'Petra' meant rock. This never mattered. "What's in a name? By that which we call a rose it would smell as sweet." She would say when asked about the odd name by some Victoria, Josephine or Emily. Petra never found anything particular in rocks, no elemental connection or spiritual tautology to lead her to believe in the bearing of her name.
She could not conjure a name which carried her in it. She could conjure much else, but there was no meaning. She felt that like her name, almost everything about her did not fit with its meaning. Her name was easy to see – unlike the rocks she knew, she did not leave people with a scar or let them stand upon her. She was small and unassuming, more like a tree – not to mention she got along with birds quite well. Her gender did not fit either – her gender determined that she was to be a genteel lady, politely snuffed into the corner of high society that women were forced to fit. She was neither genteel nor able to be snuffed – she committed the high treason of thinking, humiliating young men with her help in studies and reading as much as the conformist ogled at a dress.
Her father could not sympathize – he blamed it on her condition and forgave her as her sinning was beyond her control, he believed. There was nothing he could do but protect her and his name and hide her case. She did make it difficult at times but grew to understand the provincial man. They forgave each other blaming their state on forces out of their control.
The sickness, however, nagged Mr. Ral. Petra was a witch. A powerful witch, becoming more and more able as she secretly practiced her art and grew in mind and strength. Mr. Ral would have spoken to somebody but knew that that was futile – anybody would spread the information across the land and leave a mob at his doorstep.
The town did not help. The town, under Queen Victoria, was barely learning about Anne Boleyn's beheading. Furthermore, the town still had an alchemist and stuck with Tudor roots as the towns nearby deracinated into the countryside.
Yet, since the folk were gullible, the Rals kept Petra's talent a secret from them for the first seventeen years of her life. Then came Auro. Auro Bossard was a German immigrant who dared to enter the thoroughbred English village. Lacking exposure to society, he fell for Petra quickly; to the velocity where he shattered on impact – a rejection. Humiliated and outraged by the woman's heinous action, Auro did what any rightful, righteous man would: exact revenge.
On Wednesdays, Petra strolled around the village market. Privy to her plan (through observation, not words, following his style), Auro decided to force a kiss upon her and force her into his arms. As soon as she saw the man and his hungry, animalistic look, Petra deduced this intent. She gazed around the stalls and the wooden boxes of fresh vegetables, grown by the few agricultural innovations the farmers welcomed. The cobblestones were next as Petra averted her gaze from Auro or any person possibly partaking in the plan.
Then, as she expected, Auro was in front of her and too close. Acting on a reflexive instinct, Petra cast a flame upon the unsuspecting assailant.
She saw the flame and heard a cry. Quickly she hid it and saw that the entire square had noticed. She fled, running faster than humanly possible, by mistake; forgetting to care as the secret was already seen. In a minute, she covered the half mile to the nearby forest – her regular practice venue. She hid, knowing that she would have to live off nature and her ability. She quietly climbed a tree, reaching the top of the woods and finding the townsfolk gathering in the square, consoling a burnt Auro.
She sighed, not sure of where to run other than further into the wilderness. Thus, she began to walk, pondering her burning of seventeen years of her and her father's hard work. Fortunately, in her state of exile she lost no friends and only her father would lament her disappearance. Auro could mount a search, but Petra doubted that the German would muster any sympathy with his accent.
Levi could not believe his eyes. The woman was stupid and a perfect picking. She was evidently some sort of an outcast – the lack of a briefcase made that abundantly clear as did her thoughtful, probably sorrow laden gait.
Isabel, Furlan and Levi followed the woman for a few miles to make sure that she would not be missed. There was no indication that she would be. The woman sat down and had started a fire – quite proficiently. She proceeded to warm herself as the trio closed in. She would not have time to scream. The woman conveniently closed her eyes. Levi hid behind a tree as Isabel scampered behind a bush and Furlan snuck behind a rock. They all crouched, poised to pounce. The woman sighed, playing as the perfect prey, still meditating with her eyes shut. The trio pounced.
Suddenly, in mid-air, they found themselves deflected. Around the woman, crosses were hovering: purple luminescent crosses orbiting her figure slowly as she meditated calmly oblivious to the miracle unfolding. "Now, will you stop following me?"
"What?" Levi asked, recovering from a scare.
"You three have been following me for the last two hours. Will you stop?" The woman had her eyes open. Levi took in the figure, for the first time as more than just a slab of meat. Her hair was the colour of the fire in front of her. Her eyes were hazel, reflecting the fire further. She had a small frame – smaller than his or Isabel's. She was wearing a brown leather jacket and a white dress under it, folding her legs after having tucked the fabric under her.
"How did you know?"
"The following or that you're a vampire?"
"Both witch." Petra smirked.
"The following was through the use of my witch sense and that you're vampires was trivial: why else could you never come into the sun and not want my money?"
"Rapists?"
"You wouldn't have waited two hours, much less brought a woman along."
"Fine." Levi snarled.
Although a chill ran up Petra's spine, she hid it and merely mocked: "you two can also come out now."
Grudgingly and hungrily, Isabel and Furlan emerged from the bushes they had retreated to. "Should we tell Hange?" Furlan moaned, sounding bored of eternity.
"Yes." Levi got up. "Please, come with us, witch." He hoped it sounded enough like 'bitch.'
"Name's Petra."
"I'm Furlan, she's Isabel and he's Levi." Levi glared at Furlan. "What? She's probably going to be with us."
Petra let down the crosses and they faded into the ground. "Lead on, then." She got up, ensuring that none of the vampires tried to pull any tricks through her senses.
A few minute's walking later, Levi told his two subordinates: "why don't you flit off and tell Hange? I'll walk her to camp."
"That's strange of you."
"Just do it."
"Fine." Isabel groaned and Furlan followed her flitting.
"Seeing as you don't talk to strangers often, what is it that you must say?" Petra asked.
"I wanted to see two things: your skill and who you really are."
"I'm me."
"Who is?"
"Petra Ral, witch and exile. And you're Levi."
"None of that. Why were you exiled and how did we never see you before?"
"I burned somebody by mistake."
"Mistake?"
"He angered me and I burned him."
"Angered?"
"What's your story, why are you out here? How old are you?"
"I was a fisherman in Scotland, died ten years ago, don't care about age and can't magically come back to life."
"I was nearly dishonoured in public by some immigrant and he would have forced my hand in marriage. I burned him as I was too angered by his attempted advance."
"How skilled are you?"
"I can talk to some animals, conjure images and flames and see through things."
"I'll let Hange officially welcome you but a few things: if you get a cut, use a healing spell before one of us smell it; we only travel by night, and we respect you and your privacy if you respect us and ours."
"I see? What of normal people?"
"We avoid them or eat them. You are not expected to partake in the latter, of course."
"That's why you walked with me?"
"I did not want Isabel or Furlan to miss anything."
"So who all are there?"
"We have the three of us you met, Hange a witch and Erwin (her husband) a werewolf. Other witches and wizards visit us every so often."
"And what do you do?"
"Survive."
"Great."
"It is."
After a quiet walk, and another half hour of it, the couple reached the encampment. "Levi! Who is this special witch you personally had to talk to?" A brunette bustled out of a tent and exclaimed while running.
"Petra Ral."
"Witch, I sense."
"I could say the same." Petra said.
"And you're quite powerful! Good gosh! You conjured crosses? That was smart!"
"I see Furlan and Isabel filled you in." Levi mumbled.
"So, you're Hange?" Petra asked.
"Yes!"
"So, sorry for my curtness, but where do I stay?"
"We set up a tent." Hange pointed towards the three tents. From one Furlan peeked out and the other, further in was the one Hange ran from. The third, smaller and older tent, was vacant.
"Thank you! I should love to get some sleep."
"Quite understandable."
"I hear you all are nocturnal."
"Quite so." With that, Petra walked over to her tent and hoped for a better introduction over the next evening and night.