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Chapter Text

The blood tasted bitter and metallic as it gurgled out of her mouth when she collapsed on the forest floor.

I want my mamma, was Zoe Monroe’s last thought as she died.

The smell of gunpowder and the sound of shots still reverberated in the air, while a man ran away from the screams and chaos. He hid behind bushes, crouching with his back against a tree trunk. He jerkily pulled off the ragged scarf around his head and mouth with shaking hands and panted heavily.

After a few minutes of regaining his breath, he covered his face again with the scarf leaving only his ice blue eyes visible. He got up with determination and took off again.

John Murphy had one mission. Find Clarke and Lexa kom Trikru.

The fragrant scent of grass filled Clarke’s nose as their horses crushed the tender green long grasses in the beautiful rolling plains of the Ingranrona, the clan of the Plain Riders. They had left the Boudalan mountains behind them and had veered northeast. They had been traveling on the endless plateau of the Great Plains for the past few days, the immense blue skies over them seeming never-ending on the horizon.

A sudden piercing whistle sounded across the plain. A long whistle followed by three short acute ones. Clarke was startled when she heard another next to her from Lexa herself. She made a series of sounds with her mouth that seemed to follow a distinct pattern and carried across the distance. Before she could ask what was happening, a thunderous rumble resounded all around. Seemingly out of nowhere, two huge groups of horsemen came at them at full speed from each of the sides of their small caravan, the hooves making the air itself rattle and a cacophony of whistles, hoots and hollers adding to the rumbling noise.

A wide-eyed Clarke looked at Lexa only to find her moving her horse next to hers already and grabbing Clarke’s reins. For a second Clarke thought the horsemen would crash against them on both sides. At the last moment, however, they changed directions and flanked them, and their entire caravan jumped into full speed with them. Tombon Faya, her capricious and misbehaving mare, suddenly took off with utter abandon, like she had been electrified. In a matter of seconds, she had flown to the head of the group at breakneck speed and Clarke could do nothing but hold on for dear life.

Lexa, however, was right next to her, having anticipated the reaction, her hand in a vice grip on Clarke’s reins, her own trusted bossy Stah Wocha edging Tombon out to keep her from going fully out of control. Rather than seeing worry etched on Lexa’s face though, she saw a wide smile. She looked so free, and happy and untamed, with her hair flowing wildly in the wind and eyes blazing with daring excitement, galloping carefree next to Clarke.

Clarke fell a little more in love at the sight but that was a daily occurrence now, that hopeless and never-ending falling that seemed as immense as the skies above them. So she smiled in return, letting the feeling wash over her and letting the exhilaration of riding at full speed and unrestrained with Lexa, take over her.

That’s also when Clarke realized the whistles and hoots and hollers hadn’t been an attack but sounds of jubilation and welcome. And as she remembered being told, a entire language made only of whistling that the Ingranrona cavalry riders used across the plains.

The welcome was soon being echoed back at them as they came upon a thicket of pine trees and the edges of a sprawling city. And smack dab in the middle of them was a sight that tore all breath from Clarke’s lungs.

An enormous rocky outcrop stood out from the trees, like a round jutting mountain that had been placed there in the middle of the otherwise flat plains. But it wasn’t a normal mountain. It was a massive, sandy-colored granite hill topped by a colossal figure sculpted from the mountain itself in the shape of a long-haired warrior on a running stallion, his arm outstretched and a finger pointing forward.

Lexa slowed their horses down to a gentle walk and turned to her.

“Welcome to He'nétoonȯtse Nȧhahévo'ha,” she said with a smile in a strange tongue. “The Gates of the Wild Horse.”

The had finally arrived at the great border city of the Plain Riders.

May 7^th, 2072 – Somewhere along route KS-49

“You know, you shouldn’t really be hitchhiking with strangers. It’s not safe,” the older girl behind the wheel of the rusty pick-up truck said.

“And you shouldn’t tell people you have money. They’ll steal from you,” the young boy offered with an easy smile.

The pair of hitchhikers had blurted out they could pay for the ride and had even taken out a stuffed wallet to prove it when the truck had stopped in front of them. They had been waiting on the side of the road a few paces from the exit of the gas station, looking lost and standing out like sore thumbs. The boy wore black pants and a white shirt, with suspenders and a straw hat on his sandy blond locks. The girl had on a blue and black long-sleeved dress and a white bonnet on her straw-blonde hair. Each carried a heavy leather backpack and nervous grey eyes on their freckle-peppered faces.

“I know,” Sadie, the blonde girl said, blushing in embarrassment. “But you… you aren’t strangers. Not completely. I saw you at the gas station. I heard you saying you were going on a trip. That’s why we decided to ask you,” she stammered slightly in her thick accent.

At their puzzled stare, she amended.

“I saw you some weeks ago. At the Repentance Ceremony,” she explained. “Papa said you more like us than the English. That you took care of the land and believed in family and community like us. He said… he said you were good people.”

The older girl nodded in understanding.

Two months earlier, several Amish communities and members of the Cheyenne tribes in Oklahoma and Kansas from the reservations in the area had come together, as part of a series of Repentance events that had been going on over the years in different states with Native American groups. The Amish bishop presiding over the ceremony that day had told the audience that when the Amish had come to the colonies, they preached a pacifist philosophy and rejected all violence, but had stood by and had done nothing when they saw the atrocities committed against the natives. They had benefited even, taking the land they had been pushed out of. ‘Could they truly be people of peace if they had let that happen without intervening,’ the bishop questioned solemnly on that cloudy day and had then asked for forgiveness.

“I’m Asha,” the driver finally introduced herself, looking at the blonde through the rear-view mirror. “These are the twins, my brother and sister,” she motioned to the two 15-year-olds next to her on the front bench seat. The twins had turned towards the back since they had gotten in the truck, their chins on the seat, looking in fascination at them.

“I’m Blossom,” one of the twins said.

“I’m John. John Looks Twice,” the boy said with charming grin and a wink, his hair in a loose ponytail under an old baseball cap that he wore backwards.

Sadie giggled silently at his antics.

“I’m Sadie. Sadie Hochstetler. This is my brother Samuel,” the Amish girl replied. “It is very nice to meet you.”

“What did you mean by the English?” Blossom asked curiously.

“The others,” Samuel supplied. “The outsiders.”

“So where are you guys headed?” Asha asked.

“I’m not sure,” Sadie replied with a furrowed brow.

“You don’t know where you’re going?” Asha puzzled.

“Samuel just started his Rumspringa. He wanted to leave the community and I just knew that he’d get in trouble if he went by himself.”

“I can take care of myself just fine,” Samuel protested.

“What’s that?” John Looks Twice asked.

“When we turn 16 and until we get baptized, we can explore the outside world without our parents always nagging us,” Samuel offered, rolling his eyes when he mentioned his parents. “My friends they all stay in the community and just party around the woods, but I wanted to see everything!” he added excited.

“I haven’t been baptized yet either, so when I caught him packing last night, I decided to come with him. Make sure he doesn’t get killed or something. Until we go back.”

“If I go back,” he grinned.

“We don’t have a plan. I just took my savings and packed. Then we saw you at the store,” she shrugged.

“Where are you going?” Samuel pipped up.

“We’re going all the way to South Dakota. Think we might make it there by tonight. There’s an annual gathering of Cheyenne nations there, at the Crazy Horse Memorial.”

“What’s that?”

“You know Mount Rushmore?”

At the blank faces on Sadie and Samuel’s faces, Blossom tried again.

“You know, where the faces of presidents are carved on a mountain?”

They shook their heads, clueless. They were from one of the most orthodox Old Amish orders that shunned all technology and had minimal contact with the outside world.

“Well, a few miles away from Mt. Rushmore there is similar monument. Crazy Horse. He was a Lakota chief but the memorial was built to celebrate all Native American cultures. Northern Cheyenne come down from Montana and we Southern Cheyenne go up from Oklahoma and meet there. We reunite and celebrate. Dance. Eat. It’s one of our biggest powwows and this year it starts tomorrow, on Mother’s Day! So it’s gonna be bigger!” Blossom’s face lighting up as she explained.

“And the twins perform. Blossom was Little Cheyenne Princess last year at home,” Asha smiled. “Since I was on break from college, I got stuck baby-sitting these two clowns for this trip.”

“You dance?” Sadie asked with a widening smile.

“We sing and dance, but my favorite part is reciting the legends,” Blossom answered with bright eyes. “John just likes to pretend he’s a warrior.”

“I am a warrior,” he puffed his chest exaggeratedly making an angry face only to dissolve in laughter with his twin sister.

“Better than just telling legends and old stories,” he joked just to tease her.

“They’re not just stories,” Blossom countered. “It’s our heritage. Our history. If we have that, we’re never truly poor, or alone or lost. It’s always there to guide us.”

“Can we… can we go with you?” Sadie asked hesitantly.

Asha could see the mix of hope and fear in both the siblings’ eyes. She couldn’t imagine living such a sheltered and relatively innocent life and suddenly be out in a chaotic, different and unforgiving world. She knew how easily two kids could get lost and swallowed up in a bigger city. How dangerous it could be.

“Sure,” she replied kindly. “You’ll be more than welcome with us.”

Everybody ran. Some ran to their cars and drove off. Most took refuge inside the welcome center, the museum, the gift shop and the other small facilities around the visitor complex at the Crazy Horse Memorial.

They had arrived the night before and had woken up early to explore the place on that sunny Mother’s Day. The memorial was brimming with people, music, dancers in bright feathered costumes scurrying towards the outdoor arena and food stalls on one side of the huge parking lot. When suddenly the ground had shaken. Rumbled violently and for far longer than it would if it were an earthquake. They had seen white flashes in the distant horizon. Sirens had gone off somewhere far away. The ground continued to shake while everyone crouched under tables and in corners and held on to each other crying and in panic. Pings from notifications and rings on phones started to sound after a few minutes had passed.

Conflicting information started to come in about an attack. People exclaimed in shock that New York had been bombed. Others insisted it was Los Angeles instead. Bombings in other places around the world. John Looks Twice crawled on all fours to the large flat screen that was mounted on one of the walls of the lobby and turned it on.

A black screen greeted them with a loud beeping tone blaring off. White and red letters flashed with a message from the Emergency Alert System. A computer-generated voice read the message:

EMERGENCY ALERT SYSTEM

National Authorities

Issued an

Emergency Action Notification:

NUCLEAR THREAT WARNING

For all U.S. Territories

Until Further Notice

The U.S. Pacific Command reports nuclear bomb impacts in the cities of New York and Los Angeles. SEEK IMMEDIATE SHELTER.

Imminent nuclear ballistic missiles have been detected inbound for the following locations: Chicago, Houston, Phoenix, Philadelphia, San Antonio, San Diego, San Jose, Dallas, Austin, San Francisco, Denver, Seattle, Washington D.C., Jacksonville, Columbus, Fort Worth, Charlotte, Boston. Impact on land estimated within minutes. SEEK IMMEDIATE SHELTER.

Stay indoors away from windows. Standby for further information from FEMA on local evacuation and fallout shelter instructions.

That had been almost a week ago. When the hours and days passed, the full horrific picture began to emerge. The internet and cell phone towers had gone dead, as did many national TV channels, but smaller local networks were still managing to transmit somehow. The bombings had happened around the world. Satellites in orbit had been shot out too. About half had left following instructions on fallout shelters and bunkers in the cities of Edgemont and Pierre. Others had been too afraid of more bombings and the radiation in the air to go out.

They had set out the conference rooms in the complex as sleeping quarters and had inventoried the food in the restaurant storages and the medicine in the small visitor’s clinic. Others had taken the task of sealing off all windows, cracks and door seams with plastic and tape. The five teenagers had remained close together throughout it all.

When the news came that the bunkers had been targeted too in the last round of bombings, no one else talked about leaving. No one but one.

“I need to leave,” the increasingly panicky voice of a woman was heard in the stillness of the room. “I need to leave now. I have to.”

She was in her mid-forties and had frizzy, peroxided curly hair under a green casino visor hat. She was short and stocky, with nervous blue eyes and what seemed like spray-tanned skin. There was little girl in pigtails tucked at her side while her other hand clutched a gaudy looking unicorn pendant on a chain with fake pink gemstones along its tail.

“Haven’t you realized, lady?” an old man pipped up. “There is nowhere to go.”

“I need to go home.”

“He’s right. It’s too dangerous. Not only because of the bombs. Didn’t you see the news? The riots. The mobs. The groups attacking and robbing everyone,” Asha warned.

“You don’t understand. Norma Jane. I have to get to Norma Jane. My sister. I need to get her,” she said distraught in her heavy Dakotan drawl.

“Maybe she’s been evacuated somewhere safe,” Sadie offered hopefully.

“If she was in a city, I wouldn’t get my hopes up,” the old man said cynically.

When they all looked at him horrified, he continued.

“I’m a veteran. This was a planned attack. It had a pattern. First the biggest cities, then the next largest ones, and the next. Military bases, bunkers, urban centers. Don’t you see? We’re safer here than anywhere else. Look around you. Look at the map in the lobby. We’re in the middle of nowhere,” he gesticulated. “Only national parks and reservations for hundreds of miles all around us. No targets of value. Farther away from the radiation than anywhere else.”

“Rapid City,” she shook her head. “We live in Rapid City. It’s small. Just 70 thousand people. Maybe… maybe it wasn’t hit. The station, KCLO, that was still broadcasting. It was from there,” she said stubbornly.

“We want to go too,” Sadie finally said. “Samuel and I. We have to go back to our community. Help our family.”

“We can’t!” Asha insisted. “Not now, but we will go. When things settle down. We don’t know what else is happening or will happen out there. We need to stay put for now. We need to plan it, but we will go. For our parents. For yours. And for your sister, lady. I promise.”

“I can’t wait. I can’t wait. You don’t understand. Norma Jane. She’s sick… she had surgery. I asked my neighbor to watch over her. Lilith really wanted to see the festival and it was just supposed to be a day trip. I can’t leave her alone.”

“Maybe your neighbor is taking care of her then,” Blossom tried to comfort her.

“He’s a bastard. I had to give him a fifty just to watch her for the day. He probably ran. Left her. She’s in a wheelchair.” The blonde lady wiped her tears and stood up. “I’m going.”

The teens followed her in an attempt to change her mind.

“Maybe she was evacuated. It’s too dangerous. For you and your daughter. You heard what that mister said,” the always kind Sadie pleaded. “This is the safest place for now.”

“Then I’ll come back here. But I have to go get her.”

“Lady…”

“Nadine. My name is Nadine.”

“Nadine. Just wait. We’ll go all together. Maybe in a few weeks…”

“No. You don’t get it. She’s my sister. She… when our mother died, I was just 9 years old. She was still in high school, but she took care of me. She dropped out and worked three jobs just to feed us both. She was like a mother to me. When mom died, Norma Jane gave me this necklace and promised me to always look out for me. And she has. All my life. Now it’s my turn. I can’t leave her, you see. I owe everything to her,” she said tightly, more tears falling down her cheeks.

The old veteran came over to the group huddled near the door.

“Here.” He lifted one of his pant legs and took a small revolver strapped to his ankle. He handed it to Nadine. “The red dot means it’s unlocked. Remember to always aim for the head.” And then left without another word.

Blossom suddenly took off for the museum section and came back a minute later. She had a big knife she had taken from one of the exhibition glass cabinets and a tourist map from the lobby. She handed them to Nadine in silence.

“Stay off the main roads. If you get lost, follow the direction of sunset to get back,” Asha said with resignation.

“You’re right. It’s too risky for Lilith. Will you…” she swallowed hard. “Will you please take care of her for me, while we get back?” she asked with a pleading voice.

Asha just nodded, a knot in her throat. John and Samuel, who had been entertaining the toddler with jokes and games during the last few days, looked at each other and went to take her from Nadine’s arms. They led her to the restaurant where they had been building forts with her with the tablecloths.

Asha, Blossom and Sadie took Nadine to the kitchen and proceeded to cover her, as best they could in plastic bags and tape. One of the many alert messages had told people to completely cover themselves in plastic in the event they had to go out and wash themselves in water and soap afterwards to decontaminate from any radiated particles in the dust. Then they took turns hugging the woman and watched her leave through one of the back doors to her small car.

Nadine didn’t come back.

Nadine didn’t come back for four weeks.

Until one late afternoon she appeared on the small winding road leading to the mountain complex. She was on foot, covered in grime, dirt and dried blood. She was wearing the same clothes she had on the day she left, bits of the plastic cover still stuck to her with the tape. She had lost one shoe and was walking on a bloodied socked foot. She was pushing a wheelchair, an older large lady sitting on it. It was Norma Jane. The teens and a few of the people ran to help her.

Their hearts nearly stopped when they saw them up close. Nadine’s face had scratches all over and half of it was covered in purplish yellowish bruises, with one eye swollen shut and a split lip. A bruise in the shape of a hand was visible closed around her neck. A deep gash marked her neck where her necklace had been ripped off. She was haggard and could barely stand up, hunched to one side, a blackened bruise on her side where part of her shirt was torn out. Norma Jane, still in a nightgown, was dirty and had a hand splint made out of a branch but seemed otherwise unhurt.

The three girls had helped bathe and feed them that night, seeing the extent of the damage on Nadine’s body. Her haunted eyes and quiet sobs for the next nights were a confirmation of just what had happened to her. What had been done to her. Their heart broke for her but it also filled with admiration for her bravery.

One night, a few days later, when the teens had been sitting with her, keeping the two women company and cradling Lilith to sleep, Nadine spoke up.

“We let this happen,” she whispered.

“What?”

“All of it. Everything. We let ourselves live in a world where it was okay for people to screw over others and everyone let it happen. We just sat and wanted someone else to solve everything for us. The police, a judge, the government and then shrugged when they never did. And everyday everyone was getting screwed over, crushed, robbed, festering in hate, until the last straw broke the camel’s back and the whole world spun out of control. It’s so much hate and rage out there right now. They’re just hacking away at anyone that’s left.” She swallowed and reflexively reached out to the necklace that was no longer there.

“I’m not much of a religious person, but I do believe in one thing. Eye for an eye. If that little scumbag that always cuts in front of you and takes your parking space at the supermarket, if you could smack him upside the head and make him pay for it, he would never become a monster when he grows up. If people could take justice in their own hands and teach each asshole a lesson, the world would be a better place. But we all let ourselves get screwed over, smacked down. We let people become nasty. This is the price we’re paying. All this. If Mamma Earth blowing up in our face on her birthday isn’t some fuck you divine sign, I don’t know what is,” she coughed and held her side, wheezing a bit. “If you ever find that bastard that did this to me, promise me, you’ll make him pay. Promise me, you won’t let people get nasty again,” she flitted her feverish eyes around looking at all the kids.

“You should rest, Nadine,” Sadie said sadly. Nadine had been rambling with a high fever for the past few hours.

“At least I got my sister back, like I promised. Those animals couldn’t get to her. We promised mom we’d take care of each other and we did, didn’t we, Norma?” she said while squeezing her sister’s hand. “We’re safe now. We’re safe.”

Nadine died in the early hours of the morning.

She had succumbed to her internal injuries. The clinic only had a first aid kit and basic medicine for small injuries for the visitors. There had only been a nurse and a med intern among the group of survivors and Nadine would’ve needed extensive surgery to save her. Norma Jane died hours later, clinging to her hand. From sadness. From the illness she already had. No one knew. But the sisters both died safe, together, hand in hand, surrounded by people and love.

But they decided that day to never let anything like this ever happen again. They would never let anyone take anything or anyone from them.

It took them several months to plan their rescue mission led by Asha. They had a whole parking lot filled with vehicles from all the people that had been attending the powwow, many of them pick-up trucks, trailer homes and food trucks since they had been planning to stay there for the weeklong festivities. Many were ranchers who kept hunting rifles in their trucks. They raided the museum too, taking all the weapons that had been on display: bows and arrows, knifes, tomahawk axes and buffalo jawbone clubs.

Most stayed behind to guard their camp. A small group of 30 formed a caravan with the biggest vehicles, armed to the teeth and started their journey south, taking only smaller roads and often traveling only at night. It took them a week to arrive to the reservation where Asha’s family lived. Not many people were left, having taken off and dispersed in the general panic. Asha’s grandmother, mother and cousins were still there. As well as a few dozen families. They took the additional trucks they found, including several cattle flatbeds and loaded them with the horses that had been abandoned from the couple of horse ranches on the reservation. They continued making their way south and were only surprisingly attacked twice. Both groups of robbers were dispatched quickly and ruthlessly.

When they finally arrived at the Amish community, they thought they had arrived too late. A layer of dust and silence covered everything. No one could be seen and the crops had dried.

Sadie and Samuel still got out of the car and ran to their house, calling out ‘papa’, ‘mama’, followed by Asha and some of her armed Cheyenne friends.

They found them in the cellar. All of them. Alive and huddled in silence thinking it was a band of marauders. They hugged and cried, disbelieving they had been reunited. When the father looked over his kids’ shoulders and saw Asha and the rest, he recognized some of their faces.

“We couldn’t just standby and do nothing,” the young woman said smiling, echoing the words of their bishop in what felt like another lifetime.

The man burst into tears and came to hug her too.

Nearly the entire community was still there. All hiding in their cellars eating from their canned reserves and biding their time.

They loaded every single thing they could in the caravan of vehicles. Farm equipment, smelting and wood machines, all their food stores and grains, chicken, clothes, oil lamps and anything they knew they would need. They took every single buggy and horse-drawn cart they could drive, even if it meant the caravan would go back slowly, but they knew it was the only way they would be able to make it with such a large group of survivors.

All in all, between those back at Crazy Horse, the ones rescued at the reservation and at the Amish community, they would be nearly a 900 strong group, fighting together to survive in their new world.

When Asha’s had been born, to a depressed unemployed father who had drunk himself to death and a mother who worked as a waitress to keep the leaky trailer roof over their heads, her mother had sworn to herself that her daughter would have a different life. That she would send her to college and that she would finally break the cycle and change their future. She named her Asha. In their language it meant ‘Hope.’

And it was Hope that had come to save them, all of them, on those fateful days at the end of the world. And Hope that led them to the beginning of a new one.

The feisty clan leader, Rohana, and several chieftains had been waiting for them at the entrance to greet them.

Rohana’s eyes had shined with admiration when she saw the two leaders at the head of the caravan galloping at great speed approaching the city. Lexa’s horse had always been a daunting sight to behold. It was a huge, powerfully built, beautiful black Friesian with a wild curly mane and feathery long hair above its hooves. It was imposing and elegant with one of the most graceful gaits she had ever seen, trained in the Shallow Valley style by Lexa herself. Only Lexa’s father’s clan bred those horses and had very peculiar training styles, at least in Rohana’s eyes. Clarke on the other hand had been riding the white feral mare Rohana herself had gifted Lexa, after her people had found it roaming alone in the wild without a herd. It wasn’t a mustang like the other plain horses. It was a strange breed, beautiful and long-limbed, but irascible, jumpy and stubborn as a mule. No one had been able to tame it. It was a surprise to see the sky girl on it.

They entered the city on foot, their horses taken to be looked after. They were told the matter of the union was to be addressed the next day and a ritual of sorts had been arranged specifically for Clarke before the clan council made a decision about the Badannes-de, or the pledging of loyalty. Today they wanted to take advantage of Heda’s presence and pick her brain about a series of internal clan affairs, to which they invited Clarke out of politeness, though she had no formal role in those discussions, or she could explore the city if she preferred. Out of respect, Clarke declined the invitation to the clan council and decided instead to see the sights.

Sybil excused herself as well. The journey had been heavy on her and she went to rest.

Indra joined Clarke on her exploration, wanting to spread her legs after so many hours on a horse. Ryder walked behind them, guarding Clarke as always and secretly delighted as this was one of his favorite places in the Kongeda for the food and for other reasons. 

The border town was sprawling city that wrapped all around the round mountain and was loosely organized in a series of rings or zones. Its more solid and bigger houses and halls made of wooden planks were located at the base of the mountain with their backs to it providing them natural protection. Smaller dwellings made up the next ring, crisscrossed with dirt roads filled with horse-drawn buggies and carriages also made of wood, unlike the metallic and haphazardly welded carts she had seen in Trikru. The next ring was an assortment of stalls and alleyways. Woodworkers sanding wheels, blacksmiths repairing horseshoes, people spinning yarn, weavers making cloth on large looms, vendors selling cheeses and breads and a variety of jarred, pickled vegetables, jams and drying strings of sausages and meats. At this point, the city faded into sparsely inhabited grassy lands with barns and farmhouses. And finally, an outer ring of tightly packed tents. Teepees to be exact. Beautiful teepees made of painted and embroidered deerskin depicting moving horses, buffalos and birds, held up by thin wooden poles. It was such a contrast to the rest of the city, much like their inhabitants.

“They look… so different,” Clarke thought out loud, having noticed the visual clash since she had entered the city.

Some of the Ingranrona dressed in such simple mostly black clothes and wore nothing but a straw hat or a neat cloth tied on their head, their hair in tight buns. And nothing else. No adornments or embellishments. While the other half was an explosion of color, feathers and beads and beautifully embroidered clothes covered in animal shapes, lines and buffalo hides. Their faces had a variety of paints and their hair was long and usually worn in thick braids or puffed up along the center like the mane of a horse, like Rohana wore hers.

“Steda,” Indra surprised her by saying, motioning with her chin to the plainer looking ones. “The mish settlers. The only ones who have cities and stay there. The ones that build and do all this,” she gestured around them to the stalls with preserved food and craftsmen.

“Romeda,” she pointed to group passing by with colorful feathers. “Those who roam.”

It was such a strange occurrence for Indra to address her or offer any explanation unless she asked, insistently. Even know, it wasn’t a detailed explanation like Lexa would’ve given her, but she appreciated it, nonetheless.

She did know the Ingranrona were mostly nomadic, following the migrations of their hunt and that only small number of fixed settlements existed. She didn’t they would be so distinctive and varied. It was such a wonder to behold.

“Why do they dress so differently though?” she attempted, wondering if Indra would continue.

“The romeda dress like the birds and the bison who wander too,” she replied succinctly. Well, at least she was trying.

When she saw Clarke still sported an arched eyebrow, Indra swallowed a sigh. She would never understand the Skaikru’s penchant for incessant talking, but she guessed the more Clarke understood the better it would be if she was going to be Heda’s bonded.

“She is a Hidden Grass.” She used her fingers to motion paint lines on her face, Clarke following her gaze to a young woman with thick white and black lines adorning her face. “The hunters’ order. It helps them hide in the long grasses.”

“A Lilitu, a cavalry warrior.” She put her hand over her mouth, while staring at several warriors getting on their horses, a black handprint painted over their mouths, the rest of their face painted red or white, buffalo jawbone clubs hanging from their waist. It was an intimidating sight. “I silence you with death,” she explained the handprint.

“Fast as Lightning,” she motioned to the thunderbolt symbols painted on the temple of some. “The fastest, best riders. The captains.”

“Nahkôheso, weren’t you going to say hello to me?”

(Little Bear)

A short woman with dark, roguish eyes and small grey feathers in her braids had said in a sweet teasing voice, stepping out of a big tent.

Clarke turned around only to witness something she had never seen before in all this time. Ryder had stopped mid stride, a slow wide smile stretching on his face as he turned to the woman. Clarke had been pretty sure, until then, that he was incapable of smiling or of any other expression other than the stoic face and monosyllabic prompts he’d give her when they sparred.

“My sweet dove,” he said, his eyes sparkling with delight.

Clarke couldn’t help but smile for him.

“I was coming to find you later,” he assured.

“Go,” Indra gave him permission.

“But Wanheda…” he tried. He was her main bodyguard after all.

“Is well guarded,” Indra interrupted, her gaze falling on two additional Polis guards that had been shadowing them all this time.

“And Heda told me to give you leave as soon as your… dove… found you,” Indra said. There was almost… almost amusement in her expression.

Maybe it was a trick of the light, but Clarke could’ve sworn Ryder blushed and then looked at Clarke.

She only nodded, pressing her lips, trying not to laugh.

He bent his head in acquiescence and murmured a ‘mochof’ before turning around and then engulfing the small woman in his huge arms and entering her tent.

Indra and Clarke continued walking around, Clarke sometimes asking something and Indra trying hard not being impatient. When the sun started to come down, one of Rohana’s guard found them and led them to their lodgings.

Clarke was taken to a beautiful teepee with a vast interior. There was a fire pit in the middle and a bed covered in dark fur at the end, as well as long soft seats on each side around the fire.

A tray of food was brought in for her. It had a bowl of thick soup of bison meat, corn and squash and a buttery, fluffy ball of pastry filled with berry jam. Clarke was famished and her mouth watered over it, but she wanted to wait for Lexa.

When she asked the boy who brought her the food about Lexa, he told her she was still in a meeting with clan chieftains but that food had been taken to them. He then went about filling a round tub-like basin with fresh water, made of hardened leather and rings of wood.

Clarke devoured her food and then sank in the small contraption and scrubbed herself of all the grime of their travel. She sighed in relief and hoped Lexa would soon come back.

“Did you always know you wanted to be a doctor?”

“I did. Why, honey?”

“Our skills teacher said we need to choose our occupation soon, so we can start our apprenticeships,” the small blonde girl said.

“I thought you’d want to be an engineer, like your dad?” Abby said, knowing Clarke loved to watch him tinker with odd pieces he’d sometimes bring home.

Clarke shook her head and shrugged.

“So maybe a doctor, like me?” she tried.

“Why did you want to be one?” she asked looking up earnestly from under golden eyelashes and cheeks that still hadn’t lost the roundness of childhood.

“Well, Griffins have always been doctors. There’s always been a Griffin doctor on the Ark, but even before. Gramps said it’s how we got our name in the first place.”

The little girl scrunched her eyebrows curiously.

Abby picked her up and set her on her lap, running her hand over her tresses.

“You know what a griffin is?”

“Well, us.”

Abby chuckled.

“Well, yes. Not the family name through. A griffin. It’s an animal. Part lion, part eagle.”

Clarke widened her eyes.

“It wasn’t a real animal, but people thought they existed. They believed griffins guarded precious treasures, gold and such, and that their claws or feathers could cure diseases because they were magical. Gramps said the first of our family name was a doctor and they took the name because that’s what they wanted to do, to heal people.”

“Then why isn’t dad a doctor?”

“Cause he’s from the Griffins from Mecha station. I’m a Griffin from Alpha. We have the same name and are distant, distant relatives but not the same.” Abby didn’t want to go into detail.

They were distant relations, 20 generations to be exact, but enough that when they met and told each other their names they knew they could never conceive a child together. No one did on the anymore Ark, with the gene pool so small and genetic mutations and inbreeding a real problem. That’s what the Gen Lab’s sole purpose was now, screening and authorizing only ‘non-conflicting’ fertilizations between people that showed no intersected genetic ancestry. The lab was the only thing left from the Colony Population Program after the Polaris station – carrying most of their precious genetic cargo with hundreds of thousands of new high-radiation resistant genomes –, had been blasted out of the sky. It was the reason a Griffin had been on board the Ark in the first place, to run the program, and had been on Alpha beforehand to set up the lab while the cargo was brought by Polaris. It’s why she now ran it and was one of the few people on the entire Ark who knew about Polaris. It’s why, when they decided to have a child, instead of using a random non-conflicting sample the system matched her with from others Ark inhabitants when spouses were genetically related, even distantly, Abby found something else in the sample vault. One day she might tell Clarke, but not today.

So Abby continued, “But it really doesn’t matter, being a doctor or something else. What people misunderstood is that the treasure griffins guarded wasn’t gold or riches. It was life. And that our true calling as Griffins. To take care of people. Of life.”

She caressed her daughter’s cheek.

“Whatever you do, honey, know that I will always be proud of you. Because I know that’s what in your heart too,” she reassured, bopping her nose with her finger and smiling at her.

“How do you know?”

“A mother always knows.”

The most impossibly endearing sight greeted her when she woke up.

Lexa sat on a small stool and was cleaning off the last remnants of her kohl but could barely keep her eyes open from pure exhaustion. She was blinking heavily and tiredly wiping her eyelids. It made the blonde smile fondly at the sight.

Clarke could see she had already washed up, her leather roll of brushes and a water basing set out in front of her and had changed into her sleeping clothes. Much to Clarke’s chagrin, Lexa didn’t wear her dramatic and revealing nightgowns when they traveled but kept a clean set of soft riding pants and thin long-sleeves just for sleep. If their camp was attacked and they had to fight or flee, it was more practical. And this way she didn’t have to sleep in dusty, sweaty clothes from a full day of riding.

“Here, let me help you,” Clarke said softly and went to sit in front of her, taking the wet cloth Lexa was using into her hand.

“Hey,” Lexa whispered and smiled, looking up at Clarke.

She had been surprised and happy when she had seen the blonde sleeping in her tent and had been trying to move around quietly to not wake her up.

Clarke took her chin in one hand and with her other she gently passed the cloth on her skin. Lexa closed her eyes for a second and hummed, then opened them again. Her big beautiful eyes were glassy and unfocused with sleep, but they were flitting over Clarke’s face intently. Slowly. Unguardedly.

Clarke’s heart fluttered and she felt the heat rising to her face.

Lexa’s gaze then fixated on blue eyes and Clarke smiled in the stretching silence. Lexa’s lips curled up in response, a light dusting of pink spreading on the apple of her cheeks and she looked down for a second. Clarke’s smile widened further, and a sigh got trapped in her chest.  

“There,” she whispered in the small space between them, finishing and putting down the cloth. “Now go to bed. You haven’t slept since we left Boudalan.”

Ever since they had left the Rock Line clan, Lexa had accelerated their pace and extended their riding until late at night. They didn’t even set tents and instead slept under the stars so they could be on their way again in the early hours of the morning. Lexa had been more worried and weary than usual and wanted to do their tour of all clans in as little time as possible, given everything that was happening and the distinct possibility that they were being followed. Usually, whenever they set camp, Lexa had always been the first to check the perimeter and keep the first watch of the night and was the first to do the same at first light. On this leg of their journey, however, she had been on permanent alert and kept watch nearly all night without any sleep, and had only relented during the time reserved for Clarke’s training, which she faithfully maintained daily.

Now Lexa frowned at the suggestion and Clarke could’ve sworn seeing a hint of a pout.

“No. Not yet,” she refused quietly, a stubborn flash in her eyes.

“We’re safe here,” Clarke reminded her.

They were in the thick of teepees around the city reserved for the cavalry, next to Rohana’s own, with guards posted all around. She personally would’ve felt safer in the houses at the base of the mountain where Sybil was staying, but the Plain Rider leader had offered them her two best teepees set out just for them.

“I… it’s not…”, she frowned again. “I haven’t seen you all day. I haven’t seen you in days,” she said in a small voice, that ghost of a pout again on her lips.

Clarke couldn’t help but smile again, warmth spreading in her chest realizing why Lexa didn’t want to go to sleep just yet.

“You’ve seen me every day,” she replied still but boldly reached out to take Lexa’s hand and run her thumb over her knuckles, because she too was starved for Lexa’s presence, for her touch, for just Lexa.

Since they left Boudalan, they barely had had any time to breathe and they hadn’t exchanged meaningful words or touched since their lakeside kisses. Those moments had been on Clarke’s mind every second since, replaying non-stop in her head. The feeling of Lexa’s hungry lips, the needy sounds she had breathed into her mouth, the desperate roughness of her fingers digging into her hips, the way she had deliciously ground into her before stopping. Every memory set Clarke’s body on fire. It had been driving her crazy and she couldn’t help but blush furiously every time she thought about it during the days journeying here while sneaking longing looks at Lexa. She’d also felt impossibly elated by the real affection and tenderness that had accompanied those moments. She had craved a respite from the grueling travel so they could have a moment just to themselves again.

She had no way of knowing how Lexa had felt angry and disappointed in herself for letting her guard down to the point where she had missed someone getting close enough he could’ve attack them, had it not been just a spy from the Boudalan leader. She had put Clarke at risk and had been reckless by continuing to kiss her, so lost in the moment, instead of going to check or neutralize the risk. But, even with all the guilt, it didn’t stop her from re-living those moments continually as well.

Since then a nervous almost shy tension had settled over them, filled with furtive glances and flushed cheeks.

“It’s not the same,” she complained quietly, still not meeting her eyes.

“I know… I’ve missed you too,” Clarke replied truthfully.

Lexa looked up surprised but then she reached out and took Clarke’s other hand in hers, repeating the light caressing movement.

“I’m glad I found you here in my tent,” she told her, the relief evident in her eyes.

The Plain Riders were one of the clans that believed the union between them to be real but had argued with Rohana that they still needed to follow the rules and give Clarke her own separate lodging. They were convinced Lexa had long since taken Clarke as her lover but Heda did not share her bed while sleeping, at least according to Heda customs. At least not until Gon Ogeda was completed. It was Lexa’s decision, but they would respect the custom at least in appearance.  

Clarke had been disappointed when they had led her to her tent and she found out Lexa’s had been set out separately, though still just next to hers. And the council had not let go of the Commander since they had arrived. So when nightfall had come, Clarke had decided to go wait for her in Lexa’s tent and had ended up falling asleep in her furs.

“Will you stay… here?” the brunette asked tentatively after a beat.

Clarke looked to the side of the bed. Lexa followed her gaze and saw Clarke had already brought her things over.

A tiny bashful curl of her lips deepened in one corner of her mouth.

They wordlessly made their way to bed, one hand still loosely connected, Lexa blowing out all the oil lamps but one as they did so.

They got under the furs and faced each other on their sides, Lexa stifling a little yawn with the back of her hand, eyes drooping already.

“Sleep,” Clarke intimated.

The brunette shook her head.

“Tell me something.”

“What?”

“Anything.”

Lexa just wanted to spend some time with Clarke. Talk to her. Hear her voice. Feel her near. Lexa wanted to relish this brief reprieve they would have before leaving the next day yet again.

Clarke was silent for a moment.

“I’ve been thinking about my mom a lot these past days…” she trailed of.

“Your mother?” Lexa repeated curious. “Why?”

“I guess I have been realizing a few things. Things I didn’t want to think about until now.”

“Like what?”

“I was so angry at her, I’ve been so angry at her, because of my dad, so wrapped up in my own pain, that I never stopped to think what she was going through too.”

“That she lost him too.”

Clarke nodded and exhaled a watery sigh.

“She lost the love of her life and I was all she had left, and I… all I ever did was push her away. When I think how alone she must feel and has no one…” she didn’t finish, swallowing heavily, opting to reach out and take Lexa’s hand again.

“I wanted to blame her. I needed to be angry at someone. But I always knew, deep down, she would’ve never done anything to hurt him on purpose. They loved each other so much, it was like… I was so miserable up there, but she was so happy because she had him. She was happy. She must already blame herself and I just made it worse.”

Lexa raised an eyebrow in question. Clarke had told her the broad strokes of her father’s death, but she wasn’t sure she followed.

“My mother grew up with Jaha. Their mothers were friends and they were close themselves their entire lives. She went to him as a friend, not as the Chancellor. She thought he could talk sense into my father. I don’t think she ever imagined Jaha would do what he did. She never would’ve if she did. I know that. She was just doing what she thought was needed, but I couldn’t see it until now.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was like my father. I saw everything in black and white, like everything was simple. Good or bad. Right or wrong. That the people’s right to know the truth was more important than reality. Like avoiding a panic or a riot when they found out. Like waiting to see if the council could come up with solutions before revealing something so… terrible like that. My mom had been one of the leaders on the council for years. She understood that, that reality is grey and that there aren’t easy solutions or truths.”

“And you understood that when you had to take care of your people, when you came to the ground,” Lexa concluded her train of thought.

Clarke nodded.

“She was trying to prevent chaos. She was trying to take care of all of us. And instead she lost the man she loved, and I blamed her for it.”

She sighed with wet eyes, thinking of every single time her own friends had always blamed her for every decision she had ever made. And she had been doing the same to her mom. Her mom who had lost her one true love, the man who made her eyes light up every single time she saw him even after decades together. She couldn’t even fathom the pain or the guilt her mom must put on herself.

“I added to that pain.”

“Clarke, a mother knows her child better than anyone. She is part of the reason you are the way you are, why your heart is so strong. I am sure that she knows how you feel deep down and that you would never seek to hurt her or truly blame her. I am sure she understands you were in pain too.”

“And yet, there she is. Taking care of Arkadia. Taking care of everyone. Probably working herself to the bone. But I keep thinking about that moment, when the day is finally over and she goes back to her room. How alone she is. Even if someday she finds someone, a companion, she’ll never have that again. My dad used to say they were a single heart beating in two bodies. When I think of the pain of losing that, it kills me,” she said with a tight voice, her thumb coming to caress the ring she had put on Lexa’s finger.

Lexa looked to their hands and back up at the blonde’s eyes, trying to read her expression.

“Klark?” she wondered softly.

“Lexa, promise me… promise me that you’ll always come back. That you’ll always come back to me,” she asked while squeezing and clinging harder to her hand.

Lexa felt her heart hammer wildly in her chest, unable to keep hope from blooming at Clarke’s words.

“I will always come back to you, ai hafon.”

Clarke exhaled shakily at Lexa’s earnest and affectionate reply. There was so many things she wanted to say in return. One thing in particular which was constantly at the tip of her tongue but that she couldn’t bring herself to say it. She felt like if she said it the fear, the panic of losing Lexa, would be even greater. Like she’d be tempting fate to take Lexa from her if she finally voiced it out loud. That I love You that wanted to gallop out of her mouth at every moment.

“Swear to me,” she said instead.

“I swear.”

Lexa extended her hand to wipe a teardrop from Clarke’s cheeks.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“You should be resting and here I’m talking about sad things,” Clarke chuckled sniffling.

“Don’t be. I like everything you have to say,” she replied warmly. “You know Abby is welcome to Polis anytime. Rooms have been permanently arranged for her at the tower. And I might not always be able to go with, but you can go visit her whenever you wish. Though I would like to go too.”

“You would?”

“Of course. We might not see eye to eye. She is probably not fond of me, but I would like to get to know better the woman who helped make you… you,” she smiled. “And she is… well, she will be my nomontu.”

“Your… nomontu?” Clarke repeated, eyebrows arching, a grin widening at the term. “Your second mother?”

Lexa nodded, a humorous gleam in her eyes.

Clarke could only chuckle imagining Abby’s face if Lexa ever called her that. She laughed heartily the more she thought about it. When she looked at Lexa, she saw her pleased face. She’d purposely veered the conversation to amuse her and wash the sadness away. Her laughter tapered off into a big sigh, smile still on her lips.

They looked at each other for some silent moments, just enjoying being with each other.

Lexa’s eyes were growing heavier and more unfocused. She was fighting against sleep, trying to keep them open a little longer but exhaustion won, and her eyelids finally closed.

But Clarke was still impossibly endeared and overtaken with adoration, and she did the only thing she could. The only thing she had wanted to since that night at the lake. The one thing she knew she wanted to do for the rest of her life.

She leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to Lexa’s lips. A soft, featherlight press. The silent I love you she hadn’t been brave enough to voice.

Lexa slowly opened heavy-lidded, sleep-hazy eyes, a sprinkling of pink on her cheeks, surprise in her gaze. She had been drifting to sleep when she felt the warm brush of Clarke’s lips on hers. Unless she had already been dreaming? She could barely keep her eyes open, exhaustion pulling her back into its dark arms, but she desperately wanted to. She could swear she could feel the lingering imprint of Clarke’s mouth. She had to stay awake. Ask her. Or simply kiss her again.

Clarke was looking at her affectionately, a tiny smile at the corner of her mouth, eyes bright. Her only answer was to run her hand in Lexa’s hair, as if to lull her back to sleep.

“Reshop, ai hafon,” was the last thing Lexa heard whispered to her before she finally lost the battle to sleep.

When Clarke woke up in the morning, Lexa was no longer there at her side. Her sweet scent still lingered in the air from where she had just taken a bath, the tub not 15 feet away from where she just had been sleeping. She felt a hot rush just thinking about it. She shook herself out of the images that conjured when she heard a noise.

Someone was coming in to change the water and that was the sound that had woken her up.

She got up, washed up and got dressed and was about to leave the tent when Sybil entered.

“Clarke. Good morning,” she smiled. “I brought you this. You will need the strength for the day ahead of you,” she motioned to the plate she came in with. The smell coming off the roast sausages on the plate was delicious. They were surrounded with crunchy pickled beans and turnips, and round fried bread with sunflower seed paste on it.

“Where’s Lexa?”

“Rohana insisted on showing her some new training exercise with the cavalry,” she waved away. “Come. Sit.”

She had brought enough for the two of them and they ate quietly at first, but Clarke could tell her visit had a purpose.

“What exactly do I have to do today?”

“Sweet Medicine, their blinka, wants to see you. She wants to gage who you really are. Ingranrona are very wary and suspicious of outsiders.”

“So she just wants to talk?”

“Yes and no. She will perform a special ceremony,” Sybil demurred, trying to figure out a way the sky girl would understand it. “To enter the spirit realm and see your true nature.”

Clarke furrowed her brows, not sure what to expect.

October 2072

On the night that they returned to Crazy Horse with the ones they rescued, everyone busily set up camp for the new arrivals. There wasn’t enough space in the small buildings of the visitor’s complex, so they once again raided the museum and whatever they found in storage. Teepee relics that had been on display, tarps and camping gear and started erecting a campsite at the base of the mountain.

Tired but relieved, they finally all sat around a large bonfire. There were still explosions and sound of artillery that could be heard in the distance sporadically, but this was their life now. The five teens and Lilith huddled together, munching on some dried sausage that the Amish had unpacked and were passing around. Someone was fiddling with a flute somewhere and people quietly chatted amongst themselves.

That’s when they saw it.

At first, they thought it was another missile and everyone gasped nervously, but then they realized it couldn’t be. It was too big, massive really, to be a missile and it just kept climbing and climbing in the clear, star-filled early night sky, leaving a white plume in its trail. Everyone held their breath seeing it become smaller and smaller the higher it went.

“It’s a ship. Someone is leaving on a ship.”

“Why are they leaving us behind?” another voice cried.

“Maybe that’s Quillwork Girl again,” Blossom said jokingly, not having the energy to panic or be dejected anymore. Today had been a good day.

“Who?” Samuel asked.

“Quillwork Girl. She was the one that brought the Cheyenne people together,” Blossom replied, letting her love and enthusiasm for the old legends fill her up instead.

“She knew there were others out there that were meant to be her brothers, so she made seven beautiful outfits with colored quills and went to find them one by one,” she spoke up, seeing everyone turn her attention to her. She put on a smile and made her voice clear, just like she did for her pageants and dancing performances during their powwows.

“Quillwork Girl and her Seven Brothers became a family, the Cheyenne nation, and were happy. Until one day the ground thundered, just like it did when the bombs fells, but it was a herd of bison who came to claim her and break up the family. So they ran. One of the brothers shot a tree with a special arrow and the tree grew and grew up into the sky, just like that ship. And they climbed it and then jumped and became stars,” she pointed to the sky. “They became the Big Dipper.”

“Just like us,” Sadie smiled. “The six of us, we found each other and became a family. Isn’t that right, little sister?” she said, while stroking little Lilith’s hair.

“Well, looks like Quillwork Girl and the seventh brother left us on that ship,” John Looks Twice chuckled.

He couldn’t know, of course, that the ship they had seen in the distance had been the Polaris station making a last chance, mad dash off Earth to rejoin the other twelve stations, far from the range of missiles and carrying Becca and the precious cargo Dr. Tsing had just finished at his secret lab. A lab where a very special Subject and her companions were still trapped at this exact moment in time.

“The Big Dipper has seven stars. With the quill girl, it would be eight. So where is she?” Samuel asked, confused looking up at the constellation in question.

“Maybe she stayed behind, and no one realized it,” Sadie conjectured, finding the thought incredibly sad.

 “It’s just a story,” Asha smiled at them, in an attempt to bring comfort.

“Maybe they’ll come back for us one day,” Samuel said wistfully.

A decade later

“I mean no harm. Promis. Our Heda sent ai to yu.” Rite Paw explained again, a smile on her face, hands up at the request of the group she had found at the foot of a mountain shaped like horse.

“And who is this Heda?”

“The one we all falou. She sent us lukin all over. All de people left. Safe en protect dem. Bring dem together, she tel os.”

At those words, the now fully grown six youngsters looked at each other silently, remembering the story Blossom told them one night about the girl who had quilted all the people back together.

Clarke walked with Sybil a while later to the place where Sweet Medicine was waiting, a distance away at the edge of the trees. Clarke had been instructed to remove everything and only use a thin wrap around her torso. Sybil gave her a thick embroidered blanket the blonde pulled over her shoulders and held it closed over her chest with her hand, barefoot and still a bit unsure.

They arrived at a low, dome-shaped hut made of branches and animal skins. A woman, who looked ancient, was waiting for them. Her skin was the color of copper, beautifully smooth but with deep wrinkles. Her eyes had the same blind milky appearance as Sybil’s. Her hair was in two thick braids parted in the middle and a single long white feather propped at the back of her head.

The woman said nothing, only silently nodding in acknowledgment and waited for Sybil to take her leave. Once she did, the old woman started. She turned in four directions making a call to each of the four winds and the ancestors. Clarke didn’t understand their language, fosleng, the ‘tongue of the first ones’, but Sybil had told her what to expect.

The old woman then the opened the flap motioning for Clarke to go in.

Inside the lodge, it was nearly pitch black, the only light the glow of red-hot rocks piled in the middle. She was instructed to sit on a skin and remove her blanket. The old woman sat opposite to her and proceeded to sprinkle the stones with shavings of cedar, sweet grass and a heady powder made of roots, and then sprinkled the stones with water using a wad of leaves tied together. Immediately the lodge started filling up with steam and the strong smell of herbs she had used. She grabbed a dear-skin drum and began beating it while she intoned a low, repeating chant.

Clarke had no idea how long Sweet Medicine had been at it. The heat, the roots and the trance-inducing singing was making her head feel like it was swimming. The darkness made her feel like she was disembodied, dispersed. She felt faint and let herself fall backwards on the skin, hoping it would make everything stop spinning.

She then lost consciousness.

Sweet Medicine stopped her drumming when she heard the girl lie down and her breathing slow down. She sprinkled the stones with more water and waited. Many mistakenly thought the spirit quest she performed in the sweat lodge was about connecting with the spirit of ancestors, though that was possible too, but it wasn’t that.

“Are you there, spirit?” Sweet Medicine asked, feeling the dizzying pull herself.

It was a moment before the voice, the eerily calm voice, came.

“Yes,” the lips of the blonde girl moved to say.

“Why are the Sky People here?”

“Their home died.”

“Will they try to take what is ours?”

“I don’t know.” A pause. “I won’t let them.”

Sweet Medicine was not expecting that answer.

“Do they mean well? Are they honorable people?”

“Some.”

“Is their leader honorable?”

“Yes. She is.”

“What are your intentions?”

“To heal.”

“Heal what?”

“What is broken… between us.”

“Us?”

“All the people. Separated. Scattered. Lost.”

“Who are you?”

“Clarke.”

“Who were you before Clarke?”

The old woman could see the blonde’s faint silhouette in the red light of the hot stones. The girl paused; her brow knitted.

“Nowhere. I was… nowhere. I wasn’t.”

“Focus. What do you see before this life?”

“Darkness. Nothingness. I wasn’t… anywhere,” she whispered, growing agitated in her trance.

“Go back. Before the darkness,” the old woman tried, puzzled at this. It was rare to find a new soul. Most had lived many lives already and she had seen it in the blonde girl’s eyes before. “Where you here before?”

A long moment stretched into the silence, the faint hiss of steam coming off the rocks the only sound.

A flash of green eyes crinkled by laughter. Warmth enveloping her. Plump lips smiling into her mouth. Tears of joy and running on a tarmac towards a figure in a jumpsuit. The smell of crushed jasmine flowers between them, arms squeezing her tightly and lifting her off the ground. A silhouette with dark hair rocking and cooing at a child in the morning light. Whispers in the dark against a shivering neck. Pure joy filled her heart.

A little piece of you is going up there on that last supply shuttle as we speak. And a little piece of me was sent to the lab.

You’re the biggest romantic sap that has ever existed.

It was our fiftieth. I had to be the extra sappy.

I love you.

Hold that thought. I sent your ring too, doc.

I was terrified I had lost it. But why?

So you’d remember me. Or I’d remember you.

You know that’s not how things work. It’s just our DNA. It wouldn’t be us.

You never know. Maybe there’s more to it.

Since when does my rational, skeptical, hardcore scientist of a wife believe in metaphysical souls?

Since I met you.

I love you.

Even if it takes a thousand lifetimes. Even if we’re reborn on some distant planetary colony with green little men or giant squid overlords…

Hahahaha

I swear to you, I’ll find you again. I’ll find you.

I love you.

Tears were running down the sky girl’s eyes, a smile on her lips, little gasps of sobs and laughter on her lips.

“She found me.” A wet laugh. “I found her.” More soft sobs sounded in the sweat lodge, followed by more quiet laughter.

“We found each other,” she whispered again, disbelieving, joyous.

“Who?” Who did you find?”

“Her. I found her.”

Sweet Medicine was beyond puzzled. She had been doing this all her life. They used it often when people from the outside came. No one could lie when they were in this state, only the spirit present, stripped of everything and all the bodies it had given life to. And so they used it to know their real intentions, their true character.

She had heard many strange things when she took people on these spirit quests, but this was almost inexplicable. Once a person died, the spirit jumped into a new life immediately, into a never-ending and uninterrupted succession of lives. There was no break in between. But the sky girl had nothing but a black void between this iteration and some past life far, far into the past. As if she had ceased to exist altogether. She shuddered at the thought. Maybe she had been trapped somewhere.

There was only one other spirit quest that had been as unusual and she wondered if there was something to it. She had an inkling it might.

She remembered it well. Her heart had jumped the moment she had seen the child’s eyes. They looked ancient, like they had witnessed the birth of time itself. It had unsettled Sweet Medicine. The scrawny natblida had shown up one day, all alone, claiming she had come to learn from them. They had welcomed her in the capital. She was a nightblood after all and the Ingranrona had great devotion to the Hedas. They had all been shocked when they saw she bore the sign of the panther eyes. The return of the first Heda was the oldest shared prophecy of all clans.

“What are your intentions?” she had asked the skinny girl in the sweat lodge, once she had gone into the trance.

“To unite the clans.”

“Why?”

“We are one people. We can have peace as one.”

“How will you unite the clans?”

“With reason. With justice. With sword if I must.”

“Who will you turn your blade to?”

“The ones who prey on the weak. The selfish who choose war over peace.”

 “Who are you?”

“Lexa.”

“Who were you before Lexa?”

“Lexa.”

Sweet Medicine had frowned.

“Where were you before this time?”

“Everywhere.”

“Were you anyone?” she tried again.

“No. I was waiting. I had to wait. I couldn’t come back until I found her.”

“You were… waiting?” the old woman asked, confused. “Where?”

“Everywhere.”

“What do you see there?” she tried a different route.

“The wind. The trees. The rocks deep in the earth. The water of the rivers. The sun on the leaves. The people below, so many people. None of them was her. I looked and looked and looked. Hundreds of springs and summers and falls and winters, and wars and births and deaths. Nothing. Nothing,” she lamented desperately.

The child had grown agitated and was shaking on the little cot she had been lying on, violent sobs erupting from her mouth. The cot rattled against the floor. Her body shook with a fever. The elders said those who would be great warriors would have great fevers during their spirit quests. They called it the warrior fever. But the child was burning hot. Sweet Medicine was alarmed.

She poured some of the water from her bucket onto her to cool her down, but the shakes turned into seizures. The little natblida broke the cot, threw up and continued shaking once the seizures subsided.

The old woman’s blood ran cold. She had never seen a warrior’s fever this violent, the possible meaning terrifying her.  

She wanted to end the quest, but she needed to be sure. She owed it to her people. And she needed to ease her out of her voyage. She couldn’t stop abruptly.

“Go back. Before you were everywhere. Where were you?”

There was a long silence, the labored breath of the nightblood the only sound.

“Who were you before?” she insisted. She had to know.

“I was… I… brought them together.”

Her mind showed her images, fragments of moments in quick succession. Images of camera flashes and handshakes across a long stage, blue shiny eyes and a blinding smile looking at her from the crowded seats in front of them. ‘The nations come together to build an Ark for the future of humanity.’ Twelve flags printed on the shiny surface of rockets. 3… 2… 1… liftoff. Her body shaking with the force of the boosters roaring beneath them and propelling them upwards. Robotic arms assembling station modules slowly, surrounded by silent black space and stars. Red dusty landscapes. A shiny rock in her gloved hand. ‘What do you say, doc?’

“Who?”

The images were interrupted.

“The nations. So we could have a new beginning.”

The old woman’s eyes widened. Now she was certain. She knew who this was. The one who had joined their nations the first time. The one who came back after the end to do it again. And she was here, yet again. The Quillmaker. The first Heda returned. It had to be. What other explanations could her words have?

“Who is the one you seek?” she finally asked.

“Her,” the girl said between the little hiccupped breaths that were still making her shake.

Images of bright blue eyes.

I swear to you.

I love you.

Then came a shuddering intake of air and more tears spilling out of her closed eyes, trickling down her temples. And another long pause.

“I failed. I failed. I’m so sorry,” she said in a small tight voice. “I couldn’t find you.”

Later, the natblida awoke and all the memories of the trance were gone as usual. None remembered their quest, but it helped some to move on or feel closure for whatever past troubles they had carried. But the natblida had looked up at her with her big green eyes, red from the tears, gaze lost and filled with deep sorrow. A look she had only seen in abandoned orphans before. It broke her heart. She had never seen so much pain and loss in someone, a pain she had felt for hundreds of years without respite. She felt a knot in her throat and had cupped the girl’s cheeks.

“Come, my child,” she had said warmly, taking her outside and staying by her side the rest of the day.

It took her a long time to recover fully, at least physically. She went back to her trainings and walks around the city soon, but the sadness deep in her eyes never left her even if she did not know the cause.

From that day on, Sweet Medicine had felt great fondness for the child. She saw her grow up and become the mighty warrior, the thunderous leader, the peacemaker, the greatest Heda they ever had. And yet, her heart still broke for her.

“Clarke!”

Lexa got up from the log she had been sitting on in front of the sweat lodge, though not close enough to disturb or hear what has going on. She had been pacing nervously for hours, hating that she hadn’t been able to take Clarke there herself. Rohana had made it impossible to make it on time with endless military demonstrations of the cavalry, asking Lexa her counsel on each tactic exercise. She had wanted to dismiss her and run to Clarke but hadn’t been able to, not wanting to offend the proud warriors.

She knew how terrible spirit quests could be for many. Her own had been excruciating. She had woken up feeling like all her bones had been broken and had a blinding headache for a week, but the worse part had been the feeling of absolute sorrow that had invaded her. She had wept for many nights after, not knowing why she felt like she was drowning in despair. She had hated every minute of it, and it had told her nothing. The knowledge of the quests was kept by the blinka and the elders’ council alone.

She made her way to the blonde in a few long strides and took her face in her hands, her worried eyes flitting quickly all over her face to assess the damage.

Clarke was still wet from the cold splashing of water Sweet Medicine had performed on her to end the ceremony and wash the sweat away. Her skin was extremely pale, but her cheeks were bright pink from the combination of heat and cold.

Instead of a pained or haunted look, Clarke was looking at her with bright eyes and a soft smile, a blush rising from the unexpected proximity and intimacy of Lexa’s touch.

“Clarke,” she said again in question, not letting go of her face.

“Hey,” the blonde whispered with a smile.

“Are you… are you okay?” she inquired with still concerned eyes.

“I’m okay. It was… it was nice. I guess. I don’t remember anything, but I feel…” she inhaled, unsure of how to word it.

Lexa took her in, in her thick blanket draped over her shoulders, hair wet and sticking to her forehead and temples. Lexa smiled amused and reflexively brushed the strands of hair back, letting her hands caress her face tenderly as she did so.

Clarke lowered her eyes, her heart beating, a little smile on her lips at Lexa’s affectionate gaze and hands.

“It felt… like this,” she confessed.

“What do you mean?” Lexa asked, eyes roaming slowly over her face, lips still curled.

“Like…” she bit her lip. “Can I…,” she stepped closer, her hands occupied keeping her blanket closed. “Can you… can you hold me?” she finally asked.

Lexa didn’t hesitate and brought her arms around her, encircling her and holding Clarke’s body tightly against hers. Clarke took a quivering breath and sighed, breathing her in, her nose pressed against her shoulder then turned to tuck her face into the crook of Lexa’s neck.

“It felt like this. Like warmth. Like you. It... it felt like you,” she tried. She had no idea how to explain the overwhelming sensation she had felt when she woke up. Like pure happiness had been poured into her. Like all her senses were filled with the feeling of Lexa. Like absolute love. She felt her eyes prickling with tears.

Lexa pulled back a fraction to look at Clarke, taking in her words. Her big, impossibly green eyes roamed slowly over the blonde’s face, a hand coming again to caress her temple and cheek, her touch featherlike and tender. Her eyes lingered on her lips and then teared themselves to look into blue again.

“Like me?” she asked, a smile starting to stretch, surprise etched on her brow.

Clarke nodded, too caught in Lexa’s gaze to utter words, her own lips curving in a small smile, cheeks warm.

“Ai laik hir,” Lexa said softly, wanting the sky girl to feel the certainty in those words.

(“I am here”)

Her eyes dipped to the blonde’s lips again and Clarke felt her heart beat wildly in her chest. Lexa leaned in slowly and pressed her lips to the corner of Clarke’s mouth, keeping them there for long seconds, Clarke shuddering out a breath and feeling her legs turn to jelly.

“Ai na laik otaim hir,” she said shakily as her lips left Clarke’s cheek, an inexplicable need to promise it.

(“I will always be here”)

She leaned her forehead against Clarke’s, her nose softly caressing the blonde’s, their warm breaths mingling.

Lexa ached. Burned. Yearned. To kiss Clarke. But if she did, she knew there would be no stopping her. All her control would dissolve into incandescent ashes from the blazing need that would engulf her. She would take her on this very patch of dirt beneath them, no patience to even remove her thin wrap and she’d rip it open in desperation. She’d take Clarke until the last drop of strength had spent out of her body. She’d drown in her and burn down the ground with her. There would be no going back. The world could fall around them, and she would not be able to tear herself away from Clarke. She trembled with desire and could feel the same need from Clarke, could hear it in her quivering breath a whisper away from her mouth, in the heat of her skin, in the wild heartbeat pressed against her chest, in the dilated eyes fixed on her mouth. But she could also see a ghost of hesitation. Something that made Clarke still hold back. And she would never take that last step, bridge that last inch, unless she was certain Clarke wanted to burn with her.

And so she mustered the last shred of self-control she had and reluctantly pulled back. She deposited a burning, trembling kiss to Clarke’s forehead and then took her hand. They held each other’s gaze for a moment, want still heavy on their features, a silent exchange of reassurance in their eyes. An apology in Clarke’s, an ‘I’ll wait forever for you’ in Lexa’s.

Their fingers interlaced and then they finally headed back to the city, the blood thrumming in their veins repeating a single word.

Soon.

The old woman had been standing at the entrance of the lodge, watching them in silence. She couldn’t help the smile that made its way on her lips and the happiness the sight brought to her tired old bones, happiness for the brilliant young Heda with the once sad eyes and centuries-old soul with a broken heart.

She watched as their faces glowed with love, an almost desperate relief in their eyes while they clung to each other, their touches with the shyness of their still new love in this lifetime, both oblivious at how long they had been searching for the other. But their souls knew. She could see it in their eyes.

“She found her,” the old woman whispered to herself watching her Heda fondly. “She finally found her,” she said to herself again with a tight quiet voice and a smile.

She left them silently and made her way to the elders’ council.

“How many?” Lexa asked with a stone-cold face, her tense jaw betraying her anger.

“Two dead, Heda. Eight badly wounded.”

“Who? Do you know their names?” Clarke asked, her face ashen.

The man nodded.

“What of the Council? What was the decision?” Lexa continued asking the messenger that had just arrived from Polis and had been waiting outside her tent. She wanted to know the whole picture before going into details.

“The Ambassadors agreed the responsibility of the lost lives lies on Skaikru. They did not respect the boundaries set by Trikru for their hunting grounds. They were 30 kilometers beyond the limit.”

“A whole day’s walk,” Indra remarked. “They couldn’t pretend it was just a mistake.”

Clarke closed her eyes and sighed deeply. Two days, considering the slow pace of most of her people, she thought to herself. It was even worse if they knew. What the hell were they thinking?

“They had been warned of the dangers in that region. That there had been thieving bands lately, as you warned before you left,” the man went on.

“The natblidas agreed with the decision and proposed a penalty for breaking the boundaries. A hunting ban for the amount of days the party was out. A week.”

“Good,” Lexa said, proud of her natblidas for seeking a just measure.

“But the fut bos op was not applied, given that Chancellor Griffin alerted to their trespassing immediately. That’s how they were found so quickly.”

“How?” Clarke asked. “How did she know?”

“She said she had installed tracking… chips…” the man said unsurely, “on all patrol and hunting party equipment.”

Clarke couldn’t help but be impressed and almost wanted to smile at her mother’s smart forethought. She was learning from her mistakes. With how irresponsibly Skaikru continued to act, she couldn’t disagree with her tactics. She still couldn’t believe, whoever the rogues ones had been, how they would put all her people in jeopardy by breaking the rules again.

She did not comment on the punishment they had escaped. The fut bos op. A breaking of the foot for trespassing on hunting grounds, something Lexa had told her about when they had been discussing the lands surrounding Arkadia that Trikru was allowing them to use temporarily, until something more permanent was negotiated.

“Chancellor Abby has accepted but asked the Council to help them investigate the matter of their attack. The wounds… they were of gun shots,” the messenger informed darkly. “The Ambassadors and natblidas agreed,” he finished his report.

Lexa nodded her head and signaled for him to leave her with her advisers. Before she stepped out, Clarke asked again.

“Who were they? The dead,” she asked with dread.

“Al Jones and Zoe Monroe,” he replied, then left.

Clarke sucked in a pained gasp.

Jones had been one of Bellamy’s most loyal bully militia boys when they had landed. He had taken special pleasure in torturing and starving people into submission. She wasn’t surprised to hear his name as part of yet another reckless and dangerous action. But Monroe? Had she learned nothing surviving the first months on the ground? Surviving the battle against Mount Weather? She too had been part of his militia, often foregoing logic to follow anything he said blindly, but still.

Clarke sat down and held her face in her hands, rubbing her palms over it in frustration, anger, sadness and sheer exhaustion.

Lexa walked over and placed a comforting hand over her shoulder, concerned eyes surveying her.

Clarke looked up at her, the haunted look back in her eyes. Then she got up again and started pacing around.

She had heard the information from the messenger. Three attacks, each closer and circling in on Arkadia, though only the last with Monroe had involved guns and Skaikru. The two others had been against a small trading caravan and a family going back to their village.

“They’re going to attack Arkadia,” she said alarmed.

“Or they’re trying to make you think they will,” Sybil spoke up.

When Clarke looked up at her and then at Lexa, it was Lexa who replied.

“They would have just attacked Arkadia directly. No need for small pointless hits.”

“What’s the real threat for Heda’s enemies?” Sybil asked. “Your union being completed. Once the Gon Ogeda joins you, the Coalition becomes stronger.”

“You think they’re trying to draw us back? So we don’t finish this?” Clarke asked.

“It is a possibility,” Lexa agreed.

“Their best chance would be to stop you before Gon Ogeda is done,” Indra added.

“Chances are they’ll do anything to stop you before that happens. They’ll try to interrupt your journey, attack you on the road, try to draw you back to Polis or Arkadia, or to stop it altogether. Anything,” Sybil assured. “The only thing you can do is not let them.”

“So I should abandon my duties as Commander and not go back to protect my people?” Lexa asked exasperated though she masked it well with the even tone of her voice.

“You are the protector, Heda, but you have armies and sentries and generals at your disposal. You have the Council and the consensus of the Natblida making those daily decisions while you travel. You alone cannot personally oversee every single threat,” Sybil reminded her.

“More patrols have already been ordered, as the messenger said. The Council has already dispatched more spies to the area, and scouts and a sika. The Boudalan Blue Guard is on its way to Arkadia as well,” Indra reminded.

Lexa was not pleased. Why did every fraction of terrain gained for peace have to be so hard to conquer? Why were there always people fighting her for every inch? Would it ever end?

She exhaled sharply.

“We leave today. As soon as the meeting with the elders here is done.”

When Sybil and Indra looked at her alarmed, she clarified.

“Onwards. To the next clan.”

They nodded and exited, leaving her with Clarke.

“She died because of me,” Clarke croaked defeated.

Rationally, she knew Monroe was responsible for her own actions. For getting into harm’s way. But they had been attacked to get at her. To stop her and her union to Lexa. It was yet another name, another death on her back.

“Our union was meant to stop more deaths, Clarke,” Lexa reminded. “It’s to prevent those who would continue waging war.” She knew it was pointless to reason when Clarke felt the guilt nonetheless, but she couldn’t help trying to convince her.

“I know… I know,” Clarke whispered broken.

“I’m going for a walk,” she said after a long, heavy pause.

“Do you want me to accompany you,” Lexa offered, already knowing the answer.

Clarke’s lips were downturned, a deep frown etched between her eyebrows.

“No. I need to be by myself. For a little.”

Lexa nodded with her eyes, disappointment in her gaze. She made her way out of the tent, wanting to give the blonde space. Before she went through the door flap, Clarke spoke up.

“Just… for a little while. I’ll see you later?” she tried. She just needed air. To mourn. To clear her head. To tame the boiling rage that had flooded her at the news. Even the disquieting doubts that suddenly took hold and that she didn't want to entertain.

Lexa nodded again, eyes a little lighter. She turned again and left silently.

“It is not the first time others have come on ships. The last time they took everything from our ancestors,” Huffing Bull, an old romeda man with grey braids said. He had an arrowhead hung from his chest and bright bracelets on his wrinkled wrists. He puffed on a long pipe that he always shared with Eli, the steda man next to him.

“The outsiders have only ever brought war and persecution to our doorstep, too,” Eli agreed. He was sitting cross-legged and absentmindedly stroking his blonde wiry beard. He had set his straw hat on his knee and occasionally picked it up to fan himself or dabbed the beads of sweat forming on his clean-shaven, mustache-free upper lip like all the steda men.

“We are not exchanging loyalty pledges with the Hetanevo'eo'o, but with Clarke Griffin as Heda’s bonded.”                                                              

                                                                        (People of the Sky)

The woman who had spoken was the eldest of elders, Janine Eagle-Eye. As such, she wore the sacred bison headdress and had bald eagle feathers tied at the ends of her braids.

“How can we trust her?” another old woman in a bonnet and grey eyes asked.

“I trust Heda, so I trust her too,” Rohana insisted.

She was in her full warrior leader gear as was the custom when gathered as The Six. She wore an impressive feather headdress fashioned to look like a mowhawk, raised up and running along her head, made of black eagle feathers and blue stellar jay feathers and lightning symbols painted on her temples.

“Our Little Sister is right,” a voice interrupted entering the room. It was Sweet Medicine that had joined the council. Though she was not a voting member, she was their blinka and adviser.

They all looked at her expectant, knowing she had come from the spirit quest ceremony.

“She is The Seventh.”

A quiet gasp went around the room.

“Are you sure, blinka?” the first man asked with shock in this voice.

Sweet Medicine nodded and sat down in their circle.

“Just like the first elders of the Ingranrona foretold. That Quillwork Girl would come back and she did come back, to find those left and spread her maheo, to give her life spirit to us all. Just like elder John Looks Twice prophesized after he went on his journey east to seek the first Heda centuries ago. That she would come back once more to unite all when she found the missing one in the sky.”

“But how do we know it is her? Many Skaikru came,” the woman in the bonnet asked unconvinced.

“Who defeated the mountain monster by the water, the mountain who had swallowed our people and turned them into beasts? Who killed it and rescued them from inside the mountain monster? Just like the legend said of Falling Star. She is the Seventh, the Falling Star who returned,” Rohana connected the dots of their old legends. She felt silly for not seeing it sooner.

“The legends say nothing about The Seventh and Falling Star being the same,” Huffing Bull refuted. “Even if she was both, what does that mean? What is her destiny now? She brought the Sky People, the lost siblings in the sky, back. She already defeated the monster in the mountain. What now? What’s next? What does it mean for us, blinka?”

“I don’t know. What I do know is that her and Lexa are connected. Have been connected from before the Ingranrona came to be. They are soul-bound,” Sweet Medicine revealed.

At this, they all shared an understanding look.

“But can we trust her not to betray us for her people?” Eli asked, seeking assurance.

“She is not of her people. In her heart, she is already of Lexa’s people. She is strong and she will strike at them if they cross the line. But this is the strange thing. Her spirit. She’s a healer. Of people. Not of bodies. Of what is broken between us,” the old blinka mused, somewhat intrigued with the odd sky girl.

“So she doubts her own people?”

“Some.”

“So we stay vigilant. And if her path is to make the clans stronger and more united with Heda, we’ll support it. But never stop watching.”

“Our loyalty will only be owed to her and hers to us, then,” a second woman in a white bonnet concluded.

“And if the Skaikru ever strikes at us?”

“Our Lilitu will flatten them like blades of grass under our hooves.”

The Six nodded in agreement.

Sometime in between

Asha, Sadie, Blossom and Lilith were out scavenging and foraging, they had stumbled on a dirty camp site. There was a fire pit and several sleeping bags, with cans and garbage littered all over. A single large man in a leather biker vest was sitting on a log, drinking from a beer bottle. His hair and his beard were greasy and dirty.

When he saw them, he immediately got up and gave them a predatory smile.

“My, my, my, what have we got here?” he said, getting close.

The girls lifted their knives.

“Oh, feisty little ladies. Just like I like ‘em,” he mockingly lifted his hands in surrender. “I think I might make you my new toys. I like toys. My friends also like toys. They should be back any minute now,” he smirked, looking them up and down.

“Where did you get that?” Lilith asked with an icy voice, pointing with her knife at his chest.

“This?” the man grabbed a unicorn pendant tied around his neck with a cord. “Oh, this belonged to one of my toys. Oh, we enjoyed playing with her quite a lot.”

Before he could react, Asha stabbed him in the groin. He cried out in pain and fell on his knees, his hands clutching his crotch. Sadie looked on impassively. She took the gun out of her belt and handed it to young Lilith.

The girl lifted the barrel and asked.

“What side is the heart?”

“A bit to the left, little sister.”

She moved her hand to the right, making sure to miss the heart and fired. The bullet went through his chest.

The man fell backwards, his eyes bulging out in shock, blood coming out of his mouth.

“My mother died with a punctured lung. She died suffocated, drowning in her own blood. Because of you. And now you’ll die the same way.” Lilith stepped to him and hovered over. She grabbed the necklace and ripped it from his neck.

“Mercy,” he gurgled.

Lilith put her hand over his mouth and drew closer.

“I am the night. And I’ve come to claim you,” she pronounced darkly. “Eye for an eye. Blood for blood,” she sentenced as he tried to gasp over the tight grip of her hand over his bloodied mouth.

When he finally died, Lilith stood up and saw the imprint left there in the shape of her hand with his blood. She placed it over her own mouth, making the same mark.

They left silently, careful to hide his body and waited for the rest of his gang to return. In the night, they killed every single one of them in the same way. They returned home with their scalps and burned them outside for all to see. Lilith tied the unicorn pendant to Nadine’s wooden cross at her grave and added an inscription: Loved Daughter, Brave Sister, Avenged Mother.

When Lilith had been born, Nadine had been in labor for two whole painful days. She’d screamed profanities while holding the nurse and her sister’s hands in a vice grip. “Motherf…aaaaghh…er! Give me more drugs, I swear I’m having the devil’s baby! The little demon’s rippin’ my innards!” she exclaimed in pain, to the amusement of everyone on the floor. In the past two days, all the doctors and nurses had become fond of the foul-mouthed, dark-humored woman. So none were surprised when she had named the baby Lilith, which she claimed was a night demon in old biblical stories.

After that day, Lilith became their most ruthless fighter and the first of what would one day become, centuries later, the most feared deadly warrior riders in the entire coalition territories. The ‘Hend vun Lilitu.’

The hands of Lilith.

The hand of death.

Lexa had decided to tell the Ingranrona about the conspiracy against the Coalition. She omitted the attempt on her life and some other details, but she had to trust some of her allies to get them on board for what was to come. Out of all clans, the Plain Riders and the Boat People were the ones she put her trust in. And for her secret plan regarding Sankru to work, she needed the Plain Riders not to respond to any provocation from them after the attack on the Forge, which they had blamed on the Riders.

She trusted Rohana and Sweet Medicine. She had known them since she was a child on her tour of the clans. And Rohana was deeply loyal and honest, and even though she was impulsive and hot-headed, she was tempered by the wise and patient elders. That’s how their council worked. Five of the wisest, eldest romeda and steda and the young fearless strength of their best warrior, the Little Sister and Hefa of the Lilitu warriors. The Six made the decisions all together, but Little Sister, Rohana now, acted as the clan leader, the Hefa in the Coalition meetings. The Ingranrona were absolutely ruthless and deeply suspicious of all, but she trusted them to usually make more or less balanced decisions.

They had agreed to not move against Sankru and to follow Lexa’s lead on that matter. They understood how critical it was to the entire plan. They had discussed it the day before when Lexa had arrived and had also went over building up their food stores, weapons and patrols, and readying and repositioning battalions and regiments quietly.

Conflict was coming. 

She hoped they could also see that the union with Clarke was key to the Coalition and that they would fulfill the pledging of loyalty. She also knew they would probably not extend any courtesies to the Sky People. Their mistrust for outsiders was extreme. And considering Sky People’s absolute inability to follow orders or agreements and their continued reckless behavior, the Plain Riders would be even less inclined to trust them. No one would.

But she didn’t need them to accept the Sky People in their affairs or lands. As long as they followed Coalition rules governing the clans forbidding unprovoked attacks against another clan or face retaliation by the rest of the united Coalition, and as long as they accepted Sky People into the Coalition itself, it would be enough for now.

Clarke had come back after an hour, her eyes still haunted and downcast, but she was ready to see the council.

The Six didn’t mention anything they discussed among themselves.

They formally introduced themselves and then simply said they were ready to re-pledge their loyalty to Heda Lexa and to honor Clarke as Lexa’s bonded, though stressed this did not made them beholden to the Sky People in any way.

Lexa nodded, expecting as much.

“Can I say something first?” Clarke suddenly interrupted the silence.

Janine gestured for her to go on.

“When I was a kid, I got into a fight with someone. We fell and I got a pretty bad cut. The cut didn’t seem to heal well and every time I saw him, I hated him for what he had done to me. We only kept fighting because of it and I always kept showing the cut and reminding him of it. One day my mother sat me down and told me that if I only stopped picking and scratching at the wound, I would actually give it time to heal. If it healed and stop hurting, I wouldn’t have to think about how much he had hurt me all the time. If I gave it enough time to heal and to stop hurting, maybe I would stop long enough to realize I had wounded him too. If I only stopped long enough, then I would realize we had both hurt each other and could with time forgive each other. If I actually stopped hating him, she said, I could realize that there was no reason I actually hated him for who he was. And she was right. She taught me to forgive, even if it’s something that doesn’t come easily or quickly to me. He and I stopped fighting and though we had nothing in common and were so different,” Clarke emphasized looking at all Six, “we realized we made a pretty good team.”

“I know Arkadia has made mistakes and will probably make more. I know how much we’ve hurt the clans. The deaths we’ve brought. I know how different they are and how little they understand your ways. I know many are afraid of Skaikru and don’t trust them. I know but… they’re afraid too. We lost our home and this is the only place we have now, surrounded by things we don’t understand. But most are good people. Some might try to take what isn’t theirs. Some might try to go against your laws. But most… most just want to try to make a new life here, in peace, with what little family they have left. What I mean is, I hope you don’t judge us by the worst of us. We’re trying. I don’t have a say in what Arkadia does anymore, but the woman who taught me forgiveness does. As for me, all I can promise you is that I will try too. I tried to run away from it all for a second but the truth is, it’s who I am. I can’t just stand by and watch people get hurt and do nothing.”

Those last words resonated deeply to all the Ingranrona present. They were people with a great reverence to their past, to their ancestors and to their history. They knew and passed down to every single Ingranrona the stories of how their two people, of such dissimilar nature, had come together. How hope, and heritage and strength had led them and how forgiveness and solidarity had united them. They all shared a meaningful look. A small imperceptible smile formed on the Janine Eagle-Eye’s lips. She knew their story better than most. She was Chief Asha’s, first chief of Ingranrona, far-removed but direct descendant.

“I can’t. And I won’t. No matter who they are, no matter their clan. And I won’t stand by when someone tries to attack the peace you and Heda have worked so hard for either. That I can promise you,” Clarke said passionately ending her long unexpected and somewhat rambled plea.

The Six tipped their head to Clarke in acceptance of her promise, somewhat stunned but secretly convinced that they had found The Seventh.

After that, they performed the same short pledge ceremony like the one that had been carried out with the Boudalan leader.

“The riders in the plains are yours, Heda,” they pledged and concluded the meeting.

“From this day forth, your life will not be easy, my child.”

The six-year-old dark-haired girl was looking up at her, a small satchel on her shoulder and a staff she had carved in her other hand, big green eyes set with a mix of determination and unease.

She kneeled in front of her and caressed her cheeks with both hands.

“But you know you can always come to me.”

“The Fleimkepa said it is against the rules,” the girl stared unsurely.

“Rules are for those with weak judgement who need to be told what they should or should not do. To be wise is to know the difference. To know better and decide when rules should be followed and when it is for the worse.”

“But if everyone who is weak of judgement decides they know better, because they are a fool, and each decides to break the rules, would that not breed chaos? How do you know if you are not being foolish instead of wise?” the serious child asked.

The woman chuckled, always surprised at her daughter’s sharp mind.

“You have to ask yourself if the decision is for your own personal gain or glory, or if it benefits the most people. That is always a good start. But the truth is most decisions won’t be clear cut. No easy answer will be evident. That will be your greatest challenge.”

The little girl took in her words, nodding with a creased brow.

“And Titus is smart, but sometimes also a bit of a fool,” the woman smiled wryly. “Rules are written by men and women who are fallible, just like you and me. He forgets that sometimes. And he forgets that no man-made rule is stronger or more important than the greatest natural law of all. That the bond of mother and daughter is unbreakable. You are and will always be my flesh and blood, natblida or not. Heda or not. Even when I or your nontu are no longer here, you will carry our spirit in you. You will always have his warrior strength in here,” she pointed at her chest. “And you will always carry everything I taught you here,” she touched her temple.

The six-year-old nodded, her eyes watering a bit feeling her courage falter, dreading their separation. She had never been without her nonom for long periods and now she was supposed to sever all ties with her.

“Besides. I am the Keeper of Words. Any natblida can seek my counsel,” she curled one side of her mouth and grabbed her daughter’s hand, beginning their walk to Polis from up in the hills outside of the capital.

“Now, have I ever told you about the secret tunnel there is a mile from here, just on the other side of the hill, that takes you directly to the tower?” she asked, a gleam in her eye.

The girl widened her eyes, looking up at her mother and shook her head.

“Well then, it will be our secret now, my flesh and blood. Let me show you.”

As they made their way to the secret tunnel entrance disguised in the foliage, the little girl spoke once more, eyes fixed on the ground, deep in thought.

“Nomon, I hope I can do good one day.”

The woman stopped for a second. Rather than hope to make her mother proud or something else for herself, her daughter’s thoughts were always selfless. That in itself made her proud but also scared for how little regard she ever showed for her own needs or wants. But she knew of her daughter’s destiny. She was certain she would one day win the Conclave and the entire weight of the world would be on her shoulders. She knew there would be little possibility or time for her own wants in the harsh world she would have to rule. But deep down, she hoped she was wrong.

“I know you will do great things, Leksa.” the woman said tenderly. “Great many good things, my nomfri.”

                                                                                                                                               (daughter)

Lexa declined their invitation to stay longer. She was eager to rush on. The meeting had gone better than expected due to Clarke’s words. She had seen it in their faces. But she was still worried. With Clarke’s broken demeanor. With the news from Arkadia. With everything. The quicker they finished the tour and got back to the safety of Polis to ensure their Gon Ogeda was completed, the better. And the faster she could figure out who was behind the ever-growing threat to them.

“Ready?” she asked Clarke, their horses ready.

The rest of the group was already tying up the last of the gear and mounting their own horses. The panther cub was propped on Lexa’s horse saddle, idly grooming itself with her right paw rubbing over her ears.

Clarke was looking out into the flat plains, her gaze lost in the horizon.

“Clarke?” she prompted softly again.

The blonde finally broke out of her daze and looked at her.

“Yeah,” she said in a small voice listlessly.

She saw Lexa gesturing towards the horses but didn’t miss the crestfallen look in her eyes.

“Hey,” she stopped her, grabbing her elbow before she turned around. She might be sad and torn, but she didn’t want Lexa to feel like she was pushing her away. Especially not after the beautiful moments they had shared together the past two days.  

She took Lexa’s hands in hers and lifted one to her lips and set it on her own chest, then did the same with the other. It was a gesture Lexa had done with her a few times. It was a wordless intimacy that she loved. It brought them close and she hoped Lexa could feel her heartbeat against her hands.

Lexa’s eyes softened impossibly. She held Clarke’s gaze and then flitted her eyes over her face with such fondness, it made the sadness melt away a little. They stopped for a second on her lips, making Clarke’s heart jump, but didn’t stay there. They came back to her own eyes and were filled with understanding. She too had lost so many people.

“I’ll be okay,” she reassured. “As long as you’re here,” she emphasized, pulling her even closer, pressing Lexa’s hands against her heart.

“Then you’ll always be okay, ai hafon,” Lexa replied in a whisper, her meaning clear.

Clarke felt a lump in her throat.

“More than okay. You and I, we’re going to stop this war. And then, we’re going to do so many good things. For all of them,” Clarke said, looking behind Lexa to the people around.

“Sha. Ogeda.”

The two leaders left shortly after, the sunset burning up the sky in orange rays over the green of the plains in the west, like a wordless screaming warning.

In the east, in the dark thick forests, a force of hundreds and hundreds had already started gathering. One intent on ending the reign of Lexa kom Trikru and her Wanheda.