Ethan felt surprisingly strong. Stronger than he ever had. The fever was gone and the village around him – the dirt path, the trees and even the fallen snow seemed unreal, almost ethereal in the glow of the moonlight. The moonlight that he felt on his skin. After the attack in the castle that he could only remember now in flashes and glimpses, he thought he was gone. Dead. And maybe he was for a moment or so until he found himself whole and standing behind that woman.

When he grabbed her and tore into her flesh, something happened inside him that grounded him in his seething, blind rage. He saw into her and felt things that didn't belong to him. He saw her mother, Alcina, and the dark power she exerted over the girl. Felt her hate, loneliness and bloodlust. He saw Chris, and that he had been with her at that castle. He saw that bastard and any thoughts that the agent wasn't involved in Rose's kidnapping and Mia's death disintegrated along with his mercy.

He didn't feel bad about what he did to the girl…girls. He didn't feel anything except the night around him and the cool air on his face. He could almost smell dawn and when he closed his eyes, he was intrigued to find he didn't need his vision to guide him. He stayed the path and felt the crunch of the ice and leaves and stones beneath his feet as if he was under them. The trees whispered to him, bowed to him.

"O-ho!" A laughter rung out in the darkness, and Ethan's eyes snapped open to find an old cart by the roadside, meats and chains swinging as a man shifted his weight over the side to peer down at him.

At once, he felt a presence that he couldn't place, a pressure in his head and something dark. Darker than the blood that had spilled from his throat when he was torn open by that witch. It pulsed from the body of this stranger. "Ah, Mr. Winters! It's such a pleasure that we can finally meet. I've been waiting for you." His voice didn't match his aura.

Ethan wasn't put off that he knew his name. Only one person here knew who he was. Only one person was on his side – and maybe this man knew her. He approached the carriage, curiosity brimming.

"Waiting? How do you know who I am? Do you know Mary?" The man didn't seem concerned that Ethan was covered in blood, however black.

"Mary hm? No, I can't say I know anyone by that name." His eyes gleamed as he cocked his head to the side. "But what about Rose? How does she fare?"

Ethan's blood froze in his veins. "What the hell do you know about Rose?" His words were savage, raw. Beneath him he felt the earth shudder and if the man felt it, he hid it well.

"Oh, it's a small village. Word travels fast in small villages, you know. It's a terrible shame."

"What. Do. You. Know." Ethan knew his body language promised he could deliver on the threat laced in his tone.

The man didn't seem at all ruffled by the violent death he was inches from. His voice was positively cheerful as he replied, "Me? Unfortunately, not much more than you. I'm just a traveling merchant, you see. Information ebbs and flows but I specialize more in trading for bits and bobs. Oh, and some of the best fare this village has ever seen." He paused, looking very pleased with himself. "It's good to see some new blood around here, since my talents are wasted on the palettes of the village, I'm afraid." The dried meats swayed above his head as if to agree.

"Ah, I know! I've just prepared some stew. My food is the finest, after all. Perhaps a taste?" He clicked his tongue as he squinted down at Ethan. "Though I don't imagine you are very hungry, are you?"

It was strange. He couldn't remember the last time he ate, but the man was right. He wasn't hungry, wasn't thirsty. Ethan tried to peer over the man's shoulder, into the darkness in the cart behind him, but he only saw shadow that gave him and uneasy feeling, like a pressure in his head that spread through his whole body.

The man rubbed his hands together, still smiling down at him, "Well, either way it's good to see you alive and well. I have faith that she will be restored, Mr. Winters."

Despite himself and the ominous sensation, he believed him when he said he had nothing to do with Rose, but not that he was short on intel.

"Information, huh. What other information do you have? I have some money, if that's what you want." He held out what he carried with him, but the merchant didn't move for it or even look at it, his gaze trained above Ethan's head. Ethan followed it, but all he saw was a murder of crows in the tree above.

Still staring at the birds and looking uncomfortable, he responded, "There is nothing more deceptive than an obvious fact, to quote the great Mr. Holmes."

Ethan didn't have time for this, he had to keep moving. He had already delivered his flasks. She had looked disappointed that he only had two, but when he told her what happened in the castle she seemed ecstatic...despite the fact that the man in the factory now had two as well.

This guy was obviously not all there, and he didn't need to know much else. Ethan already had his orders; Mary had given him all the information he would need to get Rose back. His newfound power thrummed beneath his skin, whispering to him and urging him on. Without another word, he pocketed the money and continued on his way. From behind him, he heard the man call out, "Take care, Mr. Winters!"

From above the stars burned and flickered, and it couldn't feel like anything except a warning.

XX

The merchant sighed, turning back into the carriage to the hushed conversation that Ethan had interrupted. He kept his voice low, knowing now he had an audience beyond the cover of the wagon. And, he was slightly more concerned, seeing the man in person and knowing what Donna had told him was more than true. "She's watching him."

"So?" Donna shifted to her knees, steadying herself as the cart swayed.

"Well by default then she's watching us, too." He knew he had to cut his little talk with Ethan short, lest Miranda descend upon him, too. No, better to stay out of it.

"It doesn't matter. She's never seen me, why would she take notice now?" He heard disinterest, not hurt in her voice.

"What do you think? Have you heard enough, seen enough of his mind? Do you still think that killing him is the right course of action? Or do you wish to strike closer to the source?" She had undoubtedly scraped his memories while keeping herself invisible to him.

Donna stilled, either unwilling to share her thoughts or none came to her. Either way, that Ethan walked away from this carriage was answer enough. When she didn't speak, he continued with a grin, "The new look really is very charming on you."

She gave him the slightest nod, but he could tell the compliment pleased her by the glimmer in the eye she no longer hid beneath a veil. And it wasn't only her face, but the whole of her was no longer obscured by heavy, dark mourners' garb. She wore black still, but now a tight-fitting long sleeve sweater. The collar was slightly stretched, showing its wear, that displayed her petite shoulders. Her dark pants were similarly fitted, the material of which he could not recall providing. He made sure his eyes didn't linger on the fresh bruising of her face where Miranda had pushed that thing into her skull so many years ago.

He wished he had more wisdom to impart to her, but he was at a loss when she sought him out only minutes before Ethan crossed their path.

"If you have no more information, then Salvatore is waiting." Her voice wasn't impatient, but steady and preoccupied, as if she were already at the gates of the reservoir. He wasn't ready to let her leave, yet he didn't want to broach the subject of Ethan again with her. He only hoped that their earlier conversation had cooled her blood enough. She didn't say it outright, but she didn't have to. He knew she was going for Miranda. A fool's errand, if attempted alone, so he continued his effort in a more subtle way.

"There are other outsiders here. A man and a woman, from the very same group that attacked Miranda the other night. And the girl is close to Lord Heisenberg it seems. An interesting match. She survived a few rounds with your sister and nieces, too. A good ally to have, don't you agree?"

"She must be very strong then, to take on my family and live. And that bodes well for us."

He let out a small noise of approval and handed her a bowl of rapidly cooling stew. "I think you're right, Donna. I hope...I hope you are right."