Again, this is getting old. I don't own Septimus Heap. Angie Sage does. Lucky woman.

Thanks to all those who read and reviewed. It's appreciated.

Chapter 3!

Dawn had barely broken when Wren left the Wendron Witch Coven for the Castle, and the morning was cool. She tugged her witch-green cloak close around her shoulders and adjusted her rucksack. Marissa had packed it with everything she thought that Wren would need, which was a relief, but it was heavy!

Nonetheless, Wren made steady progress as she trekked through the Forest. Like most Wendrons, she was familiar with the Forest Ways, but she wasn't going to take them on this journey, as quick as it would make it. She had a stop to make on her way, and it was important.

Wren walked lightly through the underbrush, her bare feet making no noise as they deftly dodged roots and twigs. She knew this route by heart, able to walk it blindfolded and backwards – honestly – and soon she had made it to a slight incline. Taking care to hide herself amongst the trees, she peered into the clearing. The smell of a smoking campfire met her nose and she stifled a sneeze. Nonetheless, she poked her head around the tree and grinned at the sight that met her. In the clearing, what appeared to be a small camp sat comfortably. There were four large piles of leaves in a small semi-circle around a campfire. She knew this camp well, for she had visited many times with admiring teenaged witches. They had helped build those piles of leaves that Wren knew housed boys- well, young men now.

Camp Heap.

The site where four of the famed Silas Heap's sons were living.

As she watched, a tall figure of a man emerged from one of the piles and stretched. He was dressed in a short, brightly colored tunic with trousers and furs. His straw-colored-rat's-nest of hair was matted and he looked rather disheveled.

"Sam? Sam Heap?" Wren whispered, loud enough so he could hear.

The man jumped and whirled to face her direction, grabbing a large stick from the pit for a weapon. Wren had forgotten how long it had been since she had last seen them, since Morwenna had banned them from visiting.

"Who's there?" the man growled, scanning the trees, keeping a tight hold on the stick.

"Sam, it's me!" Slowly, so as not to freak him out, Wren stepped out of her protective clump of trees. "Wren." The man, Sam, looked in her direction and dropped the stick.

"Wren?" Sam Heap looked at her in disbelief. She'd grown from the twelve-year-old she had been when he'd last seen her, Sam thought. She was a young woman – Witch rather – now. He barely recognized the little witch he had known back then.

When Morwenna had forbidden visits to Camp Heap, Sam had taken it the best. The giggling young Witches who had entranced his younger brothers had simply irritated him. But Wren was different. She reminded him of his own little sister, Princess Jenna. She was smiley and laughed a lot, like her, but she had a mischievous, carefree, and daring air about her that was entirely her own. And best of all, she didn't giggle and flirt and flounce as the other witches did. She was his favorite Wendron, like his own little sister.

Sam stepped forward, a grin forming on his mouth, and wrapped the younger girl in a bear hug. "You've certainly grown." He smiled at her, she grinned back, her trademark crooked grin.

"You too. I could practically hang from your facial hair." She teased. Sam poked his tongue out like a little kid, but he chuckled and rubbed his chin, which was, in fact, covered in hair.

"What brings you here, Wren? I thought Morwenna banned you all from visiting?"

"She did." Wren shed her pack with a sigh of relief and seated herself on one of the logs in the campfire pit. "I'm heading off to the Castle, Morwenna wanted some things done…" she let her voice trail off as she caught Sam's look.

Disbelief.

Anger.

Wren could practically read the "WTF?" on his face.

"The Castle?" Sam exclaimed, looking at her, "Why on earth would the Witch Mother want you to go to there? I mean, you know how they view Wendrons."

Sam had lapsed into the Forest way of addressing the inhabitants of the Castle as "they" rather than "we". The Forest Heaps had spent nearly seven years in the Forest, so they viewed themselves more as Forest creatures than Castle dwellers.

"And why would she send you-?"

Wren never had time to answer –which was just as well, for she had no excuse– because the rest of Camp Heap emerged from their leaf piles with sleepy eyes.

"Did I hear a Wendron?" one of the twins - either Edd or Erik, she could never tell – inquired in a tired voice.

"I think you did, Edd." The other twin confirmed, brushing his matted blonde hair out of his face and smirking at Wren.

"Birdie! We haven't seen you in ages! What's been keeping you?"

"The Witch Mother, Erik, you idiot."

"No need to be testy Edd."

"Shut-up. Hey Birdie, brought any of your friends? We've missed them." This comment was served with suggestive smirks and winks.

Wren grinned mischievously at the disheveled twins. They were young men now, about twenty, and with stubble themselves. As ever, they were impossible to tell apart, especially now when their hair was matted and their faces dirty.

"They've missed you too, believe me. The Wendrons' have missed some male company."

Sam smacked both of the younger boys over the head and sighed, "Horny Buggers."

"Wendrons? Marissa-?" the final Camp Heap member, a nineteen-year-old boy with his straw-colored hair in braids and a tattered headband, rolled out of his leaf pile and looked around hopefully. When his eyes fell on Wren, he couldn't hide his disappointment, but he managed a half-hearted smile anyway.

Wren looked at him apologetically, " 'Fraid not Jo-Jo. Just me. But I have a message from Marissa."

Jo-Jo brightened immediately, and Wren opened her rucksack. She pulled out some packages of Witches' Brew and some freshly made bread supplied by some admiring young Witches. She handed them to Sam and the twins, and reached her hand into the bag, rummaging around for a while.

"Now… where did she put it? She put all these things in here and didn't even put it in a- AHA!" with a triumphant grin, Wren pulled out a few brightly colored head bands and handed them out to the Heap boys.

"From Marissa and the others, with love." She smiled as they put them on.

Jo-jo had a lopsided smile pasted on his face as he held the headband, his eyes soft and smiling. He sighed a quiet sigh and put it on, smiling softly as the other boys rolled their eyes at him.

Wren watched him with interest – this was how Marissa acted when someone brought up Jo-Jo. She remembered asking her about it once, but she had dismissed the question with a "I'll explain when you're older" which had annoyed her to no end, seeing as Marissa was only three years her senior. Nonetheless, she hadn't understood how Marissa felt then, and still didn't really know now.

Love, was it?

Maybe, Wren hadn't known. That was the disadvantage of growing up with no male interaction – she had had absolutely no idea about that kind of stuff.

Until that dark boy in her dreams.

The one whose arms were like a warm fire.

Whose face made her subconscious weak in her dream knees.

Who saved her from the Darkenesse.

Wren shook her head to clear it, the mere thought of that boy jumbled her thoughts and clouded her mind. But he also brought her back to reality.

She had a job to do.

Shouldering her rucksack, she said her goodbyes to the Camp Heap boys and left camp. Now that her load was considerably lighter, Wren's pace was faster, and by the time the sun had reached it's peak in the sky, she had reached the edge of the Forest and was peering out at the Castle.

Wren's eyes widened at the sight of the huge wall, separated from her by a wide, slow-running river. She sat down in the shade of the trees, hidden from any eyes that might happen to glance her way, and took out her lunch. As she ate, Wren pondered what she would do next. She had left the camp, made her way through the Forest, and now all she had to do was figure out a way to get into the Castle unnoticed. There was no way anybody would let her in looking like a Wendron…

Wren sighed and emptied the contents of her bag, looking for something that might help. She found a pouch full of money, a compass, a map of the Castle, her pouch of healing herbs, a old-looking book on Physik, and leaf-wrapped packages of enough food to last her for at least a week. Was that it?

No.

She reached into her rucksack and pulled out, much to her surprise, a long, high-waisted, burgundy colored skirt, layered with stripes of mute colors, with a small apron at the back and deep pockets. Following it, there was a creamy-colored short-sleeved blouse and sturdy looking sandals, with a headscarf that matched the skirt.

Wren examined the clothing with a grin, with these, she would look just like a country girl from a family farm - she hoped.

Marissa had thought of everything.

Half an hour later, Wren Ellawyn, Wendron Witch, had become Wren Ellawyn, healer girl from the Far Countries. She breezed down the path to the North Gate, feeling her heart pound. She handed the Gatekeeper a few six-pence and swallowed slightly. What if he saw through her disguise?

But to her relief, the Gatekeeper, a large, stocky man with a permanent scowl, barely glanced at her, only at her money and nodded her through the huge gates. Wren just about laughed in relief – she had made it!

She took off down a wide path and smiled up at the warm afternoon sun, she had made it to the Castle, now all she had to do was find the strange boy… and maybe her dream boy while she was at it.

With a wry smile, Wren pulled out her map of the Castle, looking over it as she walked. Morwenna had given her directions to a place where she could stay, a Wizard cloak shop owned by a Mr. Bertie Bot. Apparently, he had been lost out in the Forest when he was younger and Morwenna had given him directions to get back. Of course, he owed her a couple of favors since then, so Morwenna knew he'd jump at the chance to redeem his debt. Mr. and Mrs. Bot were lovely people, apparently, and their shop was conveniently situated on Wizard Way, the busiest street that sold everything and anything to do with Magyk.

"Brilliant." Wren smiled, and stuffed the map back in her rucksack, looking around.

The Castle wasn't really what she'd expected – well she hadn't known what to expect, but it wasn't this – there were shops on both sides of the road, selling wares, sweet-smelling food, dull-colored clothes, and many other things. People going this way and that, chatting amongst themselves. Mothers with small children, craftsmen yelling out obscenities to laughing teenaged boys while girls giggled. All types of people, all with a job to do, lives to live.

Wren smiled slightly, her head spun slightly. She'd never seen so many people all together! How on earth was she going to navigate this place?

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