'Ow,'' Clarke groans as she peels off the bandage in their abode, sitting atop a table, as Lexa removed the tourniquet. It had revealed a nasty-looking bite, with speckles of dirt, sweat and blood among it. Frowning, Lexa checked Clarke's leg—thankfully, it didn't appear broken.
Ever since they had returned from Lexa's impromptu trip into the woods (which took quite a bit of cursing, groaning, and more time than Lexa cared to admit), they had spent their time recuperating in their abode. Which mostly composed of complaining, and cursings directed towards the ''vicious, Natblida child from hell''.
Many thoughts had swirled in Lexa's mind on their journey home—from Clarke's wound to the Natblida child that apparently did this to her. A child won't attack unless provoked, she'd contemplated while on their little journey home. At least that was the case for Polis children. Clarke won't deliberately antagonize a child. The Natblida must've been afraid, somehow...
Turning towards Clarke, another thought surfacing in her mind, she questioned: ''Can you tell me more about this... Natblida? Perhaps you accidentally provoked her. Do you remember anything?''
Clarke paused for a moment, before responding with a frown: ''She'd called me a Fleimkipa. I tried to convince her I was not, but she led me into the bear trap.''
Her mind had stopped the moment Clarke uttered the words ''Fleimkipa''. It thought Clarke was a Fleimkipa.
Lexa almost wanted to bury her head in her hands. Of course it was because of Fleimkipas. When was it not? Natblida children, especially illegitimates, had feared the Fleimkipas for their whole lives, for the Fleimkipas hunted Natblida children down in case of a Heda's death, before donning them in war armour, and practically sending them off for ceremonial death all without a sound, rinse and repeat. Though it was a necessary process, it wasn't exactly a happy one, either. And especially with the recent Conclave to establish a new Heda in replace of Lexa, the danger of a Fleimkipa scout was even more immediate.
Or at least, it had could a nuclear apocalypse raze the Earth and yet a Natblida could still be afraid of the dangers of nonexistent Fleimkipa scouts?
''... do I really look that much like Titus?'' Clarke asked aloud, almost airily. However, Lexa could tell it was asked in such a manner to keep hers and Clarke's mind away from the pain—half of it said in distress, but half of it felt genuine.
''No,'' Lexa snorted. ''For starters, you would've never shot me.''
''Hmm.'' Clarke's hand wandered over to her own bloodied leg, and when she tried to dab a wet towel on the wound to clean it, hissed back in pain.
''Here. Let me help.'' Lexa took the towel from Clarke's hands, and began to carefully clean the wound, while Clarke's fist gripped tightly and relaxed in a measure of pain on the table.
''Your leg isn't broken,'' Lexa commented, as she placed the towel on the counter, while Clarke grimaced as she ran a finger across her wound. ''But we should wash it out to prevent infections.'' Placing both of her hands on the wheels, she said: ''I'll be back with water. Stay here.''
Wheeling away from their abode, she approached the well positioned at the centre of the Shallow Valley village, which was just a small stretch from their abode. Untying the knot, she lowered the roll of rope and the bucket attached into the well. The water wasn't contaminated—for that Praimfaya had missed the stretch of Shallow Valley, and thus included the rivers and the groundwater as well. After hearing the bucket fall to the bottom with a thunk, holding the rope firmly in her hand, she pulled the bucket with the water back up.
After the bucket was fairly visible, she tied a triple clove hitch at the pole, and reached out for the rope in the well. Thankfully, it wasn't too far away, and so unknotting the bucket from the rope, she placed the teeming bucket of water in her lap. She would come back later to reattach it.
Carefully manoeuvring herself so that the bucket of water didn't spill, her eye caught a figure running amid the village houses. On alert, her eyes tracked the figure that moved from house to house in a blur... until it stopped, and stepped out into the square.
She saw a child, wild-eyed and frightened, looking at Lexa with a mix of expressions she couldn't comprehend. At first, Lexa's heart raced; but then stilled, for though this Natblida might've severely injured Clarke, the Natblida couldn't do anything to her—at least, not now.
They were at a pass, Lexa and the Natblida, staring at teach other levelly, until the Natblida took off into the woods. Lexa barely had the time to call out for her before she was out of sight, the only proof of the Natblida's existence a rustle.
Shaking her head, taking a wheel in her hand, she took the bucket back to Clarke.
