The afternoon sun bore down on the Louisiana swamp without mercy. Cordelia was covered in a fine sheen of sweat. She felt it running in rivulets down her neck and back. The insects hummed and chirped. The air around her was heavy with heat. Cordelia held onto her black parasol with one hand and adjusted her sunglasses with the other. She was picking her way along a narrow overgrown path through the trees. Zoe's small form was in front of her, her oversized hat bobbing up and down as she walked. She was carrying an overshoulder bag. Cordelia hoped it had everything they needed inside. There was no turning back now.

The smell of the swamp filled Cordelia's nose and mouth. The smell of damp and death and rot. Cordelia had to trust that Zoe knew where she was going. Only she and Kyle had been to Misty's little swamp refuge before today. Cordelia had considered visiting here many times, but the thought of seeing the place where Misty had slept and eaten and lived had been too much to bear. Now there was a reason to come here. Now there was hope.

"It's just through here," Zoe said, pushing apart two branches to reveal a clearing. A small, simple home sat nestled in the middle of a sea of short green grass. Beside it was a garden. A butterfly fluttered past them. Cordelia stopped and stared. The enormity of what she was doing squeezed on her heart. Her chest tightened and she forgot to breathe.

Zoe was staring at her.

"Miss Cordelia, are you okay?" she asked.

Cordelia took a deep breath in and let it out again. She gave a brisk nod and started forward.

She was headed towards the little house but hesitated and stopped at the garden. The hanging pot plants, the herb garden and flower bed, obviously once lovingly cared for, were in the beginning stages of being taken back by the swamp. The herbs and flowers were being crowded out by weeds and the hanging plants were dry and brown from the sun.

Cordelia reached out and touched the nearest pot plant, which was hanging from a wooden beam. Green life spread from her fingertips and the stiff dead leaves curled and sprang back to life. Flowers burst open, magnificent purple and pink and white. Cordelia could smell their subtle sweetness. Zoe stood by her side and watched as the plant continued to grow.

"You still haven't explained to me how this is going to work," Zoe said. "I mean, no offence, but we don't even have a body."

"We don't need one," said Cordelia. "Misty understood that when she used her swamp mud. Magic is metaphor. Magic is limitless. That's why we're here in the midst of nature. This is where Misty drew her strength from. This is where I can be closest to her."

They turned and walked together towards the tiny shack. Zoe pushed the door and it swung open with a long groan. It was dark inside and hot. Cordelia folded her parasol and took off her glasses, setting them both down. She blinked, trying to make out her surroundings. It was so good to be out of the sun.

There were some tattered arm chairs, a bed in the corner and a little table with a record player on it. Dust motes were drifting in the ray of light from the door, disturbed by their presence. Cordelia walked over to the record player. Her brow furrowed when she saw that it was broken beyond repair. Records were stacked in a neat pile beside it. A Fleetwood Mac record, Rumours, sat on the top of the pile. The cover was torn down the middle, separating the two figures on it forever.

"Someone broke her records," said Cordelia. "She'll need new ones."

"I think that was Kyle," said Zoe, "I know he didn't mean to. But yeah, he should probably buy her an ipod or something."

As if on cue they heard a voice from the clearing.

"Zoe?"

They walked to the door and looked out. The sky had darkened in the few minutes they had been inside. The wind whipped Kyle's blonde shaggy hair about his face. He smiled when he saw Zoe. She ran out to greet him. Cordelia walked behind her. The intense heat was being chased away by a brisk wind.

On Kyle's broad shoulders he carried a fawn. Its gangly legs hung down either side of his neck. They were tied together just above the hooves. Kyle was holding the deer tight so it would not kick him. Large droplets of sweat were beaded on his brow and his shirt was saturated. The fawn looked at Cordelia from over his shoulder with one dark, fearful eye.

There was a flash of light. They looked up. Storm clouds were gathering above them. The day was quickly turning very dark. There was a distant rumble. Kyle looked questioningly at Cordelia, eyebrows raised.

"I'm ready," she said. "It's time."