Summary: Viktor Krum held the belief that Unity, not Magic, is might. Stuck in the middle of a war in Britain, armed with nothing but a broom and a broken heart, Viktor's self-pride may just be his saving grace.

Disclaimer: JKR owns everything Harry Potter; I own nothing but my imagination.

Wikipedia has been a great source.


Chapter 3

Early that evening in mid-July, Viktor Krum mounted his broom and immediately took flight.

Disillusioned rider and broom soared about a thousand feet above ground, before veering North, across the Danube River, towards the Carpathian Mountains of Romania. The cool wind blew across his face, his coat whipping behind him, as lights from cities reflected on the Danube River made it seem like a long ribbon of stars. An hour later, at a height of more than eight thousand feet, the mountain ranges looked like the back of a sleeping dragon from his vantage point.

The peaks of the Tazeter mountains in the Southern Carpathians were as high as 2,500 metres. This compact group of mountains had rocky slopes, numerous lakes and virgin forests. These forests were home to brown bears, gray wolves, and lynxes as well as a variety of avian species, pines and firs, and edelweiss. Though one side of it Viktor knew was considered a Muggle National Park, there remained parts of the mountain system where a mist concealed the magical creatures for which Romania was known for. The climate remained temperate, appropriate for raising these creatures. Viktor felt with his dragon hide-gloved hand a wide breadth of protective magic over patches of these mountains as he hovered over them. Removing his disillusionment, he stretched out his wand as he swerved his broom, muttering rehearsed incantations, invoking Name Magic.

He created a small break in the magical field and dived through it, and the dark starry sky was no more.

The atmosphere immediately changed as he traversed the mist. There was a burning temperature, a sting in his eyes, a burn in his throat, followed by a tremendous force that hurtled Viktor a terrifying distance, before he collided on a hard solid object that almost crushed his skull. He thought he was in the midst of a hurricane, or an asteroid belt, when he opened his eyes. The sky was filled with gigantic, black, leathery-scaled Hungarian Horntail dragons, whipping their tails, bellowing thundering roars, their fanged mouths blasting out inextinguishable fire about thirty feet, their enormous bat-like wings fanning the hot air and flames in different directions. A pair of big yellow eyes with vertical slits for pupils from the nearest one, fixated on him, and reflexively, Viktor closed his eyes, and decreased altitude, feeling faint, deaf, and blind at the same time.

He swore he had forgotten something as he plunged closer to earth. He was either going to hit a tree or some wailing dragon on his descent, but he just managed to avoid both.

Viktor landed safely on forested foothills, near one of hundreds of faintly-lit tents, each about ten feet tall scattered within half a kilometer of each other, half hidden under mountain pine. The forests formed the perimeter of an immense rocky clearing. The visage before him reminded Viktor of Muggle hell. Or a volcanic eruption, without volcanoes. Things he'd seen only in Muggle books. He was afraid to breathe as he was assaulted with the smell of burning wood and leather, and something akin to petrol.

About 20-30 dragons were thrashing about, their feet and neck confined by iron shackles embedded into rock formations. These dragons were about 50 feet high as they raised their clawed front legs in the air and stretched out their bulky necks. The ground shook, and the air filled with fire, smoke, and dust clouds with their defiance. Their screeches were unnerving.

There were several species, and Viktor recognized only four, including the silvery gray, Swedish Short Snout, and the Welsh Green, but dragons all have leathery scales of varying textures, bat-like wings, spikes at their spines, and a massive prehensile tail. The black, Hungarian Horntails were more lizard-like by comparison, and had spikes along their tails; they were the most volatile of the lot. Surrounding each dragon were about 10 brave wizards, all shouting and running here and there, ducking with each breath of fire, or using some metal shield attached to one arm as a protective barrier. Scales glistened from the fire glow as well as from stunning spells cast by the wizards.

Most of the dragons visible were flying about, oblivious to the enclosure, illuminating the sky with bursts of orange firelight.

Bubble Head Charm. Viktor remembered too late as he rubbed the back of his head.

"Who are you visiting?" Someone behind him had spoken in Romanian.

Viktor turned around to face a haggard, wild-eyed man with a grin that was far too welcoming. His mouth and lips were blood-red, in fact, blood seemed to trickle down his graying goatee.

"My friend, Dimitar Yavorov. He is expecting me."

The maniacal grin turned into a disapproving frown before the stranger pointed to a group of wizards standing over a subdued Romanian dragon, emitting smoke, a few hundred feet beyond. It was feeding on what looked like bear meat. When Viktor reached the place, he heard a grim-faced Muggle ranger muttering to his friend something like, "I hate brown bears being slaughtered just because there's enough of them to feed your pets!"

"Feeding helps calm them down. It is difficult for everyone. As always, everything a speculation..." He turned his head as his name was called.

Dimitar was three inches shorter than Viktor, with longer, thicker head of black hair, chiseled beard and mustache. His skin had darkened, his face sharp as his eyes were keen, a high-spirited individual looking for all the world gaunt. His long brown cloak was tattered in places. He had been regarding the dragon before him with utmost interest.

Viktor could not contain his smile and relief as he greeted his old friend on foot. They were classmates, both having travelled to Britain three years ago for the Triwizard Tournament, one a spectator, the other a school champion. They were two of the brightest students of their year. But, Dimitar was more altruistic, more heart than muscle.

"Viktor, how are you? God has truly been good. You should have come in the morning. They," referring to the dragons, "would be more or less content and peaceful. You would've seen them more as social beings than savages. I would've had more time to spare, too.

"I have not seen you for ages, my good friend." He put an arm over Viktor's shoulder, and ignored everyone else, as they walked towards the forest thickness.

"Come, bring me news from home, and from the outside world. I feel like I am caged here as well, of course, I can leave whenever I want to, I feel like I'm the only one not taking a vacation, I don't know, I can't seem to imagine leaving them. Well, come, Viktor. See that red-and-white-striped tent, see the Bulgarian flag? Have supper with me. You brought food from home, yes? Oh, too much yelling, I think I will lose my voice, need a drink. You brought, what, rose brandy, or Mavrud wine? Oh, there's Maria, you should meet her,..."

Viktor was surprised that Dimitar did not need a broom. He instead tapped his wand against his thigh, and he immediately levitated himself before saying, "You will ride your broom, yes, you follow!"

Viktor supposed that despite the free dragons still roaming the sky, despite his own trepidation, the situation was under control. There was time for other things, like dinner. It was just another night in magical Romania.


When they reached the interior of the tent (which was magically five times wider than it looked from the outside, lit inside by floating jars of blue flames), the outside noise was immediately muffled. They were welcomed warmly by a pretty woman, also Bulgarian, Maria Yanevski who had prepared a meal for four. There was sweet bread, Cozunak, porridge from yellow corn flour, fish, lamb, sour soup, shopska salad, plums, and plum brandy. Viktor had brought out Mavrud wine, Lukanka, Banitsa, and rose jam. The meal was heartier when shared with friends.

Dimitar Yavorov had been living in Romania for the last 2 years, studying Magizoology. He had been fascinated with dragons ever since the Triwizard Tournament. When they had returned to Durmstrang Institute both he and Viktor knew they wanted to get out of urbanized Bulgaria once school ended. They wanted to see the world beyond the limitations of their magical knowledge. Viktor wanted to see a world beyond the agriculture, the rich prehistoric archeology, the military conquest of other countries, the religious traditions, beyond the coal mining and textile industries, the harnessing of hydraulic energy and nuclear energy, the tourism and Bulgaria's growing world attention. These Muggle places and activities that do not have room for Magic.

When Viktor turned 19, he moved out of his parents' house in Kazanlak which was a city more of ordinary workers than lofty dreamers. He moved to the town of Shipka in the Balkan Mountains where he could pursue his love of flight free from Muggle prying eyes. He took pride in his country's cultural identity, but his own freedom and identity would only be preserved through isolation.

His Pureblood parents had successfully mingled with Muggles: his mother worked at a pharmacy, his father was a part time teacher.

Dimitar, on the other hand, was either more noble or more daring. His idea of a rewarding profession was not some tiresome sport such as Quidditch.

The way Viktor saw it, Dimitar met and challenged death every day. He had a job worse than a doctor who could be needed at an unwanted hour of the night, or a person working at a nuclear power plant, getting paid well, but whose life could be wiped out by a single malfunction. Viktor did not care about dragons much. They were good for their hides, for their blood, for guarding bank vaults, and for rare sports events like the Triwizard Tournament. They simply occupied too much space. A space that kept dwindling as Muggles occupied and inherited the earth.

"Ah, Viktor," as their conversation wore on after dinner, Dimitar having demonstrated a tendency for switching between Bulgarian and Romanian, as both men seated opposite each other on wooden benches in the lounge area, "you think dragons are just that, creatures. No brains. Who is to know? This country, by which I mean Magicfolk, as well as The International Committee for Care of Magical Beasts, have not given any funding for research. I mean, except for Albus Dumbledore's research on the uses of dragon blood, not much else is known about dragons, nothing about their anatomy, except what we've learned from exposure and experience. These dragons are as old as the Earth. Who is to say they are not sentient? That they cannot be understood like Muggles have understood chimpanzees or gorillas? Their brains, for example, are they as big, their memory as keen as an elephant's? Or, are their brains as small, their minds as simple as a bird's or a dinosaur's?

"Magizoologists are still afraid of these grand, majestic beings, and continue to treat them with the harshest force necessary. We care for them for their use to humans, or goblins, but we are willing to kill them should they become out of control. That's what Muggles cooperating with us want. These few rangers want nothing to do with us. We had to compensate them for the damages. Costly enough. A dragon's diet alone is not to be trifled with."

"How do you kill a dragon? Its hide is almost impenetrable to magic. I doubt even Dark Magic,..."

"By drowning, of course, once it is tricked to fly over sea or ocean, and stunned, its own weight will do the rest,..." Dimitar wiped his forehead with his sleeve, as Viktor sipped his red wine.

"We have rendered many of them infertile. We have to control their population. Sadly, they are a dying breed. They multiply, become massive, while the world becomes smaller, though humans are partly to blame for that. If we could find a planet where they could be transported to live freely..."

"Then they will come back here, sentient, as you say, and annihilate us all." Viktor interjected, but he refrained from laughing.

There was an awkward silence. Viktor tried not to show he felt threatened by these beasts.

"So, I did not see any Chinese Fireball. I had to deal with one in the Tournament, if you remember,..."

"If truth be told, that particular one was a peaceful, benign creature that had been drugged at the time to make her enraged. See, how you caused that mother to crush her eggs? By a Conjunctivitis Curse, you awful man, and you were awarded high points for it! Anyway, she's all mellowed out in China. She bears good luck, though. And Maria here, doctorate and all, cannot brew a Felix Felices to save her life."

Maria had been silently brewing some potion on a counter on the right corner of the room. With her back turned to them, her stirring was anything but quiet.

Goodness knows, they all needed it.

"Any news from Professor Dumbledore? I have written letters to him through his school. I cannot thank him enough. You know, he funded my education. I will finish in a year, and I just might visit him..."

Viktor sighed, studied Dimitar, before solemnly speaking.

"Dumbledore is dead. Recently murdered by a teacher of Hogwarts, a friend of Karkaroff, a deatheater in all likelihood. Karkaroff himself was killed six months ago, for betraying his Dark Lord, I suppose. These are dark times in Britain."

Viktor could not shake the idea off his mind, that this was not supposed to happen in a prestigious school of a country of intelligent, skilled, open-minded wizards and witches. What was Durmstrang compared to Hogwarts, Bulgaria compared to Britain?

Dimitar stared at Viktor, dazed and confused. Maria gasped, her eyes darted from Viktor to Dimitar. Both were motionless for a few seconds, before Maria made a move to rush to him, but Dimitar held up a hand. He drained his wine glass, before he spoke.

"Romania is suffering economic instability now, but it remains the great nation that it is, with its protected natural ecosystems, its historic and attractive tourist destinations, its traditions and culture, its large reserves of crude oil and natural gas. Its dams and hydraulic energy. And this. It's a tough balance, but Muggles are its saving grace. We hated them before, but we should fear them."

Dimitar's face turned grave.

"Dumbledore would have been proud of you." Maria interjected in a soft whisper.

"His faith in you was enough." Viktor coughed, wanting to change the subject.

"Where would you be in three years?" From his friend's attire, he hoped this career would pay off in the end.

Dimitar momentarily clasped his hands, as he pressed them to his lips in contemplation.

"That does not matter in the grand scheme of things, Viktor. I am thinking this, it's better that Professor Dumbledore never knew what I've become, for I am not always proud of what I do here. Still, I love these creatures; most of us do. Newt Scamander may have labeled them as Beast Danger Category 5X in his book, killer and idiotic to domesticate, but they are friends, with names, mind you, and who would not support a friend, until the end?"

Dimitar's sudden chuckle lightened the mood somewhat. Maria approached and handed him a goblet of steaming potion. As she took his empty wine glass, she explained to Viktor. "It's a Voice Replenishing Potion. He talks too much, doesn't he? Your best friend needs a Calming Potion, gets too excited when somebody visits. Quite emotional when his parents visited a month ago. Embarrassing, really." She winked at Viktor, as Dimitar drank her potion with devotion.

"They worry about me too much. So, I get burned. I get bitten. Clawed. Ripped, even. Already happened a hundred times, and I'm still here. Thanks to Maria's potions and salve. She forced me to get a Tetanus shot from a Muggle, I will never forget it." Dimitar leaned closer to Viktor, as Maria walked away, huffing.

"My jewels, burned. Shocked them, I'd say. Alas, so much for impressing the ladies. I think I've lost the drive, too." Dimitar barely whispered, before he straightened up.

With a determined air and a broad smile, Dimitar loudly declared, "But, there are other ways of being happy, and doing what you want is the greatest euphoria."

The lull was interrupted by fire erupting on one side of the tent entrance, followed by harsh, shrill cries. Both men got up, but Dimitar pushed Viktor down before he conjured water that quenched the flames.

"Stay here, Viktor. It's just one dragon or two getting tired of flying in circles. Maria will give you a strong Sleeping Draught. You'll still be alive in the morning, I promise."

With one shared glance with Maria, who had her hand on her chest, Dimitar hastily exited the tent.

Dimitar Yavorov at 21 sounded like an old man; he had matured beyond expectation. He reminded Viktor of Dumbledore. Dimitar was happy, alone, yet considered himself among friends. Viktor was intimidated, yet he envied that feeling.

He did not get it from flying or from being on top of the world. Being higher than the highest peak of either the Carpathian or Balkan Mountains did not give him that feeling.


Viktor woke up with a start as he remembered where he was. Sunlight flooded the room through a small translucent patch on the tent wall. The twin-sized bed he slept on was made of wood with a thin cushion. There was enough space only for a trunk, a wardrobe and a small desk. Viktor had a dreamless, refreshing sleep, but had just begun to feel the headache and ringing of his ears from last night that he thought he imagined two voices arguing.

"Will you at least have breakfast? You did not eat last night." It was Maria's voice. A man, not Dimitar, answered. They were speaking in Bulgarian.

"Alright, but I cannot stay any longer in this place. I am joining the union protest at Bucharest. I have no choice. We have to stand up for our rights as coal miners. It's all we have." By "we" he must've meant Muggles.

"But, don't you think life is better here? You are important here. You are part of the Program to preserve biodiversity and protect the natural ecosystems of this country."

"I know I am not educated like you and Dimitar. I lived in Jiu Valley, all we ever knew was mining coal. The government has closed several mines, because they believe there is no future for the industry. But isn't it the government that put us there in the first place? Now, what is left for us? 20,000 jobs lost!"

"But, there has been a decrease in demand for coal in the last two years. While here, you get paid well as a ranger in this National Park, and we compensate for all damages and inconveniences to you and other rangers. And, you are from Moldavia, you were not born nor raised in Jiu Valley, you barely connect with the people there. Is it the dragons, we promised you protection,..."

"This is no place for a woman. Why do you care for these beasts? You are not a Magizoologist, you can work elsewhere. You know our ways, you are smart, why choose this life? Do you have a death wish, Maria?"

"Do you?"

"Mark my words, as soon as the railways are up and running, this place will be overrun by people you call Muggles. Tourists and opportunists. You will have no more place to hide your dragons, Maria. Your noble project is as good as done, your pets are as good as extinct. Oh, by the way, don't you need coal to run a train?"

Viktor decided to interrupt their conversation by his appearance. "Good morning, Maria. Where's Dimitar?" Maria suddenly stood up from the dining table.

"Viktor, come have breakfast. I trust you slept well? Sit. Oh, this here is Nicolae Cantemir, he..." and decided that was all she could say, "there's Cozunak, and Lukanka from last night. I'll make you coffee. Not the best, but it will warm you up."

"Good morning, had a scare last night? Maria forgot to put extra enchantments on the tent. Anyone could easily burn in their sleep. So, you're a broom flyer. Very masculine. Carrying a broom around...Maria said you play Quidditch? She likes Quidditch, says it's like football. But flying football?" Nicolae, who looked to be about 40, sneered at Viktor as he sat on the table across him. He was the man who was with Dimitar last night. Viktor never sneered; he scowled.

As Maria handed Viktor his coffee, Nicolae stood and rushed towards the tent exit, before he turned around for the last time. "If I don't fight for government aid, if nobody cared for the miners, what good am I? I who belong nowhere. Jiu Valley is the poorest in the country. Why should I not care?" He sighed.

"If all else fails, I will leave for Italy. A better life, maybe. I don't have your hope. But, I don't envy you. Best of luck then."

He gave a curt nod and left. Maria stared after him, before turning to Viktor.

"Have you eaten fried dragon egg? Crushed last night. I have no appetite for it, but you might." Viktor shook his head, smiling politely.

"Dimitar is waiting for you outside. We'll leave after breakfast, alright?" And as she sat down again, they ate quietly.


Viktor followed Maria to the place where he witnessed restless dragons the night before. It was eerily quiet. There were only shackles and leather straps that remained. Softer shrieks were audible, with occasional low grunts, from where he did not know. The sun warmed him greatly. It was apparent that the rocky landscape was created and maintained by falling...

"Viktor, watch out for falling stones, the mountains are constantly eroding. The mountains are rugged due to erosion, and become increasingly so as dragons step over them to get to their young. Let's go have a look!"

Viktor followed with his broom as Maria Yanevski, garbed like a Muggle Alpinist, levitated herself to ascend the mountains. The peak they reached was about 2,300 m. The air was thinner, and it took Viktor a while to adjust. Dimitar Yavorov was waiting for them, legs and elbows sprawled on the grass, watching a very young dragon tear up some edelweiss. Another in the near distance was eating what once was a struggling Pygmy owl, blood splattered on its face. Still another was staring at a lake, apparently amused by its reflection. These young creatures, different species each, were 2-3 feet tall. Their scales were smooth, and there were no spikes. Their heads were proportionately bigger. At least a hundred feet away were several groups of adult dragons sleeping on their bellies, smoke emitting from their nostrils, oblivious to some of their young jumping on their tails.

"They need to be taught how to fly soon, or they'll do nothing but fatten themselves. Voracious eaters they are." Dimitar said lazily.

"How do they learn to fly?"

"Same way birds figure it."

One of the wakeful adult dragons, a Swedish Short Snout, was seated on its hind legs, nuzzling its young. Maria seemed to be talking to it, as she rubbed the scales on its neck. Then, she tapped the youngling to follow her. After a few feet distance, Maria levitated it to hover over the lake, until it was about twenty feet up, before she released the dragon, which only dropped headlong on the body of cold water, squawking at her in indignation. The parent snorted, snapped its jaws, and lashed its tail, seemingly exasperated or encouraging.

Then the dragon reared its head toward the bright sun. Other dragons that were awake laid on their backs, bellies and legs up, or scratched their backs against the ridges, throwing off debris and stones. Grunts and snorts in synchrony.

"They love the sunlight, and they marvel at its reflection on the lakes, as on anything, really. Love shiny objects, the metal shields, for instance. One of them stole Maria's gold...As you can see, Viktor, dragons can be peaceful creatures. I was thinking that maybe darkness alarms them. Maybe the lack of sunlight makes them think they're in unfamiliar territory. Maybe their vision is impaired at night. Maybe they're really nocturnal, just wanted freedom. Some do sleep at night, though, unmedicated. I do not know if it's some sort of Vitamin they get or maybe solar radiation. I cannot explain this calming effect of the sun on them. Like all is right with the world."

Maybe the sparse oxygen had something to do with their...

Maria, undismayed, tried again. The young short snout tried to run away, but was magically impeded. Dimitar scrambled to his feet towards them; he pulled her arm just as she was on the verge of pushing the young dragon over the cliff. They had an inaudible discussion, about a few meters from where Viktor stood. Dimitar was holding one of her arms, while he was touching her cheek, whether he was telling her it wasn't a good idea to kill the youngling in front of its parent, Viktor never knew.

His musings were cut short by something trying to cut into his leg. Good thing to wear combat boots, too, for a small Romanian baby dragon seemed eager to play with him or eat him. He could've dislocated his knee with all the effort he took to disengage this thing from its pastime.

Dimitar distracted it with his silver Muggle watch, and it scampered away. Viktor lost his balance and fell on his bottom. He scowled as they laughed at his expense.

There were other Magizoologists who attended to mothers hatching their eggs, administering medications or vitamins. Some were just gathering water from the lakes.

The best part of the day was the knowledge that the Horntails were contentedly in deep slumber, both young and old. Viktor learned that the old had a tendency to burn their young or crush their eggs at night during fits of rage, which was why they were released at night.

"All these years, we've done nothing but speculate. In the meantime, how much more damage can these mountain ranges endure? Eventually they will be reduced to hills and plains. We certainly are no help to Muggles."

Hard life. Uncertain future. Borrowed time.

It was not a life that Viktor would want for anyone. Sacrificial.

His friends sensed that he should not endure more than two nights, and they encouraged him to return home.


"So, you like Quidditch?" Viktor and Maria were standing in front of the tent, facing the beginning sunset, their faces radiant orange. Maria's black hair was tied in a loose bun, her dark eyes enticing, her lips were full of mirth, baring perfect teeth. She stood straight at 5'5", a slender, graceful figure. Although older by about three years, despite wearing a shirt and pants, she was very attractive in her simplicity, and her errant ways.

Maria shrugged.

"A little. It was just distraction for me. The vampires from Brasov City, Transylvania bring us news from other parts of the world. Including Quidditch. You are very popular among the ladies, I recall. " She smiled at him again, before she looked away, her face turned serious.

"The vampires venture everywhere, of course only at night. They're good at getting information, a bunch of gossips they are. They get invited, very popular with the wizards, so they claim. I don't know why we never heard about Professor Dumbledore's death. He was our hero here. He was one of my inspirations...

"Anyway, I'm glad you did not meet them, they sometimes drop by here when they're bored, ravish some sheep, or chamois, then leave before dawn. They're opportunistic, parasitic, albeit lonely creatures. I don't care much for them. We'd kill them if they hurt the Muggles. Since Dracula's Castle became a tourist attraction, they had hardly gotten any peaceful sleep; that's why they travel a lot."

There were herds of chamois down the valley below. Several Muggle boys were leading them home, Viktor supposed. They were safe for the time being.

"I really admire what you're doing, Maria. Standing by my friend."

Maria crossed her arms, the chilly air seemed to affect her more.

"As long as Dimitar needs me, I will be here. He is very stressed, especially during the school year when he would come home at night from school. I am the only one who can calm him down, though he thinks it's my potions. I don't care about his jewels being..." She touched her cheeks abruptly, before straightening herself up.

"Well, there are more important things, like his passion and his depth of understanding. I hope he would take a break when he graduates..." There was a wistful look on her face.

Dimitar was somewhere with the other Magizoologists, working on some dragon, while some other group checked on nursing mothers, some on the eggs, or the younglings.

"He wanted me to settle down. Somewhere where I can raise children. While I still could." She wiped a tear from her face, and huffed. "He cannot get rid of me that easily. He will miss me, I know it!" Maria stared at Viktor.

"Thank you for coming, Viktor. It brought joy to my Dimitar."

"Have you told him you love him?"

"Don't worry about me, Mr. Krum. My problems do not factor in the grand scheme of things. Worry about your own. What's her name, Herminy?"

"Yavarov told you? That's, that's a long time ago! I don't even know how to say her name. I was young then, I was stupid. Stupid. I want...to forget it." Viktor blushed and looked away, as he stamped his foot on the ground.

"Well, don't make stupidity a habit, then." Viktor took the words to heart. He calmed down and spoke wearily.

"Nothing happened between us. So, we...shared a kiss. We were young. She liked somebody else even then."

"Viktor Krum, for the sake of your friend, who risks his life to care for creatures no one cared about, he who thinks nothing of himself, he who wants to cherish life in all its forms,..."

"Make something of my life, you mean?" Viktor asked, bitterly.

"Love, like it's the first time. Love like it's the only thing that matters. Even if it hurts in the end."

With that, the conversation ended. She turned back towards the tent, leaving Viktor and the sun to sink into the shadows.


AN: As much as I liked writing this long chapter, this is the only one in this story. I've run out of ideas, honestly.