The New Black World Tribe stuck together in small, definitive groups of three or less. These groups seemed to single each other out rather than mingle with the entire tribe as one. Hermione had yet to have a conversation with all of them at once, and the only time she'd seen them all together was at night, when they had all slept together in the middle of the cave.
So far, she and the others had been with the tribe for three days, and each night the sleeping arrangements were exactly the same. Neville had tried to end up behind Luna this time, but he was once against stuck in front of her, and behind Sikya.
Draco was doing only a little better, but the spotlight had suddenly been stolen by Ginny early that morning, when she had woken up, and been fully aware. She had been all morning. She answered questions, asked her own, and ate without needing assistance.
The only thing that truly bothered anyone about her suddenly coming back as if from death was the fact that she hadn't the slightest clue who she was, or who anyone else was. Ron had been plastered to her side ever since she'd woken, but she had yet to acknowledge that she knew him. She dodged direct questions about herself or anyone she knew, because the questions confused her greatly.
She didn't react in any way around any of them, like she was meeting them for the first time and didn't truly care who any of them were. And it both hurt and disturbed them.
"She's suffered significant head trauma. This isn't unusual," Tooantuh murmured, carefully collecting herbs. It was the heat of day, and the silence in the gorge was deafening. The gentle sound of the river drowned out any other sounds, like zombies. Hermione had spotted a swarm of them up on the cliff an hour prior, but they seemed to dislike water. They had turned and headed East. Nakos and Sikya had tracked them for five miles. They weren't turning back.
Hermione's lip trembled slightly as she thought of having the zombies so close. That, and having her best friend back… but not really. She had been eager to have someone to confide in again, which she had tried… but Ginny had just stared at her politely, trying to act interested though it was obvious that she didn't give a damn. Even the memory of it stung.
"All we can do is hope that seeing you lot regularly will eventually bring her memory back. If she'll ever regain it completely…" Tooantuh looked uncertain. "But at the very least, we can be hopeful that she'll start to remember who she is at least, maybe who you are, in the next week or two."
"What if she doesn't?" Hermione asked worriedly, picking at the blades of grass.
Tooantuh straightened, her handful of herbs held in the water, to let the current wash off any bugs or ash particles that might be on it. She gave Hermione a sympathetic smile. "Then… she doesn't."
Hermione's shoulders drooped, and she sat down unhappily on the grassy bank, crossing her legs. She sighed heavily, helping Tooantuh pick the herbs and wash them off.
Meanwhile, Ron and the other hunters were out searching on the rocks, still keeping tabs on the Zombie swarm that had been spotted several hours prior, though their main focus, since the zombies didn't seem to be coming anywhere near them, was to search for edible creatures.
Ron had gotten the hang of hunting, and had traded in his long stick for a spear. So far he'd caught several large rodents; two rats, a rabbit and a hare. He wasn't very pleased by the idea of eating any of them, but survival was just that. He found himself gripping his spear tightly, his eyes narrowed, and his anger channeled into the helpless creatures he caught.
They spent a lot of time in silence, still, waiting. He turned his thoughts off at these times, unable to handle them constantly invading his happiness. Whenever he let his mind wander, he found that the time passed too quickly, as if in a blur, and he lost focus. It was these times that Poloma or Hausis would ask him if he was still alive.
The two women certainly weren't anything like Hermione – they were attractive women – Poloma in a bulldoggish sort of way – and seemed decently intelligent but they just weren't the same. He enjoyed their company to a certain extent but he found himself missing hers… and his mind wandered.
"Bollocks, Ronald! You let a rat slip right under your nose, you right git, that could have fed the lot of us you wanker, keep your head in the game!" Poloma certainly was like Hermione in the sense that she didn't stand for nonsense, and the way she dealt with it was like torturously, agonizingly slowly peeling off a band-aid. But with Poloma it hurt more, because somehow Ron knew that she meant those names she called him. Hermione's criticism was constructive. He missed seeing her 'I told you so' expression, and hearing her know-it-all intonation, as opposed to Polomas' 'you got it wrong again, you stupid prick' expressions.
Sighing heavily, Ron spear-headed a small, mangy rodent that was obviously disease-ridden, and most-definitely couldn't be eaten.
"Blimey, that thing's seen better days." Poloma grabbed the squealing, bleeding rat by its tail, watching with morbid curiosity as the last bit of life drained from its body.
Ron made a face, feeling ill. "You enjoy this a bit too much," he moaned, holding his stomach. Muggles were bloody barbaric. Killing these things with a wand would have been so much cleaner.
Poloma turned to him with that wild look in her eyes. "Are you turning into a Nancy boy on me? Don't tell me you're squeamish, are you? You haven't got puny balls, have you?"
Ron felt increasingly uncomfortable, especially with the way Hausis had stopped, leant against her spear to watch, and seemed to enjoy witnessing him squirm.
Ron leaned back, scowling when Poloma held out the rat, right in his face. "Smells bloody awful, doesn't it?"
"Yes, it does, would you get it out of my face?" Ron slapped her arm away, and she smirked at him, her eyes dancing. In the dictionary, her picture simply had to be next to the word 'she-man'. She was masculine as any caveman, with broad shoulders, a strong jaw and what Ron could only imagine a hell of a right hook. She and Sikya seemed made for each other, though Sikya seemed to fancy Nakos, and Ron doubted either woman was gay.
Shaking his head to rid it of the suddenly horrifying visuals of Poloma and Sikya, he pushed passed them, gripping his spear tightly. "Are we going to just stand around all day or what?"
"Actually we'd better be heading back," Hausis butted in with her saucy, seductive voice. She didn't even try to sound that way, either. Ron figured that any man attempting to argue with the woman would lose very quickly. Her voice was just so goddamn sexy, and her entire demeanor was so confident and womanly. He knew he would have fallen for her, in a heartbeat, had his heart not beat for someone else.
"All right then, let's go." Ron sighed and turned back, suddenly stopping when he heard something devastatingly familiar. It sounded like nails on a chalkboard, and the women stopped in their tracks, looking highly confused.
"Blimey," Ron face-palmed so hard he felt a headache coming on from it.
"What on earth is that wretched noise?" Poloma cried, covering her ears.
"Myrtle," Roan moaned.
"Myrtle? It's a bloody person?" Poloma cried.
"Moaning Myrtle, yes… sort of. She's…" Ron trailed off, spotting the weeping ghost a few feet off, hiding in some bushes, wailing pitifully. She didn't appear to have spotted them yet. "Dead…"
"…dead?" Hausis interjected calmly, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah. Come on." Ron hesitantly approached the ghost girl, carefully crouching down by her elbow.
She yelped when he spoke, spinning around to glare at the lot of them. Poloma and Hausis shrieked at the sight, jumping back in alarm.
"You!" Myrtle cried accusingly, rising up above them, looking angry.
"Myrtle, do you know if anyone else survived?" Ron asked with forced calm.
"I don't know," Myrtle huffed, crossing her arms. "I was just sitting in my toilet, waiting for Draco to come back… he stopped visiting me…" she trailed off, suddenly looking terribly upset. She let out a low whine.
"Myrtle, survivors?" Ron prompted.
Myrtle sniffed, turning away. "None that I could help. I'm a ghost, I couldn't lift the beam off of her. She's dead now, I kept her company until…" she whimpered again.
"Who?"
"Professor McGonagall…" Myrtle lowered until she was sitting on the ground again, staring sadly off into the distance.
Ron dropped down heavily beside her, his heart feeling as though it had been ripped out and handed to him on a silver platter. Professor McGonagall… He strongly resisted the urge to cry, but a few stray tears leaked from his face as he thought of the brilliant old witch… still far too young to see her last day.
Myrtle turned her transparent eyes onto Ron sadly. "Who else is alive, or is it just you?" She said in the most disgusted manner.
Ron wiped at his eyes, unable to become insulted by the ghost's obvious disapproval at his survival. "Me, Harry, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, Luna and Draco," he whispered hoarsely.
The dead witches' eyes lit up. "Draco's alive?" she squealed. "Oh thank Merlin!" She choked on her words, looking sad again. "B-but no. I-I'm very quite angry with him. He hasn't come to see me for months." She crossed her arms angrily, her lip trembling as she fought off the sadness, determined to replace it with anger.
"He's been a tad preoccupied being a Death Eater, but what do I care if you hate the git?" Ron muttered, slowly climbing to his feet again and turning to catch the expressions of pure terror, horror and complete and utter shock still on Poloma and Hausis' faces. Smirking, he came up to Poloma and punched her arm. "What's the matter? Haven't got puny balls, have you?"
Looking disgusted, Poloma snapped out of her shock and huffed, turning away from him. "Let's get back to camp-" she still sounded a tad shaken, and Ron smirked again.
"W-wait!" Myrtle cried, flying after them and hovering to Ron's left. He pointedly ignored her. "Can I come?"
"Don't care." Ron kept his gaze to the front of him.
Myrtle made sure to whine as much as she could on the way back, trying to irk Ron, who simply refused to let her bother him. If he was going to get mad at someone, he'd rather they be physical enough that he could strangle them for it. He knew well enough to not let her get to him – though he very much would have liked her neck to be solid enough to wrap his hands around.
It took them a good twenty minutes to get back, and they returned to a very quiet day. They passed Hermione and Tooantuh on their way, and Hermione's expression dropped when she spotted Myrtle, who scowled mightily at her, huffed, and turned away, following Ron and the others into the tunnel.
Inside was peaceful and quiet. Harry was attempting entertaining Draco, who had grown quite bored with just lying there, and Myrtle let out happy cries when she spotted the boy.
Startled, Draco raised his head to look at her, and smiled softly when he saw her. "Myrtle," he greeted warmly as she swooped over and plopped down beside him.
She smiled brilliantly, ignoring Harry who smiled and tried to say hello, as well as the startled shrieks from other members of the tribe who had never seen a ghost before. Her smile slowly faded. "Why haven't you come to see me in so long?"
Draco's smile dropped, and he looked away. "I wasn't at Hogwarts for a while… I had… um." His eyes turned desperately to Harry, who was also looking away, looking one moment from getting up and walking away. "I was a prisoner in my own home," Draco whispered, choosing his words wisely and truthfully.
Myrtle was horrified. "Oh, you poor thing, how awful!" She cried, trying to hug him. "What have you done to yourself, are you injured?"
"Yeah… internal bleeding," Draco murmured, his teeth chattering as her body was so close to his.
Myrtle gasped. "Do you think you'll die?" She experienced mixed emotions from this, not wishing harm on the boy, but quite truthfully, she wanted a haunting companion.
"I was close to it, but no, I don't think I will." Draco smiled at her. "Try not to look so disappointed."
"Oh, well. Perhaps another time." She smiled and rested beside him so she could share his view of the cave ceiling. "Silly muggles. I bet none of them have ever seen a ghost before." She pouted. "A shame they have to see miserable me as their first ghost…"
"Stop that," Draco sighed softly, not wanting her to bash herself.
Feeling uncomfortable, Harry sighed and climbed to his feet, wobbly, and teetered over to where Neville and Ron were helping to clean the animals that the hunters had captured. Neville looked eternally repulsed and only a moment away from fainting.
Meanwhile, back out by the river, Hermione and Tooantuh continued to work in silence for about ten minutes before something in the corner of Hermione's vision caught her attention. Still brooding, her expression was rather grumpy as she tipped her head so she could bring the movement into full view. Slowly, her lips parted and her eyes widened. "Tooantuh," she hissed, unable to drag her gaze away.
Tooantuh instantly grabbed her spear, spinning to face what Hermione saw.
It was a group of six people, standing about a hundred feet away on a rocky bank. One of them was stuck on an overhanging limb, and it was obvious they had just climbed down the cliff face, descending from the opposite side of the gorge that Hermione and the others had.
"Cor blimey Freakie, you always do this-" one of them was saying, just far enough away that his voice was almost overpowered by the sound of the gentle river.
The others were ignoring the two males, flat on their stomachs, cupping their hands and drinking their fill of the water. None of them appeared to have noticed Hermione and Tooantuh.
"Survivors," Tooantuh murmured softly, crouching low to the ground, and Hermione followed suit, her trembling hand firmly clutching her small blade. She found herself gripping it like it was a wand, suddenly grateful for their strange clothing. It helped them blend in with the tall, dead brush alongside the river bank.
"What should we do?" Hermione whispered nervously.
"Go and get Degotoga, Vohkinne and Sikya. Better get Nakos and Poloma as well… just in case they're unfriendly," Tooantuh ordered.
Hermione obeyed, crawling along the shore, wading across and practically diving head-first into the tunnel. She raced along the inside, her hands brushing the walls of the cave so she didn't run into anything along the twists and turns, and gasped in relief as she broke back out into the light. "People! Six of them! Not far from the cave entrance, Tooantuh's keeping an eye on them," she panted, gathering attention with her loud voice.
"Friendly?" Degotoga called to her, striding over hurriedly.
"I don't know," Hermione panted, watching practically the whole tribe clamber forward to quickly funnel through the narrow tunnel, eager to see the newcomers.
Harry and Neville scrambled over as well, but Hermione told them to stay with Draco and Ginny, already pushing into the tunnel behind the others.
By the time Hermione was back out into the daylight, Degotoga and Tooantuh had already made contact with the group. The small one that had been caught up on one of the branches was down on the ground, hugging his arm which was bleeding badly, and hanging back behind the others. He looked oddly and rather frighteningly familiar. Furrowing her brow, Hermione pushed forward. One of the other faces, that was partially blocked by Degotoga's head, was definitely familiar.
Stopping in her tracks, Hermione choked a bit. "No, not again…" she breathed, panic rising. She choked on her breath when the person's eyes turned to her, catching her staring. Turning on her heel, she sprinted back into the cave.
Ron, with the others, also recognized the woman, though he said nothing, simply stood by with the others and observed. His fists, bloody from cleaning and skinning the animals, clenched and unclenched as his eyes narrowed into suspicious slits.
AN: So, who do you think the other survivors are? What do you think of Moaning Myrtle joining the group? Sorry I haven't updated in a while, been busy with school and such.