Madi had entered her quarters at ten, blanket dragging behind her while she sniffled.
Lexa had been surprised, mainly because Madi was supposed to be in her cot upstairs asleep by nine, and partially because the rims of Madi's eyes were coloured red—as if she had only finished crying. Concern had filled her heart; and so, she asked whether if Madi wanted to sleep beside her for the night.
Madi had nodded, once, and stumbled towards her, blanket in hand, as she said something about sharing and a few incoherent mumbles about wanting to hear a story. Lexa had beckoned Madi to sit beside her, who shuffled in with a blanket, and the Spirit in Lexa's head directed her to a story—of Quera the Healer, who had become a Commander through their skills alone.
She had told Quera's story for the night, and Madi had listened intently—until she had finally fallen asleep, snoring softly beside her, blanket wrapped around her body.
It wasn't long until Lexa fell asleep, as well.
...
When she woke up at 1:00 am, Madi was not in her bed.
At first, Lexa wondered if Madi had returned upstairs to sleep with Clarke. But when she noticed that Madi's blanket was still sprawled on her bed, doubts and dread began to creep in her heart. She grasped at the linen and moved towards the backboard of her bed, and slowly transferred herself over into her wheelchair. Took her gloves by her bed and put them on.
She was preparing for the worst, she knew, but if anything—the worst seemed to be Madi's go-to. And especially after she learned about their tests on Emerson's, Lexa wouldn't entirely blame her, either.
She would blame herself.
Wheeling through the hallways, she came into the mansion's main complex. And then she stared up at the steps that travelled to the second floor and thought about Clarke.
Nothing you can do about that now.
Biting her lip, consciously feeling the wheels under her palms, she turned away from the staircase to the outside. And it had seemed that her suspicions were right—for where the two main doors were supposed to be closed, yearned two wide-open doors, slow in the wind.
Lexa gritted her teeth and sped up, moving through the two large doors as they were toyed by the wind. And as she stared at the ground, she realised that there were a set of tracks. Footprints.
Spirits, Madi, Lexa thought. Her eyes focused on the vehicle outside—the truck, and she wheeled, as quickly as she could towards it. And when she was at her destination, she transferred herself from the chair into the truck, and with a lot of strain, forced the chair inside as well—and tried not to think about how everything could go wrong.
Quickly, she tied a knot onto the rock and made a simple lashing. Finally, with one end of the rope in her hand, the rock secure from the next end, she placed it by her side, a generous length bound to her palm.
Hopefully the time you've spent staring at Clarke while she drove paid off, Lexa, she thought to herself. What was the first step? She gazed at the panels of buttons and blinking lights until she finally plugged in the ignition. That was what Clarke did, right?
She felt a bit doubtful, but nevertheless, put her hands on the wheel. Then, she moved the bound rock on the pedal on the floor of the truck. It took a few moments—but then, the truck spluttered into life.
She used the wheel and drove, for what felt like miles abound, drove for eternity following the footprints that the Nightblood had left behind. And whenever the footprints had faltered; delved into an undergrowth too thick she could not follow, she had gritted her teeth and drove on, hoping to find a reappearance of the tracks.
