Follow! The old man calls you to freedom
Follow! The gourd that offers you drink
Follow! The waters away to tomorrow
Follow! And never dare look to the past
Rhanna tried to concentrate, but it was so hard. Who would this sword be for? Darkness, sandlewood, fumes, logic, power...
Rhanna opened her eyes, staring dazedly into the late afternoon. Snape? She could feel it. This sword was for him. She felt her blood begin to stir as she imagined the sword, how she would make it, what it would be – it would be wonderful to make.
If she could make it. Rhanna picked up a handful of metallic dust and gave a half yell to the air. She could feel the power in the Earth all around her, but she could not bring it to its center! She could not make him the sword he wanted. The sword he needed.
And yet as the afternoon wore on the compulsion to make it grew. Time and time again her body would force her to begin the process, until the raw magic flowing through her burned her out and she once again collapsed. So far she had begun four times. All she could show for it was a strange stone she had managed on the third try, seemingly coughed up from the ground, and she had no clue how to incorporate it or what powers it had.
It was six o'clock now. Soon, her body would begin the process again. It took many hours to forge a sword, and more than the time she had for one such as this. Her body would keep trying despite the impossibility of the deadlined, finishing the sword even if it meant killing her in the process.
Which meant, she could not stay. She had to get away, to where the forces of nature were weaker, or to where she could not make the sword. But where would she go that she would not be pulled back? The only way she could fight this was to find a new master. She did not have till midnight, probably not even another hour. But she could not do it!
Rhanna stood up abruptly, fighting the dizziness. Stumbling, almost blindly, she worked her way into the house. Her scarf was there, just out of reach – a few hard jumps and she clasped it, dragging it to the floor, panting. She was surprised to feel its power coursing into her, soothing her. She had only touched it a few times before, and not for many years.
Holding it now, she felt she understood something about it. It gave her back a piece of her will. Her mother had said something once, that holding the cloak gave her back to herself, but at a heavy price. Apparently she had tried to run away once, but had not found a new master in time.
Rhanna steeled herself to be brave, and gathered a few meager things in the span of two minutes. Just a few books, and some of the more costly components for the sword, as well as the rock. She left the base materials. If she was not around them, she could not be forced to use them.
Turning from the house, she shivered. She felt more free than she had in a long time, but more frightened than she was used to. Rhanna turned to the path ahead of her. Borrowing strength from the cloak, she ran down it, as fast as she could.
It was really a rather pitiful jog, but to her it was the fastest she had ever ran, and in her mind, the race could not be lost.