Disclaimer: I don't own anythign you recognize. If I did, I'd probably be the happiest dork in the entire freakin' world. But I don't. I only own Nim, and her family. Cheers!
It came back to haunt her in the middle of the night. The image of a small, perfect girl, with skin pale as snow, hair dark as the night sky, eyes as blue and vibrant as the ocean. She was no bigger than a House Elf.
Why did you leave me, Nim?
Small hands. Nim remembered grasping her hand as tightly as she possibly could, her own face contorting into a scream of terror as she felt those tiny fingers slip from her own sweaty palm. She remembered Apparating into the clearing with the feeling of extreme dread and fear. She was shaking; she had fallen to the ground moments after her feet had touched the bed of leaves.
Why did you let go, Nim?
She had Apparated back, eyes searching for the girl- her sister- wildly… But she needn't have looked far. Because there she was, lying on the ground, eyes closed. Still perfect and beautiful in death. Her right arm was mangled and bloody, proof that she had splinched horribly, but her face was as serene as it was when she slept. The young witch felt herself scream.
And then there was laughter. Raucous, sick, psychotic laughter.
Why did you let me die, Nim?
Nim started from the memory, shaking her head to try and rid herself of dark thoughts. She had to find water and food if she was to survive. Walking past a myriad of trees, the young woman tried to banish the memories from her mind, grimacing as images bombarded her anyway.
A woman. Her eyes dark and hooded, with wild, curly hair, a twisted smile on her face as she slowly raised her wand from its former position pointed at her sister's heart. "Oops." A grin.
Nim remembered hearing she scream.
And again, the young woman shook her head, bringing her back to reality. There was no time to dwell on the past, hadn't that been what her father had told her? She had to keep moving. Always moving. In these dark times, the only thing to do was move on, and do so quickly. She knew they'd be looking for her, especially the dark-haired woman. Especially Bellatrix Lestrange.
It was done. Willa had been buried the Muggle way in a wood Nim had left behind hours ago. She had conjured up a wreath of flowers in her sister's honor, and had left her there. Nim felt guilty of course; saddened and distraught, dirty. She felt like she had the blood of her own sister contaminating her hands.
But there was nothing to be done for Willa, not anymore. She was gone. And so, the young woman trekked on, pitching her tent in a small clearing and putting up all the necessary protective charms are her small abode before leaving camp to find some sort of sustenance.
Surprisingly, Nim found that she was able to fall into the normal routine of survival easily despite her lack of company. This both worried and calmed her, but for the most part, she was indifferent. She had learned very quickly that indifference- numbness- was a very effective way to deal with pain. Numbness and anger. And, Nim thought mildly, she had loads of both.
"Lumos." Her face was quickly illuminated by wandlight, and the young witch brought her spoils back to camp, thankful for the few blackberries she'd found along with the myriad of mushrooms. Eating quickly and quietly, the young woman drank from the water bottle in her rucksack before going to bed fully clothed. She would repeat the same routine tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. Clean up. Apparate. Camp. Food. Water. Sleep. Repeat. She knew, of course, that this routine would not last forever, that they'd either find her or she'd become frustrated at her own feelings of hopelessness sooner or later, and go looking from them. But not yet. For now, she was content in her numbness and apathy, anger and pain bubbling just below the surface, eyes and ears sharp. She was a time bomb.
"Tomorrow will be better, Willa. I promise. We'll go somewhere nice, like a beach. Somewhere warmer."
She knew moving on was essential. She knew that therefore, halting her communication with a girl who no longer existed was also essential. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't let go of that. Perhaps it was because she felt she'd forget language altogether if she didn't speak.
Or, perhaps, it was because speaking with a person whom was gone from this world was the only thing that seemed to tie her to it. And her connection to reality, however warped, was not only essential for survival, but essential for the task she ultimately wanted to complete. She'd keep her ears and eyes trained tomorrow, as always, hoping for word on the Boy Who Lived, hoping for the Final Battle that was sure to change everything, hoping for vengeance and justice. For action.
"Goodnight, Will. Sweet dreams."
But for now, it was time to sleep.
A/N: I hope you all liked this one, more exciting things will happen soon, I promise. Also, a huge thanks to Cassia4u for being my first and only reviewer!
-Lex