Clarke kept her hands pressed to the little girl's chest, trying to stabilize her breathing as the sweat trickled down Clarke's temple. Every second felt like it was slipping away from her.
Outside, the chaos had grown louder minutes ago there were shouts, screams, metal sounding against metal and then the gunshots.
Then… silence.
Finn swallowed hard from where he sat chained on the floor.
"What the hell is happening out there?"
Anya's second-in-command, the broad-shouldered, painted in black streaks glanced toward the entrance.
"It seems…" he said coldly, "your friends are dead."
Before Clarke could respond, two of the kids, the boys began seizing violently. Their limbs jerked, eyes rolling back, bodies drenched in sweat.
"Hey, hey, stay with me" Clarke moved to them instantly, trying to hold one down.
Finn flinched as the boys spasmed harder… then suddenly stopped.
Too suddenly.
Clarke froze. She looked at their lifeless faces, then at Finn, then up at the second-in-command.
The Grounder walked over, expression tightening. He crouched, checked them both, then stood and looked away with a grim finality.
"Attend to the others," he ordered sharply.
"I—I tried, they were too far gone" Clarke began.
"TAKE. CARE. OF. THEM!" he roared, the entire place vibrating with the force of it.
Finn tried to step forward but the masked Grounder holding his chain yanked hard, so hard Finn nearly screamed as his arm twisted painfully.
"Stop, stop, please!" Clarke begged, kneeling where she was, hands raised.
The second-in-command lifted a hand.
"Enough."
The Grounder released Finn not gently. Clarke was shoved to the ground beside the wounded.
Before she could speak, the little girl on the table began spasming violently.
"What now?" Anya's voice cut through the room like a blade as she strode in, eyes immediately locking on the girl's trembling form. "What's wrong with her?"
Clarke rushed to her.
"She, she can't exhale! The air isn't leaving her lungs,her chest is filling up, she's suffocating!"
Clarke turned desperately.
"I need a blade or at least something sharp!"
The second-in-command stepped forward, hand drifting toward his axe—
"Wait," Anya commanded, eyes narrowing. "What do you need the knife for?"
"To release the pressure," Clarke said rapidly. "If I don't get air out of her chest, she dies."
Anya held Clarke's gaze for several long seconds… then nodded once toward her lieutenant.
He handed Clarke a small knife.
To Clarke, it was a lifesaving tool.
To the Grounders, it was a weapon that had ended dozens of lives.
Clarke took it carefully, her hands shaking only a little. She glanced at Finn who was still gasping, still in pain before turning back to the girl.
"Okay… okay, sweetie… stay with me," she whispered.
She made the incision just below the ribs, steady and deep, watching as blood welled up. She grabbed the hollow reed she'd found earlier and inserted it gently, angling it upward.
A soft hiss escaped as trapped air released.
Finn watched with terrified fascination.
"Please… please work…"
Anya paced slowly, eyes drifting to the two dead boys. Her hands clenched at her sides.
The other three kids looked barely alive.
A tremor of rage rolled through her.
"What have you done?" Anya snarled, voice echoing in the wooden room. Clarke froze mid-motion.
"I, I tried my best, Anya," Clarke said breathlessly. "Their wounds were too severe!"
"STOP TALKING!" Anya snapped.
The tent fell silent.
Then the little girl's body jerked violently again.
Clarke rushed to her, checking her pulse.
"She's losing too much blood and she needs a transfusion right now or she won't make it!"
Clarke looked desperately at Anya.
"I need blood. Now!"
The second-in-command scoffed. "We will not weaken—"
"Use mine," Finn interrupted, voice strained as he tried to push himself up.
The masked Grounder yanked his chain and slammed him back down.
"Enough," Anya snapped.
Clarke's breathing grew frantic.
"You're wasting time, she's going to to…"
"Clarke…" Finn said hoarsely.
She looked at him.
"Clarke… she's not… she's not moving anymore."
Clarke's breath caught.
Anya's face darkened as she stepped to the table. She stared at the girl who looked still, pale, gone. Her jaw tightened, her fists was v
Clinched up.
"If you just let me try" Clarke began.
"Silence."
The word cracked like thunder.
Anya glared at Clarke, eyes burning with fury and grief.
"You and your people have brought nothing but death since you fell from the sky. You trespassed on our land. You burned our village. You killed our warriors."
"We didn't know—" Clarke whispered.
"You and your butcher have cost us lives," Anya hissed, stepping closer. "For that… we will wipe you out."
She motioned sharply.
The masked Grounder grabbed Finn's chain and began dragging him away.
"No! No, please!" Clarke screamed. "Anya, please! We didn't know please stop!"
Finn kicked at the ground, fighting uselessly as he was pulled toward the entrance.
CRACK!
The Grounder jerked violently as something slammed into his skull. His neck snapped with an audible crunch, and his body dropped like a puppet with its strings cut.
A heavy wooden club showed up at the entrance of the tue room.
Anya spun instantly.
Her lieutenant's hand went to his sword.
Because standing in the doorway, drenched in blood, holding a sword in one hand and another blood-smeared club in the other…
…was Jason.
"Somebody," he said flatly, "better fucking pay me for all this shit. Because this, this is some bullshit."
Finn blinked up from the floor. Clarke stared in raw relief.
Anya and her men stared in horror.
Jason surveyed the room.
"Well damn. If y'all wanted some privacy from the camp, this is a really shitty way of doing it."
The second-in-command stared at Jason's blood-soaked form and whispered:
"…the Smiling Butcher."
Jason tilted his head.
"The smiling what?"
"Butcher," Finn muttered.
Jason frowned, offended.
"Why the hell would they call me that? Do I look like a butcher?"
He lifted his arms, examining himself.
Blood. Everywhere. Even in his hair.
He looked back at the doorway.
Bodies. Everywhere.
He looked down.
Another body.
"…okay, I see the butcher part," he admitted. "But why the smiling bit though?"
The second-in-command roared and charged just as Anya ducked and ran the opposite way and Clarke tried to stop her but was shob.
Jason groaned, rolling his eyes. "Not this shit again."
He stepped aside smoothly and kicked the Grounder square in the chest hard enough to launch him backward.
The man crashed right into Finn.
Before Jason could finish him, the Grounder scrambled up, seized Finn, and pressed a blade to his throat.
"Move," he snarled, "and he dies."
Jason twirled the sword in his hand lazily.
"Is that so?"
He looked at Finn.
Finn looked panicked.
He looked back at the man.
Jason shifted his weight like he was preparing to—
But Clarke moved first.
A wet shhk! filled the tent.
The Grounder's eyes shot wide as Clarke drove the small knife from earlier into his jugular. Blood spurted instantly down his chest.
Finn stared at her in shock.
"Clarke… what did you…?"
Jason blinked, then snorted.
"Well. That works."
Before he could say more, a Grounder rushed from behind him.
Without turning, Jason pivoted, sword slicing through the air in one clean arc.
SHHK—
The Grounder's head dropped before his body did.
Jason exhaled.
"Okay. Time to go."
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