He was almost fully recovered from his injury and consequent sickness now and like Berg, he was now helping with the work on the farm. It was hard and gruelling under the heat of the sun and his body quickly recovered its strength. In the evenings, the two boys would practice their fencing in the front yard to redevelop Gellert's agility and speed. They invariably had an audience - the eldest of the two daughters seemed to have taken quite a fancy to Berg, and was teaching him their language.
There seemed little point in remaining now - Gellert's bandages had come off for the last time at lunch and Star's injuries were healed and the bird had grown strong enough to fly for hours after his time in captivity.
The family had been particularly generous after Gellert's gift of the gold chain and he strongly suspected Mohammed was trying to talk his daughter in his direction, rather than Berg's.
They announced their decision to leave via the medium of some very inventive charades and were provided by a veritable feast as their last evening meal. Spiced sauces of three different varieties and fluffy white rice, moist loaves of flat bread baked with herbs and rich, creamy yoghurt.
The next morning he awoke to find the family already up. They were packing for the boys; blankets and a change of clothes, warm sheepskin and head cloths to keep the sun off (Berg had finally gotten the hang of tying it). There were already other bags near the door, one he recognised as rice and the other was beans. There was a jar that he knew contained the ointment for his injury and a leather envelope that had been gifted to him last night, which contained generous portions of the spices they used for cooking.
He was already wondering how to tell them that they wouldn't be able to carry it.
He boiled the kettle to make tea and sat down to eat some of the left overs of last night's dinner. The family greeted him with their usual mutter of welcoming notices and he nodded in reply. The family started carrying the packages outside, presumably to the bird and he stood, taking his cup and bread to follow.
He froze in the doorway, amazed by what he was seeing.
Star had been given a harness - A thick, russet blanket that covered his back and was strapped on around his neck by tasselled fabric straps, padded with black sheep skin and hung with . A second band ran behind Star's wings, and stretched between the two straps was another piece of fabric, and it was into this that they were loading the bags of rice and clothes. As he got closer, he realised the entire thing was covered in exquisite embroidery. The strap across the chest was almost as wide as his legs were long and depicted two mighty armies with horses and chariots, swords, bows and streaming pennants. There were steps sewn into it, he realised with a start, so that they could climb up without pulling on Star's feathers.
Star was preening, he decided. His feathers had developed a glossy sheen in the past couple of weeks and the bald patches had begun to fill in. His eyes were no longer rheumy and held a fierce intelligence.
Gellert turned to Mohammed and bowed deeply. The farmer bowed in reply, looking happy as Gellert bowed to each of the other family members in turn. Berg did the same and the tow boys climbed up to settle on Star's back. The family backed away as the bird stretched his wings, beat once, twice, and launched.
He was much, much faster now. The ground dropped away from beneath them despite the load carried. Star circled the household once, letting out an echoing screech before shifting his wings and taking them further up and away.
'We're going home!' Gellert yelled, stretching his hands out to either side of him and letting the wind buffet his face, whipping his head-cloth around his shoulders and making his loose tunic billow wildly. Berg might have shouted something from his spot behind him but the wind whipped away his voice.
Gellert hadn't really been well enough to pay much attention to their flight last time but this time he could really look around. The bird flew with strong, steady beats of it's massive wings, often gliding for several seconds. They weren't moving particularly fast - Hermione's Longma could move much faster, but he suspected they could keep this up for hours, long past when the smaller dragon-horse would have been run into the ground.
They were higher too and the air was thin and cold. The sun was stronger as well, warm against his skin which had darkened considerably in the past weeks to a shade that only Hermione would consider acceptable. Berg looked completely different - his parents had put him through duelling and fencing lessons but he had never been particularly fond of them and had always retreated to a library whenever possible. In the past week, his skin had exploded in freckles and his hair had lightened to a reddish-auburn. His arms were muscular and the slightly rounded fat on his face had melted away, leaving him looking serious like years had passed instead of days. He didn't know what his own face looked like, but when he ran his fingers across his cheeks they met unfamiliar ridges and planes.
For several hours they just watched the scenery rolling beneath them. It was boring, but far too windy for them to talk.
Eventually, Berg noticed a large, glittering expanse of water on their left. They were flying parallel to it and probably had been for some time because it stretched across the horizon from far behind them, almost indiscernible from the sky. Almost as soon as they noticed it, they reached the end and swept back out over endless jagged ripples of hills again.
There was more water among these ones, vibrant sapphire rivers snaked between the hills. Deep green spread outwards from each one like veins that traced the smaller tributary streams.
They set down between two joining rivers as it began to get dark. Star staggered slightly on landing, exhausted from a long day of flying with a load. The fabric that held their supplied was tricky to unfasten - the knotted leather loops that held it had worked tight over the day and they had to heave upwards to take the weight off. Then both boys dropped to the ground as Star settled heavily, blinked once, then tucked his head firmly beneath his wing.
The boys quickly took stock of the supplies they'd been given - rice and beans, spices and clothes. Gellert cooked whilst Berg folded up the blanket to use as a mattress, then as the last light began to fade, Gellert glanced at Star.
'Star hasn't eaten.' He pointed out. Berg glanced up, then looked around.
'He's not going to eat anything after I've been at it with a fire curse.'
Gellert looked at him in disbelief. 'You must know something else.'
'Tripping jinxes? That's not going to help us.' Berg snorted. 'You finished off Lucan last year, what did you use for that?'
Instantly the pleasant evening became too warm, the ground too cold and the insects too loud. His dinner felt heavy in his stomach and bile rose in his throat.
'I didn't...' He trailed off. He remembered exactly how it had felt in the cave; the dank, metallic smell of the air, the pain of his legs and the power that terror had given his magic. He lunged up and stumbled away. Berg called for him, but Gellert barged onwards through scrubby, scratchy undergrowth.
The other boy didn't follow, and the undergrowth quickly thinned leaving him scrabbling over the smooth stones of the river. Faced with the difficult terrain, his thoughts quickly cooled. He wasn't in the cave and as Hermione had said, he hadn't intended for such a horrible death. In fact, he hadn't even intended death at all; he just wanted Lucan to not hurt him again.
He dropped onto a particularly large, flat rock. It was definitely night now; the last of the purple sunset had faded to velvety blue-black and the moon was growing brighter quickly, gilding the rocks with silver and sparkling off the gurgling stream. He reached down and picked up a rock, weighing it in his hands a couple of times, then chucking it.
It landed in the shallows with a wet clop and a little weaselly creature scurried away up the far bank. A moment later it paused and turned back to look at him with reflective eyes as if it was judging him for throwing stones.
'Shoo.' Gellert hissed at it aggressively, annoyed that it had interrupted his brooding. Throwing the stone had been cathartic until the stupid animal had made him feel guilty about it.
The animal seemed unphased, and slowly began picking its way back to the water's edge. Gellert watched it, wondering what it was. It seemed mundane enough, but he'd never seen one in Germany before. He chucked another rock at it, and although it looked up, it didn't even deign to spook this time. He scowled, wondering if he managed to hit it, would the animal die?
Probably.
His third rock fell a long way short and didn't even earn him a glance.
He weighed up a fourth rock in his hand, wondering if he could somehow guide it in the same way Hermione had accidentally guided her arrows during their first Harvest shoot.
Perhaps, but it was a long way and the moonlight was playing havoc with his depth perception.
He dropped the rock, not even bothering to throw it this time. It clattered and rattled into the gap between two larger rocks.
He could try to use magic, he supposed. It wasn't exactly dark to kill an animal, people did it all the time for food and Star did need it. He had killed Lucan without actively knowing the spell, in that case he'd just strongly wished the other wizard was gone, and he'd been gone. Perhaps, he could make himself want to kill this animal strongly enough to manage a similar feat?
He drew his wand, directing the tip towards the animal.
It was easy.
He summoned his magic, pushing it down the wand with the singular aim of death. The wand tip lit, a green pinprick that grew brighter and brighter as he refined his command - death, painless, edible. He released it and the clearing lit up - every crevice in the rocks, every leaf on the overhanging trees. There was a sound like something large whooshing out the end of his wand and then it vanished.
He blinked against the sudden darkness, struggling to make his eyes readjust.
The animal lay exactly where it had stood moments before; there were no injuries, no signs of death except for the stillness. He had killed it.