tingling in the depths of her mind that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She didn't quite know why she felt that way, and she didn't quite know why she felt compulsion to turn, to look into the shadows of the giant moss covered trees. But she did, and she found herself straining to see anything in the shadows, anything in the swaying of the branches overhead, and anything in the depths of the forest in all its mighty untamed unknown.

"Lexa," she startled at her whispered name, and as she turned back the way she walked she found Bellamy frowning as he came to walk next to her. "Everything ok?"

She paused just once more to look over her shoulder before shaking her head and turning forwards.

"Yeah," and she was sure it was nothing. "I'm just being paranoid, whatever that was at the river got under my skin."

"I don't blame you," Bellamy said quietly as he glanced over his own shoulder. "There's probably a whole bunch of creatures that the radiation messed up over the last century. At least no one got hurt."

"Yeah," and Lexa shivered at the continuing drop in temperature as the sun continued lowering. "At least no one got hurt."

Clarke sat on her bed, her legs crossed and her eyes closed. Each breath she took came slow and full of listened to the noise of the Polis streets so very far below. She listened to the birdcall that made itself heard over the wind, and she listened to the slightest of noises that she could hear outside her door. She heard the footsteps of servants moving about, she heard the quiet clink of warriors and their weapons and armours, and she heard the ever present breathing of the guards that stood outside her door.

Her day had been long, the cut she gave herself with her throwing knives not the only injury of her day's training session. A wayward sword had found its way past her defences, or perhaps it wasn't quite so accidental, if only because she had seen an opportunity to exploit an overconfident warrior's attack, the only loss being a shallow cut across her thigh that she knew would do little to distract from disarming, from killing her opponent had it been a true fight to the death.

But still, despite the wound and its anticipation, the burn, the stinging pain and the itching that had crawled into her muscle, into her flesh, and made her teeth grit, had made her lips snarl and her anger flow into each successive attack she laid upon the stunned warrior until her thigh had stitched itself together with little care for the discomfort it gave her.

"Does it still hurt?"

Clarke's eyes opened to find Ontari looking at her from where she sat opposite her on her bed, legs crossed, and furs wrapped around her shoulders.

"No," Clarke said as she looked down to her thigh to find the grey of her flesh seemingly a shade of shallow blue in the gentle candle light.

"Will it scar?" Ontari asked and Clarke could hear the curiosity in her voice.

"Perhaps," and it was a truth for Clarke didn't quite know why some wounds scarred more than most, why some littered her body with glistening white spiderwebs of stitched skin.

Ontari's gaze seemed to linger upon where the scar across her chest lay, and Clarke knew the woman was picturing it in her mind, was recalling it with every little detail that could be conjured from the times she had seen her without a top on.

"That wound," Clarke said quietly as she looked down to her own chest to find the light sleep shirt she wore did little to hold back the cool of the night's breeze. "It was deep," and Clarke recalled the pain, she recalled the burning, searing, furious heat that had taken hold of every little fibre of her being as her flesh, her bone and muscle had pulled itself back together. "Very deep," and Clarke couldn't help but to grimace as she remembered seeing her heart for only a fraction of a second, of seeing it beating its black beat for far longer than she had ever wanted before falling unconscious.

Ontari didn't say anything at that, and perhaps it was in part because she didn't wish to pry, was too respectful, or was too understanding of whatever pains the wound still inflicted upon her. But regardless of the reason, Clarke was thankful Ontari didn't pry.

The approach of feet echoing out brought her attention to her quarter's door, she heard the distinct sound of the swaying robes of her advisor, and as a knock echoed out Clarke found herself already sliding from her bed and coming to stand, her shoulders squaring and her hands clasped behind her back as she called for Titus to enter.

"Heda," Titus bowed his head as he stepped inside and the motion let the candle light dance across his bald head and highlight the ring of intricate and woven tattoos that covered his scalp.

"Titus," Clarke said as she stepped closer, head cocked to the side in curiosity at the apprehension she sensed rolling off his body. "It is late," she came to a stop in front of him. "What has happened?"

"The Mountain Men," he said as he met her gaze, his voice gravelly and equal parts angry and fearful. "More have arrived."

"More?" Ontari's voice spit out the word as if it were insult and for a moment Clarke fought the smile that threatened to creep across her lips as she could imagine the way Ontari's lips would have just looked twisted in disgust.

"From where, Titus?" Clarke asked.

And so Titus seemed to steel himself for whatever he was about to say.

"The sky, Heda."