Chapter 5

Anya kept working that metal until she had a semblance of a decent knife. She would use it to hunt and then make it into a knife for Clarke. She would count it as part of her offering of creation. If they were in the villages, she would get weapons made for Clarke. She doubted that Clarke would use them though. And, the more she thought about it, the knife would be perfect. Clarke could learn to defend herself with it and use it for medicine as needed. Everyone needed a good knife. This one wasn't ready yet, but it would be. Anya guaranteed it. She kept working it until it was deadly sharp. She went back to the storage area and found some of the old cloth. She used that, some old wire, and a broken piece of some machine to fashion a handle. It was crude but it would serve.

Anya would look for better materials while she was out of the bunker. She knew that she couldn't leave Clarke alone, not now. Especially since Clarke had not only proposed the union but had fulfilled her obligations in the proposal and courtship. She would come back and make Clarke proud of what she had accomplished for their union.

She moved closer to Clarke. She made sure that the blonde was tucked in and warm. She moved a canteen of water, and not hooch (she sipped it to make sure), by the bed. She leaned over and kissed her forehead. She didn't know if that was a sign of comfort or endearment for the Skaikru, but it felt right for her to return the gesture. When she was sure that Clarke would be safe while she was gone, she headed up the ladder and out of the bunker.

She unlocked the door and waited for a lull in the storm. As soon as she heard it, she was up and out of the bunker, softly closing the door as to not wake Clarke. She quickly marked a tree and covered the hatch. She didn't want anyone else to find Clarke's little sanctuary.

In the storm, the world was still. She could feel the fog still linger in the storm, but it wasn't as strong as it could be. Anya took this to be a good sign. It meant that she wouldn't have to worry too much about her flesh.

She ran through the trees. She knew basically where they were, but she hadn't been in these woods since she was a child. She just needed to find the river. Once she did that, she would be able to find the cave that her fos had shown her. She knew that the knife wasn't going to be enough in the hunt. She just hoped that the cave was still stocked with gear like most Trikru caves. It was a measure of survival for the whole clan. Everyone stocked the caves because everyone in the clan used them.

She was in luck. She'd found the river and the cave. Inside, she found some cloth to dry off with and some heavier clothes to protect her while she hunted. There was also a spear. She knew that she needed it. Grabbing it, she headed back out into the fray of the storm. The rain wasn't so heavy as to hurt, but the drops were large and thick. She could only hope that the storm broke soon.

Working her way back into the trees, she knew that she would need to go up in them to get a better vantage point. She didn't know what game would be out in the storm, but she knew that something would. The fog had passed and the animals knew that it was safe to be out again. The acid hadn't lingered. The storm had washed most of it away, and what had run into the rivers and creeks was being carried away by the storm further down river. The people were safe, so Anya didn't have to worry. She needed to find something to eat though.

She decided to work her way back towards the bunker. She would feel safer hunting closer. Plus, she'd seen a bush of berries and some apples. Smiling, she kept going. She would be back for the fruit. She needed meat, fresh meat, first.

She didn't have to wait long. There was an old, large, white-grey wolf stalking around. She watched it from her perch. The thing was huge. She wasn't sure that she could take it down with just the spear, but she hoped that she could. This wasn't just a test of strength for Anya. This was a test of devotion to Clarke. She knew that she could make many things from the wolf. As the thoughts about what she could give Clarke from the wolf, it raised its big head a sniffed.

Anya would swear later that the damn thing huffed at her. He didn't seem to care that she was there. In fact, he looked up in the tree at her, huffed, and then continued on his way. Usually, she would just let the wolf go, but he was the only thing big enough for what she needed, and she didn't have a lot of time. The wolf was perfect and it seemed like the spirits had sent him to Anya for this cause. Maybe he was an old wolf out for his last hunt. She didn't know, but she knew better than to question the spirits when they provided. So, she moved around the tree and gripped the spear tighter.

As the wolf passed by under her, she steadied her heartbeat. She knew that it would do for a warrior like her to be nervous now. She was a seasoned veteran, just like this wolf. She wrapped her fingers around the shaft of the spear as she readied herself to pounce out of the tree. She held the little knife in her left, ready to use it, even though she knew that she would be gripping the spear with two hands as she dropped out of the tree. The wolf moved again. He turned and circled under the tree. She didn't know if he was taunting her or begging her to end his life, either way, she timed her drop. When he circled back again, she launched.

A battle cry flew from her lips as she descended down upon him. The spear missed its mark as she landed just behind the wolf. While he was old and grizzled, it didn't mean that he wasn't going to go down without a fight. Anya blew out as she watched the wolf turn on her. It was at this moment that she knew if the wolf didn't kill her, Clarke would. The wolf was larger than she originally thought. He was almost as tall as her, and now, he looked mad that she'd disturbed his trek through the forest. He raised his head at her and sniffed the air. Anya realized that it was blind, but his size would still be an issue. The wolf sniffed again, raising its head high, and exposing his chest. Anya knew that she could wait. She lunged and buried the spear center mass and hoped to miss the ribs and find his heart.

The initial strike missed and pissed the wolf off. He took a measured swipe and caught with Anya's front leg. Oh, yeah, Clarke was going to kill her now. Hobbling, Anya backed up to the tree and waited. The wolf followed only so far before it started sniffing again. Raising its head, one last time, Anya waited until she could try again. As soon as she found her mark, a dark gray spot just to the left on his chest, she aimed for it and struck with all her weight behind it. She felt the spear sink into the wolf's body and then stop. When she looked up, she was standing under the head. The wolf let out a small, whiny howl and then collapsed to her left. She was still holding the spear and breathing hard. She laughed as she remembered Lexa attacking a bear by herself to protect Costia just before the Conclave. Titus had been pissed and Lexa was regulated to the Natjus barracks for weeks. Clarke was going to be just as bad. So, Anya decided that she needed to make her offerings the best that she could from this old wolf.

Kneeling beside the wolf, Anya laid her hand on it and said, "Yu gonplei ste odon."

She slit it's throat to end the pain and drain some blood. Looking around she knew that she wouldn't be able to just pick it up. Gathering some large branches, Anya quickly fashioned a sled and put it the wolf on it. She dragged it back to the cave to begin butchering it.

After she'd butchered it, she decapitated it before skinning it. She grabbed a big pot and boiled the meat off the head. She would use the skull to make Clarke a pauldron. She took the skin and fur and stretched it. She would come back for it and take it to the village tanner. It would make an awesome cloak for Clarke to war. It would symbolize not only her worth as a warrior but as a leader. Together with the pauldron, she would be a sight. It made Anya smile.

She cleaned the spear and put it back while she waiting on the head. Looking out the mouth of the cave, she realized that she'd been gone for hours. She ate some of the stores and checked the head. It was almost ready. She pulled it out and cleaned what she could off it before putting it back in the boiling water. While she was waiting again, she cut strips of meat and cooked them. She left some tender and smoked the rest for jerky. Wolf wasn't exactly her favorite, but it would do on the road. It was also fresh, so she knew that the meat was good. She found a storage pouch to place it in.

Looking around the cave, she found an old piece of antler. It was small and almost handle shaped. She knew that it wouldn't take long to fashion the knife for Clarke. She sat down by the fire with some of the random tools left in the cave and began working on the knife while she waited on the head. Every so often, she'd pull the head and scrape it clean before dunking it back in. Another session or so and it would be ready. Until then, she decorated the handle of the knife. She carved a set of stars into the handle. She hoped that Clarke would understand their meaning.

In the meantime, the storm had lessened from a downright pour to a constant stream. It wasn't thick and heavy anymore. She knew that she needed to get going back. More than likely, Clarke had awoken and she wasn't there. And, depending on how angry Clarke was with her, it would be all for naught.

She stood up to secure her bounty in a pack when her leg gave out. She'd forgotten the wound the wolf gave her. She found some medicine and cleaned it up. Hopefully, it would be enough to placate the fiery blonde back in the bunker. Anya knew it wouldn't, but she had to try. With the berries, apples, nuts, and random vegetables she'd found, Anya grabbed the pouch of meat and tossed it into the pack. She fixed up the knife transferring the blade into the antler. She used the wire and cloth to make a sort of sheath with a small bit of leather that she found. Happy with her creation, Anya added it to the bag. She knew that the skin would have to wait. She was leaving it for the time being. All that was left was the head.

She finished packed and patching up her leg. As soon as she was done, she sat by the fire and started working on the skull. First she removed the lower jaw. Then, she hollowed it out, so that Clarke's shoulder would fit inside. The teeth would cover Clarke's shoulder. It was perfect. She held it back and into the light from the mouth of the cave. It was a good bit of armor. It would serve Clarke well and mark her as a leader. Wolves were respected and feared, just like Clarke should be. She was cunning, tenacious, and surprising with her attacks, but she was calculating and merciful when needed, too. Clarke was her little wolf. The thought of Clarke wearing her armor and being her houmon filled Anya with pride. Yes, Clarke was going to turn heads, but she would prove herself quickly to the Trikru.

Finally finished, Anya grabbed the skull and the bag. Wrapping up in some of the furs, she head back out into the rain. Trekking back to the bunker took almost no time. She'd found her mark and then the bunker hatch. Before she descended though, she created a brush blanket to slide over the hatch. She didn't want anyone to find them because the metal of the hatch was exposed. The storm would probably break in the night. This meant that hunters would be out in the morning. She and Clarke needed to talk. They needed to consummate their union before they left the bunker, and Anya didn't want to be interrupted by an errant hunter or scout looking for those who might have gotten caught in the fog or storm. When she was happy that it would serve, she opened the hatch and slipped inside.

She dropped the bag down before her. It hit with a splat. She dropped the furs next. The made a noise, but Anya couldn't explain it. It was more like a wet thud. When it was all inside, she started down the ladder, pulling the hatch closed and making sure that the blanket covered over it. When she was down far enough, she locked the hatch. Continuing down, she made it to the bottom.

Turning around, she was met with sunshine and cold, blue fire. Anya normally wouldn't back down from anyone or anything, gulped at the sight of an angry Clarke. She knew what angry Clarke was capable of. She stood there, dripping, soaking wet, and waited for the verbal tongue lashing that was to come.

Clarke's eyes flitted all over her body. Thankfully, she was still wearing some of the fur from the cave and it was hiding the wound on her leg. Clarke's eyes landed on her face and waited for an explanation. After a few seconds, she cocked that perfectly sculpted eyebrow. It was a silent demand, command, and question all in one. Anya wanted to break, but she knew that she couldn't. She was a warrior for spirit's sake. The mere sight of Clarke angry should break her and make her want to apologize.

"And, just where the fuck have you been?" Clarke hissed at her.

Well, jok, don't hate her, Leksa, she is a good woman.

"I need some things."

Clarke just shook her head and looked at her incredulously. "You needed some things? In the storm, you needed something? Like what?"

"Things that would bolster my spirit for our union, niron," Anya said, hoping that the term of endearment would help her. It didn't.

"So jumping off the dam into the pool of unknown depth to escape the Mountain didn't do it? Hmm? What about biting open you own arm to remove the tracker? That didn't do it for you, either? What the fuck was so important that you had to go out there, risking life and limb, for what was it, again, 'Something'?" Clarke demanded.

Skrish, I love her fire, Anya thought and looked deeper into her eyes. The truth was the only thing that Anya could and would give her. "You."

"I'm sorry, what? Did you just say me? Because, Anya, I was asleep. I wasn't out there, so you want to try that again."

"Sha, niron, ai ste no kwelen. Ai ste yuj. Yu gaf ain. Ai gaf yuj, den ai laik yun," Anya told her as she stared deeply and emotionally into Clarke's eyes. (Yes, lover, I'm not weak. I am strong. You want me. I need strength, then I'll be yours.)

She could only hope that Clarke saw that she meant every word she spoke.

"I have no idea what that means, Anya, and you know it. I don't speak your language. I only know a few words."

Anya took a step slowly forward. She reached down for the pack and opened it. She took another step and handed the pack to Clarke.

"I needed to bolster my spirit."

"I'll bolster your spirit, you idiot. We're you trying to get killed out there?" Clarke asked as she started to deflate reaching into the bag and pulling out an apple. "You went out there for food. You risked dying for food?"

"No," Anya stated as she stook another step forward so that she was in Clarke's space. "I did it for our union."

"What is it about this union that has you so up in arms? Damn it, Anya. I need you alive. What part of that don't you understand. ALIVE. I can't go to your leader with you dead. They wouldn't believe me. I'd be dead on the spot and we both know it. As it is now, I'm living on borrowed time. So, do me the curtesy of taking me to my death and not leaving me to find it on my own at the end of one your people's swords or something," Clarke told her.

"You will not be killed now, Clarke. We will finish our union and then we will be joined. No one would dare touch you after that. It would mean death," Anya stated.

Clarke looked at her. Shaking her head, she moved back towards the desk. She was cleaning up the sketches while Anya just stood there. Finally Anya knew what she had to do. She had to give Clarke her offerings, and then offer herself up to the younger blonde. Clarke might have initiated their union, but Anya would cement it and close it. She began to take off the furs and find a place for them to drip dry in the bunker.

She forgotten about her leg again. It was an honest thing for her. She'd been trained to ignore pain and drive on with the battle, mission, or hunt. Pain let her know that she was still alive, but it could also be a distraction in battle. Anya was in pain. It hurt, but she'd learned not to show it. Wounds would be dealt with after the battle in the safety of the healers' hut. But, Anya hadn't been in a true battle, Clarke was a healer, and there wasn't a hut for miles. She stumbled when she moved to get closer to Clarke. The younger woman heard it and turned to see blood seeping through Anya's pants.

"What happened?" Clarke asked as she immediately moved to support Anya back over to the desk.

She put Anya on the desk so that she could look at the wounds. Clarke studied the four parallel lines that started at four different points on Anya's leg. Bending over, she knew that some animal had taken a defensive swipe at Anya. The animal may be dead, but Anya was about to be hurting worse.

"What happened?" Clarke hissed.

"Pakstoka," Anya answered. (Wolf)

"What?"

"Wolf," Anya replied.

"You were attacked by a wolf?!" Clarke screamed.

Anya knew that Clarke wanted to lash out but her healer mind was winning. She watched as the blond went to get the medical supplies again. She grabbed the candle, too. Clarke came back to the desk with rags and started drying Anya off. Huffing, she looked at the wound again. It was too late to stitch it. She would do better by burning them shut, but she didn't have anything big enough to it. Anya was in pain and Clarke was angry with her. She knew that she couldn't help her like this. So, Clarke backed up and put her finger in Anya's face.

"Don't move. I have to find something to close those," Clarke ordered as she turned to go back into the storage area, mumbling under her breath. "Of all the insane, idiotic..."