* * * *
After a few days, the stupor that had attached itself to the camp after the battle began to wear off. Preparations were made, meetings were held, a new leader was elected. Lazarus was to lead the Britons to safety. There was no longer any talk of heroics. Our spirits had been crushed. Sadly, the decision was made to retreat far within the mountains of Cambria. The strongholds in Britannia were to be given up. The villagers to the north and south would be welcome to come with us, but we could no longer promise to protect them.
It was at one of these meetings that our fate was decided. The Britons had voted. Because it was magic that brought their dear Lord's downfall, they seemed to forget that he had possessed the same powers. "It all started happening when that witch-woman came!" one toothless old man crowed. I could hear his voice from my cabin, where I had been banished while our fate was decided. I could also hear Lazarus's voice, rising above the mutters. "You seem to forget…" he started, but his voice lowered as the crowd quieted, and I could no longer hear what he spoke of. I could, however, hear the stones being thrown as the vote was cast… one dull chink after the other. I felt each one painfully in my heart.
Lazarus relayed the news to us with sadness, for he too was menially talented in the magical arts. "You must go," he said, "the council has decided." Salazar argued with him for a long time, but he only he shook his pale head in sadness. "The Britons have spoken. I must follow their lead if they are to trust me. You may stay with us on our journey into the mountains, but then you must leave our camp."
The next morning I packed my things. I draped my cloak over my shoulders, and walked toward the boundaries of the woods. Salazar came striding up to me.
"Where are you going?" he demanded.
"I am taking my leave now, rather than later," I told him.
He looked at me, wild eyed and frantic. "But we wizards must stick together!" he proclaimed. "Do not let us be put asunder by these mere mortals… come with us, Rowena. For Ophelia's sake."
In those terms, I could not refused. Ophelia had grown quite dear to me, being the only other woman whose education could compare to mine at the camp. We had talked long hours in the early mornings. And her child was to come soon. I helped the Slytherins pack. We left that night, a torrent of teasing children behind us. Ophelia held a firm grasp on her husbands wand hand to keep him from cursing the little brats. All the same, she turned to me with a melancholy sigh.
"So soon they forget all we do."
* * * *
We trekked through the woods to the north. Here it was cooler, the leaves shading our path. We journeyed by day until Ophelia could go no further. Here, in the woods of northern Cambria, we decided to settle.
It was a nice area, a clearing in the forest, a two day journey from the great sea. A river ran by a morning's walk away, and the woods held many animals for good hunting. Salazar coaxed a snake out of the forest, and it became his pet, as his side day and night, letting him know the lay of the land, where the animals gathered to drink, which parts of the river-bed could not be trusted… here in this clearing we built a hut, and I gathered long grasses and pliable branches to weave a roof. There we stayed, waiting for new life to come.
It was a hard delivery, and Salazar was frantic. I had no idea what to do as well, but I was able to keep calm. I kept bringing Ophelia water from the stream. Between gasps of breath, she directed me on what to do. The labor went on all night. Finally, just as the sun was rising, the child came. I cleaned her off, and wrapped her in a clean band of cloth before handing her to her mother.
Ophelia breathed evenly now. "My child," she cooed.
"Lilith," said her husband, "in honor of her grandmother."
"Lilith," she cooed, "Little Lili."
The child opened her dark eyes to the morning sun.
* * * *
We stayed in our hut in the forest for a long period of time, so long, in fact, that we lost count of the days. Every day was merely a repetition of the last, the seasons coming and going in the great cycle. We rose, we ate, we worked, we slept. Our time was only told by little Lilith's growth. It was her third summer when I stopped sleeping.
I had heard of such things before, of people who stopped sleeping, and could never start again. They walked around like the living dead, needing no water or nourishment. Some said that they turned to vampires.
But in fact, I could no longer sleep. I could no longer bear staring into Godric's eyes every night – for that is what I saw. Occasionally he would talk to me, ask me things… our location, how we were doing. During the daylight, I was able to shove the image from mind with hard work, but when Luna arose and sailed across the heavens like a phantom ship, I could not bear it.
It was one of these nights when I saw the sign. I slipped on my cloak, making as little noise as possible so as not to disturb the Slytherins. I gently pushed aside the flap of our tent. The cool early autumn air hit my face. It felt wonderful.
For the longest while, I walked along the border of the forest, clutching my cloak around me in defense of the bitter air. The cold revived me, brought me to my senses as I wandered. Orion the hunter was edging his way across the sky, watching over the earth below.
I was just about to turn back when a peculiar thing happened.
I spotted him out of the corner of my eye, for mere second. As I turned, my mouth opened in joyous exclamation, the shape faded and dwindled. It was not a person standing there at all, simply a buck with beautiful antlers.
The stag regarded me for a moment, in an almost human fashion, before leaping back off into the woods. I wanted to cry after it, but I knew it would not return. Not this night, in any case. But as I returned to the tent, it was with a smile on my face. I raised my eyes to the moon.
"He will return," I said. "Rex Quondam, Rexque Futurus."
* * * *
It was the next morning that he arrived. I had not spoken of my experience the night before to Ophelia. My mind told me I did not want to give her false hope. But my heart sang that he would return before sundown.
We were standing outside the tent, me preparing breakfast, Ophelia playing with Lilith. Salazar had gone off to hunt for more rabbits.
Suddenly, Ophelia gasped. I looked up.
Standing at the edge of the forest was Godric. Beside him was a fair-haired woman, holding the hand of a small boy.
I felt the jealousy rise within me.
Godric rushed down the slope and embraced us both. He pulled away from me, sensing something was wrong, and held me at arms length, frowning.
"What is it, Rowena?"
"I'm glad to see you, that's all," I managed to choke out. He smiled at me, still troubled.
"We thought you were dead!" cried Ophelia, Lilith clinging to her skirt.
"I would have been," he replied, "if it had not been for the help of Helga." He gestured to the lady carefully making her way down the slope. "She is quite skilled in the arts of healing. I convinced her to come to Caledonia with me to seek you out. I was hoping you'd come this way."
Yes, I thought to myself, the road does get quite lonely at times.
The lady was now even with Godric. He took her hand. I was delighted to see that she was not as beautiful as the described Genevieve. She was pleasant enough – short and solid, with light hair, and a broad, good natured face. The only thing out of the ordinary about her were her eyes, a warm brown, like the wood of the oak.
"Helga," he said, "these are my friends… Ophelia of Slytherin and Rowena of Ravenwood."
She smiled at us, nodding.
"And this," continued Godric, hoisting the child to his shoulders amidst gleeful laughs, "is Brock, her son."
The child looked like his mother, his hair almost white, and his eyes blue. Helga picked him up and set him down, admonishing him with a look. "I apologize for his behavior," she said in a heavily accented voice. "His father died in a shipwreck when he was very young."
Ophelia extended her hand in way of an apology.
Helga smiled gently. I felt my icy surface crack. I smiled back, taking her hand as well. Though I did not know it at the time, our great circle was completed.
* * * *
That night, over a rabbit stew, Godric told us the tale of his journey. He had woken, far out to sea, on a sinking barge. Though he was weak, he was still competent enough to use his magic to fix the raft before falling off into exhaustion. The next thing he had seen was the inside of a small cabin. He assumed that he had landed back on the great isle. In truth, he had landed across the sea in Hibernia. Ships often traveled there, and brought back tales of a land green and beautiful. He was in a small sea-side town, in the house of a lady named Helga. The fishermen who had brought him there had heard of her powerful medicinal skills, not to mention her magic. Godric's wound was deep, and he had lost a good amount of blood, but time and constant care had brought him back to us. Once he was well, he knew he must return to Cambria.
Helga wanted to come along, for she had heard of the cause of the Britons, and wanted to help. So she, Brock and Godric had sailed back across the sea together. He was dismayed to find only a strangling bunch in the mountains. He had met with their leader, who informed him that Gideon and Lazarus were dead. They had persuaded their men to come back for a counter-attack, and had lost their lives doing so. The Britons in the mountains now were settled. They had built farms, and started families where the Jutes could not find them, deep in the mountains. They had no use for fighting anymore. The mountains were now their home.
Godric relayed all this with a heavy heart, but he brightened as he told us that they had sent him on our trail. They had journeyed up the coast, until they reached an old campsite we had used for a few weeks. He knew that they were on the right trail, and it was only a matter of time before they found us. And so they did.
But know, he told us seriously, it was time for other talk. He was to return home, to Caledonia. Helga had already consented to join him. My heart leapt at this. I wanted so badly to go, yet I felt bound to the Slytherins. I waited for their response.
Salazar looked at his wife, placing his hand tenderly on her arm. "What will you say, my dear?" he asked.
Ophelia raised her dark eyes. "We will go," she responded.
And so, we set out on the journey that was to change our world forever.
* * * *