I think I'm beneath the mist of things. Under the hazy in-between of reality and make believe, somewhere amongst it maybe?

That would be nice, to be a part of something.

I heard footsteps, slow, unsure.

"Hello?" I called into the darkness. If my voice was heard it was left without reply. I cleared my throat, liked my chapped, dry lips. "There are witches here you know. You might want to leave."

A small, silent pause, broken only by a distant dripping of water that had been tormenting me for days.

Then, whispering. Two voices, one old, one young.

Suddenly, a small warm light flared into life a few feet away. The boy was the first thing I saw, clad in a cloche and wheilding some sort of staff. His eyes were full of grief when he saw me, and he stepped forwards as if too come to my aid. Then, as the light grew, the older man came into view, dressed much the same as his young companion. He put his arm out, to stop the boy coming closer, but his expression too was heavy with pity.

For a long, dreadful moment, our eyes would not leave one and others. His glistened like a wolfs, old, majestic, powerful. I could not think what to compare mine too. Maybe a defeated, trapped rodent, one which the mighty wolf would not think to snack upon, even if offered on a plate. I hoped with all my being that the fire in those eyes were not meant for me.

"I don't sense any dark in her," said the boy, and my attention sprung onto him. He looked up at the wolf-eyed-man, waiting for his opinion.

"Aye lad," was all he said, before stepping closer. He motioned for his companion to stay put as he brought himself to his knees before me. "The witches, they do this to you?" He asked, referring to my current state.

Naked, bound by silver chains. Lacerations drew criss-crossing patterns across my skin. If I were to but twitch, wounds would open again, adding to the stains that already coloured the grey stone slabs. They had pinned me to the ground with a knife, driven through the flesh between my shin bone and my tendon, near the back of my lower leg.

I was not gagged. Apparently the noises I made amused them.

"Yes, they did. But not without help," I waited for him to say something, but he did not. "... Men, with spears. I remember them well."

Again, though I offered my silence, he did not talk. He was studying the markings they had made on me, some words, some only cuts. Finally, his eyes found mine again.

"What are you?" he asked.

"I do not know."

A pause.

"They bound you with silver chains, they must think you're a creature of the dark."

"They must."

Then he made a noise of disapproval in his throat and scratched his beard.

"...And do the chains work on you?"

"They keep me here, though they themselves cause me no harm."

"Well, that settles it. Lad, bring the light here."

The boy strode over to his companion, putting a small candle on the floor beside him. His eyes looked everywhere but at me, obviously waiting for something to creep out of the shadows.

"Give me your key boy," he said, opening his hand. The lad did as he was told, producing it out of his bag within seconds. Wolf-man slipped the key into the padlock holding the chain together, and gave it a turn. With a click, it fell to the floor. Slowly, he pealed the silver from my skin. It had been there so long, deep links were left in my flesh, bruised and bloody. He left the mettle where it fell.

Then, he turned his attention to the knife. His fingers wound around the handle.

He glanced to me for approval.

I nodded.

A scream almost escaped my lips, but I held it there.

He wrapped cloth around the wound for a makeshift bandage, then took off his cloche. Easing me into a sitting position, he placed it around my shoulders.

"The way out is clear," he said, not moving his hands from my upper arms. "You make your way outside now, wait for us at the start of the woods. We need to deal with theses witches."

"The men I mentioned before," I started, before he had chance to get up. "They have dark in them. Please, be careful."

He nodded his thanks and they both disappeared deeper into the cave. I followed the scent of night until I reached the outside world again.

Four weeks, five days.

I hadn't seen the beloved moon in that long?

Pulling the cloche in around me, I headed for the tree line.

There I waited.

I probably should have run, but my body was week. Only now that I was standing did I realise how much weight I had lost, how many bones were visible. Then, while nursing my oozing wounds, I sensed her.

Another witch.

Too weak to fight, I just listened.

There she was! – A snap of a twig to the left of me.

"I'm no threat to you," I said, weary. "If you have come for me, take me. But now you have a Spook to contend with. A powerful one."

I could almost hear her considering.

"I'm... I'm with the Spook... Well, kinda. Friends with his Apprentice I am," her voice was small, but had an underlining power writhing below it. "...Did they find you in there?" she said, voice full of horror. I smiled.

"Yes, but they told me nothing of you."

Quietly the girl stepped out from her hiding place in the bushes. He long black hair was tangled with twigs and her pointy shoes caked in mud and grime. She's been walking quite the way it seemed.

"See, the Spook doesn't know I'm following 'em," she mumbled, but the expression on her face told me she wished she hadn't said that. She was distracted, by the wounds on me. By the words calved into me.

"...You got Old Gregory's cloche. That's the only reason I'm believing you. That and...well, you ain't no Witch, that's for sure," then, she reached into the bag at her belt, pulling out some leaves.

"Here," she said, handing them to be. "Wet 'em and put 'em on the worst bits, they'll help."

"Thank you," I smiled, watching her take a step away from me, observing me again. I must confuse her.

Well, I confuse myself.

We sat there, talk sparse between us. She told me her name was Alice, and that she lived with the Spook and Tom.

I told I had no name, and that I lived with no one, and lived nowhere.

She looked at me in bewilderment at that point.

An hour or so passed, and finally the Spook and the boy entered the forest.

"You girl!" said the Spook, pointing an angry finger at Alice. "Following us again?"

"Had to make sure you were safe I did. Besides, don't you have bigger worries right now?" She replied, shifting the attention onto me. The Spook looked almost ashamed of his outburst when he looked in my direction. Sighing, he shook his head.

"Trust she told you who we are then?" he asked me.

"Yes," I said, giving a slight nod.

"Then, you have me at a disadvantage..."

"I... have no name."

Again, my answer was met with puzzlement.

"Memory loss," I said quickly, "From the pain."

Understanding swept across his face.

"Then I take it you have no destination in mind?"

"None."

"Well, you'll have to come with us then."

And with that, we were off.

A/N: Hey guys. Sorry about typos and shizz. It's too early in the morning for me to think about that right now.

So, this is an odd story with no plot as of yet, about the Spook finding an odd... woman thing. I have some ideas for her, so this might not all be pointless.

Gotta say, updates WILL be irregular.

I'm an irregular person.

BUT.

I hope you like thus far.

It's set at some point when they have to blood jar, so maybe before they reach home in Chippinden, on their way back from Greece? I don't know, haven't read the book in yonks so it's hard to picture. If I mess up big time, shout at me in a review ;)