It is an effective means of demonstrating her anger, judging by the annoyance in Lexa's flat look and the huff of her breath. It's more seen than heard, a burst of steam out her nose into the cold air. Mockery's still not the product of a strong mind, Clarke.

It takes a minute of fumbling with the belt dropped into her hands to find the right pouch, pulling each open with care not to break the fasteners until she finds little glass vials, and picking through them until she finds the elfroot. She tugs the stopper free and holds it out to Clarke, watching as the woman's wound is revealed. It's ugly and bleeding steadily, but not so fast as to put her already beyond hope.

While Clarke works Lexa leans her free hand over to retrieve the spellbook, brushing the snow off and glancing at the cover and spine before tucking it into her own coat to stay dry.

"Is that where you've been? Skyhold?"