The Girl Who Played With Wolves

Pairing: Clexa

Rating: Children Should be Wary (K+)

Note: For a prompt sent in by an anon on Tumblr forever ago. Personally, I think this turned out rather well.

When she was a girl, she played with wolves

They would bound around her, excited and playful, nipping gently at her fingers and ankles, and tugging at her clothes and hair. She would giggle and laugh as they ran through the fields, charging ahead then rounding back to run alongside her as she sprinted on short legs.

Everyday, since the beginning of her memory she had done this. Finishing her chores as quickly as she was able so she could run to the valley filled with fields, near the forest, to meet the beasts that had become her friends. Smiling wide at the sight of the pack waiting for their human.

At her arrival, they would leap and prance, falling over each other to greet her. The one that always seemed to reach her first was a beautiful white wolf, fur speckled with shocks of blonde, and blue eyes that spoke of the brightest skies and deepest oceans. The she wolf would hurdle over her pack, tackling her to the ground in a flurry of excited yips and giggles, nosing her jaw with unbridled affection. Then the others would come one by one.

A large he-wolf, fur dark and thick. A smaller female of similar colouring, slight on her paws as she skipped by. A she-wolf with a limp on her back leg, coat a rich dark brown. A pair of dark wolves that she'd never seen apart, fur fluffy and eyes bright. There were other wolves sometimes, coming and going as they pleased, but these six were a constant, always there when she arrived, happy to see her to a degree that her human friends never were.

No one had ever questioned where she went, thinking she was playing with the other children of the village in their games of combat and war. It was a possibility she'd never entertained, leaving the wolves for those of her kind. They knew her too well, and she them. They held an understanding that transcended words; a connection that couldn't be emulated.

A week or so after her tenth name day, she received word that she would be apprenticed to a village warrior, a great honour that was difficult to gain. Her heart sank. She'd seen the lives of the older apprentices, busy and full, no time for simple pleasures like friends or frequent trips to the woods. She'd been slow to go to the woods that day, dragging her feet, body sluggish in her sadness. The wolves looked at her with worry when she arrived, whining and pawing at her, offering comfort in the only way they knew how.

They hadn't ran like they usually did. Instead, they laid in the sun warmed grasses, piled close together and atop each other in a mass of beasts and human. The white wolf curled next to her, head on her chest, watching her face as it shifted emotions with concerned eyes.

"I won't be able to come here anymore…"

She'd said quietly as tears welled in her eyes. She didn't expect them to understand her words, but the emotions behind them, they understood perfectly. In almost unison, they whined in distress, pushing to shift closer until she was engulfed by their bodies. It made her cry harder, knowing that she would never feel this again. The unconditional acceptance. The joy in others that resulted simply from her presence. Her sobs echoed across the field, filling the valley with her sorrow.

When the time came for her to leave, the sun setting and painting the sky red and gold, she felt exhausted and raw. Sniffling, she stood, body swaying. The white wolf pressed against her side, holding her up as best she could. Choking back fresh sobs, she fell to her knees, wrapping her arms around her friend. For that's what the wolf was to her; a close friend that was being ripped away due to responsibility and expectations.

"I c-can't… I just…"

She couldn't leave. Not with the wolves still there. She would look back and rush to their sides so she could spend a few more precious moments in their company. As if in understanding, the she-wolf pulled away first, stepping back and lapping at her tears before turning away. With a flick of her tail, the other wolves followed, brushing past her hunched form to weave into the trees, vanishing amongst the dense foliage. With each disappearance, her heart fractured. Spiderweb cracks creeping their way along its surface until it broke with a violent shudder. Despite the pain, the wolves had given her a mercy, saving her the agony of fighting her desires.

Feeling small, she stood shakily, body trembling. She turned away from the tree line, steps stilted and awkward. Reaching the edge of the valley, she turned back, lower lip trembling, and scanned the trees one last time.

An odd sight made her pause.

It would be years before she returned here, but the image would forever be burned behind her eyes, a brand upon her memory that would never fade. Leaning against a large white oak, a girl around her age, body slight and undeveloped, watched with intense eyes. Blonde locks fall unbound around her slim shoulders, brushing against naked, pale skin. She stood unaffected by the elements, completely unbothered by her state of undress. Their eye's met for one electrifying moment, sharp blue meeting her dull green, then the girl was gone, disappearing like the morning mist, slowly, then all at once.

More conflicted than ever, she stumbled back towards the village. She felt lost. She was without a pack, without support, without guidance. She was now a lone wolf, and it felt like agony.

When she was an apprentice, she learned to fear wolves

Her first run in with a wolf pack as an apprentice had her questioning all she knew. The beasts had snarled and growled, jaws snapping. They'd lunged at her, teeth flashing, before being batted away by her mentor, Anya. The older woman was skilled, twirling her staff and swatting the wolves away like flies until they'd run howling with tails between their legs. The apprentice had just sat there frozen, knife clutched in trembling fingers, as the warrior fought. Conflicted and questioning why wolves would attack her so.

Later that night, her mentor would regale her with terrifying tales of men and women, caught alone in the dark by the beasts that stalked the night. She would speak with such detail, sending shivers down her student's spine. She would paint pictures of flashing fangs and hungry eyes, of blood and torn flesh, of bodies left to rot, their spirits never finding peace. She told of how wolves hunted. In packs, never alone, circling their prey, distracting it until their pack brothers and sisters could leap from behind.

Despite assurances made in afterthought, ("Oh little Lexa, they are cautionary tales. True, but they are exaggerated. Rest easy, child. I will protect you until you can protect yourself.") Anya's stories would send her to bed shivering with unease, memories of young wolves swirling through her mind. She remembered how they played, circling her small form as she would run. Giggling in glee as one would gain her attention, then another would leap at her back, tackling her in play.

Now older, more knowledgeable of the world, her insides grew cold as she lay trembling in her bunk, realizing that, had the wolves been inclined, she could have been killed at any moment. Torn apart by those she'd come to call friends. For they had indeed been her friends, but they were also beasts with the flashing fangs that threatened to tear her apart. The longer she thought of her old friends, the more she was convinced that they were one long dream. A child's creation to cope with their loneliness. Come morning, her mentor would eye her with concern, brow furrowed as she took in her students dark, bruised eyes and pale skin. They would not speak much of wolves again.

When she was a warrior, she was protected by wolves

Over the years, she had grown, becoming taller, lankier and uncoordinated like a newborn foal as it learned to stand for the first time. Anya would laugh while they trained, watching as her student flailed, ruffling her mass of brown locks each time she'd overextend or throw weight she didn't know she had. She failed many times, but she learned. She trained and she learned, growing and developing, until she moved with grace and fluidity that would recall, unbidden, memories of bounding through fields, young, free and connected to nature.

Anya taught her blade and bow, power and precision. She taught her to hunt, to track. She also learned, through trial and error, skills impossible to teach. She became skilled in leading others, taking charge and making decisions with solid judgement. It wasn't until she was mid-mission, tracking bandits preying on merchants on the roads, leading a small five-band, that she realized that she was no longer an apprentice. She was a warrior, strong and bold.

That same mission, she also realized that the friends of her youth were far from childhood fantasy.

The bandits were organized far more than they'd anticipated. One by one, her warriors were killed, taken down swiftly in the growing darkness. It wasn't until she was the only one left, covered in dirt and blood, five death tags clutched in the fist pressed to a bleeding side, did they appear.

Back pressed against a tree, breathing hard with her sword drawn, she watched, frozen, as they appeared like wraiths from the surrounding trees. They weaved silently through the undergrowth, eyes flashing as the last rays of the sun descended below the horizon. The wolves were smaller than she remembered, but she had grown from the small and spindly ten year old that had played at being one of them.

She stayed where she was, barely breathing, as the bandits screamed in pain and terror. The forest quickly becoming silent, the quiet only broken by the wind rustling the tree branches ominously. A low baying howl had her sliding down the tree, cold fear sinking into her limbs and blood loss making her weak. A pale shape ghosted across her vision, coming closer every second. Her heart jumped into her throat, echoes of Anya's tales floating through her mind.

Then the wolf was in front of her, pale muzzle red and dripping. Her white fur was as she remembered it, beautifully pristine, accented with blonde. Their proximity has her breath hitching, eyes closing in fear.

She waited for death. The feeling of bloodied fangs sinking into her throat, savaging the flesh as she choked on crimson red, however, it never came. Instead, a gentle touch on her face. Distinctly human fingers grazed her cheekbone, trailing down to brush along her jaw. The sensation makes her flinch. The fine hairs on her nape rose as shivers went down her spine.

She hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath until a second hand came up to cup her face. She exhaled shakily, curling into herself, clutching her sword and the death tags to her chest. Whoever crouches before her remains patient, calmly waiting as they continue their ministrations. They caress the stress darkened skin under her eyes with comforting swipes of their thumbs, gently prompting her to open her eyes. Finally, once her heart had slowed its thundering tempo and her breaths didn't come out stuttered and painful, she allowed her eyes to flutter open.

In front of her, crouched, and just as naked as the last time she'd seen her, was the blonde girl from the forest. She had changed, as one does when a decade passes, but it was certainly her. Her hair was longer, still falling about her shoulders like golden curtains, and she'd grown out of her childlike lankiness. The warrior kept her eyes firmly on the blonde's, mouth dry, for fear of her reaction at seeing the rest of the beautiful girl. Even in the gloom of early evening, she could see the stunning blue of the other girl's eyes, as well as the soft expression and quirk of her lip.

Slowly, her muscles began to unwind, loosening until she slumped against the tree, a sigh, bordering on a sob, escaping her. The soft touches continue, calming her until her eyes droop and head nods.

"Clarke…"

A deep voice called from the forest, whipping her eyes open, tension returned to her body like a bowstring snapping taught. The blonde paused in her languid movements, twisting to look towards the voice, a displeased frown marring her face and creasing the corners of her eyes. The warrior squinted into the darkness, unable to see who had spoken, but Clarke (she rolls the name over in her mouth thoughtfully without speaking, admitting to herself that she loved the way it formed on her tongue) seeming to see the man just fine, nodded in understanding. She turned back to the warrior, eyes flashing in the dim moonlight.

"Lexa...can you stand?"

She blinked in surprise. She'd definitely never said her name, so the fact that the blonde knew it put her on edge, suspicion prodding at the back of her mind. Slowly, she pulled her face away from the other girl's hands, pressing her skull back against the tree. She ignored the blonde's expression of distress at her retreat. She needed answers.

"How do you know my name?"

She rasped, throat closed and choked with anxiety. Her side stung as she tried to inch away, reminding her of the wound leaking precious fluid onto the loam. Clarke seemed pained at her question, brow pinching in sadness. The other girl bowed her head and shuffles back, bare feet rustling the fallen leaves as she moves to create space between them. When she looked up again, her face is impassive, the bright spark within her eyes having dimmed.

"Do you not remember us, Lexa?"

Lexa swallowed. Oh, she remembered her. The sight of her, young and wild, leaning against a white oak, was forever branded into her mind.

A bush rustling to her left had her head snapping around to watch as a young man, with dark, curly hair and freckled olive skin, stood up from behind the foliage. He was topless, his bottom half obscured by the bush, but she could deduce rather easily that he most likely lacked any form of dress, same as Clarke. He crossed his arms as more rustling erupted from her right.

One by one, figures revealed themselves through the darkness. A girl, of similar appearance to the man, stepped out. Her long dark hair falling over one shoulder as she tilted her head, face relaxed but holding slight concern. Two boys, eyes bright and faces beaming, came next, arms slung over one another in companionship. Lastly, another girl, hair dark but a richer brown than the rest, leaned against a tree. An impish smirk played on her lips as she watched the warrior, brown eyes glinting with mischief. All are equally naked, making Lexa's eyes go wide before she clamped them shut to the sound of amused chuckles.

Despite not remembering seeing any of them before, bar Clarke all those years ago, she couldn't help the rush of familiarity. Of course, the light headed sensation could also be the loss of blood that still dripped from between her fingers. She tilted to the side as a wave of dizziness hit her, falling a moment before being caught by strong arms. She heard a whine of distress as her arm fell away limp, revealing the gash in the meat of her hip. The five leather strips in her grasp slipped from limp fingers, the ink detailing each fallen warriors name smearing as her blood soaked the material.

She could hear her name being called. Tinny and far away, several voices called for her. Her head lolled to the side. She felt tired; the desire to sleep becoming overwhelming. Light taps on her face had her eyes blinking open. The man with dark hair had come to crouch at her shoulder, sliding his arm under her knees and back. She lets out a humour filled breath.

"So you were wearing pants…"

She mumbled tiredly. A tight smile pulled at his face, but concern quickly overtook his features.

Time became untraceable, comprehension coming in flashes. She felt something being pressed to her side. She saw trees go by as they moved, canine shapes weaving between them. Worried voices blurred together into one anxious murmur. She felt cool grass under her back as she was set down. She heard a whine, uncertain if it came from her or elsewhere, then the feeling of warm lips upon her clammy forehead. The last thing she was able to comprehend, before blissful darkness washed over her, was the sight of the star filled sky above her and the frantic baying of wolves.

When she woke next, it was to the focused face of a healer, leaning over her as he checked her pulse. She'd nearly died, they would tell her, stumbling back to the village on her own. They'd only found her when the patrolling guards had gone to drive off a wolf pack too close to the village. She would nod dumbly, mind too occupied with thoughts of blue eyes, blonde hair and circling wolves.

She would leave the healer's hut a few days later. Side sore but well on its way to healing, the skin around the wound already red and puckered in the start of a rather impressive scar. Anya would meet her as she leaves, offering a supporting arm, and together they hobbled through the village.

She'd only been confined to the healers for a few days, but the changes to the village were great. A caravan of merchants had set up shop in the village square, calling their wares with hawkish enthusiasm. She stumbled, Anya looking at her worriedly, when she sees the two girls from the night in the woods, fully clothed now in wool pants and cotton shirts, colourful sashes around their waists, walking side by side through the square. They're arm in arm, one hobbling on a crutch, but they watch her with knowing eyes, quirking their brows as if to say 'yes, we're here. Would you like to say something?' She swallowed and turned to smile reassuringly at her mentor, deflecting any probing questions.

When she reached her home, a standard bachelor hut on the edge of the village, she bids Anya goodbye, assuring the older woman that she would be fine on her own. Closing the door, and feeling relief at finally returning home, she stumbles to her bed, shedding clothing along the way until she falls practically naked on the fur lined cot, sleep coming quickly.

The next day, after a long, much needed rest, she ventures among the merchant stalls with a purpose. Eyes sharp, she scans each stand, looking for a shock of blonde hair or glinting mischievous smiles. Her searching is for naught, however, as her targets find her first. Playful taps on her shoulders have her spinning, trying to find the perpetrators. She catches a glimpse of beaming smiles as the two boys beckon her to follow as they weave through the shifting crowds with almost annoying grace.

They lead her to a stall near the outer rim of the caravan. Built from a horse drawn wagon, one side attached with hinges so it could fold down to act as a makeshift table, a variety of wares on display. From painted and carved art to tools crafted from a variety of materials, it's an eye catching array, but the goods are not what draw her attention. Instead, it's the sight of the blonde, dressed in dark pants and light shirt like her companions, a dark blue sash around her hips, chatting cheerfully with a man holding up a finely crafted knife to examine in the sunlight.

The two boys bound up to the blonde as the man bids farewell, embracing her on each side in a restricting hug. She sighs in exasperation, a fond smile gracing her lips as they nuzzle her shoulders, each smiling wide as they speak quickly in her ears. Her face is overcome with surprise as they let go, spinning her to face the warrior that shuffled awkwardly several feet away. The other girl smiles and waves her over.

"Monty and Jasper tell me that they had fun leading you here."

She chuckles as the brunette draws closer. Her smile is soft and filled with affection, making Lexa's heart melt. She nods at the other girl's words, managing to put a nervous smile on her own face. Now, in front of the blonde, she was unsure of what to say.

When she'd woken up, she had been determined to get answers, but in the moment her mouth was dry and throat closed. No words came forth as she averted her gaze in embarrassment, cheeks flushing brightly.

"I don't think we ever properly introduced ourselves, which is sort of my fault I guess."

The blonde extended a hand.

"My name is Clarke."

The brunette grasped the other girl's hand hesitantly.

"Lexa."

The smile Clarke gives her at the giving of her name makes her knees weak.

After that first official meeting, Lexa's life was forever changed. The pack had introduced themselves with glee. Transforming once in the seclusion of the forest so they could bound and tumble about as they used to.

The curly haired man, Bellamy, had gripped her shoulder as he'd passed, nodding with a hint of a smile before darting behind a bush to change. Octavia, Bellamy's sister, and Raven, the girl with the limp, each gave her a quick peck on the cheek, grinning mischievously back at a stone faced Clarke. Lastly, the two boys, Monty and Jasper had pulled her into an aggressive hug, arms winding around the warrior until she felt like a trellis wrapped in vines.

After each of their own unique greetings, all of them, other than Clarke, darted behind bushes, throwing clothes teasingly from behind their screens of leaves, giggling all the while. The two women watched as wolves would emerge one by one, tails wagging in excitement.

Lexa looked to Clarke, eyes wide. The blonde simply smiled in return, stepping closer and wrapping her arms around the brunette. She was shorter than the warrior by a small margin, just enough that she could nose at her jaw affectionately like she did so long ago.

The other wolves circled them, brushing against their legs and nipping at their clothes. It felt like an initiation, like she was being reclaimed. It made her heart beat faster and her hands tremble as she returned the blonde's embrace. Something lodged itself in her throat as she was pulled closer.

She hadn't thought much of her loneliness after years of growing used to it. She'd had Anya for company, as well as her fellow warriors, but it didn't compare to being apart of a pack. The feeling of connection, the acceptance without judgement. She'd numbed herself to their absence, heart hardening until any longing she'd felt were simply fleeting thoughts, banished by the more pressing matter of duty.

Now, what she hadn't let herself yearn for was right in front of her, alive and breathing and oh so accepting. It made tears well in her eyes and her knees weak. Clarke sank down with her to huddle on the grass. The rest of the pack circled them, creating a ring of furry bodies that protected them from the world. Gentle fingers wiped at her tears, pulling her close until she could burrow her face into the junction of a shoulder.

The agony she'd refused to feel lessened. She was no longer a lone wolf.

When she was a leader, she commanded the wolves

The thing about wolf packs was that they stuck together, and now that she was once again apart of one, where she was they weren't far behind. In the village, on a mission, or simply on patrol one or all of them would follow. And of course, with the village being so small, people began to notice. Or rather they noticed the attractive blonde that seemed to be with her at almost every waking moment. Anya had given teasing remarks, ribbing her over the fire on missions when she thought they were alone. Of course, Lexa couldn't do anything but blush and make furtive glances at the bushes where she knew a certain white wolf was hiding.

It wasn't until much later that the elders noticed her sudden increased success during missions. Coming back unharmed when any other warrior would at least be injured, or appearing to not leave the village at all yet the threat would still be eliminated. It wasn't long until she was appointed Heda, village leader.

The night before the ceremony, she was a wreck, pacing around her new, much larger, cabin anxiously. Clarke lounged on plush chair, watching with an amused look at the pacing warrior.

"I don't deserve to be Heda! The only reason I've been doing so well is because of you guys. You're the ones that kill the targets, not me. You guys are the one's keeping me safe! I should refuse."

Lexa chewed her thumb, worrying the skin with her anxiety. The thought of such responsibility scared her, doubly so considering that she felt that she didn't deserve such an honour. On what felt like the thousandth rotation of her pacing, strong but gentle arms encircled her waist, warm lips pressing themselves to her shoulder.

"Lexa, you don't give yourself enough credit. Being Heda is about more than being strong or how many missions you've completed, it's about your decisions and how you act under pressure and how well you listen to those below you."

Clarke slowly turned the worrying brunette so they were face to face, a soft expression on her face. Her fingers brushed across worried features, smoothing out the deep lines.

"You are a born leader, Lexa. Why do you think we followed you so easily? You care for us, make sure we're safe. You are capable and wise, and the elders see that. You are our Alpha, our leader, now you're just going to have a bigger pack."

The brunette couldn't help but relax at her wolf's words. Pulling Clarke closer, they both sank into the embrace.

"Thank you."

The gratitude was whispered, but filled with emotion. She felt calmer now, having inched a little closer to being ready to face tomorrow. She still felt like a ball of nerves, but Clarke's presence soothed her anxiety, quieting it to bearable levels. Sighing, she pulled away, gazing at the blonde with adoration.

"Gods, I love you."

Clarke flushed slightly, looking down for a moment before meeting her gaze once again.

"I love you too."

They stared at each other for several minutes, the affection filling the room palpable. Then suddenly, Lexa was being whirled around and pushed towards the bedroom with gentle shoves.

"Off to bed with you. Tomorrow's a big day; what would everyone think if you showed up looking dead on your feet?"

Clarke scolded, tone light. The brunette couldn't suppress her laugh. She giggled down the hall, Clarke at her back the whole way, until they reached their bedroom. Scrubbing the tears of laughter from her eyes, she crossed over to the bed. Sliding off her boots, she jolted when a shirt impacted her head.

Tugging the fabric off, she narrowed her eyes at the playful blonde who was whistling in the corner. Shaking her head in amusement, Lexa changed into her sleeping clothes. She knew she wouldn't be able to win any form of mischief battle against the blonde, as they always devolved into a tickle fight that Clarke always ended up winning. Nudging her boots under the bed and throwing her soiled clothes of the day in the hamper, her attention was once again distracted, giving Clarke the perfect opportunity to tackle her onto the bed. Landing with an 'oof,' she barely had time to take in breath before agile fingers attacked her sides.

"Clarke-!"

Her words work cut off by pair of lips pressed to her own. They seemed to take her breath away even more than the tickles did. She hummed into the kiss and gasped once they parted. Her panting breaths hitched as warm palms trailed up her sides, curling under her shoulders to pull their bodies closer together. Clarke rested their foreheads together, a smug light in her eyes.

"Hey…"

The blonde breathed the word, quiet and soft. It sent the girl beneath her into a spiral of memories, all the times they'd ended the day like this, playfully wrestling until they dropped from exhaustion. However, the one remembered most clearly was their first kiss.

They'd been in a position similar to their current one. Lexa underneath Clarke, held down by the wolf's inhuman strength, foreheads resting against each other. The feelings of warm happiness flowing through each limb as they lay against each other. The small 'hey' slipping from gently parted lips. She couldn't remember who had closed the distance, but the kiss that followed had been electrifying and pacifying all at once. When they'd finally pulled away, Clarke had buried her face into Lexa's shoulder, mumbling 'Gods, I've waited so long to do that' and Lexa couldn't help but agree. She'd pushed down her desires with work and duty, but it only took one brush of their lips to come roaring to the surface.

Grinning at the memory, she sighed, closing her eyes to revel in her overwhelming happiness. She didn't move as Clarke leaned over to blow out the candle on their bedside table and adjusted to to lay half on and half off the brunette, pulling the comforter up to cover them entirely. Lexa sighed happily, the last of her nerves easing at the feeling of being warm and covered by the blonde. So long as Clarke was by her side, everything would be just fine.

When she was an elder, she laid with wolves

Only years after her ascension, and after decades of unwavering service, did she finally set down her sword. Only when her hair was overcome by grey and her face held lines that spoke of knowledge and hardship, did she shed her armour. Only when her eyes could no longer make out the lines of war maps and trade routes in dim candle light did she step down as Heda.

Unlike those named Heda before her, she had lived a long life, unhindered by illness and not cut short by combat. Her leadership had lead to a time of peace, a fact that Clarke had never let go.

"Remember that time you thought you didn't deserve to be Heda?"

Lexa sighed, rolling her eyes to look at her wife. Adjusting her grip on her reins, she slowed her horse to fall in beside her partner.

"Clarke…"

The blonde had aged just as she had, her hair turning a brilliant silver and her skin had its own lines carved into it, most notably around her eyes. The creases spoke of a life filled with laughter and the light of humour in her iris' had yet to fade, even after nearly a century of life.

"Am I allowed to say 'I told you so'?"

The former Heda didn't respond, simply chuckling as they neared their destination.

The valley had changed a great deal, yet also remained the same. The grasses still stretched far towards the hills, and the trees still lined the edges of the fields, yet the undergrowth and bushes had crept out from under their towering guardians, creating a thicket of tightly knit bushes.

The rest of the pack had run ahead, preferring their stronger wolf forms to their frail human bodies. They all laid snoozing in a circle, waiting for the last of their number. As they neared, Bellamy's head lifted but he didn't move. Instead, he let out a large yawn, jaws stretching wide, before laying back down. The others acknowledged their arrival with huffs or low snuffles, too tired now in their old age to run and jump as they used to.

Easing off of her horse, she patted the animal affectionately before tying its lead to a low branch. Clarke did the same, coming to stand next to her once finished.

"Do you want to transform?"

Lexa asked, stretching out her back with a groan. Her wife chuckled, looping her arm around the older womans.

"Hmm no, I think I'll stay with you."

Clarke tugged gently, leading the pair to lay down amongst their family, releasing a sigh once they'd settled down, tucked against each others sides.

They hadn't returned here, all together at least, since Lexa had been made an apprentice. The nostalgia was thick in the air as they all shifted closer. It didn't take long for each to start dropping off, falling into sleep with gentle sighs. Lexa was the last, blinking up at the reddening sky as sleep slowly crept behind her eyes.

When she was a girl, she'd played with wolves. Tumbling through the grass, running until they couldn't breathe. She'd found a family and forged bonds strong as steel.

When she was an apprentice, she'd learned to fear wolves. The bonds she'd formed wavered, under the heat of fear and loneliness, while separated from her pack, and through endless trials, she'd learned to stand on her own.

When she was a warrior, she'd was protected by wolves. They'd come back into her life like a hammer strike, sudden and jolting. Despite her injuries, and the scar that would forever mar her side, it had been one of the best days of her life. Her pack had returned.

When she was a leader, she'd commanded the wolves. They'd followed her through endless battles, their loyalty steadfast and unwavering, giving her the support and determination that had molded her into the Heda her village had deserved. It was because of them her skills had been sharpened and honed. It was because of them she had reached her greatest potential.

And now, old and grey, bones aching and muscles too soft to hold blade, she lay amongst them, safe and warm, eyes fluttering as sleep crept ever closer. She was the girl who played with wolves, and it was perfect.

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