Jason skidded to a halt, his head tilting as he scanned the dense foliage behind them.
"The hell are they still on our trail?" he hissed with his eyes narrowing at the figures down below them, "We've doubled back twice. They shouldn't be able to track us this cleanly."
He turned his gaze toward Clarke and Anya, his pupils dilating as he looked for something he might have missed. "No..."
"What is it?" Clarke asked, her voice tight with exhaustion.
"It's the only explanation," Jason muttered. "They're not tracking our footprints. They're tracking one of you if not both."
Anya's eyes snapped to Clarke, her hand flying to the dagger at her belt. "It is you! You lead the Mountain-eaters to us!" She made a sudden, lunging move toward Clarke, but she didn't get far.
The tip of Jason's blade was at her throat before she could take a second step. "I will either relieve you of your hands or your life if you touch her," he said, his voice turned cold with a flat line warning.
Anya snarled, her lip curling in a mask of pure hatred, but she stepped back and spat on the ground. Jason didn't lower the sword. "Check her," he commanded Octavia and Clarke.
They did a quick, frantic sweep of Clarke's clothes and skin, finding nothing but dirt and bruises. Then Jason shifted his gaze to the Grounder leader. Anya tried to pull away, but Jason made a sharp tsk-tsk sound with his tongue. "Ah-ah-ah. Your turn, Princess. Check her."
As Octavia held Anya's arm, Clarke ran her fingers over the woman's right hand. She stopped at a small, hard protrusion near the base of the thumb, a bump that didn't belong to any bone.
"Shit," Jason breathed, seeing the lump under the skin. "A tracker. They tagged you like cattle." He tightened his grip on his sword. "We've gotta remove that, now."
Before anyone could reach for a blade, Anya did something disgusting. With the raw, primal ferocity of a trapped animal, she brought her hand to her mouth. She bit down into her own flesh, her teeth tearing through the skin and muscle with a sickening, wet sound. With a violent jerk of her head, she ripped the bloody, metallic chip out of her hand and spat it onto the moss.
Jason's eyes went wide, his eyebrows shooting up toward his hairline, "Well," he said, with a dark, sardonic smirk playing on his lips, "I guess we can just do that. You know, most people would ask for an anesthetic, or maybe a stiff drink, but I suppose the 'rabid animal' approach has its own rustic charm. Very barbaric and 10/10 for the theatrics."
Anya looked up at him, her chin stained with her own blood, her eyes burning with an unbreakable will. "I will never go back there," she rasped.
"Uh-huh. Noted," Jason said with a noted, his sarcasm fading back into tactical focus. He looked at the mangled, bleeding wound on her arm. "Clarke, bandage that. Now. We don't need a trail of blood leading them straight to our front door. If they can't track the signal, they'll track the scent."
————-
The group moved at a punishing, brisk pace, the silence of the woods broken only by their heavy footfalls and the rustle of leaves. Anya, her bandaged hand tucked close to her chest, narrowed her eyes at the back of Jason's head.
"What do you plan to do with me, Butcher?" she demanded, her voice a low raspy snarl. "Am I to be your hostage again? A trophy for your 'Sky People'?"
Jason didn't slow down as he offered her an answer, "For now? Yes. Think of it as a long-term loan."
"I will not be taken back by anyone," Anya spat, her jaw tightening. "I will die before I am put in another cage."
"Valuable information is the only reason you're still breathing air, Anya," Jason countered with a flat tone, "That information bought you the freedom you have right now. I'd suggest you don't spend it all in one place."
Anya scoffed, a bitter sound. "Freedom? How do I know you're not just taking me back to your own people to kill me? Your kind doesn't know the meaning of mercy."
Octavia, who had been silent for miles, let out a cold laugh. "Killing you would actually be a mercy, Anya. We need you alive for now. Consider yourself lucky."
"Enough!" Clarke snapped, her voice cracking with exhaustion and frustration, "There has been enough killing. We all need to help each other. The threat isn't one another anymore, it's the Mountain Men. They want to use us for nothing more than animals they can drain. If we fight each other, we're just doing their work for them."
Jason didn't say a word. He didn't agree, and he didn't argue. He simply kept moving, his eyes scanning the treeline for the cold blue glow of a tactical light.
Before long, the sun dropped below the horizon, bleeding into a bruised purple before darkness took hold. The girls began to stumble, their movements sluggish and heavy. As they crossed a small, shielded clearing, Jason stopped.
"We rest here for the night," he said, "No, we should keep moving," Clarke replied stubbornly. Now that she knew the Ark was on the ground, the desire to reach it was a physical ache, "We're close, Jason. I can keep going."
Jason turned, his eyes catching the faint starlight. He let out a slow sigh. "The Ark isn't going anywhere, Clarke. And there's no use if you fall behind tomorrow because you're too tired to lift your feet. You need to replenish your energy to avoid the Mountain Men. These woods... They aren't safe at night. Not even for me." Of course that was a lie but it did it's intended purpose.
Clarke wanted to argue, but her trembling knees betrayed her. She sighed and slumped against a mossy log. Octavia, moved quickly to gather dry brush, getting a small, sheltered fire going within minutes.
Suddenly, a sharp rustle erupted from the thicket nearby and before a single word could be uttered, Jason's hand blurred. His sword left its sheath and hissed through the air, disappearing into the pitch-black brush.
Anya surged to her feet with her eyes narrowing in preparation for a fight, "What was that?" Clarke whispered, her heart hammering as they all fell into defensive positions.
Jason walked calmly toward the bush. When he emerged back into the firelight, he was wiping his blade. In his other hand, he held a large, fat rabbit, neatly impaled through the heart.
"Well, would you look at that?" Jason said, a ghost of a smirk appearing. "The universe has provided."
As if on cue, Octavia's stomach let out a loud, traitorous growl.
Jason chuckled. "Well then, let's eat, shall we?"
After the meager but much-needed meal, the atmosphere grew heavy with sleep. Jason didn't lie down. He looked at the towering tree beside the clearing and began to climb, moving with effortless strength until he was perched on a sturdy branch high above.
From his vantage point, he could see the silhouette of the mountain in the distance and the flickering shadows of the fire below. He leaned back, his hand resting on his rifle, his eyes shifting rhythmically from the horizon to the Grounder leader sitting by the flames. He didn't plan on closing his eyes and opted to just stay as the look out.
———————
The next morning, they were up at the first hint of gray light. After the long night, Clarke and the others had finally found some semblance of rest, but the urgency of their situation hadn't faded. They packed their meager belongings in a heavy, focused silence and left the clearing before the sun had fully cleared the horizon.
They moved at a grueling pace, the adrenaline of being close to home pushing them through the fatigue. By mid-afternoon, the metallic silhouette of the wreckage of Alpha Station finally broke through the treeline.
Clarke let out a breathy, broken smile of relief. There it was. Only a few miles to the gates, to her mother and safety.
"Finally," Octavia whispered, though she paused, her brow furrowing. "But Jason... What about the others? My brother?"
Jason adjusted the strap of the rifle. "I'm going back for them," he said, his voice, "But I can't do that while I'm worried about you two being hunted. We get to the camp first."
As they reached the outer perimeter, where the trees began to thin into the cleared land around the station, Jason suddenly signaled for a halt. "Wait. We need to be careful," he cautioned, his eyes scanning the ramparts. "The guards are jumpy. If we run out there looking like Grounders, they'll open fire before we can say hello."
"Jason?" Octavia asked, turning to him.
In that split second of distraction, Anya moved.
With the explosive speed of a viper, the Grounder leader lunged from behind Jason. Before he could pivot, she had her arm wrapped around Clarke's throat, pulling her back. In her free hand was a small, dagger sharp enough to glisten with a lethal edge.
"Don't move, Butcher!" Anya hissed, the blade pressed tight against Clarke's jugular.
"Anya, stop!" Clarke gasped, her hands grasping at Anya's forearm. "You don't need to do this!!"
"I am not going there," Anya snarled, her eyes darting between Jason and the distant station. "I will not trade one prison for another. How is your 'Sky Station' any different from the Mountain-eaters' cage? You lead me to your leaders, they put me in chains. I know your kind."
"Hey, hey, hey," Jason said, his voice dropping into a low, terrifyingly calm register. He held his hands out, but his fingers were twitching, "Don't you dare. You're exhausted and you're bleeding. Put the knife down."
Anya smirked, as a desperate look came upon her face. She pressed the shard harder until a thin, bright line of blood began to bead on Clarke's neck. "I will not be taken."
"Let's say you do it," Jason said, his eyes locking onto hers. "Let's say you kill her. What then, Anya? Do you honestly think you can escape me? Do you think you'll make it ten feet into those woods before I tear you apart?"
Anya paused, her breathing ragged. She caught Octavia trying to circle slowly out of her field of vision. "Try it," she warned, "and she'll choke on her own blood. Back away! Both of you!"
Anya began to back into the dense brush, dragging a struggling Clarke with her. Clarke's eyes met Jason's for a fleeting second. She saw the "Butcher" waiting for his opening, and she knew she had to give it to him.
Summoning every ounce of strength left in her, Clarke didn't pull away; she leaned into Anya, shifting her center of gravity and slamming the back of her head into Anya's nose while simultaneously stomping her heel down onto Anya's instep.
The shock and the pain made Anya flinch for a fraction of a second.
It was all the time Jason needed.
His hand blurred in a motion so fast the eye couldn't track it. He didn't reach for the gun. He drew the heavy Grounder sword from his back and lunged.
Anya's eyes went wide. She tried to bring the shard back to Clarke's throat, but she was too slow. There was a wet, heavy thunk as Jason's blade drove straight through her chest, pinning her against a tree.
Anya gasped, blood immediately pooling in her mouth and spilling over her chin. She looked down at the hilt protruding from her sternum, then up at Jason.
Instead of fear, a ghostly, twisted smile touched her lips. As Jason pulled the blade free, she slumped to the ground, the fire in her eyes finally snuffing out.
Jason stood over the body, his face unreadable as he wiped the blood from his steel.