3 days. Constant tracking that meant no food or rest. Ron and I rarely drank, as we had, and still don't have any ways of storing water and carrying it with us.

The trees around us are not like the ones by the school, and I don't think there are any of these ANYWHERE in Britain…

So what's going on?

The only upside to the situation is that I can see the sky, which is spectacularly cloudy today. And, actually warmer that usual- isn't it supposed to be winter?

I stare down at the floor, in search of the tracks, when I realize that Ron's sat down and the tracks stopped ten feet ago.

"God fucking DAMNIT!" I scream in fury and punch the tree that's to my left. I don't punch it that hard, so I'm sure that I won't break my hand. The last thing I need right now is another injury.

I lean on the tree, placing my head on the bark; tears threatening to spill.

I didn't do it; they're gone.

Worry then begins to set in. I fon't know how far Ron and I have actually walked/ran, and how to get back to Hogwarts. (A/N I gotta get back to Hogwarts, I gotta get back to school! Yay for Starkid!)

"Celeste." Ron says, his voice cracking. I turn around to look at him and nod; indicating for him to continue, "What are we -"

He's cut off by the sound of human footprints and some of a horse, making contact with the uneven ground.

The two of us are silent, listening to the sound of the footsteps, which stop nearby and voices begin a conversation about food.

Twenty or so seconds later, after hearing the voices begin, they stop and a single pair of teps (the heaviest sounding) begin heading in our direction that I'm no longer facing.

Ron stands and pulls the sword our of its scabbard, which is secured in his belt. I mouth to him, "Do you have any idea how to use that?" but I never receive my reply, as two short people then suddenly tackle the ginger, Ronald Weasley to the ground: sitting, or rather lying on his arms to keep him there, wrestling the weapon from his grip.

They'd appeared by running silently around the other side of the tree; a blind spot. Stupid me for resting here!

A sudden thought then goes through my mind: somebody might attack me from behind, and I won't be able to defend myself.

So, in a quick breath, I remove the knife that's hidden in my left boot, hold it- ready to wound my next attacker. I turn around.

The next few events occur so fast.

Almost instantly after I turned around, a tall stranger, with a hood that was covering his/her face tries to punch me in my nose. I duck under his punch and quickly retaliate with an upper cut to their jaw.
The person stumbles backwards and their hood is thrown off their face; revealing a man- around 40 with VERY dirty shoulder length black hair.

Anger invades the person's face, and the man- now unmasked- lunges forward and grabs my plat in his hand, pulling it with a large amount of strength, that was painful to endure.

Reacting, but not thinking, I bite the person's hand. Hard. And I keep biting harder, until I draw blood- which really didn't take that long due to the fact that I always bite people pretty hard.

The man roared in pain, and then, possibly out of instinct, he- with his free arm- managed to free his now bloody hand from my grip, before shoving me into a tree; my knife getting knocked out of my grip and falling to the ground, a fair distance away.

I become dazed slightly, but I still try to fight. As I walk forward- just one step- the man unsheathes his sword, pushed me back against the tree, but this time, he holds his weapon against my throat.

My heart begins beating at a stupidly fast rate, but my breathing now comes in short, quick spurts, indicating that I was absolutely petrified with fear.

"Who are you?" he hisses at me. "Why are you following us?"

I open my mouth to reply, but my voice doesn't seem to work. The guy snarls, and pushes the sword closer to my throat; I can feel two drops of blood begin trickling down my neck, from where the sword has dug into my skin already.

"I'll ask you again… WHO ARE YOU!" he spat, shouting the last part. I was so scared, but I tried to keep calm- which didn't work.

"Celeste Black!" I screamed in terror. "My name's Celeste Black, and that's Ronald Weasley over there." I said, nodding over to where Ron was still being at on. "And we weren't trying to follow you, sir. Honest!" I hold my breath, when I finished. He ponders my reply for a moment, and then he removes the sword from beside my throat, and replaces it in his scabbard.

I let out a small sigh of relief, but wince at the sting the cut on my neck gave me when I did; reminding me that it was bleeding. I immediately placed a hand on it; in hope that the flow of blood would cease soon.

Stepping away from the tree, I realize that the two short people who were sitting on Roin were being lifted of him by their two friends, who were all similar heights, and the guy who'd just tried to decapitate me, was bringing a pony, loaded with equipment into view.

Ron lept to his feet and quickly walked over to where I was standing, not too far away from the others. The two who had tackled him to the ground murmured "Sorry, mister" as he walked past. As Ron stood next to me, his face began to take in the severity of the situation. "Are you alright?" he asks me. I reply with a nod, picking up my knife, which was now beside my feet, and placed it in my left boot. (I'm left-handed, so what?)

Someone cleared their throat near us. Ron and I both turned to look at who it was. The five others were waiting for us, with looks of impatience on their faces. "Are you coming with us or not?" one of the shorter people asks with a shout. I then take in, that five of the people infront of me are all men, and that I'm the only female person here- but it doesn't faze me.

I don't know how to reply to that question, however. They've just tried to kill us, and now they're asking the two lost kids to travel with them. I look at Ron for support on the matter, but he's already saying "We're coming, don't have a cow".

The strange 5 then begin to walk away from us, with Ron deciding to follow. I'm wondering if I could just stay there, where I was, but that would mean leaving Ron with those people, and I still don't trust the tallest one. So I follow, and walk beside my ginger acquaintance in case some trouble arises.

~~~ Later ~~~

We walked for hours in an uncomfortable silence, until, having enough of it; the short one with the sandy hair introduced us to his traveling party.

His name was Samwise Gamgee, but preferred to be called Sam. The two who tackled Ron were Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took, but also preferred to be called something else: Merry and Pippin. The last short one, who I noticed from time to time was clutching a ring in his fist was Frodo Baggins, though Sam was looking worried when he told us that, and he kept glancing every now and then at me; does he really think that I'm untrustworthy?

The last guy; the one who tried to cut my throat is Aragorn, who introduces himself. But the other four: Sam, Frodo, Merry and Pippin, call him 'Strider'.

"Strider?" I ask when they first said, "What kind of name is 'Strider'?"

Aragorn/Strider- whatever his bloody name is, turned to face me, and calmly replied "You ask that, but what kind of a name is 'Celeste'?"

I can hear Ron sniggering beside me, as 'Strider' turns forward again.

"Touché." I say, smiling myself.