The Rise Of Wanheda.

Chapter 4: Demons.

My life in the wilderness had begun to solidify. This new state of existence still came with many a tough lesson to learn. There were times nature would provide and times it left me so hungry all rational thought vanished from my mind.
Food had been scarce for a while, the traps were empty and my tracking skills for a more aggressive approach need more work. That overwhelming hunger began to take it toll. Almost a week without food, I turned my attentions to the dark berries that surrounded the woods by my habitat. I had always questioned why there were so many and why I had never seen any animals eating them. The warning signs were there but my hunger screamed louder than my instinct.
I didn't become ill at first, it wasn't until the night rolled on I felt the fever start. A sickness consumed me, my body shivered, sweat poured from my flesh, I couldn't focus my eyes and my heart pounded so hard in my chest I though it would burst through. The worst of it was feeling like my mind was disappearing. One by one blurred figures of those I loved stood before me. They called me a murderer, bringer of death. I felt like I was loosing my mind. Tears formed in my eyes as I begged them to stop, but they only taunted me louder. I wanted it to end, all of it to dissappear forever.
Before I knew it I was holding a dagger in my shaking hands, I never even remembered picking it up. In that moment my whole being felt so broken, so lost in this void, no way of finding a way back to myself. I must have been seconds away from using it when a gloved hand gently steadied my hands and pulled the blade away from me. I began to focus on this figure that was crouched in front of me. Surprise hit me at first then fury. Why couldn't it have ended right there?

The black warpaint ran down her eyes as she glared intensely at me, "this is not the way, Clarke."
Her voice was so calm, echoing in my head.
"Lexa?" I questioned what I saw, not knowing if she was real. I shouted out to make her dissappear, "Get out of my head!" I couldn't take any more of these images haunting me in this waking fever dream.
She tilted her head and replied, "This is your mind, you brought me here." She never blinked once, always holding that steely gaze.
"Then I choose not to see you," I growled. Lexa shifted to sit beside me upon the ground, both of us leaning against the wall of my shelter.
"It doesn't work that way, Clarke. You have a decision to make here in this moment. I can give you back this knife and you can die here, alone in your own tears or you can listen to that inner strength calling out and fight like a warrior."
I leaned my head against the wall and closed my eyes. My voice quivered as I spoke, "I'm tired. Tired of fighting, tired of surviving." I breathed deeply to centre myself as Lexa uttered the words that resonated in my heart, "Life is about more than just surviving."
I opened my eyes to look at her but she was no longer there, only the dagger remained.

It took the rest of the night to ride out what was left of that fever. The voices eventually disappeared, yet Lexa's message endured. I did have a choice and I chose to survive. Out of all the people my mind had sought out to save me, it picked Lexa, the girl who left me behind. Maybe it was because she never lied to me, for good or ill her intentions were aways upfront. She was the voice that saved me that night, of that I'm thankful but forgiveness was far more difficult to offer.
Looking down at my hands, they were stained with red dye from the berries. A reminder of the fire I had travelled through that night. I had survived it's gauntlet to emerge stronger than before. It was time to make a change, time to stand and fight these inner demons like a warrior and red would be the colour of my fury.