Black Blood, Green Eyes

Tombstones

CLARKE

Finn, Maya, hundreds of grounders, hundreds of Mountain men, my friends, my father, and my child. All dead and I'm to blame. I've buried so many, and made too many tombstones to count. It took three months to create the massive graveyard of the people I've killed here in the mountain. The children were too easy to carry and too hard to put down. Tons of dirt and rock moved and tossed to make way for my victims.

I walk away from the mountain after digging the final grave that was no bigger than a shoe box, my child laid to rest amongst the hundreds of people I murdered. I killed my child by not taking care of myself, or it. I am the only one to blame.

I follow my feet that seem to know where they are going. Over and under obstacles without thinking about it. Until I am in water up to my knees, I finally stop and wash myself but no matter how much I scrub I am still covered in the blood of the innocent. I walk out of the water and stand on the shore until I completely dry off. My stomach gurgles and I know it's time to hunt.

I walk again towards a set of bushes and start to stain my long blonde hair with the red berry juice until it is a vibrant red color and pull out the dagger I stashed inside the bush.

Again I follow my feet and they take me up a tree to wait. For hours I stay silent and I wait until a poor animal decides to walk through. I jump from my perch and my dagger makes a wet thud into the back of a panther. I am thrown off and I sprawl across the ground.

I don't recover quick enough and I'm punished by a claw to my shoulder. I counter with a straight shot to the heart and the beast falls instantly with a huff. I crawl out from under it and stand up to look at its true size. "Another notch on the club" I mumble to myself and start to prepare a stretcher to load it on.

I head straight to the trading post with my fresh kill and on the wall is a drawn picture of me, or at least what I used to look like. My hair is longer now, I don't weigh as much as I did and there's a hollowness to my cheeks now. I simply tear the paper down and crumple it up. The usual trader is here and I walk in quickly before her father comes back.

"It's been a while" the woman greets me and I nod in reply. "I still owe you from last time, what would you like?"

"A nice pelt and my cut of the meat." I reply dropping my kill on the floor.

"You know it's funny how you come in only when my father is gone." She says raising an eyebrow at me. She opens her mouth to speak again just as two men barge through the door. "How may I assist you?"

I turn my back to them and pretend to check out a piece of fabric while the men look around. "We are looking for Wanheda. There will be a big reward if you help us find her." One of the men says as the other approaches me.

"I saw the woman on the poster just the other day, she was near the coast." The woman tells them and both men run out of the trading post. Once she knows they are gone she giggles. "Those men aren't the brightest are they?"

"You know who I am?" I ask turning back to face her. "Why haven't you turned me in for the reward?"

"I'll admit that I've thought about it. But once I got to know you better I can see how broken you are. Turning you in would be like kicking a lame dog. I can see the pain in your eyes Clarke." She walks out from behind the counter and places her hands on my shoulder. She pulls one back to examine the cause of the warm wet feeling on it to find blood. "Why didn't you tell me you were hurt? Let me patch that up."

"It will heal on its own." I say pulling away from her hands. "I just need my stuff so I can leave."

"Let me stitch your wound as payment for what I owe you. It is a dishonor to have debts." She pleads and I hang my head in defeat. "The bedroom is through there I will grab supplies."