Bellamy felt droplets of cold water sting his cheeks, and his eyes cracked open, blinking away a few drops that caught in them. He looked up, his vision bleary in the dull morning light. That or it could've been the loss of blood he'd suffered. He couldn't even remember when he'd passed out, or if they'd made him. But the lack of any head trauma told him it wasn't by force.

Bellamy tried to move his leg, and looked down to survey the damage, but to his surprise, it was bandaged, wrapped tightly in what he presumed to be herbs like Clarke had used on his shoulder.

Clarke.

Bellamy tried to think back through the fog clouding his mind. He simultaneously looked around him, taking in the patches of trees but it was overcast in a lifeless grey, washed out from the clouds that sprinkled rain above. There was little indication of there being a camp, other than the couple horses whinnying nearby, tied off to a fallen trunk. No sign of Clarke. No sign of place was desolate, devoid of any other humans, Grounders or Ice Scouts alike.

As to be expected, His gun had been taken, undoubtedly added to their firearm inventory.

Great.

Though his hands were shackled, he was able to move his fingers and touched his wound gingerly. It stung, but it wasn't unbearable. Someone had given him proper medical attention, or what he considered their equivalent to it and that knowledge made his blood run a few degrees colder. Because there was no reason to ease his discomfort, if only it was to make him last longer.

"You thought the Mountain Men were cruel," Clarke's words came to him, unbidden. "The Ice Nation will make an example out of you."

Bellamy took a steady breath, feeling the air chill around him. They were heading higher into the mountains and he had little idea as to how far they'd already come. How long had he been out? A day? A week? Possibly more?

Footfalls suddenly sounded behind him and his thoughts evaporated. Bellamy looked around for something to protect himself with, but his hands were shackled too tightly to offer much help. He knew, at least, that they didn't plan to kill him yet.

But that was just as much a concern as it was a relief.

The footfall grew closer until they were directly behind him. Bellamy's breath stilled as the stranger stepped around, heavy-heeled boots being the first thing that came into his view. He hadn't known what the Ice Scouts would look like, but what he'd conjured no longer mattered. The man next to him seemed to stand unusually tall, and Bellamy didn't miss the gleaming seax blade tucked in his strap. A cloak settled over his shoulders, the hood casting his face into a pit of shadow.

The man pulled it back, and again, Bellamy expected something he didn't get.

A mask covered the man's face, allowing only his eyes through, dark and cold like the heart of his leader.

Bellamy stared into them, rearranging his face to appeared nonchalant. Inside, he was apprehensive, but he wasn't about to give this man-this creature-the satisfaction of seeing that.

More footsteps sounded and another person in similar gear appeared, and Bellamy counted six in all. He recalled there having been more men, but assumed half their team must've already continued ahead of them. Maybe they were just scouting the area. Neither of those options made him feel anymore comforted. But these men were still men. They still bed red and died just as easily as the rest of them.

"Ready the horses," The first one spoke in English, but the way he said the words sounded almost guttural.

Bellamy didn't look away from his piercing eyes. "Were you the one that hurt my friend?" He asked before he knew what he was doing. Sudden anger boiled inside him at the sight of this man, with that blade tucked beneath his belt.

That's what had cut Clarke.

That's what would probably cut him too.

Bellamy knew he was in no position to make threats, but that was also a position in which he had little else to lose. "Your men will pay for that," he said, his voice deathly cold. "They'll pay for hurting her, and for the Boat People you slaughtered. At night while they slept. Like a coward."

The man stilled. Then in a swift motion, his fingers clutched the neck of his shirt and he pulled Bellamy up, bringing him much closer to those eyes, horribly empty and flat.

"You'll be begging me for death by the time I'm through with you, Boy," he sneered in a voice carved from anything human.

Bellamy didn't take the bait. "Not likely," he snapped.

The man released him, and he fell hard on the ground. Pain burst from his wound, but he made no action to show it.

The Ice Scout kept his gaze on him for a moment longer, and Bellamy could practically see the smile from underneath his mask.

"That's just what your friend said."

********

Clarke didn't even spare herself a minute before she was already devising some plan. As soon as the Ice scouts had gone, Clarke was back in the village, her wound having long since gone numb. Her mind seemed to suffer a similar effect, all except for the guilt that had managed to bleed through.

But Clarke wasn't going to go back to how she'd been. She wasn't going to fill herself with the blame. It did no one any good. This time she would act, and maybe she would do a few things differently, because unlike the many times before, she wouldn't leave Bellamy behind again.

As she reentered the village, Clarke noted the fires had been put out and had been updated that the death count was around twelve, a smaller number than she'd expected.

Halfway across the field, Indra appeared at her side. "All children have been accounted for," she said.

Clarke's voice turned cold, deadened like those killed last night. "Good. Any Warriors among them?"

"Only one."

Clarke nodded. That at least meant the others were alive. "Council Room," she ordered and she left no opening in her tone for Indra to question.

They'd just reached the inside of it when Octavia came through, tailed by Lincoln. Clarke didn't offer them much of a glance, pulling the map to her along with an ink quill. She used it to trace the route from Tondc to the Ice Nation, placing X's every interval for each day that it would take to reach it.

"Where's Bellamy?" Octavia said, And her words bit into Clarke as if she'd physically slapped her.

She didn't answer. "Twelve lost. Along with ammunition. We need supplies from Mount Weather. I want someone sent immediately," she told Indra.

"Clarke," Octavia repeated, worry leaking into her tone. "where's my brother?"

"We were ambushed," Clarke replied in an apathetic voice, struggling to get the next words out. "Ice scouts took him."

A silence filtered around the room.

"They took him?" She asked, as if unable to comprehend her.

Clarke finally met her gaze."Yes."

"But..." Octavia sucked in a breath. "You said they tortured people. That they...that they...is that what they're going to do to him?"

Clarke suppressed the images that threatened to overwhelm her. "Bellamy won't be used to for leverage," she told her. "Last night's attack hadn't been an attack. It was a distraction, to lure people out. Specifically Someone with intel. Which means they'll keep him alive. Possibly for weeks."

"Keep him alive?" Octavia bit out, her voice shaking under the implication. "What? What does that mean? Tell me what they're going to do."

"I don't know, Octavia!" Clarke shouted back. "I know the methods of torture they used on me. But it wasn't to extract information, it was punishment."

Octavia passed the back of her hand over her neck. "So? Does that make it better or worse than what they did to you?"

Clarke was barely holding it together at the seam, but she would not break."I was there from four months," she said. "I'm not sure him being in a better condition than me is any consolation to you."

"How?" Octavia spat. "How did this happen? Bellamy wouldve seen a trap."

"It was my fault," Clarke took on, allowing the words to settle on her shoulders. "He was protecting me."

It was the wrong thing to say.

A hand landed on her and Clarke twisted around. She met Octavia's eyes, anger and fear sparking in their irises. "So let me get this straight, " she said, her voice frighteningly calm. "My brother risks his life for you again, and you just left him...again."

The words stung but she wasn't exactly wrong. "I was up against a dozen Scouts," Clarke told her. "And killing myself wouldn't have helped him in any way."

"It would've at least shown you put up a fight," Octavia shot back. "Rather than just letting them have him willingly."

Indra yanked Octavia away, wielding a short blade in front of her.

She didn't seem to notice it, not moving her eyes from Clarke's.

"I put us in a vulnerable position," Clarke admitted. "And I take responsibility for that."

Octavia looked at her in disgust."Well it's good to know your conscience is clear."

Clarke's hands quaked and she wanted to shout. To yell. To do something. But she simply turned to Indra. "Who's your best tracker?"

Indra scrutinized her warily. "Tyrell."

"Get him here. Now."

Indra paused. "Cla-"

Clarke turned her gaze on Indra. "Now."

She complied and left the room, leaving Clarke with Octavia and Lincoln, who still hadn't said anything. She took a deep breath, trying to keep her feelings in check. Clarke needed to think. Anger would only cloud her judgment and she had to be as clear-headed as possible if this was going to work.

"What do you need a tracker for?" Octavia asked.

"You were right," Clarke said bluntly. "I have left him behind. At the drop ship. In Mount Weather. Back at Camp. But I'm not doing that again."

Octavia looked at her through narrowed eyes. "You're going after him?"

Just then, Indra returned, with Tyrell at her heels. Clarke barely noticed, keeping her focus on Octavia. "Yes. Are you capable of tracking Ice Scouts?" She asked Tyrell.

His blue eyes met hers. "I've never tried. But all creatures leave their marks."

Clarke nodded in approval. "Good. Lincoln, I need you, too."

Lincoln glanced at her, and she caught a small glimmer of surprise there. "Why me?" It wasn't a complaint but a question borne of simple curiousity.

"Because you're strong," Clarke replied. "You're capable and frankly, you're the only Grounder in this compound I'm prepared to trust my life with."

If her answer had caught him off-guard, he didn't show it, and nodded.

Clarke knew what would happen next, and as if on cue, Octavia stepped in. "I'm coming, too."

Clarke shook her head. She wouldn't have both of their lives at stake. If she couldn't get Bellamy back, she wouldn't also get his sister killed in the process. "You can't," she told her.

"This is my brother," Octavia said, her voice trembling at her barely-contained rage. "Im going."

Clarke turned on her, feeling her own mounting anger mirror hers. "No, you're not. You aren't thinking clearly and that in the Ice Nation is liable to get you killed."

She scoffed. "I don't care, I'm saving my br-"

"I care, Octavia," Clarke snapped back. "You're too emotionally involved to be a part of this."

The revulsion returned to her features. "And you're not emotionally involved?"

"I'm the only one that's been there before," Clarke reminded her. "I know where they will be holding him. But I need you to stay here and continue training the Grounders."

Octavia nearly grabbed her again. "Screw training the Grounders, you can't keep me here-"

Clarke took a step closer, staring unflinchingly into the younger girl's eyes. This time, she welcomed the position of authority she held. "I can. If I have to lock you in a room myself, I'll do it. If I have to make guards hold you here until we return, I'll do it. Because if I don't get him back, at least I can keep you alive."

"That isn't your job," Octavia growled.

Clarke looked at her, unfazed. "Its my job to ensure the safety of the Grounders and my people, including Bellamy. And you coming jeopardizes that. This isn't Mount Weather, Octavia. This is the Ice Nation. We don't have room for one mistake so if you want to give your brother the best chance of making it out, and alive, I. Need you. Here."

Maybe Octavias understood. Or maybe she fell silent to plan something, but Clarke returned her attention to the map.

Unfortunately, though, Indra had her own argument to pose. "This is not wise," she said. "You are risking my people to save one man."

"I will not leave him there," Clarke answered automatically.

"That is your weakness," Indra sneered at her.

She felt her anger morph into rage. Into something forged from fire. Clarke had become very familiar with what was weakness. Guilt. Blame. Torment. Those were a weakness. Allowing fault to render you incapable was a weakness.

But love was something else. It's what had given Clarke the strength to protect her people.

Had given her the heart to stand up and accept the responsibility for another's'.

It's what had given courage to a girl to kill a boy she loved.

"I've tried the cold hearted route, Indra," Clarke said. "I've tried your belief that love is weakness. And it didn't work. So now it's time for me to do what I believe is right."

Indra came very close, the anger emanating off her in waves. "You are risking this war."

"I'm saving my friend, and someone vital to this war."

The older woman glowered at her. "Your compassion makes you vulnerable," she quipped. "And it is a weakness."

"Compassion isn't what makes you weak," Clarke told her. "It's what makes you human. You use your hatred and your fury to fight your battles don't you?" She asked. "But what happens when that anger burns itself up? What happens when it goes dry? Because it will. And once it does, you'll have nothing left. But love doesn't burn out. It only grows stronger, even if those you care for are taken from you because you are still here and you want to make their loss matter in this war. In every war. And without that, Indra, you have nothing worth fighting for."

"I fight for my people," she sneered.

Clarke nodded. "Because you care about them, don't you? That's not weakness, Indra. That's purpose. You said that if I did anything to jeopardize them, you'd rather be without a leader. Well, I am going after Bellamy and if you want to stop me, you'll have to make good on that promise."

For one fleeting moment, Clarke thought she would take her up on her offer. But Indra just gazed back, unblinking. "If you go to the Ice Nation, they'll do the work for me."

Clarke smirked. "And once again, we find ourselves in agreement."