Chapter Text
‘It hasn’t been long…’, thought Clarke. It hadn’t been long since the fall of the mountain and her disappearance. She had said she would follow them back to Camp Jaha. She had trailed behind her people for an hour or two, lingering farther and farther away as the minutes ticked, before she slid away and headed in the opposite direction. She didn’t want to deceive them or make them worry, but she knew they wouldn’t let her go off on her own after what had happened, and she couldn’t bear to be in the presence of the reminders of what she had to do to the mountain men. She needed time before she could face them again. She needed time to work through her whirlwind of dark emotions. She just needed time.
It hadn’t been long since she left them. Two days if she was correct by the change of the moon to the sun. They would have noticed she was gone by now. They would probably send a search party for her. She didn’t have time to wait. She needed time. She hadn’t stopped walking since she left them.
She quickened her pace up the hill she was climbing as the last rays of sun shone on the horizon. Her leg muscles pained almost unbearably but she ignored it. She didn’t halt her pace to set up camp even when a brisk wind sent shivers down her arms. She didn’t have the time to set up camp and get warmed by a fire. The risk of her people finding her in the middle of the night was too great.
When she made it to the top of the hill, she took a moment to survey her surroundings. The forest looked like it broke out into a clearing on her far right while the rest looked no different from the endless clusters of thick trees she had been walking through. She made her way down the hill towards the opening. She hoped she might be able to find some form of drinkable water there and maybe some form of food to eat. Her water canteen sloshed at her hip at about half empty and she had been a fool in her distress and hadn’t taken food with her when she left. Clarke wanted to kick herself. She knew how important clean water and food would be out here in the woods, yet she hadn’t stopped to think, mind too far gone in a haze to care.
It didn’t take her long to reach the lining of trees where the clearing started. She looked behind herself nervously, making sure she spotted no movement on the ground or trees behind her before she looked out into the open space before her.
The clearing wasn’t large, Clarke noted as she walked across it. As she slowly reached the other end, the sound of running water caught her attention. A river sat at the end of the clearing. It enlarged as it entered the open space and thinned as it retreated into the tree lining on the opposite side. She felt her soul jump in joy at the sight of running water. There was no sign of possible food, but the river would have to do. Following it could lead her to food and shelter and keep her canteen full. She felt a hunger deep in her bones that the half-empty canteen couldn’t possibly satisfy. The moment the river was in sight she ran for the water to guzzle it down. Filling her empty stomach with water would have to do for now.
Clarke drank until her belly was filled. It sated her hunger somewhat, but she strangely felt still thirsty. Even when she tried to drink more, till she felt sick to quench her thirst it was pointless. She still felt like she was craving more. Before she could throw up the contents of her stomach or give herself water poisoning, she stood up from the river and took a shaky step back. She held her hand over her mouth to quail her upset stomach, she regretted how much she drank, but she was still thirsty…
She half hazardously stumbled into the water, the thought of moving so that her people do not find her, the only thing that kept her moving through her nausea. She made it over the river, but she was soaked from her knees down and her socks squished uncomfortably in her boots.
‘Hopefully, my trail can be washed away along the riverbed at least’, Clarke thought as her pace slowed along the water lining. The soft resistance of the water sloshing against her boots and her slowly settling stomach slowed her tired body.
Clarke walked along the riverbank, following the rivers flow down, until the sun had fully set, and the moon had risen to illuminate her lone figure. Her wet footfalls halted when she saw another figure before her along the riverbank. She felt the blood drain from her face as a cold sweat swept over her at the haunting sight of Dante Wallace. His features stony as his empty eye sockets stare at her. His skin was deathly pale, with a dusting of blue on his tightly held lips and his scrunched-up nose as he frowned at her.
Clarke’s breath died in her throat as her chest froze up in pure terror. Her legs took a shaky step back, her limbs felt numb, and she couldn’t move them right. She jerked back and almost tripped and fell when the ghost in front of her slowly lifted its stiff-looking arm, so that its bony finger could uncurl with a trinity of cracks to point at Clarke.
Clarke didn’t wait to see what else this apparition would do. The terror that consumed her kicked her fight or flight response into drive. She bolted. All she could focus on as she ran was the loud drum in her ears and the primal instinct to escape. She blindly ran through the forest. She wildly dodged trees. She almost collided into a few in her panic. She suddenly saw Dante appear before her again. Clarke was stunned out of her panic for a split moment before her shoulder caught on the tree she had attempted to round. She cried out as pain shot through her shoulder before she slammed into the ground with a heavy thud.
Clarke groaned on the ground as she clutched at her shoulder. Her heart thumped in her chest. Her eyes flew open. She looked around wildly. Dante was gone. She quickly moved back onto her feet. She stumbled a bit as a dizzy spell hit her. The pain in her shoulder was forgotten as adrenaline fuelled her panic. The gun that was in her waistband had been pulled out and the safety had been switched off.
Her pupils were blown wide as she searched for Dante. The guns barrel followed her frantic search. She spun around at the sound of movement. The trigger pulled a second later without thought. The gunshot thundered in the silence of the night. Clarke swore for a moment she heard a softer raw of pain covered by the bang of the gun. Her hands started to shake as she stared at Dante. A fresh bullet wound in his chest began to bleed. He didn’t give any indication that he had noticed that he had just been shot. His eyeless sockets still stared at Clarke, and he still pointed his long frail finger at her.
Clarke dropped her gun and stumbled back. She did not move for a long pause as fear, guilt and shock ran a rampage in her mind. She registered that Dante still pointed at her and that’s when she realised. He wasn’t pointing at her…
Clarke’s whole body shook as she slowly turned around to see what Dante was pointing at, and she froze. Behind her stood the hundreds that she burnt at the dropship and mountain. The Trikru warriors were nothing but chard skeletons with smoke that wafted off their bones. The mountain men stood between the Trikru. Their forms twisted in pain from radiation burns. Clark’s stomach twisted as she saw pus leek out of the mangled eye socket of a young child that looked only old enough to be a toddler.
Clarke fell to her knees, and she wrenched out the bile in her stomach. Nothing but bile and water. She hadn’t eaten since the mountain and had only been sipping on water. She gripped at her belly as her body seized in pain from her dry heaving. Tears streamed down her face as she gasped for air. She shakily looked up to see, through watery eyes, that the dead had surrounded her in a closed circle.
“N-no, NO!”, Clarke cried out as she curled into herself. “P-please no!”. She tucked her head between her knees. “Leave me alone!”. She grasped at her scalp till her knuckles turned white. She was afraid to look up. She was afraid to see their faces. She was afraid to face her kills. Her tears soaked her thighs and the dirt below her. She hysterically muttered under her breath as grief and remorse derailed her.
Clarke’s frantic mind was forced to focus on a sudden pair of boots that appeared in her blurry vision. She stopped her muttering and slowly looked up at the pair of clothed legs attached to the boots. Her breath hitched in her throat when her eyes trailed up to look at the face of the man that stood before her.
“F-Finn?” She was awestruck by the sight of him. He smiled at her and looked as gentle and as hansom as he looked before the ground broke his mind. For a few brief moments, she forgot about all the horror she had endured. For a moment she felt contentment, and for a moment she wanted to close her eyes and feel bliss.
When Clarke opened her eyes, Finn had vanished and was replaced by Lexa, who held Clarke’s gun to the blonde’s head. Her heart froze in her chest. She watched as Lexa slowly began to pull the trigger. She closed her eyes again before she could see more, and a sense of acceptance washed over her.
“Blood must have blood”, Clarke heard Lexa say as she waited for the bullet to carry out justice.
A strangled cry loudly echoed through the forest and Clarke’s eyes flew open. Lexa was gone. Finn was gone. Dante was gone. The mountain men were gone. The Trikru were gone. Clarke was alone.
Clarke blinked, suddenly startled out of her sleep deprived and remorse driven hysteria. She slowly blinked again when she realised that she was holding her own gun to her own head and that her finger was dangerously close to pulling the trigger. She dropped the gun in shock and air rushed back into her lungs as she crumbled into herself. Her body shook with small tremors as she curled into herself, the realisation that she had almost put a bullet in her own head frightened her.
Another cry broke the silence of the forest and Clarke looked up in the direction it came from. She heard it again but quieter. It sounded like a cat’s meow, but far deeper and pained. She shakily got back on her feet. Her focus was now on where the pained yawls were coming from. She listened carefully for the cries and slowly made her way through the thick of the trees. Her gun lay forgotten on the leafy ground of the forest.
Clarke walked for a bit before she stepped out into a small clearing. The almost full moon illuminated the open area. She froze when she saw what had made those noises. A white tiger lay on its side in the clearing. Soft growls and pained meows escaped the big cat in between heavy huffs of breath.
Clarke was split between her instinct to run and her child-like wonder to approach at the site of a creature she had only ever seen in pictures. She stilled when she heard the tiger yawl in pain as it seemed to be making pushing motions with its lower half. She curiously studied the tiger in the dim moonlight and realised the tiger’s stomach looked extended, unlike the flappy loose skin she saw in photos on the Ark. She took a slow step forward; her curiosity got the better of her it seemed. She slowly approached to get a better look at the big cat that was preoccupied by something painful. As she had gotten closer and could better see the white tiger, her face fell from its wonder as she realised that it looked pregnant and severely injured. Possibly in labour if the odd motions the tiger did were any indicator.
“Hey girl…”, Clarke gently said to make the tiger aware of her. The tiger immediately lifted her head to growl at Clarke, but it was cut short by a pained yawl and the cat’s big head thudded back to the ground.
Clarke concluded that the tiger was in too much pain to attack her, so she moved forward. As she got closer, she noticed a thick red glisten larger than the rest of the little splatters of blood on the cat’s white and black fur. Her eyes followed the trail of dark crimson liquid to the source, and they widened at the sight. Out of the tiger’s back protruded a sword. It didn’t look like the type of swords the Trikru used. The tiger growled at Clarke in warning. She wearily glanced over at the tiger's face. The tiger made no move to attack her.
“It’s okay, girl.”, Clarke cooed to sooth the injured animal as she got closer. She crouched low and tried to keep her hands in the tiger’s sight. The closer she got the more her heart constricted with pity for the poor tiger. It’s obvious the tiger struggled in agony with labour pains and the sword wedged in-between its shoulder blades. She got close enough to lay her hand on the tiger’s cheek. She ignored the fact that her fur was matted and wet with blood. The big cat didn’t move. For a moment she was awestruck by the size difference between the big cat’s head and her hand. The tiger was massive. She had no doubt that if the big cat was standing on all fours, the tiger’s head would be at the same height as hers, maybe taller, probably taller.
A low moan caught Clarke’s attention and she looked to the tiger’s eyes. She was mesmerised for a moment by the tiger’s bright, luminescent blue eyes. The tiger looked as if she was pleading with Clarke. Clarke looked down to the tiger’s extended belly and lightly touched it. She wasn’t surprised but still amazed when she felt the movement of the tiger’s unborn cubs. She was startled when she suddenly heard a loud purr rumble out of the tiger. She looked back to the tiger’s eyes and saw that the light had begun to dim from her blue depths. Panic crawled into her heart when she realized the tiger had started to still. She glanced down at the tiger’s pregnant belly then to the tiger’s eyes that slowly closed.
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of your cubs…” Clarke whispered to the tiger as she gently scratched at her jaw. She swore she could see relief in the tiger’s features, but she wasn’t sure as the tiger let out a low heavy breath for the final time as she closed her eyes.
Clarke shook herself out of her sudden grief and quickly kicked into gear to save the cubs lives. She grabbed onto the sword hilt that protruded out of the now-dead tiger. She used the flash of anger that shot through her for the one who had stabbed the tiger to yank it out. She moved to kneel next to the belly that still wiggled to cut the white tiger’s belly open quickly and carefully. She chucked the blade to the side and dug her hands inside of the tiger’s belly. Clarke’s experience as an apprentice with her mother and a doctor on the ground the only thing that stopped her gag reflex. She grimaced as she grabbed onto the cub she had first felt wreathe around by its legs and pulled it out. The red mess she pulled out started to meow immediately and she couldn’t help the small smile. She gently laid it down next to its mother and her heart clenched when she saw that it immediately moved to suckle on its dead mother’s nipple.
Clarke repeated the process two more times. Once the tiger cubs were all out and fed peacefully, unaware of their mother’s death, Clarke took off her coat and long-sleeved shirt. She left her bra and tank top on and moved to rip up her shirt. She used the rags of her shirt and the leftover water in her canteen to clean off the cubs while they fed. She cleaned them as best as she could in the dim light of the moon. The first two cubs were orange and black, while the last one had the same white and black pattern as its mother. One of the orange and black cubs was male while the other was female. The white and black cub was female.
Once she had cleaned the cubs she paused as she thought about how she was going to keep them alive. They were blind meowing, purring balls of fur the size of human babies and completely dependent on her now. Brief panic shot through Clarke before she took a deep breath and began to plan on how she was going to take care of them.
She drank the last of the water in her canteen and began to milk the breasts that the cubs didn’t suckle on. She felt bad that she tampered with the tiger’s dead body, but she needed to get the milk before the body started to decompose. Her canteen could hold one litre and she managed to fill it almost all the way. While she filled the canteen, the cubs seemed to have had their full and had huddled together against their mothers dying body heat.
Clarke used her long coat to make a makeshift bag to sling across her shoulder to carry the cubs in. She hooked the canteen back onto her belt and moved to gently transfer the cubs into the makeshift bag. They meowed as she moved them, but they quickly snuggled into the bag and had started to purr. She checked if the bag could hold their weight before she grabbed the leftover clean rags and paused.
She had no food for herself. She hadn’t eaten since she left her people. She needed to keep her strength for the cubs. She swallowed as she looked from the clean rags in her hand, to the bloodied sword to the side, and then to the dead tiger’s cooling body before her. She steeled herself and apologised to the tiger before she moved away from the cubs snuggled into her coat to grab the sword and cut into the tiger’s body. She sliced a few chunks off the tiger and tried to keep her uneasy stomach from heaving. She took enough that she could carry and wrapped it in the clean rags. She moved back to the cubs. She placed the sword and meat to the side and strung the makeshift bag around her neck and shoulder. She grabbed the wrapped meat and hooked it on her belt. She checked if her coat could hold the cubs before she grabbed the sword and stood up.
The cubs were heavy, and she grunted at the unexpected weight, but she forced herself to straighten up. She glanced one last time at the dead tiger; sadness filled her heart at the sight. She sighed before she gently rubbed the cubs through her coat.
“I’ll take care of you guys, don’t worry.” She quietly whispered to the cubs before she slowly made her way from the tragic sight. She couldn’t stick around the dead body for long. The blood would attract other predators and she needed to get away from it as far as she can before she sets up camp. At least she wasn’t alone with ghosts anymore…