When All We Have Is Peace

Clarke

Clarke had intended on returning to Mount Weather to bury the dead, but when she had arrived, she hadn't been able to go inside. She'd turned away with tears in her eyes and continued on. Four days later, she found herself standing on the shore of a lake. In the distance, smoke from what she assumed was a village, rose into the sky. Clarke watched it curl into the air and slowly fade away with the breeze. She shed her heavy coat and sat down, staring out over the water in front of her with heavy eyes; she hadn't slept in what was probably weeks. Every time she closed her eyes, all she could see were the faces of the dead, all she could hear was the silence that their breath and heartbeats should have filled. Her fault. They were dead because of her choices. Clarke looked down at her hands; they were covered in dirt, but it wasn't the dirt that bothered her. Though it wasn't visible, her hands were soaked in blood. Grounder blood, Mountain Men blood- even her own peoples blood! Her fault.

Trembling, Clarke crawled to the waters edge and plunged her hands into the icy liquid, determined to scrub them clean. However when she pulled them out, numb and free of dirt, she could still see the death that clung to her skin. A soft whimper escaped her mouth as she thrust her hands back into the water, rubbing them together to rid herself of the gore. The water did nothing but ice her skin, leaving her panting and chilled to the bone. With a frustrated cry, Clarke lurched to her feet and began to collect wood with her numb fingers. Back on the Ark, she had read a book for school, and after the main character was raped, he built a fire and burned his skin where his attacker had touched him. The fire had made him new again. 

Once the flames were dancing over the wood, Clarke drew in a deep breath and curled her hands around a small burning stick. The pain was almost immediate, and she heard a scream rip itself from her throat; Clarke scrambled back to the water and submerged her hands once again, letting the cold liquid leach the heat from her burns. Tears streamed down her face as she lay there on the rocks. It hadn't worked, the blood was still there. Clarke squeezed her eyes shut and rested her head on the ground, breathing heavily; the faces rushed to meet her, staring with blank eyes, mouths open in silent screams. This time, instead of getting up and moving on, Clarke forced herself to keep her eyes closed. She couldn't run away anymore, no matter where she went, they would follow her. They would always be there; it was time she got used to it.

"I'm sorry." She whispered, voice catching. "I'm so sorry."

"Yu ste klir?" A deep, booming voice said from behind her. Clarke flinched, then she sat up, looking over her shoulder. The man was built like most of the Grounder men are: tall and broad shouldered. His beard covered the bottom half of his dark face; a light blue design curled around his left eye in a half circle. The man's eyes were narrowed, and he held a sword at his side. The man's eyes drifted to Clarke's blistered hands and he sighed. "Ai na fis yu op."

Clarke watched him as he knelt down and gently took her hands, inspecting them before reaching into his bag and pulling out what looked like an ointment of some sort. He was careful not to hurt her, but when she started to flinch too much, the Grounder handed her a leaf. "Jak disha op." When he realized that she didn't understand, the man made a show of pretending to eat it. "Yu." He grunted, passing it to her again.

"I don't speak your language. " She whispered, feeling ashamed. If only she had learned when she'd had the chance.

The Grounder nodded, tying a cloth around her burns. "You are from the Sky People." When she dipped her head, he smiled kindly. " Ai laik Kortei."

Clarke understood that and she shook his hand. "Ai laik Clarke."

Kortei's dark eyes widened in surprise. "You're Clarke? The one who defeated the Mountain Men?" He wondered.

The guilt twisted painfully in her stomach, but she nodded. "Yes."

"You are different from what I imagined." He murmured under his breath, although, she wasn't offended by it, his tone held no mockery. "You are a long way from home, and you have no warriors. What are you doing here?"

"I'm not sure, if I'm being honest." Clarke admitted, avoiding his gaze. There was no way she was going to tell him that she was running from herself.

Kortei slowly got to him feet, offering Clarke a hand up as well. "Come with me to my village. You look like you haven't had a decent meal in days." He grumbled, walking across the rocky beach toward the trees. After a moments hesitation, Clarke followed. They walked in silence for a long time, but she didn't mind, it allowed her to think, to continue her silent grieving. 

The sun was just falling behind the mountains when they reached the village. Clarke expected to be searched and stripped of her weapons, but the guards only nodded their heads at Kortei as they passed. It was a small place, and Clarke saw only a few warriors, the rest were children and the elderly. People gave her curious glances when she walked by them, some even smiled. Kortei lead her to one of the bigger shacks and knocked on the rusty door. It groaned as it was drug open, and an old woman stepped outside.

"Nemi, Disha laik Klok kom Skai-kru." Kortei said, resting his hand on Clarke's shoulder. She blinked, shocked by the way he pronounced her name.

The woman looked Clarke up and down, eyes fixing on her bandaged hands. "Em beda choj op. Yu fis em op?" She asked, pointing to Clarke's hands.

"Yeah."

Nemi turned her gentle eyes back on Clarke and motioned for her to enter the shack. "Welcome Clarke of the Sky People."