Branches snapped under heavy boots as Anya and her Grounders dragged Clarke and Finn deeper into the dense bush as they moved closer to Anya's forces.
Clarke stirred first before Finn, her head throbbed and she felt her wrists burn.
And ropes dug painfully into her skin.
Finn woke up seconds later, coughing as he was yanked upright by the Grounder holding his leash.
"Where, where are you taking us?" Clarke rasped.
Nobody answered as the Grounders moved fast, weaving through thick brush until they reached an enclosed hollow made of reinforced branches and woven hides. This is a temporary war-base.
Clarke barely had a second to observe her surroundings before Anya stepped directly in front of her, knife in hand.
Finn lurched forward trying to stop her from doing anything to Clarke.
"Anya NO!"
A Grounder behind him punched him square in the ribs, dropping him to the floor with a brutal thud. Finn gasped, choking on air.
Clarke's heartbeat skyrocketed as Anya gripped her jaw and lifted the knife.
"Anya, wait!"
The blade flashed as Clarke squeezed her eyes shut. But instead of pain, she felt the ropes around her wrists loosen.
Anya cut her free. Clarke blinked at her, confused.
She moved to run to Finn who was on the ground, but a Grounder immediately blocked her path, spear pointed at Finn's throat.
"Try anything," Anya said coldly, "and he dies."
Finn groaned on the floor, clutching his ribs. Clarke froze.
Anya turned toward the entrance.
"Bring them."
What entered next made Clarke's breath catch.
Six people, four kids and two older teens were carried inside on makeshift stretchers.
And every one of them was a horror.
Three boys were so burnt and cut it hardly looked human:
One missing an entire arm, the flesh charred.
Another missing a leg, stump wrapped in bloody cloth. The last had a deep bone-cutting slash through his chest, so deep Clarke could see pale ribs.
The girl was barely breathing, lips cracked, skin blistered.
The two older ones around twenty or twenty-two were no better, bodies shredded, burned, carved open.
Clarke covered her mouth.
"Oh my god…"
Finn whispered, horrified at what he was seeing, "What… happened to them?"
Anya's voice cracked like a whip.
"Get to work. Heal them." Clarke stared at her.
"Wait—what? How do you expect me to do that?"
"Stop pretending," Anya snapped. "I know you are your people's healer."
Finn groaned from the ground.
"Lincoln… Lincoln must've told them…"
Clarke closed her eyes.
"Damn it."
Anya nodded once.
"Our healer is dead. So now you must save them."
Clarke inhaled sharply.
"These injuries, they're too severe. Some are half dead already, I—"
Anya took a step forward, expression ice cold.
"If even one of them dies from your failure, then Finn dies."
Finn's head snapped up.
"What?! How the hell do you expect her to save them?! Look at them, they're mutilated! You want a miracle!"
Clarke finally found her voice.
"How did this even happen? What did this? What kind of monster—"
Anya's expression flickered to annoyance, anger and a hint of something else one would have caked fear.
She moved in front of Clarke until their faces were inches apart.
"It was your butcher."
Clarke's blood ran cold at that and Finn's eyes widened.
"Our what?"
Anya's jaw tightened.
"The smiling butcher. You want to pretend you did not send him to the bridge with a bomb?"
Clarke blinked, breath hitching.
'Jason?'
Finn whispered, stunned:
"Jason…?"
Anya nodded once, slow and sharp.
"Your boy. Your leader."
Before Clarke could respond, one of Anya's men the same one who originally reported to her about the failed mission stepped forward.
"Oh, it is him," he said bitterly. "The one you all follow. He slaughtered our warriors with a smile burning across his face. Painted in their blood."
Clarke felt her heart pound against her ribs.
'Jason?'
'Jason had done this?'
Anya shoved a cloth and a bowl of water into her hands.
"Get to it."
Most of the guards filed out, leaving only one Grounder at the door.
But just as Anya stepped outside, Clarke raised her voice:
"If Jason is capable of all that… what's to stop him from coming after us?"
Anya paused mid-step.
Then she spoke without turning around:
"If you don't hurry… you'll be dead long before he gets here."
She walked away.
Leaving Clarke and Finn surrounded by the half-dead victims of Jason's wrath.
And no way out.
————————————-
Raven had been thinking a lot recently, trying to make more bullets and anything else that would enable the hundred to survive longer against the grounder. But they were limited on what to use to make those weapons and now their bullets were almost exhausted. But even with that what was playing in her mind right now was not survival no… no it was something else.
She moved through the quiet camp, her boots making no sound on the floor. Her hair was tied loosely behind her as she moved into a tent. She saw Jason on his bed usually so capable and strong, lay limp. He looked younger in his sleep, the usual calm expression was now replaced by a softer, expression.
"Jason?" she whispered, her voice barely disturbing the silence.
He jolted awake immediately with a quiet, sharp intake of breath, his head snapping up. His eyes immediately cleared up as if he was already awake before she got there. He blinked, focusing on her.
"Raven...?" he asked, his voice rough with sleep. He ran a hand down his face. "Damn. Sorry, I fell asleep."
Raven's smile was soft. "It's okay. The others are still working on the traps around the camp, so I thought I'd come here and see how you're doing after all that heavy lifting." She moved closer to him and let her hand slide from his shoulder down his arm, a comforting stroke. "You seem really tired, Jason."
He stretched, his spine cracking in a few places, and let out a weary sigh. "It's nothing. Don't worry about it. Just... a long week. So are you going to tell me why you're really here Raven"Jason asked her as he moved closer and stared into her eyes while giving her a smile that made her feel butterflies in her stomach.
Instead of replying, she did something entirely on purpose and deliberate.
She took a small step forward, right into the his personal space and he watched her before finally pulling her in for a rough kiss.
"Mmmnn" Raven moaned as her lips were attacked and she felt Jason's tongue asking for permission into her mouth. He placed a hand behind her neck and massaged it gently but before he could go any further she pushed him down to his bed again.
Jason looked confused until she moved into the space between him. Then, slowly, she sank to her knees on the floor, settling herself comfortably in the vee of his legs, her hands coming to rest lightly on his thighs.
Jason's whole body went still. His surprise was evident and the confident look in his eyes was replaced by wide-eyed surprise. A deep, rosy flush crept up his neck and spread across his cheeks, painting his pale skin. His breath hitched.
"Raven?" he asked, his voice an octave higher than usual in surprise. "What... what are you doing?"
From this angle, she was looking up at him, and he was looking down at her. The position was incredibly intimate, her chest brushing against his knees. She could feel the solid warmth of his legs beneath her palms. She had that look in her eyes, the look of a predator about to go devour what she had hunted.
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