yesterday i listened to a podcast stephanie allynne was on and she said at one point before they started dating she wrote tig this long email pouring her heart out about how she really liked her but they couldn’t date because she was straight and tig just replied ‘okay dyke’ and i’m still screaming about it
“And I wrote her this really long email, like six months in, where I’m like–and it was after we had first kissed–and I was like, “Ok so I don’t regret doing that, that was so good, we had such a great time, but I’m just not gay and I feel like I’m doing–” blah blah blah, like, the longest email ever, and I’m like, I have to just get this all out. And, um, and then I send it. And then like, seconds later–I mean after she had read it–she writes back, “Ok, dyke.””
[…] so when you walk into this gorgeous flat that she owns, it does still feel like a young woman in her twenties, who just happens to have wigs and guns in her drawers. —Executive Producer & Writer Phoebe Waller-Bridge on creating Villanelle’s flat in Killing Eve
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Beneath a pile of blankets, buried in her lover's warm embrace, Lexa blinked her dry eyes open and yawned at the sound of her trunk and breakfast being delivered outside with a soft thud. There were adjustments to the routine now, unwelcomed by her chief equerry though she cared little of his opinion. Now, the trunk and breakfast were delivered outside her door and only when she gave word did the guards bring it into her quarters.
Clarke enjoyed the arrangement, allowed herself to slip inside the bedroom all hours of day and night without fear of Lexa's guards catching them in a compromising position. She didn't doubt for a second the guards heard their little games, the thought always made Clarke bite a little smile when she made up an excuse to see the Heda, watching them mumble and look away as she slipped inside, well aware of the things she did to their leader.
"Good morning." Lexa muttered against Clarke's breast and left a kiss there, closing her eyes again for a fleeting moment as the blankets insulated her bare skin from the morning chill.
"Mmm," Clarke wriggled her nose and wrapped her arms around her warlord. "Way too early." she mumbled.
Lexa smirked and threw the blankets off of their bodies, they settled in a pile on the stone floor at the bottom of the bed and for a moment she felt guilty for the small sad look on Clarke's face as the chill crept over her.
Lexa rolled out of the bed but Clarke's arms were quick and slung themselves around her waist, thighs hooking into her hips, pulling the Heda back into her arms and settling on top of her warm soft skin.
"Don't," Lexa tried to complain with a little huff as Clarke's nose followed the length of her neck, the shallow of her collarbone, the skin along her shoulder, all of it so gentle and purposeful.
"Can I just enjoy you?"
"You enjoyed me last night, many times." Lexa reminded her.
"One more won't hurt…" she whispered and slipped a hand between her soft thighs.
Lexa's eyes widened and a little noise escaped her. Clarke was a ruthless huntress, unrelenting and expert in all the ways that made the commander come undone, she tempted the idea of spreading her thighs, of sinking into the sensation of Clarke's touch, but there was a great many things that needed their attention.
Regretfully, sighing the whole time, she rolled their positions with the speed and strength that came with her good breeding and held Clarke's hands above her head. "No." she mouthed and held her stare for good measure, "There are things to do."
"But it's your birthday." Clarke whined and stayed still beneath the commander's grip, "I want to celebrate it."
"Why would you want to celebrate my twenty-third year?"
"We've been over this."
"Yes, and it still sounds ridiculous to me."
"You'd rather spend your birthday barely tolerating your ambassadors whilst they find more things to complain about?" Clarke pouted.
"You'll be there. You're the only ambassador whose complaints I have… a particular interest in." Lexa settled on the words with a smirk and kissed her lover. "Now, come have breakfast with me. You can teach me all about your celebration customs this evening once our ambassadors have been tended to."
"Can we at least have breakfast in bed?"
Lexa rolled her eyes and flopped backwards, forever uncomprehending of the strange traditions and customs the sky people brought down with them. If it wasn't breakfast in bed it was birthdays and spooning and Valentine's and all the other needless trivialities that had her and her people scratching their heads at how they managed to find the time to care about so many made up concepts.
"Yes, fine, we can eat the breakfast on the bed." Lexa muttered, her growing frustrations quickly quelled with a kiss to the corner of her mouth.
"Stay there and close your eyes."
"No."
"Just, do it. I have a surprise…" Clarke smiled over her shoulder and shuffled across the room, wrapping a fur blanket around herself that Lexa discarded earlier.
"I don't like surprises."
"Lexa!"
"Fine." she relented.
Clarke opened the door to the commander's room and Lexa snapped her eyes open in disbelief that she would dare. Though she most certainly did, pulling the furs up around her figure to cover herself from the guard's' gaze, still yawning and dewy eyed. Lexa heard the guards pause for a moment before little uncertain greetings of her title cleared their throats, the entire time she mouthed little silent threats for Clarke to close the door and put on her clothes.
"Thanks," she nodded at the guards and accepted wrapped boxes from them. There was three or four of them in total, all piled up in her arms with the biggest one at the bottom. There was just enough room above the highest one for her to peek over and see Lexa's boiling expression.
"Oh, sorry." Clarke winced in realisation and set the gifts down on the bed. "I wasn't thinking-"
"You so rarely do." Lexa snapped.
"Easy now." she pushed the commander's knee, "these are for you."
Responsively, Lexa accepted each one of the parcels with the big one sat at her feet. It softened her and she hated that, it irritated her above all things the way Clarke was so proficient in domesticating her temper.
"What do I do with them?" Lexa asked.
"Open them." Clarke grinned and crawled up the length of bed to lie at her commander's side.
Lexa was slow, her fingers pulling at the twine carefully out of fear for ripping the paper and spoiling this strange custom. Clarke rolled her eyes and dove in to help, ripping and tearing at the package until Lexa was left with the contents in her lap.
"It's a book." Lexa smiled and began to flick through the pages, "Thank you." she kissed the corner of Clarke's mouth and studied it a little further, there were pictures drawn out in coal, all of them beautiful and intricate and so clearly born from Clarke's touch.
"Yeah, yeah," Clarke hurried the commander and closed the book for later, "Come on, the big one next." she rushed in excitement.
Lexa obliged her and grabbed the box at her feet, responsively, the box yapped back and the commander raised her brow in curiosity. Clarke watched her with a little grin behind her hands, waiting, appraising, loving every second of this anticipation.
"Clarke?" Lexa arched a brow in her direction.
"Hmm,"
"What's inside?"
"A gift."
"That isn't," Lexa paused and threw her a look. "It isn't what I meant and you know it."
"Open it and find out…"
Lexa turned back to the box, it was ordinary enough except for the small holes in each side and the warm breath that escaped them and tickled her palm. Carefully, Lexa pulled off the brown lid and slipped her hand inside.
It was small and warm and she surmised that whatever it was, it was alive from the little tongue licking her palm. Carefully, she pulled it out of the box and up to her face to appraise it further.
"It is one of your customs to exchange animals?" Lexa said after a moment, blank faced and confused, holding the whining puppy in hand like the book prior.
"You don't like her?" Clarke frowned and crept a little closer, petting the little wolf's head. "Bellamy found her out by Alexandria and the minute I saw her she reminded me of you."
Lexa turned back and looked at the wolf a little closer, she was a deep charcoal grey with dark speckled inside the corners of her eyes and most definitely the runt of the litter, probably diseased and beastly and wild too. Lexa couldn't help but take a small amount of offence to the comparison.
The puppy squirmed out of her hands with a wagging tail to sit on hind paws that were too big for her body, more than satisfied to lick the commander's hand and nibble her fingers.
"Do you guys not have dogs and stuff? I thought that was an Earth thing…" Clarke scratched her head at the long pause.
"They're predators, the same as any other." Lexa shrugged, staring at the little ball of fluff that licked and panted against her hand. "She's very small, isn't she?" she cracked a little smile.
"If you don't like her I can take her back." Clarke shrugged and leaned to scoop her out of Lexa's lap but tentatively, Lexa wrapped a hand around Clarke's wrist and stilled her efforts.
"Do I… should I name her?"
"We're keeping the puppy?" Clarke blinked in surprise.
"What should I call her?"
"I've just been calling her wolf."
"Well, it's certainly apt." Lexa settled and ran a hand over her grey mane, "Wolf." she agreed with a nod.
The dog licked her hand and Lexa weakened at the sight of it, she was eager and good tempered and quickly growing on the commander. It took a moment for to realise Clarke was speaking, she hid her lack of attention well, nodded along at every pause for breath and pretended she heard everything said.
"So is that a yes?"
"Hmm?" Lexa finally glanced up, opening her mouth and closing it again. "Yes, of course." she agreed mindlessly.
Clarke grinned and pulled the blankets back onto the bed, sighing and pleased, plumping her pillow and setting the birthday gifts onto the ground. It dawned quickly that Clarke no doubt sought an extra hour in bed and though she wanted to protest, warm hands slipped across her stomach and the puppy settled between them both and she was helpless to refuse.
"She is not to sleep in our bed." Lexa warned and watched Clarke press little kisses to its grey muzzle.
"Whatever you say, Heda." Clarke hummed and snuggled closer.
The next disagreement was Clarke's birthday and Lexa made no pretense of attempting to win. The knowledge of the Ark's customs and punishments seeped to her like poison through the whispers of ambassadors who heard stories on their travels, how the sky people banished their children into the darkness where stars feared to tread, how they would be plucked from their prisons on the dawn of adulthood and culled.
It was a highborn warrior from the furthest southern reaches who told her of Wanheda's origins, a story he heard from a skygirl who married his brother. Lexa remembered little of it, the words rendered the oxygen in her lungs useless in the violent truths of Clarke's blood-forged past. Though she remembered small details, that Clarke was dragged from her prison on the dawn of her eighteenth year to face the coldness of the stars and somehow survived the plummet to the ground. It was tall tales, stories forged from too much ale, Lexa was sure of that… and yet somehow she couldn't stop herself wondering who Clarke was before she owned her first kill.
Her nineteenth birthday, the commander let her sleep until noon.
Her twentieth, she kept her awake with an eager mouth until dawn.
It was her twentieth year that they all but gave up on the pretense of their friendship. Long simmering looks shared during ambassador meetings and private counsel sought in the late hours of night were no longer gossiped of, instead they were encouraged by their united people, a people who sought marriage as a permanent truce.
Yet still the commander was unbending in the face of these new possibilities. Consumed by her breeding and duty, too staunch to believe such sentiments were attainable for leaders of their station.
It was the morning of her fifth ascension day when Clarke finally blurted it out. The wellwishers gathered at the foot of the tower like autumn pine needles packed together on the cusp of a branch, their numbers so vast and far Clarke couldn't see the end of the forest they formed from her position by the balcony door. The cacophony of noise that emanated from the crowds was beautiful, they sung songs of their beloved Heda, the one to finally bring peace to the world. It left Clarke awestricken and quiet.
"They sing of you too." Lexa snuck behind her, arms slipping along her waist eagerly. "They say I am all that I am, because my heart was touched by starlight." she grinned, dragging her mouth eagerly over the ridge of Clarke's shoulder.
Clarke turned in the commander's embrace, saw the majesty of her burdens and strengths and failures and heart and… she couldn't breathe for all of it. There were not words. There was just a visceral need to be at the core of every tiny part of her life. Clarke slipped her hands up Lexa's ribs, the skin was still damp and fresh from bathing and she tempered a pearl eyed smile that her warlord belonged only to her in these moments.
"Clarke?" Lexa whispered. "If you don't want to go,"
"Marry me?"
"To the celebrations later on. Wait, what?" Lexa halted in surprise, doubting herself entirely. "What did you say?"
"I said..." Clarke cupped her hands around the shocked expression. "Marry me."
"Clarke?" Lexa puzzled again.
"Marry me." she demanded with an assured nod, squeezing the jawline in her fingers. "Shut up and marry me."
Finally filled this after years of Wolf AU requests:
After a virus swept through the old world and brought about the shifters, a vicious race able to take wolf form. Humanity is in the hands of the final frontier, the pureblood hunters who are charged with scorging the land of shifters and reclaiming the earth.
Clarke, a pureblood hunter and only daughter of the chancellor, is stuck between her duty and the deeply-rooted belief that maybe the wolves aren't all that different from them at all.
But after a mission goes wrong and she finds herself hostage to the commander, the highest shifter amongst all packs, she'll find out just how similar the shifters and humans can be for all the right and wrong reasons.
She's ten and horrified, her feet slipping over wet shale, hands clinging to dead bits of bark, failing miserably in the small task of walking closely behind the grownups who were too busy patting each other on the back to see her lagging behind in the moonlight.
She tried not to look the small wolf in the eyes, it was still breathing, slung over her dad's shoulder and staring at her past its blood speckled snout. Occasionally it attempted a deeper breath and Clarke watched the wolf fail in its small efforts the whole walk back to camp, repulsed and ashamed, she turned her eyes away.
"Daddy," Clarke whispered quietly and tugged on her dad's pocket. "That one’s still alive..."
"She’s for you tomorrow morning." her dad told her proudly and took her hand in his. "It'll be scary at first. I was scared my first time but you're a Griffin and this," he clasped her shoulder with a smile and nodded to the barely alive wolf slung on his neck, "this is your birthright, Clarke. It's our job to protect our people, do you understand that?"
"Yeah," Clarke lied and buried the urge to retch at the blood smeared over her palm and fingers. "I understand."
"Good." he ruffled her hair proudly and marched on.
Clarke stayed awake that night, tossing and turning beneath her blankets, contemplating how an encampment with three fences guarding its proximity could still possibly need to cull the wolves for protection. She never dared to raise questions like that around the grownups, she was a Griffin and the wolf hunt ran in her family blood back to the first generations who survived the virus outbreak.
Still, she couldn't help but peek out of her window at the wolf caged in the rain. Clarke watched it lie there barely moving and felt a violent sickness consume her. She wanted to turn away and hide under the blankets but instead she forced herself to watch the once magnificent huntress lay sprawled in the mud like dying prey.
The wolf was already dead by the time she worked up enough courage to steal her dad's keys to free it from the cage. She gagged on her repulsion, stood there and vomited right between her feet because the magnificent terrifying beast was a little girl no more than her own age, curled up with open eyes that stilled into a vacant stare.
Against her better judgement, against the knowledge that she would catch hell in the morning if she was caught, she watched herself unlock the door to the iron rebar cage and drag the girl through the slick mud out into the open.
There were dark freckles around her cheeks and dried blood around the shoulder wound that finally felled her, if it wasn't for the distinct birthmarks that belonged to the shifters along her back and shoulders, she could have been a classmate or a friend.
Clarke delivered her home that night. Slung the girl over her shoulders like her father taught her and slipped through the fences with the his keys undetected. The body was heavy and the muddy grass made for slick footing but she covered the distance in an impressive time.
Delicately, tender and sorry and repulsed and ashamed, she laid the girl out and closed her eyes, whispering a tiny apology as she did.
That night never left Clarke. Twelve and forced to pose with her first kill for the family photo album, she remembered that dusting of dark freckles. Thirteen and celebrating with her friends as they brought home a wolf strung up by its hinds that Bellamy caught by fluke, she remembered the girl's vacant empty stare.
Sixteen and lauded as a future chancellor, dragging the strung up remains of three large wolves responsible for her father's death that she tracked and hunted single-handedly through the unchartered shifter lands, she remembered the long grief-stricken howls of the pack that discovered the girl she returned that night.
Now she was seventeen and unphased, or at least she pretended that much. It wasn't easy being Jake Griffin's daughter, she never felt like she measured up to much against him but everyone loved to tell her otherwise. She had his heart, that was everyone's favourite line. It was probably true she decided, she had his everything else, his eyes and blonde hair, the curve of his nose, the same lack of patience.
Today her lack of patience was focused on her friends who stood around making long work of loading the truck with the necessary gear. The walk was vicious and fast as she thought of something to say to wipe the stupid smirk off of Bellamy's face, feet pounding the ground, her hunt gear softly slapping her back, the people moved aside for her and she took a small victory in that.
"Clarke," the chancellor's voice stopped her from across the grass.
The chancellor came rushing out onto the porch and pointed to her feet. The feeling of Clarke's small victory was quickly stamped out as she sulked slowly towards her summoning.
"Yeah Mom?" she huffed.
"You nearly forgot this." her mom wrapped her father's watch into her hand and kissed her forehead. "You know what I'm about to say…"
"Be safe, don't die, and don't come home with less than four wolves."
"Five."
Clarke grinned, "Got it."
"Tonight's a big deal," her mom reminded her, "the chancellor of Mecha is bringing his sons with him tonight and Kane says the oldest is pretty cute." her mom nudged her hip with a slight smile.
"Kane said that?" Clarke leaned and whispered with a raised her brow.
"You know what I mean."
"Yes… kill wolves, bring them home, show off, marry well, give you pureblood grandchildren. I've got it, Mom." she rolled her eyes and snapped the watch onto her wrist.
"Our blood is our pride-"
"We're direct descendents from the first hunters and humanity's last stand. Again, I got the memo Mom."
"So long as you did." her mom cupped her cheek and ran a thumb over the small freckle there. "Love you kiddo." she chuckled and brought Clarke in for a hug.
Clarke resisted at first, felt her friends watch them both and desperately wanted to pull away. But her mom's hugs were the best and so she allowed herself a few more moments.
"Okay? Get out of here and don't come back with bullets left."
Clarke nodded and gave her goodbyes, she felt a strange feeling sit in her gut at how commonplace this all was. Everyday they patrolled the land, checked the traps and killed the shifters that were caught, ventured further into the southern border they were currently advancing, set up new traps, followed any trackings and then went home for dusk. Occasionally there would be a backlash, a pack would descend and good people were lost, but things were quieter since the battle that took her father.
For every good man the wolves killed that night they killed three of theirs in turn.
It was the way of the world, a world that she was born to and a world she would die in. It was that small fact that stopped her thinking too much about the morality of her work.
"Bellamy," Clarke chided as she reached the truck. "You girls too busy painting your nails to hunt today?" she glanced between his tempering smile and the rest of the guys.
"Nah we were just making sure our purses coordinated. Isn't that right Raven?" Bellamy called into the back of the rig and handed her another box of wolf traps.
"Mmhm," Raven agreed absentmindedly with her nose in a clipboard, counting the supplies. "Yellow is really your spring colour Bell."
"You see." Bellamy pointed and waved off the guys who stood around them.
It earned an eyeroll and a grin. Bellamy always had that way about him, nonchalant and cool-headed, he was pretty funny too. If it wasn't for his mixed-blood, Clarke knew her mom would probably throw her into his arms instead of every pureblood son of the fellow passing chancellors who came and went.
But he was the bastard of a farm girl, dashingly handsome and a quick shot, but a pureblood hunter like his sister he was not. If it wasn't for his Blake status, a son of the oldest hunt families in the region, Clarke knew her mom would dig the heels in over his promotion to the team. But Bellamy was his powerful father's beloved son, bastard or not, and so the chancellor held her tongue well.
"Where's Octavia?" Clarke looked around and loaded her gear into the back of the rig.
"Eh, probably breaking someone's heart." Bellamy shrugged over his sister's whereabouts and climbed into the truck. "You coming or not?"
"Wait, did you see Octavia come home last night?" Clarke paused and narrowed her eyes.
"She went to check the traps out near Rosa's Gorge, it's like a ten minute walk from here." Bellamy chuckled. "You think a big bad wolf got my sister?"
Clarke considered the thought and quickly shook it off. Octavia was the best of the best, and Rosa's Gorge was reclaimed as their territory years ago. "Where do you think she went?" she puzzled.
"Two beers says Lincoln's place." Raven appeared out of the passenger door with a knowing grin.
"Oh, she definitely got eaten by a big bad wolf then." Clarke smirked and Bellamy soured into the expression reserved for the moments before he killed something, earning a long chuckle from his friends who teased mercilessly.
Jasper jogged the distance from the main gate and made up their missing seat in the rig, "I call shotgun." he puffed by the time he reached the front wheel.
"Looks like you're up here with me." Bellamy patted the seat Clarke was now relegated to.
"Touch me and I'll cut your hands off." she sighed and climbed in.
The drive was short but not short enough, there's an itch that comes the closer Clarke gets to the outskirts of the safe zone and none of it can be cured until dusk falls and everyone is back in the rig safe and sound.
"Everyone split up and check the traps in your territory." Clarke commanded her group and slipped her gear over her shoulder. "I'll cover Octavia's too." she grumbled at the extra workload, stalking around the back of the rig to unload the traps.
Her people moved in between one another gearing up for the hunt. Jasper slipping on his goggles and tuning in the device that blinked when the wolves were near. Bellamy popping his neck and holstering knives along his long legs, one slipped into his black boot for good measure. Raven never bothered with the fuss of it, wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve and chambered her gun, and that was that.
"Shit!" Bellamy bristled and pinched his brow. "We've gotta go back. I forgot my alarm."
"You forgot your alarm?" Raven repeated in disbelief. "How have you survived in this world for so long?" she groaned at his forgetfulness.
"Guys there's wolves close." Jasper interrupted and tuned the frequency of his device. "Like, real close."
Clarke rolled her eyes and snatched the emergency alarm from around her neck. It was just a small thing, discreet and always with her and thankfully still unused. To the human ear it emitted a call for help, to the wolves ears it emitted a long screaming hiss that rendered them unable to do anything but retreat.
"Here," she tossed it at Bellamy. "You and Jasper track the wolves, Raven and I will split up and replace the traps."
"Clarke…" he frowned and caught the alarm in one fist, "Are you sure that's a good-"
"Yes I'm sure it's a good idea. Unless you want to explain to the chancellor why she doesn't have a dozen wolves to string up and show off to Mecha tonight?" she challenged.
"I'm good." Bellamy nodded and swallowed, slipping the alarm around his neck. "Meet back in an hour?"
"One hour." Clarke confirmed with a nod and set to work.
She stalked into the woods like it was her home. In some ways it was. There was a time when all the lands belonged to her ancestors, the first humans. There was a time before the wolves when civilisation thrived before the virus swept and reclaimed the earth with it.
She often found herself thinking about that world when she ventured into wolf territory, there were reminders of it scattered about, old ruined buildings and school libraries that were untouched since the beginning of the new world. She often wanted to venture into those forgotten places but there were stories of traps, of hunters who came before who were caught by the wolves in the lost buildings.
Instead she buried the desire and curiosity somewhere deep where it couldn't interfere with her duties and did what was needed.
It took ten minutes to reach the first trap, the cage had fallen from the tree but there was no prize trapped inside, instead the bait, a slab of meat, had been dragged a few metres away and all that was left was gristle and bone scored with sharp teeth marks.
She hated it when the wolves mocked them.
It took less than twenty minutes to reset all of her traps and put a bullet inside the wild boar that caught itself in the electric netting by the stream. It wasn't a wolf but it would make a good meal for the party tonight, heavy as it was, she dragged it back to the rig for Bellamy to clean up when he returned.
Octavia's territory came next. There was no one around to suffer Clarke's huffs and eyerolls but it didn't stop her releasing them often like breaths of air as she trudged down to the mouth of the gorge, new traps slung over her arm and rifle in the other.
There was a sensation that crept up her spine as she traversed down the embankment to where the first traps sat untouched along the water edge. It felt as if she was being watched, as if eyes were burrowing into her from the jagged rocks above. It was enough for Clarke to drop the last four metres and cock her rifle to the trees, waiting for some kind of movement to confirm her suspicions.
"Bell?" she muttered into her radio for backup, "Raven?"
There was nothing but the hiss of white noise.
"Anyone?" she sighed again.
Nothing.
Clarke chewed on that fact and looked off to the beacon on the south bridge that rooted their communication lines. She stared for a good while, her gut churning the whole time, eventually she dared to get a better look through her scope.
The antenna at the top of the beacon was missing, replaced with sparks and dangling wires where it had been ripped from its home.
"Shit." Clarke grunted and hopelessly looked for a quick exit.
She knew Rosa's Gorge well, learned to set up a wolf trap here and an earth line for an electric net. She never cared much for her father's lessons but the summer days were different, she'd cling to his back with fishing rods jammed under her arm whilst he traversed down the jagged rocks and they'd spend the day pulling fish out of the water on gorge hooks, eating cheese sandwiches and sharing old cans of sugary soda.
There was only one exit out of Rosa's Gorge, a mile long walk south towards lower ground and then a short trek through the dense woods back towards the rig.
Clarke wiped the dirt off of her face and tied back her long blonde hair. Something wasn't right and she could sense it in the air quite literally, the birds that often flew across the verge from nestings either side of the thickets were absent from the sky, no doubt hiding from lurking dangers.
She made it fifty paces before she caught a glimpse of a broken emergency alarm. It was small and discreet like hers, or at least it used to be, now it was scattered in pieces as if it had been dragged along the jagged ground.
"Bellamy?" Clarke tried to radio again, frantic beneath the reserved.
It was no use and Clarke was slow to accept it, wasted valuable time standing still when every ounce of herself told her to run and not stop.
"Clarke?" a cracked voice called from the distance. "Clarke is that you?"
"Octavia?" Clarke yelled back.
She ran up the slope of ground towards the calls of her name. She knew better than to do that. Her father taught her better than to be so reckless and walk straight into certain danger but here she was, running head first towards it with her gun drawn and cocked.
"Octavia!" she gasped and set eyes on her friend.
She was curled up inside of a cage trap, bloody and bruised, careful not to touch the electrified bars that surrounded her huddled figure. Awful as it was, Clarke breathed a sigh of relief and told herself this was likely a stupid prank by the Mecha hunters. One they would return mercilessly in the dead of night, but a prank nonetheless.
Clarke threw down her bag, urgently burying herself inside of it in search of the right kit to reset the cage. "Don't worry… we'll get them back for this." she shook her head and forced an awkward chuckle. "You must have been freezing out here."
"No!" Octavia hissed and crawled forward on her knees, "Clarke, Clarke listen to me. You need to run before they come back… they probably already know you're here..." she turned and looked behind her shoulder quickly.
"Who's coming?" Clarke furrowed her brow.
"The wolves, Clarke, there was hundreds of them-"
"Octavia you're delirious." she interrupted her friend, unnerved all the same. "This place has been clean for dozens of years. I'm going to get you out of here and we're going straight to my mom."
"No… this whole time they've been waiting, watching, learning about us… please just, just fucking listen to me Clarke and run!" she begged.
There was a chill that filled the air and made it thick with cold nothingness. Octavia jerked and scuttled backwards, eyes wide, jaw hung open at whatever crept up behind Clarke's shoulder. The growls came next, a low vicious sound that vibrated in the throat, it reverberated all around them with deep yellow eyes that blinked and watched from the thickets. Clarke counted twenty in front of her alone.
"You said hundreds, right?" Clarke whispered and stared at her friend.
Octavia nodded.
"How many are behind me?"
There was a sharp painful thud to her head that interrupted Octavia's answer, it came from a large rock wielded by one of the shifters in their tan human form. Clarke blinked and let out a grunt, face pressed to the dirt as she acclimated to the violent pain in her skull.
"Thousands." the chief shifter assured and dug a knee into her spine.
There was a blade pressed to her neck, hard and deep enough to cut into the top layer of skin. Clarke arched over her shoulder and caught a fleeting glimpse of the thing above her, she was a woman, young and beautiful with the same hauntful dark eyes that Clarke saw in every bitter nightmare.
"I've dreamed of this since you were just a child." the husky voice explained and pulled Clarke's head taut with a fistful of hair. "You took my daughter and that blood debt will be repaid on this day." she scorned with violent relief to the approving howls of her pack.
"Anya!" a snarl emanated from the woods.
A black wolf, terrifying and sinewed with a thick scar across its snout leaped from the thickets and landed effortlessly in the crouched shape of a female warrior.
"The kill is mine Indra." Anya growled back and dug the tip of the blade painfully into Clarke's throat.
"The commander demands them alive."
There was a pause, a long moment where Clarke wondered if there would be a skirmish or a fight though there was neither. The knife was thrown and stuck in the floor and the creature above her bowed submissively.
Clarke breathed a sigh of relief and closed her eyes.
"By the time the commander is finished, you will wish Anya had cut your throat and ran the river with your blood." the dark wolf snarled at her relieved prone figure. "Ready the prisoners for travel." she ordered the others and shifted into wolf form, leaping on her hinds back into the thickets.
"I will have my blood." Anya hissed vengefully into her ear.
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