"Should we take a break?"

"Most of them are coming along fine," Cadman pointed out.

Jessica nodded. "That is true."

"But one of your new men isn't doing too well."

"Oh?"

"Balen's man."

"Snape?"she snorted.

"Aye. He is extremely thin and lacks nutritionas well assleep. I am surprised he has made it this long, in this heat, with the extra weight. He will die if he keeps this up."

Jessica's eyes hardened. "Sometimes one must learn with death biting at their heels."

"You are being unreasonable."

"He taught me what I know," she gave him a cruel look, but her face softened at the concern etching his. "Cadman, I won't lie to you. He was a Death Eater, but he worked hard. He proved himself, like I did. But when I was condemned he didn't lift a finger. He knew. Yet he turned away to save his own skin."

"Never leave a man behind, eh?" the man grinned.

"Never, Cad. Never. You keep going then. I am going to fall back for a while. You are in charge until I say otherwise."

He nodded and she turned her horse away. She traveled far to the back, but found he was actually a hundred feet behind the group, Balen watching him from that distance.

"You going to let him drop?" she asked.

"If he does, then he does."

She nodded and got off of her horse. Taking off the bow and quiver, she set them on her strong frame, grabbing the shield last. Placing the helmet on her head, she let it fall down, the mask part up to keep her face open. "Take care of my horse and don't ride her. She needs her rest."

He nodded and she stopped, waiting for the struggling man. When he finally made it to her, he hissed out, "Come to help the old man? The Death Eater?"

She shook her head. "I offer no help, just my company. How much are you carrying?"

"That man said about 50 pounds."

She rolled her eyes. "That's nothing. This shield is 30 pounds, the two short swords ten pounds each, the long sword 25, and the helmet 10. The armor is only 15 each as it is dragon scales. I need to be able to run in what I am wearing. You will need to run in it as well if you choose to be in infantry."

"I thought you said I'd be a bowman," he snapped bitterly.

"You decide what you are here."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

She stopped and looked him in the eye. "Here you can be what you want to be, what you need to be. Here I am 21, wise, strong, and needed. I am the biggest foe to the Death Eaters here. It doesn't matter what I did out there in the real world. It doesn't matter what you did. You could be Harry Potter and these people would spit at you. Here everything is about survival."

He stared deep into her eyes before beginning to walk again. "You said you were here for 13 years, but only 3 in the real world. Is that true?"

"Yes."

"So you are really…"

"I am not any age but what my body needs. I stopped at 21. You will soon grow younger until you are content with your body. Perhaps 30. Perhaps 18. You will mentally decide. But until then you need to train. Do you know why I am pushing you so hard?"

"No, would you care to enlighten me?" he sarcastically responded.

"I am pushing you as you pushed me. For the same exact reasons."

He stilled for a moment and she kicked up the pace. He was breathing hard when he managed to meet her pace. "Why did you believe me when I said I died for the Order?"

"Because I know you would choose Dumbledore over Voldemort. Now, keep up. You will be in a lot of pain tomorrow and we still have 9 hours before we camp. Two more days."

He mumbled something, but she wisely ignored it.