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The heavy, oiled hide of the Chief's tent did little to muffle the sounds of a village in quiet panic. The 'thing' had broken the peace, and now the air in Tonas was thick with unease.
Inside the tent, Anya began, "The scouts found them."
"The scouts confirmed it," Anya said, her voice low, her finger tracing the edge of her territory, near the river. "The object... it is metal. It is hollow. And... people came out."
"Skaikru," Mike said.
Anya's head snapped up. "What?"
"Sky People," he translated. He sat on the edge of the table, looking at the map. "Think about it, Anya. My bunker... it was from before. From the ancestors. They had technology. They had... ships that went to space. To the stars."
He looked at her. "They warned of a war. A fire. The world... it ended. We know this. But what if... what if some of them didn't die? What if they were up there... in the sky... this whole time? Living in a ship, waiting?"
Anya was silent. Her mind, processing the impossible. She didn't dismiss it. She analyzed it. "So... they are from the Old World. Like you."
"No," Mike said, a cold, hard edge to his voice. "Not like me. They should be softer. They have been living in a metal box, their whole life, never hunting, never fighting, never living. And now... they're back. They're strangers."
Anya's expression hardened. The implication was one thing. The reality was another. "They are not just in our land, Mike. They are acting. Before you arrived, a second report came in. From the eastern patrol. Near the river."
"They found a group of them," Anya continued, her voice flat, all emotion bled from it. "Five of them. Young. Stupid. They were loud, crashing through the woods, moving east. Right for the border."
"What happened?" Mike asked, playing his role.
"My warriors, led by Orin, did what they were trained to do. They... engaged."
"They killed them?"
"No," Anya said, a cold, sharp light in her eyes. "Killing them... that would be a waste. That would tell me nothing. These... Skaikru... are an unknown. I don't know what they are. Do they have guns, like the Mountain Men? Are they weak? Are they smart? Are they organized? Information, Mike. Information is the most vital weapon in a war. And these 'Sky People' just declared war by falling on our home. I will not wait for them to bring harm to our people."
Mike looked at her, and the depth of his love and admiration for his wife swelled in his chest.
'Damn, she looks so hot when she getts all 'Chief' mode.' He thought.
"So," he prompted, "what did you do?"
"Orin did his duty," she said. "They tested them. They made their presence known. They hit one of them with a spear. A non-lethal, but... serious... wound. To see their reaction."
"And?"
"They ran. As we knew they would. They left their wounded."
"They thought they had left him. But Orin and his men... they took the boy. They dragged him to the plains, east of the crash. And I gave them new orders. I told them to set traps."
Mike then asked a question he had wondered about in his old life, staring at a screen. "Why, Anya? Why all the traps? The... the theater of it all? Why not just take him, question him?"
Anya looked at him as if he were a student. "And what would that tell me? Is that one boy weak? No. I don't care about him. I care about the group. I need to know..."
She began to pace, her hands behind her back, going full Chief mode.
"One: Will they come back for their wounded? This is vital. It tells me if they are a pack... or just a disorganized, selfish mob. If they are a pack, they are dangerous. If they are a mob, they are an annoyance."
"Two: How do they come back? Do they send one? Do they send twenty? Do they have leaders? Who makes the decisions?"
"Three," she said, her voice dropping, "How do they fight? The traps are a test. Do they see the danger? Are they aware of the woods, or are they just... stupid? Do they know how to fight? And..."
She stopped, turning to him. "...do they have guns?"
There it was. The entire Trikru strategy, laid bare. It wasn't cruelty. It was a test. A brilliant and necessary test to gauge an unknown, high-level threat.
Mike just stared at her. "Gods... I love your mind, Anya."
He walked to the map. "You're right. They will come back for him. The first group ran, but they'll send a second group. A rescue party. This is our chance."
Anya's eyes lit up. "Yes?"
"Your plan is perfect," he said. "But let's add to it. The traps... they'll tell us how they react to our warfare. But I want to see how they react to each other. How they react to the world."
He tapped the map between the assumed crash site and the plains where they were holding the man. "When they send their rescue party... we shadow them. Not Orin's team — they need to stay with the bait. We send new scouts. Two of them. The best we have."
"And they must speak English. I want to hear what they say. I want to know... do they have a leader? Do they have a plan? Do they have discipline? I want every single piece of intel they can gather. Because when this is over... we will have to make a choice."
Anya's face split into a wolfish grin.
She strode to the tent flap, ripping it open. "INDRA!" she bellowed.
Indra was there in a second. "Chief."
"The intruders," Anya said. "The rescue party. You know what to do."
Indra nodded, her face grim. "I will track them."
"No," Mike said, stepping into the light."Not just you. You'll need a partner. Someone who knows the woods, speaks the language, and can move swiftly."
Anya understood instantly. "Get Lincoln," she commanded. "You and he will shadow the Skaikru rescue party. You will not engage. You will not be seen. You will watch. You will listen. I want to know everything. How they walk, how they talk, how they fight... and if they have weapons like the Mountain Men. Go. Now."
Indra nodded once, and she was gone.
Mike and Anya were left alone in the tent.
Mike looked at the map, at the pieces now in motion. "Now," he whispered, "we wait."
(The 100 - The Woods - One Hour Later)
"Get me a map!"
Bellamy Blake yelled. He was furious. His authority, which he'd been so careful to build over the last few hours, was already thrown off.
He snatched the map from a trembling kid. "We're going back for him."
"Bellamy, we don't know what's out there!" Clarke said, her voice high with panic.
"What's out there, Clarke, are Grounders!" Bellamy snapped, checking the load on his pistol. "And they have Jasper. I am not letting one of us get taken, not on the first day!"
"He's right," Finn said. "We can't just... leave him."
"Then we go," Clarke said, her pragmatism clicking in. She was a doctor. Jasper was a patient. She was going. "We'll need Monty for the wristbands. Octavia, you stay-"
"Like hell I am," Octavia shot back, her jaw set, already checking the laces on her boots. "I'm not sitting here, waiting. I saw it, Bellamy. I'm going."
Bellamy looked at his sister, his anger warring with his protective instincts. He finally just sighed, rubbing his face. "Fine. Fine! Clarke, you, me, Finn, Octavia, and Monty. And you," he jabbed a finger at Wells Jaha, who was standing nearby. "I want your father's 'wisdom' on this. You're coming too."
Wells just nodded and followed.
The woods, which had seemed "beautiful" to Octavia just hours ago, were now a green hell. Every shadow, every snapped twig, every caw of a crow, made them jump.
"Finn, you're the tracker," Bellamy grunted. "Which way?"
Finn, his eyes wide, pointed. "The... the grass. It's... it's pressed down. A lot of them. They went this way."
They followed the trail of broken ferns and blood drops. And soon enough, they reached a clearing.
However, before they could examine the surroundings, a low snarl ripped through the woods, from somewhere to their left.
It was not human.
"What was that?" Octavia whispered, grabbing Bellamy's arm.
"Panther," Finn breathed, his tracker-mind clicking in. "A big one."
The snarl came again, closer.
"Go! Go!" Bellamy yelled, pushing them forward.
They ran, crashing through the undergrowth, their "stealth" gone, replaced by panic.
"This way!" Finn yelled, pointing.
"It's following us!" Monty shrieked as a large, black animal tore through the forest.
Just as they thought they were far enough, a roar boomed behind them, and the panther lunged.
It landed on Wells, knocking him to the ground, its claws raking his chest, its fangs snapping at his throat.
"WELLS!" Clarke screamed.
Bellamy raised his pistol, his hands shaking, trying to get a clear shot.
"Bellamy, don't!" Clarke yelled. "You'll hit him!"
"I have to!"
Finn, in total recklessness, did the only thing he could. He snatched the gun and blindly fired.
BANG
The panther screamed and ran away, a new, bleeding wound in its shoulder.
"See?" Finn panted, his ears ringing. "I got... I got it..."
"Finn..." Clarke's voice was a horrified whisper.
He looked. Wells was on the ground, clutching his leg, blood... his blood... pooling in the dirt.
"Oh, God," Finn breathed. "Oh, God, Wells, I-I did not mea-"
"Idiot!" Bellamy roared, shoving Finn. "You shot him!"
"I was saving him!"
"ENOUGH!" Clarke screamed, her voice cracking. She was already on her knees, ripping fabric from her shirt, and used it to cover the wound. "Bellamy, help me! Finn, you... you just... watch!"
"J... Jasper..." Wells grunted through the pain. "We... we have to..."
"JASPER!"
It was Octavia. She was fifty yards ahead. She'd found him.
He was there. Tied to a tree, his head slumped, a wide wound on his chest. He was alive. But barely.
They quickly reached him and got him down slowly. Making sure not to hurt him.
"Clarke... " he said weakly. "It... it hurts..."
"I know, Jasper, I know," she said, her voice shaking. "We're... we're going to get you out."
"We have to go," Clarke said, turning back to the group.
The group quickly grabbed the wounded and began to carry them back to the camp. They now knew the dangers of the surface.
---XXXX---
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