She had left Camp Jaha without a gun.

There was a point where Clarke Griffin had stopped healing people and started killing them instead. She was trying to find her way back to that person, and she couldn't picture her with a gun in her hand.

She had been on her own for several days now, waking each morning to pick a direction to walk in, keeping a steady pace through the wilderness until she grew tired, only to sleep and wake and walk again. It was late afternoon and she had kicked off her boots and was hanging aching feet in an icy creek, debating whether to throw the knife at her hip into the water when she heard the rustling of undergrowth and saw figures rising over the crest on the opposite side of the creek.

Clarke's body went rigid at the sight of the Commander, a hand at her knife before she remembered her peaceful resolutions.
Lexa gripped her sword, hand tightening around it reflexively. The two grounders flanking her looked equally uncomfortable, though harder to read behind their face guards. Lexa's red cloak stirred slightly in the breeze, her eyes a stark and bleached green against the kohl surrounding them.

Lexa cleared her throat.

"You are summoned—"

"No," Clarke said, voice like a saw.

"I have been asked to—"

"No!" Clarke said, pushing herself forward to stand barefoot in the frigid creek.

"Clarke," Lexa said and Clarke gritted her teeth at the way she said her name, like she could cut her tongue on the edges. Lexa opened her mouth to say more and Clarke could see her struggling for the words. Clarke narrowed her eyes at the Commander and Lexa's shoulders dropped almost imperceptibly.

Lexa took a deep breath, focusing her steady gaze above Clarke's head.

"As commanded I have searched for Clarke of the skaikru. She could not be found with her own clan, or in the forests surrounding. She has either left the trikru lands or been killed by it."

Lexa's grounder escorts shifted uneasily beside her, "Heda—"

"What?" Lexa snapped, "Do you see something your Commander does not?" Her sword hand shifted, and Clarke heard the faint click of metal about to escape its scabbard.

The grounder ducked his head, "No, Heda."

"We make for Polis," Lexa ordered, already turning away from the creek, "fetch the horses."

"Yes, Heda," the grounder woman beside her said, an instant before an arrow shaft buried itself in her neck.

Lexa drew her sword and twisted to the side in one fluid motion, the whistle of an arrow streaking past where her head had been a moment before.

"Ona tri! Jomp op!" Lexa roared, as she and her remaining escort charged forward to meet the attackers dropping from the trees.

Clarke scrambled up the creek embankment, grabbing the fur cloak of an enemy with his back to her and yanking him backwards, tumbling him down into the rocky creek bed.

Lexa was spinning and weaving, sword a silver flash in her hands, face furious as she plunged her weapon deep into the chest of a man with an axe in each hand, his body arching painfully on the blade.

"Heda!" Her grounder called a warning and Lexa spun to parry the blade sweeping towards her head. Lexa kicked her attacker's leg out from under him, sending him sprawling to his knees. As she raised her blade to finish him, another assassin dropped from the trees, landing solidly on the Commander's back, dagger slashing from her shoulder to her hip.

"Lexa!" Clarke screamed, already rushing forward before she realized it. Just as the woman raised her dagger to finish Lexa, Clarke bowled into her, the headlong tumble sending them rolling sideways together, the assassin kicking and grabbing at Clarke the whole way.

The woman landed on top of Clarke and slammed a fist to the side of her head, her weapon lost somewhere in their tumble. Clarke's ears rang as the world spun. The woman grabbed for the knife still buckled at Clarke's waist, Clarke clawing at her arms and trying to twist away. The assassin slammed another fist into Clarke's head and sparks flashed in front of her eyes. The woman freed her dagger and Clarke grabbed for her hair, fingers tangling in matted braids as she pulled as hard as she could. It pulled her attacker off balance for the moment Clarke needed to punch a fist into her kidneys. The woman grunted from the blow, her body dropping slightly in pain and Clarke grabbed for her wrist, trying to wrestle the knife away from her. The assassin rained blow after blow from her free hand on Clarke's head and shoulders but still she doggedly held on. Clarke's world was just beginning to narrow to darkness when a force wrenched the woman off of her, body nearly flying backward at the ferocity behind the grip. Clarke panted from the ground as she watched Lexa, smeared in blood, her sword slick with it, slit the throat of the woman who had nearly killed them both.

Lexa spat on the body, sword hanging loosely in her grip, point slowly dripping blood. Around her lay eight bodies, ally and enemy alike dead.

"Lexa," Clarke managed to gasp.

Lexa pulled her gaze up to Clarke, the effort of focusing her eyes looking as though it took all the strength left in her. She rocked on her feet, sword dropping from her grip.

"You're safe, Clarke," Lexa said, her body crumbling forward.