By the time the hunters had reached the village, Severus had long lost his smugness. He was cold, tired, hungry and just barely resisting the urge to kill the stupid hounds which would not stop sniffing at him! Slamming a foot into the nosiest hound's hindquarters, he froze as, for the umpteenth time, the hunters looked back at the hound's whimpers. Seeing nothing behind them, they turned back and re-engaged in a round of furious whispers and hand signals.
"There! I'm sure I heard that!" Blomyr exclaimed. Guryn shushed him, glancing uneasily into the gloom that the setting sun cast upon the forest.
"Aye, I heard it too. No one's doubting your ears, laddie."
"But what is it? Look at the dogs! I swear that one just flew sideways!"
"Flew? Looked more like it was kicked," Owathol grunted. "Just keep your eyes open and your mouths shut. Might be one of the kids trying to play tricks on us."
"I think that it is the trees themselves. They feel...malevolent."
At this, Blomyr looked at Guryn in disbelief. "The trees? What nonsense is that, Guryn? The trees of Lossarnach have always comported themselves properly, and acted like trees. "
Guryn shrugged and attempted to adopt a mysterious tone. "Ah, but you've not paid enough attention to the tales of travelers, Blomyr, if you think that trees are always as dull and staid as ours. If we could but see the trees higher up north, if we could but visit the old forests like Lorien, Mirkwood, Fangorn Forest..." Suddenly, his eyes brightened. "Ah, but that's it!"
"Hmm?"
"The doe, remember the clever doe? I wager that it was probably an old forest doe; maybe a Fangorn doe! It must have thought to travel out of its home, maybe make its fortune; it must have wandered down south to visit the forests here...indeed, it probably saw us and decided to play a joke on us! It all makes sense now!" He pumped his hand in the air in triumph.
Blomyr stared disbelievingly at the older huntsman's antics. Slowly, he shook his head as he edged away from Guryn. "And people call me fanciful," He muttered. Owathol had often complained that Blomyr had an overactive imagination. Comes from idling around all the time, he would say, before he'd give Blomyr some horrible chore. Though Blomyr certainly wasn't being fanciful now - there was something strange in the forest. Guryn's wild speculations couldn't suppress the sense of dread he felt at seeing his dogs kicked about by invisible feet. Or hearing curses from an invisible mouth. Not to mention the sense of menace that was being exuded by the Whatever-It-Was in waves, especially when they had to go through the more thorny parts of the forest...
All in all, it was with a intense relief that Blomyr finally saw his little cottage come into view. He quickened his pace, eager to get to safety...
Until he spotted his mother standing at the door with a dangerous look on her face. With a sense of impending doom, he watched her glare intensify at the sight of their empty hands. Out of one fire into the other, he thought resignedly, and prepared himself to survive the storm of righteous female wrath that Cadilein promptly launched upon the three cowering males.
Oh thank Merlin. Severus could have wept to see the little wooden and thatched houses. Finally, finally he could stop following the hunters and their thrice-damned mutts.
He stopped to watch them as they walked further out of the forest, casting many a relieved glance back when it appeared that the invisible entity was no longer following them. Severus couldn't help but sneer at their naiveté, even as he rejoiced at what it could mean. These men clearly aren't warriors. No guards, no weapons, no dead people in sight. Good.
Studying the village spread out before him, he made a few further observations. The people here were clearly non-magical, and yet had none of the advanced technology that the Muggles in Severus' home world had. That was not a problem – Severus far preferred the traditional appliances that Hogwarts used to the newfangled 'electricity' that Muggleborns were so obsessed about.
What he did worry about, though, as the fact that the huntsmen had spoken in an unfamiliar language. As they'd walked through the forest, Severus had dearly wished that he had the power to cast a wandless Translation Charm and understand the huntsmen's conversation. It truly was a pity that a spell as useful as the Translation Charm was one of the more notoriously complex charms, requiring from the caster a basic knowledge of the unknown language's grammatical syntax and semantics. And so, Severus began to plan his next move - learning the language of the new world.
Perhaps I could capture one of the villagers and absorb their knowledge? If he waited until nightfall, he could subdue one, take him into the woods and Legilimize him - he spared a brief thought of gratitude that Legilimency was less about wand movement and more about mind power. Since they were all off-guard and unwary, he calculated having a much higher chance of success here than he had previously in Stunning and Obliviating three armed hunters set on killing him.
That brash young hunter looked like he'd be easy prey. Or maybe, the woman would be a better candidate? Fear weakened natural mental shields, after all, and women were often easier to scare than men. Or perhaps they just seemed easier to scare because they screamed louder? He'd have to remedy that if he kidnapped the woman; he hardly wanted the whole village coming to her defense. Also, screams were annoying. He didn't need to be distracted from his task by the weaknesses of his prey...
Severus' thoughts stuttered.
His prey?
His mind, racing with plans and tricks, slowed; it circled with devastating accuracy around the two damning words.
His prey.
He'd been dispassionately judging the value of the villagers like a Death Eater would judge the entertainment factor of Muggles.
He'd been seeing them all as below him.
He'd been seeing them all as prey.
His stomach roiled, slowly, sickeningly, as he fought the nearly-overwhelming urge to throw up.
Closing his eyes, Severus took a deep breath, then another.
I am no longer in danger, he admonished himself. I am no longer a Death Eater. These people are magicless. They are defenseless. They are not my enemies.
They are not prey.
Severus had long been aware of how much more ruthless and driven he was compared to other wizards. In fact, he had capitalized on it, sacrificing morality, friendships and lives throughout the first war. However, that didn't mean that he didn't regret being different. It didn't mean that he didn't recognize how much he'd lost because of his ruthlessness. It didn't mean that he wasn't horrified by how the people he respected compared him with sadistic, despicable individuals like the Lestranges and the Carrows.
I am not like them, he told himself fiercely, unconvincingly. I am ruthless out of necessity, not pleasure. And there is no necessity now to use these Muggles like chattel. There is no necessity to harm them to please the Dark Lord.
Turning away from the village, Severus headed to a nearby clearing that he'd noticed on his way. There would be time tomorrow to make plans. For now, he would eat, rest, and clear his head. For now, he would pretend that there was nothing wrong.
He would pretend that he hadn't thought of kidnapping the village woman.
He would pretend that he hadn't looked at her...and for a moment, seen her as prey.
Severus wished fervently that he was back in the dungeons. The ground was hard, chilly and wet with dew. Wind howled around the little clearing, raising goose bumps on his bare skin. Severus had to consciously restrain himself from casting some warming charms to make his sleeping place more comfortable. Currently, he was struggling to maintain the Disillusionment Charm and Shield Charm simultaneously. And though he prided himself upon having a larger than average magical core than most wizards, already he could feel the strain this double spell casting was causing to his core.
I need to make a wand as soon as possible, Severus thought as he rolled over, attempting to find a soft patch of ground. It's been so long since I was forced to live like a Muggle. Wandmaking might be a difficult challenge, though. I'm fairly certain that there's more to it than stuffing a feather or bone into a hollowed-out branch...
A loud squawk pierced the air like a knife. Jerking upwards, Severus peered into the gloom, only relaxing when he saw a vague bird-shaped form struggling on the ground. It's just an animal. Filthy creature must have collided with my Shield Charm. Frowning, he debated the wisdom of dropping the charm, before deciding to leave it up. Better that I'm bothered all night by idiotic animals, rather than wake up full of arrows because there's nothing protecting me.
Rolling over again, he attempted to block out the noise made by the bird. Which, he realized in irritation some minutes later, was not shutting up. Sitting up, Severus contemplated murder. And dismissed that thought immediately. I will not start murdering animals. I am not yet that psychotic. And yet, how to make that bird stop squawking?
Heaving a sigh, he got up, strode over to the edge of his Shield, and picked up the bird – the crow, he realized – which was lying just outside the boundary. It promptly squawked even louder and attempted to peck him. Severus remedied this by gripping it by the neck as he often gripped Fawkes, when the phoenix was being particularly annoying. "Stop. Struggling."
His deadly tones left no room for argument. The bird peered up at him, and went still.
Looking it over, Severus discovered with chagrin a large cut, glistening with fresh blood. It seemed as if, after slamming into his shield, the bird had caught its wing upon a jagged branch on its fall down. Idiot bird. Grimacing, Severus took some of the healing herbs which he still had and rubbed it gently upon the wound. At the very least, it seemed to reduce the crow's pain and soothe it. In fact, Severus realized with a start, the crow was actually falling asleep in his hands.
Oh well. At least it's being quiet now. Gently putting the bird down, Severus lay down near it. And slowly drifted off to sleep as well.
The flock of birds hovering outside the Shield stared confusedly at where they were sure one of their brethren lay wounded. Only the reassuring thoughts the injured bird was sending to them kept them from swooping in and investigating the strangely magical spot, as the injured bird had initially attempted to do. After a silent consultation, they eventually perched on the trees around the clearing and prepared to sleep.
Meanwhile, inside the Shield, the little Craban opened its eyes and stared speculatively at the strange human. If it could have put its instincts into human speech then, it would only have thought two words.
How...interesting.
A/N: In case anyone's confused, Crebains (singular: Craban) are the spies of Saruman - in the War of the Ring, Saruman sent them out to find Frodo and the Fellowship.