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WARNING: Contains dark subject matter.
Some choices we live not only once but a thousand times over, remembering them for the rest of our lives.
Richard Bach
Chapter Ten
Ashlin waved her wand and her tent folded itself into a square the size of a cube of sugar. She picked it up and put it deep into the pocket of her jeans, knowing that one way or another, she wouldn't be sleeping in it tonight.
'My back couldn't take another night anyway,' she thought, hand rubbing her hip which was seizing up after four days on the ground before she pulled her robes on.
Making her way through the darkening woods, she tried to suppress the butterflies that were fluttering wildly inside her. She was to confront Chamir tonight. By the end of this day, either she would have irreparably torn her soul in half or she would be dead.
'Is there a difference?' she wondered with a slight frown.
She had tried one last time two days ago to reason with Chamir, who had, for the first time, become aggressive in his refusal of her.
'Wizards have rejected us; driven us from the homes we once had!' he'd screamed at her, his amber eyes flashing with hatred. 'You are content to leave us without rights; without any refuge, to live like animals until you need our help.'
'Under the Dark Lord, you would have more freedom; more scope for whatever it is you want…' she began but he interrupted her.
'Only if we join him; kill for him,' he spat, glaring at her, a snarl on his scarred face. His long grey hair almost bristled as he stomped towards her, Ashlin standing her ground in the face of his fury.
'You pure bloods! You are worse than the Ministry. They at least operate out of fear; out of ignorance, but you lot…you approach us from hate; from years of inbred bigotry and intolerance. Give me one reason, Death Eater; one reason for me to advise my pack to join you.'
Ashlin lifted her chin, facing the tall, fearsome man in front of her and hoping he couldn't smell her fear.
'Because I will kill you if you don't,' she said simply, at which point, he'd thrown her out with a growled warning not to return.
Unbeknownst to the werewolf, she'd also approached another, more sympathetic, alpha earlier in the week and he agreed that, if she were to kill Chamir, he would take over the pack. Sythe was more bloodthirsty than the others and would demand they join the Dark Lord to protect themselves from further attack. But he would only step up if she killed Chamir.
'I will not do it,' he said with a frown. 'The rest of them would kill me if I tried. It has to come from outside the pack. If they can be shown that Chamir can be taken easily, then they will be frightened enough to follow me and join the Dark Lord.'
Ashlin had never killed before. Maimed, tortured, watched as others made the fatal blow - but she had never taken a life herself.
'One life to save many,' she reminded herself, frustrating herself by both how much she sounded like Dumbledore - and by the fact that she now understood how it felt to bear the weight of responsibility for the survival of others.
Now, she approached the camp, ensuring she stayed downwind so they did not pick up her scent. 'How to approach this?' she thought, weighing her options.
She could just march on into the camp, point her wand at Chamir and cast the Killing Spell, or she could move with more stealth, trying to catch him alone, kill him by more…hands on means to avoid detection then cast the Dark Mark once he was dead.
The first plan would probably see her dead before Chamir hit the ground; the second option was more of a Slytherin scheme - it seemed weak and gutless. Not what Sirius, the brave Gryffindor, would choose.
Ashlin sighed and tried to push the thoughts of him out of her head. She had to let him go, she knew that. It had been nearly a year since his death but she'd had no closure; no chance to finally say goodbye and move on.
'After all this is over,' she told herself. 'Soon, I'll either be able to farewell him or join him.'
A twig cracked under her foot, sounding like a gunshot in the still woods, and she froze.
'Although if I'm not more careful, I'll be joining him sooner rather than later,' she frowned, waiting until she was sure no one was nearby before she moved again.
Deciding to go with her cowardly but more sensible second plan, she cast a Disillusionment Spell on herself, watching her body blend into her surroundings. She wasn't invisible, just more difficult to see. The main danger she faced now was that they would smell her, which was why she was going to try and find Chamir's tent and wrap herself in his robes. Hopefully, he wouldn't smell the danger when he entered.
She carefully made her way around the edge of the forest, stopping several times when voices came closer. This pack lived more civilly than any others she'd visited during this task. They lived in tents, set up near a stream and in the middle of the large forest so they always had clean drinking water and a food supply. They were miles from the nearest humans when they transformed and all religiously drank a herb drink made from similar ingredients to the Wolfsbane that allowed a lycanthrope to keep their mind during their change. Though this drink wasn't as effective as the potion, still unable to halt the physical transformation, it stopped the wolf taking over their minds - they still kept some wolfish qualities but were not consumed with bloodlust as they would otherwise have been.
'Fortunately for me,' she thought, looking at the waxing gibbous moon. They should be tiring now as the change approached, and not as vicious as they would be without the herb concoction.
She reached the tent she learned from her earlier scouting that Chamir occupied alone. He had no mate - she'd been killed by some werewolf hunters a year ago. He should be at dinner right now: she could hear the chatter of the various family groups around the communal eating area. Deciding the time was ripe, she pulled out her silver knife and slit the back of the tent carefully, leading with her wand as she stepped through the canvas. It was small - big enough for two or three people - but comfortable. She carefully stepped over a pile of books, moving quickly to pick up a robe, wrapping it around herself then froze when she heard footsteps.
She moved fast, crouching in the corner of the tent, hidden by a trunk. The flap of the tent opened and a tall man stepped inside. He walked to the bedding area and crouched, taking a book off the top of the pile she'd stepped over. Ashlin frowned as she looked at him. It was dark now, the fire outside casting a glow that threw shadows over the tent. Not enough to see much but enough that she could tell this wasn't Chamir. In fact, this familiar figure looked an awful lot like…
Damn him!
Remus lit his wand to see the title of the book in his hand and caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye. He stood and spun around, wand raised, only to see another pointed at him. His eyes widened as he recognised the figure and stepped closer.
'Ashlin?' he whispered, extinguishing his lit wand so her shadow was not seen. 'What are you doing here?'
She threw a worried glance at the entrance of the tent then hissed, 'I told you to stay away from this pack.'
'I have a task as well. I've been speaking with Chamir…,' he began and she flapped her hand at him to try and get him to keep his voice down.
'Remus, leave,' she whispered, moving close to him. 'Please. Go now.'
She prayed he wouldn't ask why but knew he would. 'What are you going to do?' he asked then his face changed as he seemed to understand. 'You're here for Chamir? You're going to kill him?'
'I have to,' she said, casting another anxious look over at the tent flaps. 'If I don't convince them to join, they're dead. All of them. Chamir won't back down. I have to get rid of him to save the others.'
He stared disbelievingly at her. 'You can't do this,' he said softly, taking her hands in his. 'Ashlin, don't do this. Come back with me. The Order will protect you…'
'The Order has never protected me,' she snapped, trying to control her temper. 'You don't understand, Remus. You have back up. You have protection. I'm on my own. I can't win, no matter what I do. I can only try and make the best choice. I can't risk the lives of many for one.'
'I do understand,' he whispered, shifting. 'You think I've got support hiding in the bushes? I was made for this task but I do not enjoy it any more than you do yours.'
He was so close that their bodies were touching and she could feel his hot breath on her face. She felt an urge to reach out for him; to let him take her away, and, confused, she stepped back.
'Don't make me kill you too,' she begged.
He looked pained then he turned, hearing someone calling his name.
'Go,' she urged but he shook his head.
'I can't let you do it, Ash,' he said and her face screwed up as she nearly cried in frustration.
'I'm so sorry, Remus,' she whispered remorsefully, seeing his puzzled frown as she whipped up her wand. She quickly disarmed him then put her knife to his throat, swiftly spinning him around to face the front of the tent.
He gasped as the blade touched his skin, the silver blistering his flesh. He tried to pull away, but she grasped his hair tight in her fist, applying pressure and forcing him to his knees in front of her.
'Don't make me do it,' she pleaded into his ear as she leaned over his shoulder, then let go of his hair, raising her wand as Chamir walked through the tent flaps.
The werewolf stopped, eyes wide when he saw Remus on his knees, struggling not to cry out in agony as the knife pressed against his throat.
'Call for help and you are both dead,' Ashlin hissed, trying not to let him see how badly she was shaking. 'I'm not here for him. He still has the chance to walk away from this.'
Chamir stepped closer, staring at Remus. 'You are hurting him,' he said calmly and she nodded.
'I didn't have to,' she whispered, unable to disguise the despair in her voice; in her eyes. 'It didn't have to come to this. You know what I need you to do, Chamir. Why won't you just do it? Why are you forcing my hand?'
'You're here to kill me?' he asked calmly and she nodded again. He looked at Remus, who was desperately trying not to pass out from the fierce, burning pain ripping through his body.
'Then let him go and claim me,' he said, looking back at Ashlin. 'Because I will die before I lead my pack to join your Dark Lord. Do what you must, Ashlin.'
The pain from the touch of the silver was making Remus weak, and he was listing to the side as the others spoke. He couldn't hear their words, his blood rushing noisily through his veins and roaring in his ears. Suddenly, Ashlin let go of him and he fell to the ground, gasping for air as his hand moved to his throat.
He heard a whispered, 'Forgive me,' then the whipping sound of something moving fast through the air.
As a dizzy Remus pulled himself to his knees, something warm splashed across his face and then he heard a bone chilling gurgle. Touching his cheek, he felt a hot, thick liquid then looked up to see Ashlin with wand raised high.
'MORSMORDRE!' she cried and a rush of green light exploded all around them as did the screams of those outside.
In the light, Remus could see the fallen figure in front of her, amber eyes lifeless and, when he looked at his hand, it was covered in crimson. Ashlin turned to him and he saw the dark stain of blood covering her clothes and spotting her face. She grasped the front of his shirt and spun, apparating them to the first safe place she thought of - the Shrieking Shack.