Hermione awoke the next morning feeling a renewed sense of focus. A light rain was falling outside, the low sounds of droplets against the canvas tent a soothing backdrop to her tea and toast. She sat at a metal folding table, her notes taken from her thestral encounter were spread out before her. A ballpoint pen, charmed to draw from the caster's memory, scratched at a page in her field journal, a sketch of each cataloged thestral revealing itself as she sipped her morning tea.
The previous evening had been an unexpected success; she would have to give Luna proper thanks at the baby shower. Having cataloged the entire herd in one go set her at least six days ahead of schedule. Her goal was to finish data collection by the end of July, hoping to leave the Forest for Harry's birthday and spend the rest of the summer back home like business as usual.
There were many creatures to catalog and many required different strategies. Some Beasts, like Ashwinders and Bundimun, had dispersed populations and would require advanced statistical analysis and an ecological survey of the forest to accurately depict their numbers. Other Beasts, like Centaurs and Fairies, lived in concentrated groups; easier to locate and catalog. It seemed most efficient and logical to start with communal beasts while taking opportunities along the way to make note of others as she came upon them.
She flicked her walnut wand, drawing her map from the depths of her bag. The northwestern half of the wood was the sovereign region of the Centaurs. The Beasts had fortified their borders with being barriers and patrol units, effectively controlling all movement within the Forest and toward the transition point, where magic became evanescent and an ordinary forest stood.
Gaining favor with the herd would be critical to her assignment. Centaurs were not fond of humans, especially those they had a history with. She certainly had history with the Forbidden Forest herd; they had garnered her deep respect, but she didn't find them trustworthy. Rapport didn't run deep with the creatures, every new encounter a sort of blank slate. It allowed her opportunity, but also posed great risks - it only took one wrong phrase to fall out with the herd forever. Hermione would have to be careful, every thought of centaurs laced with apprehension.
It was hard to say how many were left after the war. Immediate losses had been tabulated, but the long-term impacts on their population were unclear. That was the point of the census: a check-in to see how the magical community was recuperating in the aftermath. Hermione prayed to every deity that she would be welcomed by the herd, lest she lose access to more than half the Forest. First, she would have to petition for entry - there, she found the entrance on her map, D3.
Hermione took her time cleaning up from breakfast, organizing her notes, and packing her leather bag. She was hoping the rain would let up, but the increasing frequency and intensity in which the raindrops were assaulting the canvas tent told her that hope was futile. Arguably the most important task of the summer and the cards were already stacked against her. She stood at the entrance to her tent, openly frowning at the scene before her.
It appeared to be before dawn, rather than the reality of mid-morning, under the dark canopy of the forest. Densely falling rain filled the wood with a deafening hum, nature's white noise. The water was visibility pooling in the Moon-Gazer Clearing and funneling into her camp. She doubled back to don her yellow rubber boots and grab her umbrella, fussing with her hair for a moment before finally stuffing it into the hood of her parka.
With a breath, she stepped into the rain, hastily popping open her umbrella; it was going to be a long, wet day. It was cold, puffs of condensation following her every breath, and the air felt like ice against her skin. Hermione waded her way through the puddles as she left camp, heading west to find the Centaurs, deeper into the heart of the forest. She set forth on a winding path, eyes cast down to avoid tripping over the exposed roots of the Scottish woods.
In little time, her yellow boots appeared brown-capped, the mud becoming thick and sticky as the sky continued its torrential downpour. Hermione's pace had slowed significantly as she fought to maintain her balance on a steep, ascending slope. It was a fight for each footing hole, the water softened Earth crumbling under each step. Often Hermione found herself taking several steps forward, only to make one errant step and slide back to where she had begun.
Finally, she had made it two-thirds the way up the hill, the summit within reach. It was as far as she would get, however, for the wind started gusting, lifting at the edge of her umbrella, and hyperextending the arms. This sudden shift in momentum sent her umbrella flying with the air current and herself sliding down the hill, hands searching for purchase amongst the tree roots, finger fumbling in the mud.
Hermione slowed to a halt at the bottom of the incline, on her hands and knees in muck ten centimeters thick. Her hood had fallen back, exposing her mess of chestnut curls to the elements. It had been frizzing under her hood, reacting to the moisture as her hair often did, but now it was completely saturated and pin-straight, hanging past either side of her face as she stared at the muddy ground beneath her.
If she had started her assignment off on the right foot yesterday, she had certainly slid onto the wrong foot today. The high from her thestral encounter had worn off, washed away with each drop of rain that sank into her skin, chilling her bones. Part of her wanted to turn around, to delay the expedition until the rain let up. It would be much easier to turn back now, her logical brain kept telling her so, she had all summer to census the woods… certainly contacting the Centaurs could wait another day, right?
The rain pelted her back, each drop mocking her position down in the dirt. It was so fitting to be thwarted, even by nature herself, in the pursuit of her own desires. Nothing had ever come easily to Hermione. She always had to work hard for the things she wanted, all of her accomplishments a testament to her innate inability to ever give up. Under threat, doused with uncertainty, or in the mud – it didn't matter. Hermione would remain steadfast in her pursuit of the things she wanted to know, to obtain. She scrunched her nose at the thick mud that was oozing between her fingers, not realizing that she had been pressing into the ground with her frustrations.
She stood, making her way toward a large ash tree, wiping her hands on the moss covering its bark. Once her hands were cleaned, she took out her wand to dry the rest of her body, settling her back against the tree for a moment while she regained her breath. It would be so much easier to go back, smarter too, really. She could go back and wait for the rain to let up. Back to the safety and security of the warm, dry tent. Hermione stared at her mud-stained jeans, contemplating her next move. It was logical, a sensible choice, but one she wouldn't be making today.
Hermione Granger did not skive off work, extenuating circumstances be damned. She had a job to do, centaurs to meet… did she want a promotion or not? It would be easy, she reminded herself, to roll over at any inconvenience, to stay on the path of least resistance. It was a path she had been on before, one that led to nights of lonely take-out with a boyfriend that didn't love her properly, not the way she wanted to be loved. She never wanted to feel like that again.
No, settling for convenience just wouldn't do.
It wouldn't do to report that her agenda had been delayed due to a bit of bad weather. No, it would be much more impressive to have persisted, nevertheless. She had started strong with the thestrals, leaving only one equestrian beast to account for.
Her imagination roamed, thinking of all the extra things she could document about the Forbidden Forest if she kept up her current pace. Hermione wouldn't just be a beast expert, she would gain expertise in the entire geographical area, potentially knowing more about the Forest than anyone at the Ministry. The thought of then presenting her findings back to the DMLE… her magic tingled with anticipation, a heat-like desire settling into her stomach.
Determination renewed, she stared at the top of the muddied slope, rain washing down her face as if she were standing under a shower. Hermione took a few steps back before sprinting up the mucky incline, only to lose her footing halfway to the summit and slide back down. She repeated the process a few times, running a rut into the topography. She even attempted to push herself off nearby trees while climbing, but each time faced the same result.
The wind blew again, the sound of the leaves rustling held a hidden snicker. Hermione glanced anxiously about, spooked by the noises of the wind. Panting and frustrated, Hermione drew her map under the shade of a hawthorn tree, marking the terrain with her observations. The hill would lead her directly toward the Centaurs, but it couldn't be the only way to get there. The wind blew again and Hermione swore she heard an 'ahem' waft along the breeze. Her back against the tree, her own Hawthorn wand drawn in an instant. Hermione felt as though she were eighteen years old again, fearful of her every move being watched.
Where the path had wound before, just before the hill, there was now a split. Hermione furrowed her brow — had that been there before? She approached cautiously, a stunner hex pursed behind her lips, waiting to be uttered if needed. The branches seemed to part for her, leading her. Hermione observed another winding path, flat but filled with puddles, hopefully heading west.
Silently, she conjured a pack of birds and sent them flying down the path. Hermione hoped if enemies laid in waiting, they'd come running to attack as her flock disturbed the trees and bushes. But nothing came.
She relaxed a little, but her anxiety hadn't settled. In fact, she sensed a presence around her. It didn't feel quite threatening, but it had a certain edge to it. Hermione tried to shake it off in vain, remembering that she should keep moving so she could go find the centaurs.
After a few turns down the path, her compass was showing east, opposite where she was hoping to go. She frowned, certain the Forest path had led her astray. The rain was slowing, not as deafening under the tree coverage. Looking around hopelessly, feeling a bit lost, the leaves bent to her again. She eyed the passage apprehensively.
The Forest was guiding her but to where? To what? Or to whom? She needed to find the centaurs and perhaps this was the way. It might not be the fastest way to get there, but after her failed attempts to climb the muddy slope, she was more than happy to succumb to the path of… well, less resistance; a stark contrast to how she felt moments before.
Was it wrong to accept what was natural, what was easy? She wasn't sure.
Hermione had spent her entire life reaching for more, wanting more, and oftentimes it had cost her. What if she was wrong? Her constant need to find answers, and her obsessiveness, did not always yield desired results. Sometimes in the search for more, it ended with loss, pieces of her own heart the ultimate cost. She wondered what her life could have been like had she been more accepting, more appreciative, of what she had all along.
If the wood was leading her, why fight it? Who was she to question the forces of nature? Hermione's mind wandered, a melancholy setting in, as she hiked along the winding path of the wood, following the whim of the trees.
It didn't take long to find the centaurs. Or, rather, it didn't take long for the centaurs to find her.
She had hardly crossed into coordinate D3 before an arrow whizzed past her, striking a tree a stone's throw from her shoulder. Hermione froze, throwing her hands up defensively, as two centaurs galloped toward her. The larger, a gray male, raised a bow to her, a strung arrow poised in his grip. The other, a female if her appreciable breasts covered by a purple cloth were any indication, spoke:
"What business do you have in our Forest?" She demanded. She wore an eye patch over the left eye, but her right eye, a dazzling blue, roved over Hermione with scrutiny. Her white coat was contrasted by long, jet black braids which were adorned with several twinkling, gold stars.
Hermione put her hands up next to her head and opened her mouth, but froze before she could answer, the only sound between them the humming of the continual rain on the forest canopy. She remembered how easily her words had caused Centaurs to turn on a human in the past, - and how they could work to her advantage - so she couldn't come across as demanding. She decided a vague answer would be best to start.
"I mean you no harm," Hermione assured, her arms beginning to shake a bit as she held her pose, staring with intention at the male with the arrow pointed at her heart. "I'm with the Ministry. I request an audience with your leadership."
"Ministry?" The female asked to which Hermione eagerly nodded. Recent years had improved relations between Centaurs and humans, but it would take more than a few years of consideration and inclusion to mend the bond broken over centuries of deception and violence.
"You've come seeking our land and resources?" The male narrowed his eyes, advancing a few menacing steps, pulling tightly on the bow.
"N-no!" Hermione shook her head quickly. Shit, this was not getting off to a good start. Her pulse torrented wildly under her skin.
"Centaurs do not live to serve wizards." She proclaimed with conviction; it had to be clear that Hermione wouldn't be taking advantage of the beasts; formality and respect were of utmost importance to the creatures. "I am here offering something that can be equally beneficial to both the Centaurs and the Ministry."
The two centaurs glanced at each other, the male giving his partner an inquisitive look. The female studied Hermione intently, who flinched under the beasts' gaze. The male's attention was back on her, bow pointed at her neck, but Hermione barely noticed, feeling entranced under the white centaurs' scrutiny. Hermione felt that presence again, some natural force between them, something calling to the magic that lived deep inside her. Perhaps the centaur could feel it too for her exposed eyebrow twitched, the look in her eye changing for a split second.
The female reached out, her hand lowering the males' bow. The two beasts made eye contact and the female nodded. "Back on patrol, Owain. I'll take her to the edge."
Hermione let out a sigh of relief, dropping her hands to her sides, her heart still pounding against her chest. It had been so long since Hermione had legitimately felt her life was in danger. It was terrifying, and she felt guilty for relishing a bit in the thrill of it.
The female began trotting away and Hermione hurried after her, not realizing she had been left behind. "Sorry, I didn't catch your name?"
The centaur rolled her eye, her jet black tail brushing Hermione's shoulder as she caught up to the beast. "Pyronesia." She supplied, avoiding eye contact.
The centaur picked up her speed and Hermione followed quickly behind her, splashing mud with each step of her yellow rain boots.
"Lovely to meet you, Pyronesia. I'm Hermione Granger." She panted, finally finding a pace to keep in step with the beast. "Tell me, how are things in the Forest?" Hermione asked innocently, trying to create small talk with the standoffish creature.
"There is darkness no more, only the welcome are those that reside in the wood." Pyronesia glanced around, shooting suspicious looks into the depths of the wood that were obscured by darkness.
Hermione didn't notice. She rubbed her temples, a headache forming as she was reminded of the riddles centaurs liked to speak in. It was going to be like spending a whole day with Luna; Hermione always felt like she was missing something between the lines. Hermione gave a tight-lipped smile. "That's… lovely."
An uncomfortable silence permeated between them. Pyronesia forged ahead, sparing no thought of her companion's ability to keep up. They had to be getting close, Hermione could hear hooves more clearly as they walked. It would only be a matter of minutes before they approached the barrier that marked the boundaries, and controlled movements in and out of the Centaurs' land.
Pyronesia stopped suddenly and turned to Hermione, her lips a tight line, tucking inward as if she were fighting the urge to say something. Hermione raised an eyebrow. Pyronesia opened her mouth again as if to speak, but closed it sharply as they were approached by a group of burly males. A blonde-haired, blue-eyed palomino led them.
Firenze. Hermione bowed upon recognizing him, showing her deep respect for the leader of the Forbidden Forest herd. He had always been friendly with humans, as friendly as any centaur could be, and was rumored to be a decent professor amongst her peers. Most importantly, Firenze had fought valiantly - even sustaining injuries - at the Battle of Hogwarts. The centaurs could have easily stood by the wayside, but instead, they had come to the aid of good in a wizards' war and for that, he would always have her utmost respect and gratitude. She hoped he thought the same of her, hoping even more that he had forgotten their academic disagreement of the past (in which Hermione may have insulted the Centaur in an impassioned outburst whilst arguing over the merit of Divination as an academic subject).
"Miss Granger, we have been expecting you." Firenze glanced down at her muddied boots and stained jeans, "Welcome to our sovereign land."
Hermione stood, puzzled by his statement. Expecting her? Perhaps the Ministry had sent notice of her impending arrival in the Forest. Yes, that made perfect sense (though she kicked herself for not doing so on her own accord).
"Firenze," she regarded him politely, gazing up at the Centaur whose height towered over her. "Thank you for allowing me the opportunity. On behalf of the Ministry, we hope you have been thriving under the expanded borders."
"We have," he assured her. "This Forest is our home, it is about time it has been returned to us."
"I couldn't agree more," Hermione nodded. "The Forbidden Forest is a much safer place under your care."
"The Dark Wood," Firenze corrected, "has much healing to do. But prosperity will return before the first leaf falls."
Hermione fought the urge to knit her brow; she was in for a long day of puzzles, more than she had the headspace for. She found it difficult to formulate a response, not wanting to misspeak and inadvertently offend them. As if sensing this, Firenze spoke plainly, "What brings you to my wood?"
She gave a wan smile, shifting the leather bag on her shoulder. "The Ministry is doing a nation-wide project for the benefit of the magical communities. Is there somewhere we could go to talk? I'd be more than happy to give you the specifics, I've made a pamphlet that will explai-"
A horn had sounded in the distance, Pyronesia elbowed her to cut her off. Firenze sighed, instructing two of his men to go check on the signal. "No time for pleasantries I'm afraid." He informed her, "Let us go to the council chamber, we can discuss your proposition there."
"Come, human," Pyronesia commanded as the other centaurs galloped away, "there is much to be Seen."
"This is amazing," she gushed, taking in the village around her. Hermione's head ticked excitedly, cataloging the site with the precision of a minutes' hand, attempting to capture as many details as she could visually process to add to her field journal later.
It had been a few years since the Centaurs gained sovereign land. The majority of the work had been done by petitioners in London (Hermione took notes for the DMCR review committee summer), with Firenze only appearing when the agreement was to be signed. Nobody was even sure if the Centaurs had requested the land or simply taken it by force in the aftermath of war. With the mounting casualties and instability during the reformations, wizards were not equipped to take on another battle.
Nobody was shouting for the Forbidden Forest, so away it went. Of course, Hermione recognized and supported the sovereignty of the Centaur State, but the treaty was not very conducive to relationship building between species with traveling restrictions and lingering hostility from the beasts.
They boasted to know more: the stars and nature dictating terms to protect the forest and its inhabitants. Protect them from what exactly? Hermione always wondered. Were they foreshadowing the coming of another dark wizard… would Death Eaters be rising from the dead? What exactly did the Centaurs know? And why wouldn't they tell anybody?
Hermione recognized the opportunity she had to do some digging while on their land, she'd have to stay focused so as to not miss anything.
It was quite impressive, really, the society that they lived in was civilized, reminding her of a muggle village in the Medieval period. At the town square, several merchants were selling goods: arrows, healing remedies, blankets. The shoppers were bartering with animal pelts and herbs. At the center of the square, there was a stand full of fresh fruit and vegetables - who knew that centaurs could garden? Or that the forest was capable of producing such sustenance?
A roaring fire made up the middle of the camp, where several small preys were rotating on spits over the flame. Hermione's mind whirred with the sophistication of the beast society. The herd of the Forbidden Forest alone warranted an entire summers' worth of study. How was she to get by simply counting the male, female, and youth when she could be conducting an entire sociological study like no one ever had before?
She was getting ahead of herself of course. Pyronesia nudged her back on the path when Hermione's eye had wandered too far toward a group of young foals. The group came upon a wooden shelter that much resembled the skeleton of a log cabin; their meeting house. They stood unceremoniously under the shelter for a moment, Hermione attempting to rapidly study her surroundings. Apparently, she had missed something as Pyronesia hit her in the back of the head with her tail, bringing her back to attention.
"Hermione Granger," Firenze addressed her (again?). He had aged since she had seen him last, injured after the Final Battle. She felt relieved to have a human-friendly Centaur present, even if she had a few unfriendly encounters with him during her Hogwarts years. "What business is it of the Ministry with my herd?"
Hermione curtsied awkwardly, bits of straw stuck to the mud on her yellow rain boots, attempting her best cordiality with her former comrade. She licked her lips nervously, attempting to frame the census in a way that would not sound as though the Ministry were attempting to impose on their privacy - I mean… even if they were. "The Ministry is holding a magical census. I'm here extending an open offer if your herd would like to participate."
The male next to Firenze considered her for a moment, calculating her offer in his mind. His expression had remained open, until the rain had stopped suddenly, causing his spine to stiffen and his expression to shift. He frowned, "And of what interest is it to us?"
Hermione balked; the more questions he asked, the higher the risk that this encounter would go tits up. Her eyes widened slightly, her throat tightening as she tried to come up with an answer. Pyronesia hit her with her tail again, a signal that she needed to speak. "It.. Uhm, will allow for a more accurate representation of your mighty herd. If we knew how many of you there are, we could offer better benefits to each other." Hermione's passion was flooding her again, "Build better infrastructure," she gestured around her, "provide resources, establish government relations, begin to understand one another more. It is in the interest of unity and representation for us all."
Firenze's frown had deepened, many of the centaurs within earshot looked enraged, Pyronesia's tail went stiff beside her. The wind blew again, causing gooseflesh to form under her soaked clothes.
"Not interested." Firenze held up a hand and the men flanking him dispersed. Only Pyronesia remained at Hermione's side.
Hermione's jaw dropped, not expecting such a quick dismissal. "B-But, Firenze, please. You must understand... the Ministry assigned me to do this. It's my job. If I could just have some time with your people, I-"
"We are not people!" He snapped harshly, taking a threatening step closer to her. "And I will not have you talking with the herd! They have been traumatized by the war brought to our land and we are just now recovering. Not all humans have yet to earn back our trust." His voice had lost some of its harshness and he sighed, studying her again.
A bird overhead cawed and Firenze nodded thoughtfully. "There are things for you to find, Miss Granger. But let me remind you that this is the Centaur's land. You and the Ministry have no power here. The Forbidden Forest is under our jurisdiction. I will allow you unrestricted access to assess other creatures in the wood each day upon the setting of the sun, but you are to have no contact with the herd."
"Nod if you understand, human." Pyronesia instructed her with a swish of her tail.
Hermione nodded eagerly as Firenze quickly dismissed her. As it was only afternoon and the sun still shone, albeit blocked by foreboding clouds and obscured by the rain, Hermione had to exit the Centaur territory poste-haste. Pyronesia led her to the edge of the village where she stopped suddenly, glancing over her shoulder.
"Don't say anything," Pyronesia muttered in a whisper, avoiding Hermione's gaze. "Just follow me."
Hermione raised an eyebrow in confusion. Pyronesia sounded hurried… desperate. She followed the alabaster centaur, unsure of where she was being led to. She followed Pyronesia to the edge of the sovereign boundary, ducking under a low branch on the periphery of a clearing. There the two weaved along a path through densely growing trees, circling back into Centaur land, near the periphery of the magical boundary. Finally, they came upon a birch against which a lean-to had been constructed, large fern leaves serving as a door of the structure.
Pyronesia checked over her shoulder again before she crouched and ducked inside, Hermione followed quickly, squeezing in before the curtain of fern leaves could close her out.
"Sit," she motioned to a boulder on the sloping side of the lean-to. Hermione squatted low to perch on the boulder, her neck craning to look at her surroundings before being startled as Pyronesia kneeled down next to her, whispering hurriedly.
"We don't have much time," her voice was low, despite the fact that they were alone and at the far edge of the territory that she had just been asked to leave. "I need your help," Pyronesia admitted hastily, "something is wrong." She sounded panicked.
Hermione sat up straighter, her interest piqued. The voice of Firenze warning to keep her distance from the herd ringing in her mind. Despite this, she inquired, "Me? What is it?"
"My eye," she nodded her head to the left, indicating she meant the eye covered by the patch, "it's-" her good eye blinked rapidly, fighting tears, "it's Seeing things."
Hermione cocked her head to the side slowly, trying to understand what she just heard. "So, you can see with your eye... And that's a problem?" She whispered perplexedly, not quite following Pyronesia's train of thought.
"The Human War at Hogwarts brought darkness to us all. I was cursed and lost my sight." She explained, leaning closer to Hermione, her voice falling to a barely audible whisper. "But Light has come… and now I See!"
The two were nearly nose-to-nose at this point, Pyronesia's hot breath gusting over her nose. Hermione still did not understand her panic, but she seemed genuinely distraught. Not sure who was more difficult to have a direct conversation with this centaur or Luna.
"Well, let me take a look," Hermione offered, drawing her wand to vanish the eye patch.
"No!" Pyronesia breathed, her eye going wide in horror as she reached for the wand between them.
But it was too late, Hermione had vanished the covering, revealing the scarred eye socket, cursed scars that would never fade. Pyronesia's left eye looked as horrified as her right before the iris hazed in sudden cloudiness, her mouth falling slack before emitting a rushed whisper.
"A dying Forest, dark in Heart,
Can only be saved if you do your part.
Secrets of the wood you will discover.
To transform yourself will transform the other.
Bury your prejudice, go back to before.
Or a heart newly beating will beat no more."
Hermione clamped the eye patch back over Pyronesia's eye. The Centaur came back to herself, collapsing into Hermione's arms, sobbing hysterically. "Oh no," the beast cried, stricken, "I've done it."
She stiffened under the beast, the weight of what had just happened hit her. Was that just a prophecy or a channeled message? Her brain refused to process the words, still unsure of what the fuck just happened. Hermione patted the centaur's head, smoothing her braids. "Shh, Pyronesia. Take a breath," she instructed, her voice quaking slightly, "are you alright?"
Pyronesia leaned back, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "You don't understand," she sniffled. "Everything is in motion now, it can not be undone."
"What is in motion, what can't be undone?" Hermione grasped for her hands wildly, her heart racing, her head aching.
"Our fates!" Pyronesia wailed, falling into Hermione's arms once more.
She laid there for a moment, Hermione patting her back hesitantly. The sound of hooves alerted the pair that centaurs were approaching the lean-to, Hermione's face blanched in horror. Hermione could barely breathe; she had just been instructed to leave, to avoid the herd, and she had already disobeyed the direct order. Nobody could know. She couldn't destroy the paper-thin trust between herself and Firenze. The witch shifted, pushing Pyronesia back to a sitting position.
The beast had a wild look in one eye. "Meet me at the Moon-Gazer Clearing in eleven days. Dusk. Run!" She whispered urgently, staring at Hermione with wide eyes, ushering her to the back of the lean-to. "Now!"
Hermione pushed through the ferns shrouding the back entrance of the lean-to, taking off into the Forest in a full-out sprint. She ran until her legs burned, not daring to stop until her chest felt like it might jump out of her chest. Slipping and sliding across the winding terrain, it was a miracle Hermione was able to find her camp, let alone do so without getting caught by the herd. She collapsed in a muddy, wet heap on the cot in her tent. Her head throbbed with every beat of her heart, her mind was a swirling current of visions, and possibilities, dancing to the playback of Pyronesia's words.