The Journey Continues

Bae tossed the rabbit carcass into the forest for the scavengers, at least, the ones that remained, and checked over his arrows. Finding that each of them was sharp enough, he checked his bow string. Satisfied, he returned to the path, ever alert for the woman.

The bodies remained in their neat rows, untouched when he looked back. Bae turned and walked toward Frontlands Castle. He wondered what he'd see when he reached the castle, if he'd see a ruin with some parts coated in soot, or if he'd see something rebuilt, refurbished for some new duke to live in.

He remembered the old duke, his men's demises, Morraine's return from the front lines.

OUAT

Bae waited anxiously at the threshold for his father's return, though he was now completely terrified of the man he had become. Though the bodies had been cleared out of the street, the smell was still there, and the other villagers avoided it like it would give them the plague.

Rumpelstiltskin appeared in the street to a silent, awed crowd. Trailing behind him were the children of the village and some he didn't recognize. Maybe they went with the strange adults in the village. Standing at Rumpelstiltskin's side was Morraine, in a fresh blue dress but otherwise bruised, cut, and bleeding. Her hair was matted but as neatly arranged as possible. Her eyes were filled with fright, but she kept her expression calm, even when she met his gaze.

Bae knew instantly that something was wrong.

OUAT

He stopped on the road and stared up at the castle. It was, as he first thought, a ruin. He could even see the charred, dusty, moth-eaten remains of tapestries and the half-burned pieces of furniture. It must have been vacated after it was destroyed. Perhaps everyone who lived and worked here took the fire as a bad omen and didn't want to be there when it all came crashing down.

He took a deep breath and approached the ruins, and then he wondered what exactly he was looking for. He sighed and sank into a sitting position against what was left of one of the walls. He leaned back, rested his elbows on his knees, and chewed his lip. Maybe he could try to find that little thread of magic again, see if it led to his father, but that could prove useless. He didn't even know how it came to him in the first place.

He sighed and lay his head on the stones behind him.

OUAT

Rumpelstiltskin finally found a secluded enough place in the woods surrounding Storybrooke that were enclosed within its limits, and he closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. But whatever connection he had felt to his son earlier that day was now completely lost. He opened his eyes and sighed. Maybe he was being fooled by fate, and now his son was lost to him forever. Maybe it was just a cruel trick of chance and he had to keep searching for a portal to get to his son.

He looked up at the horizon, where the moon balanced almost precariously, and then he turned and walked back toward Storybrooke.

OUAT

Bae's head snapped up and he blinked. He was almost convinced whoever he had tried to establish contact with that morning was trying to reach him again. He sighed and shook his head, and he pushed himself into a standing position with the help of the stone wall behind him.

The moonlight shone into the great hall, illuminating every aspect of the damage caused by the fire in the sharp relief only sharp shadows and pale light could give. This place represented a defining moment of his father's life, and he couldn't find a link to him here, at least, not one that worked.

He took a deep breath and stepped away from the castle. If he couldn't find his father, then he'd have to keep to his promise and try to find Morraine.

OUAT

Morraine stopped again, and her hand drew to the hilt of the sword. The Long Lost Boys drew together in a knot, and she felt their fear like the breeze in the air. She felt something else, too, something behind her. She stepped back, turned, and moved around the knot of boys toward the source of whatever she was feeling. The closer she got to it, the more the hair in the back of her neck stood at attention.

The smell, she realized suddenly. She recognized that smell. The sweat of a man in armor. The sweat of a rutting man in armor.

Figures Pan would put her own worst nightmare in a land full of nightmares, she thought dully. She swallowed her fear and drew the sword. "Show yourself, you fiend," she cried, but the presence shrank back, along with the smell. "Coward." The presence returned, this time from behind her, and she felt an arm around her waist and a hand over her mouth.

"Seer," a boy called. The presence paused. Morraine glanced at the boy and then back at her sword. She tossed it to him. He ran toward it but looked at her. She nodded to him against the presence holding her, and the boy picked up the weapon. He found the weapon lighter than when he had originally retrieved it from a bush near the clearing. "What do I aim at?"

Crap, she thought. They couldn't see it. She glanced down. She couldn't see it, either.

What was it waiting for? A reaction? she wondered. When this first happened, she struggled. Now, she was frozen. Was it waiting for her to react that way again? She kept herself still and calm, and she tried to remember what it took to get her the peace of mind she managed to achieve that first night. But that was three hundred years ago, and Rumpelstiltskin had told her that he killed Hordor. The relief she felt at that moment had brought her to her knees. That was the moment she realized Hordor no longer had power over her.

So why was she so afraid now?

The presence dissipated. "Keep the sword," she said to the boy. "You'll need it more than I do."

"What do we do?" the boy asked.

"What happened?" another asked.

"We keep going, and what happens was I realized the fears he creates for us here have no power over us. It's best you learn and understand that, too." She walked past them toward the edge of the shell. The boys moved as one behind her.