Through The Eyes Of Another

Threat

The whole camp was in an uproar. There were kids everywhere, salvaging what was left. Knowing they needed to hurry to make the deadline. A select few had been chosen to lead one last hunt, needing the meat. Others were stripping the dropship for parts and packing away the tents. The evacuation plan from before the battle had been brought into action, they couldn't stay. Clarke would be damned if she'd let anything else happen to her kids. She was all they had left now. Bellamy and Finn were gone, Octavia was God knows where,... Miller had been send of to do a headcount and make sure everyone was working as hard as they possible could. Departure was set for sunrise tomorrow. 

Clarke was packing away what little medicine they had left and trying to sort out the bandages when the noises from outside sounded.. off somehow. The slight excitement and fear underlining every word were suddenly replaced with specific instructions. The militia was called to the wall and the foxholes. Fearing the worst, Clarke ran out, looking for the threat, anyone capable of explaining what was going on, but no one seemed to know. Acting on instructions they said. Knowing they'd only listen to Miller in a situation like this, she set out to find her lieutenant.

Her second was nowhere to be found. After getting a walkie of Harper, Clarke found him in the east side foxhole, overlooking the minefield protecting the gates. By then, she'd gotten the yeast of the situation. One of the gunners had reported movement on that side of the camp. Her guard all wore expressions they'd quickly gotten used to. Apprehension, acceptance, determination.

Feeling the distinct worry creep in was not comforting. You could almost see it radiating of her. If it came to a fight, which on Earth it always came to, she'd be of no use. Luckily Miller was trained by her co-leader to assist in these kinds of things. He'd even told her that his lieutenant had a knack for it. So if there was someone she trusted with the protection of the camp, it was this guy.  Shaking her head to interrupt her own train of thoughts, a crack was heard. Like a food stepping on a dried-out twig kind of crack. Ready to protect her people at any cost, she came face to face with...

A guard. From the Arc. How the hell did he get here? Was he alone? Before the poor guy could blink, he was confronted with two gunners, straining their rifles on him. Before anyone could stop her, Clarke jumped out of cover and made her way to him, Miller just one step behind. The Arcfell guard turned very pale when he saw her join their defencive response.

Clarke could only imagine what they looked like to him. Since their landing many of the boys, men now, gained lots of muscle from hunting and training. And ever since the peace with the grounders, clothes and knowledge of the land were traded for technology and modern medicine. Every last one of her kids wore a mix of standard issue Arc clothes full of holes and brand new pieces offered by the grounders. Only the militia had guns, even though they'd run out of bullets long ago. Knives and swords hiding underneath clothing made up for not wanting to give up that sense of safety. Face Paint and braided hairstyles had also found a place amongst the group.

Clarke stopped in front of the guard, ready to demand how many they were, where they were hiding, how he found them. Slight movement in the treeline responded to some of those questions. Training kicked in and before the guards reinforcements could attempt a rescue, Clarke was shoved behind a defence line. Miller glanced at her, clearly asking for instructions. The options were clear, defend or run. Clarke was about to give the order when a familiar face came into view.