Furies' Anger

Disclaimer: I don't own any of this.

"Now pay attention, little one, this is important," Killian commanded, his daughter's head turning to face him.

They stood on deck, with the ship docked into a remote port. It was summer time and the sun made the planks beneath their feet warm. Beckett was sitting a nearby crate, supervising in case of injury. Again.

Killian looked down at Aoife, who was nearly jumping up and down with excitement. She held a wooden sword in her hand, a gift from the crew on her last birthday. Killian placed his hands on his shoulders, stopping her bouncing before she got sick.

"The facts are Aoife, that as a girl, there will be people bigger and stronger than you."

Blue eyes frowned back at him, a determined scowl falling over her small face.

"But just because they are bigger than you, doesn't mean you can't beat their face into the dirt. Sometimes, brute strength doesn't win. Sometimes, it's quick skill."

He let go of her shoulders and stood back. "Today's lesson: learning how to take down bigger fighters with just one move. It'll just come in handy one day."

Aoife bit her lip, her little fingers drumming on the hilt of her sword. "Papa, will I have to do this in real life soon?" she asked quietly.

Killian knelt down in front of her, smiling. "Of course not sweetheart; this is for when you are older and have your own adventures. Don't worry. For now and for as long as you need me, I'll be the one fighting off the bad guys."

Aoife grinned but then she frowned again. "Papa, why can't we just shoot them with the cannon?"

Killian tried not to laugh, shaking his head. "The canon wasn't built for knocking down one person at a time, sweetheart. Now, start with your practise swings."

As she did as she was told, Killian turned back to Beckett. "Remind the crew to not let her near the cannons."

Aoife and Henry walked as far as the next town, which was a dilapidated mess of half built houses and stalls. Henry kept close to Aoife, who had flipped the hood of her jacket over her head. They skirted around the edge of the town, avoiding as many people as they could. There was an array of men, women and children. Some wore clothes like Henry had seen in his book while others were dressed as modern as Henry was.

"Where are we going?" he asked quietly as they passed by a number of ally-ways and open drains.

"We need to stock up on some food; the closer you get to the Furies lair, the less wild animals there are to hunt," Aoife answered, "They avoid that place like the plague."

"What's it like?" he said, "The lair I mean."

Aoife pulled him to the side of the street as a crowd suddenly ran past them, all chasing one man who was out in front. When they passed, Aoife explained, "He probably stole some bread or something. Come on."

They kept walking and Aoife finally replied to his question. "The lair is basically a large, hollowed out cave a few days walk from here. The Furies have a maze of tunnels inside but the portal should still be in the same place."

Henry nodded but yelped suddenly when a hand shot out from an ally and grasped his arm. Henry struggled to get away from his captor, a scraggly man in ratty clothes. "Fresh meat," the man hissed, "I can smell the newness off you. What year is it boy?!"

Henry didn't even have to reply, because the next moment the man was on his back. Aoife had kicked him in the chest as the same time as slashing his hand with her dagger.

"Come on, hurry," she ordered, and ushered him away down the street.

"Who was that?" Henry panted.

"Just another person stuck here," Aoife replied as she put her dagger away, "They can tell that you're new here so they want information about whatever world you come from, hoping it's theirs."

Neither of them stopped walking until Aoife guided him into a dirty shop with no windows. There was a low counter to the right, while the rest of the room was taken over by stacks of cans and dried food. Aoife kept him close as they manoeuvred past people, some drooling over the pieces of meat hanging from the ceiling by hooks. She stopped in front of the counter, still not taking her hood off.

There was an old woman behind the counter, her wrinkled hands counting coins. Henry frowned at him; he could clearly see that they were all from different countries and times. People must pay with whatever they had.

"We need meat and grain," Aoife said lowly, "At least two bags each."

The woman finally looked up at them, her small eyes inspecting them both. Henry's skin crawled when she looked at him but her gaze settled on Aoife.

The woman smiled, with more gum than teeth. "Wouldn't people like to know that you are in town, Fury Girl? There hasn't been a good mob in months."

Henry frowned at Aoife, who just kept a straight face. "If you do that, then you won't get paid," she just replied as she placed a small bag onto the counter.

The woman snatched it up and poured out its contents into her hand. Henry's eyes grew wide at the sight of the white pearls, gleaming against the woman's dirty skin.

"Very well," she said, "We have a deal."

The woman hurried off to get their order and Henry opened his mouth to speak.

"Don't," Aoife said lowly, "Just don't."

Henry stayed silent, slightly worried when he saw that her hand was shaking.

They had been searching all night and were not closer to a solution. Hook had watched as Henry's family went through every book, every object and anything else they could find to try and learn more about the Land Between Worlds.

He had stayed silent throughout most of this, choosing to be quiet instead of a negative influence. They were a bunch of people who thrived when times got tough, when the situation looked dire. He didn't have the heart to tell them that there was no way of getting Henry back. By dawn, it was decided to get some rest and food and gather again in a few hours. Hook started off towards his home, his neck sore and his eyes begging for sleep.

But when Emma called him, he turned around and waited for both her and Neal to catch up with him. "Hook," Emma said, "You know all about the Land Between Worlds right?"

Hook hesitated before nodding. "Yes, but I don't see-."

"We want you to tell us Henry's chances," Neal interrupted, "What's the likelihood of him...surviving until we can rescue him."

Hook frowned, turning back to look at Emma in question. She sighed, her voice low. "We deserve to know; no matter how bad it is."

Hook clenched his jaw for a moment.

They had no idea. It was unbearably painful, even after all these centuries, to imagine how his daughter had died and the more he had learned about the Land, the worst his imagination got. It would be better to keep them in the dark but they would eventually hear the stories; it was better coming from him.

"No one knows exactly what is in the Land; most information comes through stories or whatever people have seen get sucked through a portal. There are a number of people for sure, so perhaps there are towns and villages. Magic is in scarce supply and mostly in the form of healing properties or simple spells; nothing that could fight a Fury. There are animals there from all of the worlds as well as a number of dangerous creatures that like the taste of blood. The Furies, however, are the worst of all."

Emma was white but staring at him with such determination. Neal was bracing his hands on his hips, as if ready to fight the very words coming from his mouth.

Hook continued. "The Furies don't need to eat or drink; they thrive on the anger of people. So, they attack with vicious claws and talons; hoping to cause havoc and rage. The only magic they have is the ability to inspire anger in people, even if they are miles away. The stories say that you could never meet a Fury in your entire time spent there and still feel their anger corrupt you."

"What about your friend? The one who got sucked into the portal?" Neal said quickly, "Did they survive long-sorry to ask."

Hook just accepted the apology, and replied, "My friend was young and defenceless. My first mate at the time, Carter, told me there was no chance of survival but I ignored him. It took a while for me to accept the death but hundreds of years can do wonders for your sense of hope."

He ended the line with a trademark grin which didn't improve Neal's temper.

"Seriously? We are trying to get Henry back and you're not helping at all!"

Emma placed a hand on his arm, gently pushing him back in the direction of the shop. "Go get some rest, Neal," she advised, "We'll talk later."

Neal ran a hand through his hair and stalked away, his hands clenched.

"We're all a little on edge," Emma said, "Don't mind him."

Hook nodded once and turned around to continue on his way. Emma's hand on his arm stopped him however. He looked at her hand and then at her worried face. "You really don't think we can get him back do you?"

Her question was asked so quietly, he almost didn't hear it. Hook frowned at her, starting to really worry. She looked exhausted; from rescuing Henry from Neverland to losing him again to another world. Not to mention the arguments in between.

The straight answer was no; he didn't think they would. But there was a small part of him, the same part that had awakened when he had first met her, that still believed.

"I'll tell you this, Swan," he said, "I learned long ago never to doubt you. If anyone has a chance of beating the Furies and the Land, then it's you and your family."

She gave him a small smile, and after squeezing his arm slightly, turned to walk back to her apartment.

Hook watched her go, waiting until she was around the corner before finally looking away. He wanted to save Henry, he really did. Not just for Emma but for the kid himself. It wasn't right for him to be trapped like he was.

Hook knew it was a long shot, but he hoped that Henry had found someone to watch over him.

"I think I'm getting better at this," Henry said, as he roasted the bird over the fire.

Aoife looked over at him from her perch on a rock and smiled. "Yes, the second time round usually doesn't end with the meat getting set on fire," she quipped, causing Henry to stick his tongue out at her.

He checked the bird again before looking back at Aoife. They had stopped for the afternoon, choosing to sleep so that they were rested for the night's walk. Aoife had picked a flat spot on a slope, surrounded by trees and rocks. Aoife was standing on one of the rocks, her bow draw and an arrow loosely perched on it. She was scanning the forest below them, barely moving.

"Is everything ok?" he asked.

Aoife nodded without looking at him. "Yes, I'm just making sure the camp is secure of we are to sleep here. Can't be too careful Henry."

He said nothing else but that didn't stop him feeling a little less safe now. When the food was cooked, Aoife finally put down her bow and sat to eat.

Henry munched on his dinner a bit before asking, "Where did you get those pearls from?"

Aoife raised an eyebrow before shrugging. "I found them in oysters that live in the water on the edge of the Land. There is no actual sea in this place so that lake is the closest thing that grows them. My father taught me how to find them and get the pearls."

"Your father taught you a lot of things then?"

Aoife smiled and Henry was surprised to see how warm it was. Her whole face seemed softer. "Yes; he had seen many things because of his travels and everyday with him was spent learning something or perfecting what I already knew. He told me that I could go on great adventures if I wanted to; I doubt he meant this place."

Henry paused, swallowing a mouthful of meat. "You said before that you had tried to find the portal. Did you try to get back to him?"

Aoife nodded, her smile slipping. "It was years ago and the portal didn't work. But since it has probably been centuries since I last him, he is more than likely long gone. Once I accepted that and I grieved, this place became easier to deal with. It stopped being a prison that kept me from my father and was suddenly just a place to survive."

Henry nearly lost his appetite. He had never considered the fact that he was under pressure from time itself. Weeks might have already passed in Storybrooke. And Aoife was his best chance. She was also a lot different than he had first thought; he would be grumpy too if he had been stuck in the Land as long as her.

"You can come back with me," Henry suggested, "You can come live in Storybrooke and have pancakes at Granny's with hot chocolate and cinnamon. You can go to the high school and get a job in town or something."

Aoife was staring at him, one eyebrow raised with confusion in her eyes. "I literally have no idea what you just said."

Henry's shoulders dropped. "Not even the part about the chocolate?"

When Aoife shook her head, Henry sighed. "We have a lot to discuss."

Once Henry got talking, he didn't stop. He told her all about Storybrooke and the new inventions and technologies that the modern world had. She had heard stories yes, but she had a lot to catch up on. She asked questions now and again but was content to listen to him speak. He was half-way through explaining what a television was when she interrupted him.

"We can take this up again later kid; it's time for sleep."

Henry nodded and adjusted the small pile of cloth that Aoife had given him to sleep on. Suddenly he heard a rustling and something was thrown over his head. Pulling it off, he looked down to see a black jacket, a size two big for him. He stared up at Aoife, who shrugged.

"I figured you would need one; can't have you walking around with just that thin shirt can we?"

Henry grinned and put it on. He had never been so glad to get an old coat in his life. "Where did you get this?" he asked, actually glad that the sleeves went over his cold hands.

"I picked it up in the town when you weren't looking."

Henry smiled up at her and replied, "Thank you."

Aoife just turned back to face the forest. "Don't mention it; just go to sleep. I will not drag you though the trees if you're half-asleep."

Henry did as he was told but right before his eyes closed, he wondered why she was still standing on the rock, staring out at the forest.

She shook him awake at nightfall, and when he was finally up on his feet, he saw that she had already put out the fire and packed away everything. She still held her bow in her hands but only one sword was on her belt.

"Come on," he said, pushing him ahead of her, "We have to get a move on."

They hurried through the trees, Aoife leading the way at a fast pace. Henry tried to keep up with her but eventually, he asked, panting, "Why are we in such a rush? The portal isn't going anywhere, is it?"

Aoife didn't reply, she just grabbed his elbow and dragged him out in front of her to walk. They went a few more metres but loud rustling from the trees behind them caused Henry to stop and Aoife to spin around.

"We were being followed," she whispered to him, "All the way from the town; I had hoped we'd lost them."

Henry was about to ask who when four men stepped out from the branches. One of them was the man who had grabbed him in the ally, a bandage wrapped haphazardly around his bleeding hand. Another was the man that had been running away from the crowd, while the last two were unknown to him. But they were all armed with swords and at least one axe.

"Did you get lost?" Aoife called, "Cause I'm pretty sure anything you're looking for is in the opposite direction."

The man from the ally twitched slightly and motioned towards Henry. "Just give us the boy, Fury Girl; all we want is information."

Henry crept closer to Aoife who drew her bow and readied an arrow. "He's from the Land without Magic, nowhere else. None of you look like you're from there so he's useless to you."

The man stilled but one of the others, who held a heavy axe, said, "But you are helping him and he's not disgusted by you. That must mean something."

Henry looked at Aoife, who aimed the arrow straight at them. What the heck did that nickname mean? And what had she done that was so bad?

"Considering that he's the first person who hasn't tried to behead me on sight in the last few years, I'd say we're the best of friends. Now move along."

Henry stared at the men again; they all seemed jittery and unstable. Even he knew they weren't going to leave.

Just as one of them ran forward, Aoife shot him in the side, taking him down. She shoved Henry backwards and kicked out because, by then, the second man was in front of her. He stumbled back but it was enough for her to take her dagger and slash his shoulder, cutting the muscles there. He fell screaming but Aoife barely had time to blink before the man with the axe and the man from the ally attacked her.

She was fighting them on both sides, with her sword and dagger as she had dropped her bow. Henry stood back but when he saw that she was struggling, he looked down at the bow on the ground. Snow had given him some lessons on archery before so he scooped it up and grabbed an arrow. He aimed but the three fighters kept moving and it was already so dark. Hoping that he wouldn't hit Aoife, he concentrated on the man with the axe. He took a breath and let go and the arrow went straight into the man's right shoulder, causing him to drop the axe. Aoife and the last man stilled for only a moment, surprised at Henry's help.

Then Aoife got in a punch to the man's jaw, sending him spinning around. As he was turned away from her, she quickly slashed at the backs of his knees, leaving him lying on the ground. The man with the axe was in pain, trying to reach the arrow and get to Henry. Aoife strode over and kneed him in the face, leaving him unconscious.

She grabbed her weapons and taking the bow from Henry, she said, "Nice shot kid."

"Thanks," he replied, "But I was aiming for his leg."

Aoife let out a relieved laugh but it came out with a cry of pain. She clutched her right side and Henry quickly took her arm in case she fell.

"What's wrong?!" he asked, scanning her side in case of blood.

"One of them kicked me in the ribs," she said through clenched teeth, "I think one might be broken. Of course the pain hits after the fight."

Henry quickly took her bag, shouldering it for her as well as the bow.

"Can we do anything?" he said, as he watched her take a few breaths.

Aoife paused but then nodded towards the trees ahead. "There a small camp over there. It's out of our way towards the lair but they have some healing magic there. I won't be much use without it."

Henry nodded and the two of them slowly made their way through the forest. By the time, Henry saw the lights of the camp, Aoife was nearly passing out. She had already lost blood from the Fury attack and the pain from the broken rib hadn't helped. The camp was a collection of tents with a few people walking around fires. When they saw the two of them, many hurried back inside their tents. One man, a tall guy with a short white beard, narrowed his eyes at them and stalked forward.

"This may not be as easy as I thought," Aoife muttered.

Henry looked at her with worry. She was sweating, drops falling of her face, while eyes kept drooping closed before snapping open again. The man reached them and Aoife tried to stand as straight as she could.

"You are not welcome here," the man hissed.

"What a surprise," Aoife quipped but Henry interrupted their glaring.

"She needs some healing magic and a place to rest. Please, we'll pay you."

Aoife stared down at him and Henry motioned towards the bag on his back. He hoped that she had more pearls in there. The man quickly gave Aoife a once over but turned back to Henry.

"The Fury Girl caused enough trouble for people; even for money, we should not help you."

"Please," Henry begged, "I don't know what she did before but she's been helping me, keeping me safe. She saved me from Furies twice and four men who wanted to kidnap me. That's how she got so hurt. She may be this Fury Girl to you but she's my friend. I'll give you all the pearls she has, just please help her."

The only sound to be heard was the crackling from the fire. The man stared at Henry for a long moment before standing aside.

"Go to the last tent on this row and put her on the camping cot there. I'll bring you the magic soon."

Henry smiled widely, "Thank you."

Aoife nodded to the man but he just turned around and left. Henry and Aoife slowly walked to the last tent and Henry pulled aside the flap to let them inside. There was a small cot against the left wall and he helped Aoife to lie down on it.

Her jaw was clenched and her face white but she managed to mutter, "Thank you Henry; this is the second time you have saved me. I guess that makes us even."

Henry dragged a small stool over to sit at her side, the bag and bow leaning against the cot. "I think I still owe you one," he replied and Aoife gave him a small smile before closing her eyes. The man returned to them a moment later and Henry shook Aoife gently to keep her eyes open.

"Get her to drink this," he said, handing Henry a small bottle, "Let her sleep through the night and she'll be fine by morning. Then she must leave."

With that he exited the tent.

Henry handed Aoife the bottle and she managed to swallow it all, regardless of it's terrible taste. She laid back down and soon fell into a sleep. Henry felt too rested; he had technically only woken up less than an hour ago.

So he sat by Aoife's side, thinking. They called Fury Girl but why? The Furies hadn't shown her any special treatment. However, she had been in the Land between Worlds for so long; he really didn't know anything about her. Well, except that she clearly loved her father.

That made Henry think of his own family; they were probably so worried. He knew that they were defiantly looking for a way to find him and they would; he might even beat them to it if he got to the portal soon.

Henry bit his lip then, staring out at the slit in the tent's door. He could see the glow from the fire, red and orange against the darkness. Knowing his family, however, they were also more than likely at each other's throats. It was probably even slowing them down, all their arguing.

He felt a sharp pain in his hand and when startled and looked down, he saw that his nails had cut his palm. He must have been clenching his fist too hard. Henry shook his head, his brain suddenly feeling foggy. Maybe he was more tired than he thought he was.