Lightning Only Strikes Once - Clexa

Chapter 111: A Gut Feeling

Things are never as simple as they should be.

Case in point: the passageway they're supposed to go down is behind a tonne of snow.

"We could dig through it," Clarke says uncertainly, but she can see even from looking at it that it's not likely to work. Even as she watches, more snow spills down from the cracked-open ceiling.

"Interesting," Lexa murmurs, peering up at it. "This part – the ceiling, the walls from here on – they are new as well. Weaker. Nia has expanded on this place a lot."

Clarke closes her eyes for a moment in pure contempt. "She turned what was supposed to be a bolthole into a fucking underground castle, you mean."

"Sha," Lexa says. "A castle that is not properly supported. The original areas are all still intact – the main rooms, for example – but the rest is half-destroyed. I think the effects will spread in time, as well. The weight of the snow -" she shrugs, then pales as the movement jars her injury.

"So if she was in her fancy set of rooms, past this giant pile of snow, she's probably dead."

"Probably."

"But not definitely."

"No," Lexa says quietly. "Not definitely. There is still the slim possibility she could survive until her remaining army gets here, if the snow has merely trapped her."

"Very slim," Clarke points out softly. Then she frowns. She can hear something, the faintest imaginable noise but still there. She looks at Lexa questioningly and Lexa nods, a frown wrinkling her face. Lexa can hear it too. Another cascade of snow falls onto the pile and slides down to bury one of Clarke's feet, so she moves back a step.

Lexa, instead, steps forward, and reaches out her right hand to place it against the side of the snow. She closes her eyes. "Movement," she says finally, opening them again. Her voice is hushed. "I think someone is clearing the snow from the other side. In great amounts, too, since we are able to feel and hear it from this side."

"I guess that answers our question," Clarke replies, swallowing hard. Nia and her guards are still alive. And they're trying to dig their way out.

"They must be shoring it up somehow so more snow does not fall down," Lexa says thoughtfully. "They are doing far better at getting through it than we would. I suggest we wait, and then face them as they exit."

"It could take hours," Clarke points out.

"This room has plenty of air," Lexa says, maddeningly calm. "And we have nowhere else to go in any case."

"Yeah, we do. For a while at least. I bet the kitchen's still intact."

It is, thankfully. There's very little food in it and the place is covered in scorch marks, reminding Clarke that she kind of set it on fire last time she was here. But they do find some water that hasn't frozen, which is nice, and a couple of scraps of smoked meat. Clarke eats and drinks ravenously. She hadn't realised how long it was since she'd done either.

Lexa eats barely anything. The pain from her shoulder seems to be making her nauseous. Frankly, it's not surprising she finds it hard to eat after being impaled, it's amazing she's even alive, let alone conscious and functioning. Clarke surreptitiously looks for some fayowada – alcohol's not the best painkiller, but it's better than nothing. Unfortunately, where the barrel of alcohol previously was there's nothing but charred splinters of wood now.

Then they return to the passageway and wait. Clarke takes first watch, telling Lexa to get some sleep. It's dark – they've extinguished all the torches so they can surprise the gona when they've finished burrowing through – but Clarke still thinks she can see Lexa's face in the gloom. Without the fire nearby, the cold feels like its stabbing her over and over again.