A/N: Hello, all! Sorry for the wait. Still in the process of packing/moving, so I can't write out thorougher [is that word?] responses to your reviews, but I wanted to give you something in the meantime. It's nothing too exciting again though - this plot-setup period is going slowly...

THANK YOU to lovirosa, sarahmichellegellarfan1, misslak, nessafly, missalex3030, and Lady Syndra for all the amazingly kind reviews! Also, thanks for all the job congratulations haha. I'm incredibly thrilled for this next chapter in my life, and it seems to be coming at an appropriate time in our story as well. Big turning points ahead!

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Chapter 48: Of Deep Carving Lines

Remus thought he might vomit from anxiety at any moment.

He sat in a large hut of earthy wooden tones and animal pelts. His nose was filled with the pungent odor of the hunt and sweat. Surrounding him was a large gathering of the Gladaman werewolf tribe. There was a ratio of perhaps five to one, favoring the men. A few small children danced around the edges. Loud, gruff voices growled and boomed around him as the tribe discussed a series of community matters. He was struck by how truly animalistic these people seemed to be. Despite being of the same race, he had an incredibly difficult time relating to these men. Was it the result of being with their own kind or simply from living so harshly? He supposed that anyone could develop this way in these conditions.

Remus sat beside the tribe chief Ulfred, who sat at the head of the hut on a large pile of lush pelts. His hair was wild, chapped lips tight over his broad teeth, as he watched his people fight and discuss. He rarely gave input - Remus was reminded of Dumbledore's constant moderation - but his presence was certainly felt by all. Remus felt minuscule compared to these men.

A small group, in particular, were quite intimidating. There were about four of them, all seated towards the front. They seemed much more grisly and hard than the rest. They sat murmuring in low tones, following Remus with narrow looks from deep set eyes. Remus did his best to not make eye contact with them, but he couldn't help but notice that the tribesmen around them were careful to not bump or rub up against them. It was like watching magnets of the same charge hover around each other. Three of them occasionally threw in their opinions into the discussion, but their leader never spoke. Remus had a dreadful feeling in the pit of stomach as he laid eyes on this man.

Ulfred finally stood, shoulders squared and domineering.

Ulfred gazed over the crowd calmly and fondly before his face straightened out solemnly. The tribe's faces seemed to melt to match it. "Last for tonight, I wanna discuss summin' o' great importance," he started seriously. "We have a guest here. He is a fellow Brother from London, and he bears a request."

Murmurs broke out amongst the werewolves. Remus felt all of their eyes fall upon him. His stomach seized with nausea, but he kept his expression hard and determined, shoulders squared off and defiant. These men would jump at the smallest sign of weakness.

"Quiet! Quiet!" barked Ulfred. The murmurs hushed again. "He comes as an emissary from the great wizard Albus Dumbledore." The intimidating group of men at the front glowered, Remus noted with a slight tremor of nerves. "I ask that ya hear him out. Treat him as a Brother. He is my guest. Bear that in mind," he warned. He eyed the tribesmen with a piercing look. A few nodded solemnly. No one protested. When Ulfred was sure that his words had been heard, he turned towards Remus. He stood from his seat and Ulfred sat.

Remus' hands trembled as he looked out at the crowd. They were so much fiercer than he. They were the same, and yet he felt completely alien. Even if he were to join his kind, he'd be just as much of an outsider here as he was in London. The thought left him feeling empty.

But he gathered up his courage and pushed ahead. He wanted to say that it was the cold winter chill that made his hands tremble.

"Hello, Brothers, Sisters," he greeted. He was surprised by the strength of his own voice. The dark presence in him howled. "My name is Remus Lupin. I've come here today as a representative of Albus Dumbledore with an offering of peace from the Order of the Phoenix." He brought out his wand – a few murmurs of awe were heard – and he waved it overhead. A large trunk appeared and fell to the ground with a great thunk. He moved forward to open it, revealing an expanse of rich foods and furs. Glimmers of golden Galleons flickered and glowed from the bottom. A wave of wonder settled over the werewolves.

"I bring you this as a token of my well wishes and thanks for your generous hospitality. I hope that you find it suitable and useful," he said, closing the lid of the trunk and taking a step back, gesturing that it was now theirs. A few men at the front eyed it greedily.

"But I also come with warnings," he said gravely. Silence settled over the tribe again. He looked over their hard and scarred faces with severity. "There is a war occurring within the wizarding community. I am sure you have heard of the one they call Lord Voldemort."

Even here, in the rustic, abandoned terrains, the name of the Dark Lord brought pain and fear. Nearly every individual flinched and a few growled at the mere utterance. Remus nodded gravely.

"He is a powerful and terrible wizard. If you have heard of him, I am sure you have heard of the rumors of our fellow Brothers and Sisters who are aiding him in his quest for complete dominance and genocide," he continued. "These werewolves are purposefully going forth and biting and infecting innocents, mostly children-"

A whimper was heard from the back. A woman slapped a hand to her mouth. Remus nodded again sympathetically.

"Yes, even children - the Dark Lord has no qualms about the suffering of others. I come here not to ask you to fight, but to request that you avoid these men, these Death Eaters. They will undoubtedly reach out to you if they have not already. They will try to bribe you and convince you that they will bring you power and riches-"

"And what's so different about what you're doing?"

The room went silent. Remus saw that one of the grisly men who had been shooting him those frightening looks had spoken - the leader. His voice was deep, like the rumbling of falling trees. His hair was the color of muddied straw, and his nose was remarkably crooked as if broken several times. His lip curled in distaste. Remus could see that he'd sharpened his canines to beast-like points. He barely looked human.

"I'm sorry?" Remus asked politely, trying desperately to keep the firm tone of his voice. He hoped that he sounded confident.

"I said - what's so different about what you're doing?" repeated the wolf man, enunciating each word carefully, tauntingly.

Remus held his gaze despite the deep anxiety that shot through him. This man was dangerous - that much was obvious. He needed to tread carefully.

"You believe that I'm bribing you," Remus replied plainly. He stared hard at this wolf man, whose lip pulled higher into a disdainful sneer. Remus nodded knowingly, hearing the silent insults on his face.

"The difference is that I'm not asking anything of you," Remus declared, sharpening his gaze so that it bore into his opponent. His voice was clear and concise. "We don't want you to fight - for either side. All we ask is that you do not get involved."

The wolf man sneered again. "Sounds like a bribe to me. Sounds to me like you're scared. Why not ask us to fight? Why go to the trouble of coming all the way here from London to just tell us to do nothing?" he drawled. His gazed darkened. "You're just as scared of us as the rest of those wizard bastards. You're no Brother of ours."

Murmurs broke out.

"Ajax," growled Ulfred, but the man Ajax seemed deaf to his warning. If anything, his lip only curled higher.

"What can you offer us that these Death Eaters can't? Why shouldn't we choose to side with them?"

Murmurs were heard again. Ulfred stomped a gigantic leather-clad boot on the ground, demanding silence. Remus felt his chest tighten, and sweat beaded on his upper lip. He felt unbearably hot, but he forced his face to remain straight. He hoped that his gaze had remained hard.

"These men are concerned for one thing only, and it does not involve the elevation of the werewolf," Remus continued, voice now raised and angry. Despite the cold, heat coursed through his veins. The chill that had held his form for the past few days had completely fell away. It seemed to melt liquidly, sinking into his flesh and bones. "These men want to annihilate all those who do not fall into their idea of 'pureblood' and are willing to use those whom they find inferior to achieve those ends. They find us inferior."

Someone in the back smashed a fist against the ground in anger, and a series of shouts were heard. Ulfred, once again, had to call order.

"These men are dangerous," Remus continued solemnly. "They will stop to no ends to achieve their goals. I do not ask that you fight with the Order of the Phoenix against these men, only that you do not aid them. I do not wish to place my brethren in the face of a war that does not involve you. I only wish to warn you against the threat. When these men come – and they will – turn them away. Do not engage them – for despite their promises, they will only bring you suffering. They may offer you riches and glory, but as soon as they feel your use has been fulfilled, they will turn on you as well."

Remus kept his eyes locked with Ajax's. The man said nothing, but he could see the anger burning there. This was not the answer he had been seeking, but he obviously had no rebuttal for the time being. The dark voice roared in Remus' heart, not in victory but in warning. This man Ajax was not a man of peace. Something within him knew that he would face his anger soon in reparation.

"Alrigh', tha's enough fer tonight."

Remus was jerked from his silent exchanged with a large hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see Ulfred smiling thinly, humorlessly, down at him.

"It's late. We'll continue this discussion tomorrow. I want everyone to consider Brother Remus' words of warnin'. This is not an issue to take lightly," he warned. His eyes lingered upon Ajax and his three companions, who muttered to each other darkly. Ajax's gaze had not left Remus' face, and he felt a small tremor in his gut. He would not sleep well tonight.

In London, Rowan sat at her table with her Potioneer licensing certificate laid out neatly in front of her. It was dark out – almost time for sleep – but she couldn't stop looking at her newly acquired documents and replaying the events of the afternoon. The grin on her face had been plastered there for hours now, and she had to stop herself from touching it.

Beside the documents was the diary Remus had given her for Christmas. Its blood red cover glowed in the light of her apartment. She ran a hand across it gingerly and thought of Remus, wishing desperately he could be there with her.

Carefully, she placed her license back into the brown folder D'Este had given her that day and slid the diary in front of her, opening it to the front page where Remus' familiar handwriting remained. She ran a thumb across her inky name and could imagine the deep tremor of Remus' voice. She missed him terribly.

But suddenly, black ink began to spread like vein across the next page. Rowan's hands shot off of the book in surprise – had she spilled something?

No, she realized it was the same familiar scrawl that she'd come to love so very much over the years – it was Remus!

Hello?

Rowan's face lit up as she read the simple word. It whispered his voice almost. She wanted to peel it from the book and store it away like a small treasure.

She needed to write back! She looked around frantically for her ink and quill – the same gray quill he'd given her so long ago – and set to writing back.

Hello!

For a moment, she waited, and then the inky began to spread again. Her heart leapt as she saw Remus' words type out quickly.

Wow, I'm lucky to have caught you at the right time. This is cool, eh?

Rowan laughed softly. She could see his smug smirk in her mind's eye. She dipped her quill again and began to write.

Yes, very cool. How are you? Where are you?

I'm fine. I can't say much for now, but I'm up north and safe. I'll probably have to stay for another few days, but I'll be home soon. How are you? How was the exam?

Rowan beamed happily. It seemed to be molded into her face permanently.

Fantastic! I passed with top marks! The youngest Potioneer in English history!

Congratulations! I knew you'd pass. We'll be sure to celebrate when I get home. Have you told your mum yet?

No, not yet. I was going to go see her and Alfred tomorrow. So much has happened today. I can't wait to tell you everything when you come back. It's almost unbelievable, really.

Seems like we've both had extraordinary days then. Unbelievable is the right word.

Rowan grinned and nearly clapped her hands with delight. So his mission was going well!

I can't wait to hear all about it. What is the tribe like? Are you getting on with them?

There was a pause in Remus' fast responses, and Rowan's previous glee slowed. Perhaps the mission wasn't going as swimmingly as she'd first assumed. Finally, his words began to spread again, cautiously this time. She could nearly hear his voice from the slow crawl of ink.

I don't really know how to describe it... Haunting, I suppose. Like I said, I can't tell you much for now, but it's a completely different world, like I've stepped into a strange time in the past. It's mostly men here – warrior types; not many women, but a surprising number of children.

Rowan's heart clenched. She couldn't imagine how difficult it must be for him to see children like him. He must have had a hard time when he'd arrived.

Are you making much progress on your mission?

I'm not sure, to be honest. I'd like to think so, but I don't want to jinx myself. It's delicate. There seems to be a complex system of politics here that I don't quite understand yet. It's tense. There are a few individuals who are obviously not keen on my being here. I'm meeting with the tribesmen again tomorrow, so I'll let you know how it goes.

Rowan's chest was tight. Remus sounded very apprehensive, despite the few details he was giving her. And if she was feeling that anxiety through mere words then he must truly be worried. She wanted to be there to support him. She wished there were a way to transfer her hope through the book along with her words, but she couldn't even find the right ones to say.

Good luck. I know you'll do great.

She reread the weak encouragement with some shame. Wasn't there something better, something more meaningful? Why couldn't she think of anything?

There was so much she wanted to ask, so much she wanted to know. A community of werewolves - how fascinating would that be? Her inner researcher was green with envy, despite all the fear she had for Remus. How readily were they accepting him there? Was it everything he'd imagined? They hadn't had much time to discuss his thoughts on the matter before he left - it'd been such a sudden assignment. She was suddenly even more eager for him to come home, just so that she could hear all about his mission.

Rowan thought again for a moment. She felt a question at the back of her throat, but she was unsure of how to word it. How would he respond?

But before she could ask, his neat scrawl began to creep out again.

It's strange. Technically, these people are my "kind," but I feel so out of place here. I've always felt like I didn't belong, but now that I'm here, I feel even less at ease. I'm not sure what to make of it. Does that make any sense?

Rowan let out a sigh of relief and smiled brightly. Even miles away, he seemed to be on the same wavelength as she. Her chest felt very warm.

It does. I'm not really sure what to say. You've always belonged here, even if you never realized it. You certainly belong with me.

Rowan waited for a moment. His reply didn't come as quickly. Had she said the wrong thing? Conversing so far apart and without seeing him was very difficult. She shifted anxiously, waiting for his response with bated breath.

Finally, his scrawl appeared again.

You're right. I've always belonged with you.

Rowan let out a sigh and grinned. She wanted to throw herself at him.

Damn straight.

A blot of illegible ink appeared, then a little smear. Rowan watched it amusedly as it slid back and forth.

Sorry, I laughed and spilled a bit of ink. I wish I could pinch your face right now.

Rowan laughed out loud.

I wish you could too. I'll let you pinch it as much as you want when you get home.

You're going to regret that.

Rude.

Rowan smiled as she admired their conversation. She could hear his voice in every syllable, every line. She suddenly didn't feel so lonely.

I should go to bed. I'm helping some of the men with a few tasks early in the morning. You should get some rest too. I'm sure you had a long day.

Rowan yawned on cue. She smiled softly to herself as she rubbed her eyes before setting her quill back down on the page.

Yeah, I did. And I will. Good luck tomorrow. Keep me updated when you can. I'll keep my side open tomorrow evening. I miss you and love you.

Sounds good. I'll try to write tomorrow as well. I miss and love you too. Goodnight, Winnie.

Goodnight, Remus.

Rowan didn't close the diary but pushed it to the side. She slid her chair out from the table and stretched her arms with a great yawn before standing and heading to the bathroom to prepare for bed.

As she settled into the blankets in the dark, she thought of Remus' furrowed brow and long fingers glowing by candlelight in some far-off world. She smiled softly to herself. He was becoming quite the adventurer. She hoped that they'd be able to share the next mission together – what an adventure that would be.

Just outside of Gladaman, silence stretched over the night like a thick blanket. The fields were wide and blue and seemingly endless. The perfection of the cold snow was marred only by a thick trail carved from its depths. It was dark and wandering, like inky sprawls across sparkling paper.

Three figures stood on the edge of the small village. Small winding plumes of smoke whispered up into the dark sky where they seemed to sprinkle across its expanse and join the glowing stars above. The largest bared his teeth, lips stretching into a slow grin. His yellow teeth gleamed from the faint orange light of the campfires, each sharpened cruelly into severe points. He flexed a hand - thick, gnarled fingers extended and curled to cracked and dirt-caked fingernails. His matted gray hair lay limp against his pale face.

He looked up to the sky. The moon was waning - a thin sliver of light. The night of the new moon would be upon them soon.

Good, he thought.

Darkness would suit them well.