Note: this is not a new chapter. I've simply revised the structure of this story (again) and as a consequence there are now two extra chapters. I apologise for the confusion, but I am an awful perfectionist and there were some changes and additions I simply had to make before proceeding any further. I promise this is the last time this will happen, and from now on I will focus entirely on finishing the story

He heard something whistling through the air towards him. Pivoting at the last second, he barely avoided the spear that had been thrown at him. It sliced open a shallow cut on his arm on its way past before it buried itself in the tree behind him.

His eyes widened. Jesus… he'd never even seen it coming…

He caught a flash of movement in the corner of his eye and brought his staff up just in time to block the sword wielded by a grounder that had just jumped down from the same tree.

Deflecting the strike, Aerrow dropped to his knees and crouch rolled away as a third jumped over his head. He got back to his feet and saw four grounders standing in front of him. Where the hell had the fourth one come from?

He quickly analysed the warriors in front of him. Two had swords, and they were flanked by two with spears. Each was large and menacing. Each was out to kill him.

He grit his teeth and pushed down the fear that threatened to take over. There was no other choice.

His staff gripped tightly in his hands, he charged towards the grounders.

...

Bellamy ran.

Ran for his life.

All thoughts of finding his sister had been replaced with finding safety.

He thought Clarke had been exaggerating when she said the grounders had speared Jasper from three hundred feet away. Now he wished he had.

Just in the time they had left Aerrow, they had lost two members of their group. Diggs and Roma had both been skewered gruesomely through their chests by medieval traps laid out in their path. Too late, he realised, they were driving them this way.

Finn came up alongside him, arms and legs pumping hard. "They're leading us here…" He panted, "It's the only way we can run!"

Bellamy nodded his agreeance. "Let's just hope Aerrow's been able to distract them…"

…

Coandite met steel with a wicked clang as the grounders went on the offensive, launching themselves at Aerrow and attacking as one.

The teenager met them head on, his staff merely a blur as he swang it back and forth at his assailants. They seemed surprised by his skill, and their guard was instantly up.

They'd obviously not seen his fighting style before, so he used that to his advantage.

He practically threw himself at them, fighting with everything he had to buy the others time to escape. He never stopped moving, aiming a swing at one's head before ducking a sword, and spinning around on his heel in an attempt to trip another over, to no avail as the man effortlessly leapt over his foot and kicked him hard in his face.

Aerrow recoiled, dropping heavily onto his back. He rolled to the side just in time as a grounder drove a spear towards his face. It missed, and stuck itself in the ground. Aerrow punished the man dearly for his misjudgement. He was back on his feet in an instant, and swung his staff hard at his head.

It connected with a sharp 'thwack!' and the man dropped, unconscious.

This only incensed the others further, and they attacked with renewed vigour. They worked as a single, cohesive unit, co-ordinating their strikes perfectly and with pinpoint accuracy. It was all Aerrow could do to hold them off.

He was paying dearly for his inexperience. For all his practise, he had never fought anyone like this before, someone of greater skill and with a weapon of their own. His time practising with Sienna the day before was all but useless against assailants of this calibre. His defence was practically non-existent.

He clenched his jaw grimly. He had to stay on the offensive. If he let the grounders get the advantage, he would be dead in seconds.

His muscles were already starting to tire, and he realised deep in his heart, horrifyingly, that he might have bitten off more than he could chew.

…

Meanwhile, Bellamy had had enough, and he skidded to a halt. "I'm done running!" he shouted.

"What are you doing?" Sienna demanded.

"They have my sister! They know where she is!"

"Bellamy you saw them, they'll kill you, me, all of us in a heartbeat!" she yelled at him.

"I don't care!" he shouted back.

"Think about this!" she stood on her toes. "While they're distracted, we can find the trail again!"

Breathing heavily, Bellamy eyed the diminutive blonde. The fire in her eyes reminded him of Aerrow. "Fine…" he said, thinking clearly again, "Finn, get over here!"

There was no response. Bellamy looked around, but there was no sign of him. The rest of the group looked nervously among each other, fearing the worst.

"FINN!" Bellamy tried again. Still nothing.

He looked back at Sienna. "Where the hell is Finn?"

…

Aerrow was in trouble.

Big trouble.

The grounders had finally gotten used to his style. His attacks weren't as disguised as he hoped, and now they were taking the advantage back, sending more and more attacks of their own towards him. Working as a team, they slowly drove him back.

He kept moving, darting around. He couldn't give the grounders any chance to encircle him. It was hard enough to fend off strikes front on, let alone from all sides. The grounders weren't just skilled, they were strong, and each hit that he blocked reverberated painfully through his hands.

He was breathing heavily, adrenaline surging through his veins. See, decide, act and react had all blurred into one, and he found himself fighting on pure instinct alone as he did everything he could just to stay alive.

Frustratingly, for all the time he had spent crafting it, his staff was next to useless. With no point or edge, all he could do was hit them with it. The Coandite may have been strong, but its light weight made it impossible to deliver strikes with enough power to hurt the grounders through their armour, let alone take them down.

All he could do was block their swords as best he could, and pray for a miracle.

And then it happened.

The grounders finally broke through his limited defence.

One trapped him in a lock with his sword, while another swung hard with his spear, knocking the staff from his hand in an instant, leaving him totally defenceless.

Aerrow blanched, frozen at the loss of his weapon. He paid for his hesitance as the third grounder kicked him hard in his chest, sending him flying back against a tree.

He yelled in pain at the collision and he slumped to the ground. He couldn't let them take him to ground…

Couldn't let them kill him…

Couldn't let them take him from Clarke…

He ducked, avoiding the sword that surely would have decapitated him had it connected, and willed himself back to his feet, now dodging blades non-stop, surviving on his reflexes alone.

The grounders swang. Aerrow ducked. They stabbed. He dodged.

But it couldn't last.

Still unfamiliar with the terrain, and backing away from the attacking grounders, Aerrow never saw the tree root behind him.

He tripped over it and tumbled backwards to the ground. He gasped and clutched his side as his injured rib flared up in pain.

The grounders all stood over him as one, and Aerrow slumped, defeated.

Two years training in a cell… learning every martial arts technique he could… and this was what it had led to. When it came down to it, he hadn't been strong enough, hadn't been fast enough. Hadn't been good enough…

And now he was going to leave Clarke in the same pain he had been left in. If she was lucky… she wouldn't have to experience it for too long. The grounders were that deadly, they could wipe out their entire camp without breaking a sweat.

Aerrow closed his eyes and let his head fall back.

He was dead.

It was at that moment though, that something came charging from behind the grounders and barrelled into the one standing over him, knocking the man clear.

The other two turned in surprise, and Aerrow rolled onto his side to see what had happened. His eyes shot open when he saw who it was picking themselves up off the ground.

"Finn?" He breathed in shock.

"Thank me later!" The Spacewalker said hurriedly, hauling him to his feet just as the grounders regathered themselves. "For now let's just try not to die!"

He ducked as a grounder flew at him, spear in hand. The man missed, and sailed past.

A new energy surged through Aerrow, and he quickly snatched his staff off the ground. He didn't know what had caused the Spacewalker to rescue him, but he thanked every god he knew for Finn's lifesaving intervention.

The grounder in front of him crouched, prepared, but this time Aerrow had a plan.

At the last second, he darted right and kicked off a tree stump, vaulting right over the grounder's head.

He landed like a cat on his feet, knife in hand. He threw it like a bullet, right between the grounder's eyes, and the unfortunate man dropped like a stone.

He wasted little time in engaging the other grounder, trading blows with the man with furious intensity. This one seemed slightly less skilled than the others, for he was able to hold his own against him, staff clanging rapidly against sword.

The grounder was stronger, but Aerrow was faster, and he pushed his advantage with several rapid strikes aimed at the man's feet. The larger grounder seemed to have difficulty blocking such low blows, but still Aerrow could not get through.

He heard sounds of another tussle close by. Evidently Finn was in a fight of his own. Dammit, he needed to get back to his fellow delinquent, he couldn't let the grounders separate them.

Then, he spied an opening, a brief window when the grounder overbalanced, and he took a chance.

He launched himself into the air, spinning and flipping simultaneously to gather momentum, hoping to god that the risky move didn't result in a repeat of earlier that morning.

It didn't.

He landed perfectly, stable on the uneven ground and hurled his staff at the grounder. Unable to bring his own weapon up in time, he was struck on the side of the head and flung several metres away.

Aerrow gave no time to be grateful for his earlier practise. He looked around, trying to find Finn.

He spied him, just as the third grounder struck the Spacewalker with a knockout blow with the butt end of his spear. Finn crumpled to the ground, out cold.

"FINN!" Aerrow screamed, making to race over to him, but he never got there as his own opponent recovered from the strike to his masked head and nailed him with a savage punch in return.

Aerrow was on the ground before he even knew what had happened. His entire head rang, and his vision was blurred from the blow to his head. He saw the knife coming just in time and threw his hands up, catching the grounder's wrist and halting the blade just inches from his throat.

The grounder had all the leverage though, and with immense strength, began forcing the knife closer…

Aerrow struggled desperately, trying as hard as he could to keep the blade away, but his muscles were quivering and failing from fatigue. There was nothing he could do.

The knife touched his neck…

It was then though that Aerrow spied something: a blur of black, moving rapidly through the trees.

He lost sight of it when it moved behind the grounder on top of him, but the next instant the man jerked and his grip slacked.

Aerrow immediately wrenched the knife from his grip and rolled aside, stabbing it forcefully into the man's chest. He needn't have bothered though, for as the grounder collapsed, laying unmoving on the ground, Aerrow caught sight of the meanest looking knife he had ever seen sticking out of his back. It was jet black and had four distinct, wickedly curved blades fanning out from its centre in a rough star shape. It was a throwing knife, but unlike any he had ever seen. It looked positively evil.

His eyes widened, and he rolled over just in time to see the final grounder get dropped in two brutal strikes by another figure.

This one was totally different.

Where the other grounders wore primitive armour and animalistic facemasks, this man was dressed head to toe in black, with some seriously sleek gun-metal grey armour covering his chest. Instead of a mask, he wore a hood that concealed everything except the lower half of his face.

Aerrow could only gape at him, wide eyed in disbelief, both at his appearance and his evident skill.

"Thank you…" he rasped, getting to his feet and staggering towards him. "You saved-"

He was cut off when suddenly, shockingly, the man flicked his arm and Aerrow felt his chest ignite in pain.

He looked down and gasped when he saw a dagger. Lodged in his own chest.

Wheezing, he collapsed to the ground. The dagger was small and the wound not deep enough to kill him, but the clear residue on the blade told him it was laced with some kind of poison, and whatever it was, it was very effective. He could already sense his vision darkening.

Aerrow willed himself to stay awake. Whoever this man was, he will kill him where he lay if he blacked out.

He stuck a hand out feebly as the man stalked over.

The last thing he saw before his world faded to nothing was a series of small black x's on his chin…

…

The cave was dark.

Too dark.

It was cramped and ominous. It struck him as a place where people were brought to die.

Illuminated only by a flashlight, Bellamy Blake pressed further in, having tracked a lone grounder to this cave after a false alarm for acid fog. There had been no sign of any of the grounders that had been following them. Hopefully they were gone for good.

Then again, there was also no sign of Aerrow.

No one had said it aloud, but they were all thinking the same thing: the famed Switchblade had surely fallen.

Bellamy spared a glance at the sullen form of Sienna, who was walking with her head bowed at the very back of the group. The young girl had evidently cared for the purple eyed fighter, and was clearly feeling the loss.

"Hey…" he called out to her, and she looked up at him miserably. "you okay?"

"Just leave me alone…" she muttered, walking past him.

Bellamy sighed, and moved alongside her. "It was his choice, there was nothing you could have done…" he tried comforting her.

"I know!" she flared, taking him back with the malice in her voice. "Doesn't mean I have to like it…"

"I understand, but keep your voice down!" he said lowly, "We're not out of danger yet."

She glared at him, if for no other reason than to vent her anger, before it quickly gave way to sadness, and she nodded absently.

Not knowing what else to do, Bellamy pressed further on into the cave, coming around a corner and-

There!

"Octavia!" he gasped, seeing his sister alive and well, kneeling over the unmoving body of another grounder.

He raced over to her, wrapping her up and hugging her tightly in pure relief. It was only when she didn't return the hug that he noticed her hands were chained together. Octavia pointed out the key, dangling in the grounder's open palm. He quickly grabbed it and released her, and she fell, exhausted into his arms.

"Let's get out of here, before he wakes up." she sighed.

Bellamy though, had other ideas. Seeing his sister so beaten and broken, chained to a wall like that, it stirred something in him. Pure, raw, boiling rage. God only knew what this bastard had been keeping his sister alive for. He was surprised she still had clothes on.

"He's not going to wake up." He growled, moving out of Octavia's grip and picking up a spear from the side of the wall.

"Bellamy no! He didn't hurt me, let's just leave!" Octavia objected, but Bellamy was having none of it.

"They started this!" he muttered, positioning the spear over the grounder's heart.

"What do you mean?" Octavia asked hurriedly.

"They killed Aerrow, O!" he raised his voice, and she froze.

"What?" she said shakily, eyes wide.

"He came with us, looking for you." Bellamy recounted with a lump in his throat, "He took them on so we could get away. We've not seen him since…"

"No… that couldn't- That doesn't mean he's-" Octavia stammered, her chin quivering at the thought of her friend being killed.

"At the very least they've taken him and strung him up for bait." Sienna scowled from the other side of the room. "I agree with Bellamy, let's kill him!"

"No!" Octavia objected, but it was too late, Bellamy was about to bring the spear down.

He never got the chance.

The grounder moved like lightning, shifting from his prone position and tripping Bellamy over. The next instant, he drove a knife between Bellamy's ribs, and the man yelled out as the grounder wrenched the spear from his grip, standing over him in a role reversal.

Bleeding heavily and going into shock, Bellamy had no chance of stopping the grounder from impaling him. He closed his eyes and waited for the end.

It never came.

Instead, a loud 'thud' echoed around the cave, and the grounder dropped unconscious to the floor.

Standing behind him, wooden staff in hand, was Sienna.

"Oh my God!" Octavia cried, racing over to her brother, who was barely conscious.

"Clarke…" he whispered, "I need Clarke…" then his head lolled and he lapsed into unconsciousness.

"Bellamy! No!" Octavia said desperately, cradling his head in her hands.

"Wrap his wound with something!" Sienna ordered. "We need to take him back to camp!"

Bellamy's surviving goons just looked at her, not sure how to respond to being ordered around by a sixteen year old girl who was likely half their weight. "Do it!" she yelled at them. Jolted into action, they joined Octavia at Bellamy's side.

"What do we do with him?" Jasper asked, coming up alongside Sienna, looking down at the grounder beneath them.

Sienna stared at the man for a moment. Then her eyes darkened.

"Bring him back too." She declared harshly. "It's time we got some answers."

This chapter goes out to all those who believe Aerrow is a Mary Sue.

Hope the rest of you enjoyed the fighting. Everything fit so well together here, Finn coming to humility and rescuing Aerrow allowed Bellamy to get stabbed, which in turn allows Sienna to step up. As to what Sienna has in mind for Lincoln, as well as Aerrow's mysterious x-marked stalker, stay tuned…