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By The Light	By : lycanthrope Category: Harry Potter > FemSlash - Female/Female Views: 17685 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: All of the characters portrayed in this fic (apart from Jamie.) and all other creations existing within the world Of Harry Potter are the creative genius of J.K Rowling, I make no profit from the writing or posting of this fan fiction.

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Chapter 49

I've never been what you might call a squeamish person. Generally I don't experience adverse reactions to various bodily fluids or gruesome scenes but right now, with the ground sodden with cooling blood, sticking thickly to my fingers as I rub them over my thumb. I don't mind admitting that it worries me.

From my crouched pose close to the ground I lift my head to scan the surrounding trees. Somewhere out there I can hear the tail end of a stampede, the terrifying imitation of thunder is already beginning to dim in the distance as participants begin to grow tiered and venture away. I had thought of following the sound right up until the moment the coppery tang of blood filled my nostrils.

It was infinitely more important to follow my nose, over going after the only creatures in this forest that, I feel certain would honestly answer any questions I have to ask them. Even if a little indirectly. I'll wonder later if the compulsion to find the source of the scent was a product of the rational part of my human mind or the primal instinct of the furry beast that resides inside of me. Then after I've figured that out, I'll make a decision on exactly how I feel about either outcome.

Right now my main concern is exactly who this blood belongs too because there is a lot of it. So much so, that I have to shuffle backwards to prevent the toe of my shoes from sinking into the soggy earth beneath them.

I bring my sticky fingers close to my nose and inhale deeply but the action doesn't give me any further incite. It's just blood, viscous and red but the identity of its owner, even the species of origin is a complete mystery to me. Had it been sweat, it wouldn't have posed a problem but blood, blood is always red and coppery. What's the point in having these advances senses, which provoke a near constant pounding behind my eyes, if I can't detect specifics?

With a frustrated grunt I flick my hand outwards, trying to dislodge the droplets of red from my fingertips but only really manage to smear it deep into the groves along my palm.

A second look over the sodden ground, with a slightly more patient eye reveals a selections of footprints, to numerous and haphazard for me to be able to distinguish any sort of direction or number of feet that made them. The fact that I am a complete novice at this doesn't help but even to my unpractised eye I can make out circular hove prints, pressed deeply into the soil.

Possible centaur prints and mass amounts of blood, doesn't matter how I look at this scene, nothing bodes well.

'She is perfectly safe.' Ammy's voice rings in my head and for once I welcome its presence. If only because she's telling me exactly what it is I want to hear.

Careful to keep the blood coating my palm away from my face I run the back of my hand across my lips, a completely nervous movement because I can't just accept the words of comfort and move on. I just have to know; "What makes you so sure?"

I feel her hesitate and the sensation is almost alien beneath my skin. 'Blind optimism.' She replies and she must be able to perceive the dread beginning to seep deep into my bones because she is quick to continue. 'And with so much blood you would expect to find a body.'

"That's not exactly a comfort Ammy." I admonish, rising to my full height by keeping my eyes downcast, scanning the earth for any signs I might have missed or misinterpreted. Nothing is leaping to my attention but still I have to keep looking. I have to be sure, either way. Indecision plays at me, nagging and mocking all at the same time. What I need is a witness but do I really want to take myself into the depths of the forest when the inhabitancies are already so excitable? I suppose want isn't exactly a factor.

Need is what drives me into the foliage and as I duck under a low hanging branch, Ammy's quiet query of; 'Are you sure this is wise?' doesn't even break my step.

"No." I answer, my eyes following the perception of my ears and making me turn my head sharply to the side upon hearing the chirp of a raven. Nervous and jumpy isn't exactly the best stance I could have taken, heading into the centaurs' habitat but I haven't exactly given myself a choice.

Every noise has me turning, or sniffing or tensing ready for attack. The fact that I am unarmed is one I am unable to forget. It's more than slightly oppressing and it forces me to be much more aware of my surroundings. I need opportunity and space to react to anything. It's not as if I can force a much taller and stronger beast to look directly into my eyes and see the sun deity quietly sitting behind them. This thought, so bright and alive that it could almost be described as a compulsion. It takes up every ounce of my attention so I don't see the tripwire. I feel it as it breaks against my calf. It provokes me to do several things in quick succession, all of them stupid.

First of all I stop. Stock still, every muscle, every bone and every thought. The one thing I can be certain about is that this trap is specifically designed to attack this point, right where I stand completely motionless. Secondly I look down. Away from my surroundings, away from whatever must surly be thundering, silently through the darkness to ensnare me and I look down, to the spent, useless length of fragile wire that I have fractured. No fight or flight response engaged just wonder, using up those precious seconds where I should be acting.

It's Ammy that saves me, as strange as that sounds. Her voice is like a loud bark inside my head, threatening to blow my eardrums outwards. One simple, overwhelming command of; 'DOWN!' as if this isn't enough I feel a pressure behind my left knee and it crumples, right from under me. My face may smash against the dry, hard ground and I may have lost every breath of air from my lungs but I completely avoid the log sailing through the air above me. It swoops harmlessly several feet above my prone body; loaded down with so many spears pushed deep into the bark and sharpened along the shafts that it collides with a nearby tree, imbedding itself there with its own weight.

Still stunned by the dramatic turn of events I twist on the ground until I am resting on my backside, reaching out to swipe at the dirt and debris that have collected on my face from the stumble, doubtlessly smearing rapidly drying blood all along my cheek in the process. "How did…" The question dies on my lips and I'm not even certain what it was I meant to ask. My hands are shaking, probably with terror but I can't feel it, my muscles reacting to the fright even while my mind is still catching up to the events. "You floored me." I finally say after inhaling enough to once more be able to breathe.

'Yes.' She is very slow to admit, she even waits the full beat of my heart to give me time to react but I all really do is push my fingers and thumb against my eyelids. 'You had not seen it.'

"No." Is my very clipped response. The entity inside of me clearly has much more influence over my physical presence than I had realised before and I know that should make me angry. In honesty I am angry, furious in fact. Not just because she has taken certain aspects of my fate out of my hands, also because those actions have saved my life and now I have to be grateful for it. "Thank you."

'You have my word, I will try not to do that too often.' She's beginning to learn me, inside and out. Something that should by all rights be just a little bit scary to me but this is potentially the second time she has saved my skin, so I feel safe enough not to fret over it just now. Besides she tries to gloss over it before I can really begin to over think her intervention, her voice dropping from a guarded tone to one that is light and almost mocking. 'But you will land yourself in these situations.'

With a grunt I press against the dry earth, pushing myself into a crouch and then upright. Rising very quickly to the obvious bait. "To think, this conversation started out so well." Upon shaking off the remanence of my fright I shake my head to clear it, my ears at once detecting a distance thud carried with the breeze. Even though I cannot quite distinguish what it is I am able to hear, I can make an educated guess. "What's that?" I ask, seemingly to the open air, perhaps even to myself but privately, all I am hoping for is for the disembodied voice floating around in my skull to contradict my conclusions.

She pauses, straining her senses against my ears before committing to any sort of response. 'Almost sounds like a gallop.'

"You know…" Subconsciously I take a step back, I know the vague direction of the noise but a centaur at full gallop I cannot hope to outrun. The uneven terrain and my much tighter turning circle are my only advantages without access to a wand. So I force myself to stand and wait. "I was afraid you were going to say that."

Twigs snap, unseen somewhere in the gloom, gathering momentum and rapidly gaining ground to my position. It all happens instantly. The foliage parting and a rampaging centaur is within my sites, unfortunately that also means that I am within his. The creature before me is both striking and terrifying. His horse half standing at least fourteen hands, the short fur along his lower half black as the moonless sky. His upper half is no less foreboding, deep tan in colour with thick black hair coating his chest, head and chin.

The uneven terrain and close confines afforded by the trees don't even appear to slow the man down as his long, powerful legs give him much more drive than mine and as he breaks the tree line his front legs are folded beneath his body in a long leap. His bow held aloft like a club already beginning to swing down towards me.

His front hooves haven't even touched the floor and I'm running at as much of an angle as I dare, to try and get just a little lead on the much faster animal. My escape is so fine that I hear the displacing air, over the sound of hooves just seconds before both strike the ground, kicking up leaves and dirt with the force of the blow.

I duck under branches, hop from one side of trees to another, bouncing from left to right in an anxious attempt to outmanoeuvre the creature. Nothing works, nothing is enough and he just keeps gaining on me. All the while his thunderous stride just a quarter step behind me, almost clipping my heels.

My legs already burn with the strain of the mad dash to outrun the animal and I both feel and hear his hooves smashing against the ground behind me, getting so close so quickly that I can feel his breath against my neck. In desperation I put the flat of my hand to the top of a fallen tree and use the limb as a pivot point to hop over it, the bark scrapes against my palm and I use the arch of my jump to swivel into another direction

The trees ahead of me open up into a clearing, the light of the moon filtering through the canopy of the trees and I am fast running out of places to duck and weave. Behind me he whinnies and shorts but the jump he clears easily; barely even stopping to look at the obstacle, just leaping and trampling towards me. The smell of horseflesh filling my nostrils and the heavy snorts of frustration that sends stale warm air down my spine.

Against my better judgement I chance a glance over my shoulder towards the sound of thundering hooves. Just in time to see the speeding stallion rearing back his makeshift club once more, held high over his opposite shoulder in preparation for a sweeping blow to cut down and across his body.

In a move that is driven by pure instinct I lean backwards and lock my knees pulling my body to a sliding stop, the movement too quick too keep my balance and I tumble onto my side, a blur of deep black fur invading my vision for only a moment.

The Centaur still brings down his bow to the ground, striking a tree and screaming out into the night. With two legs stretched out in front of him he also slides to a stop, quickly rearing up onto his hind legs and turning on the spot, raising so high that the leaves hanging low on the braches brush his head and shoulders. In the same action pulling an arrow from his quiver on his back, notching it and by the time his front hooves land on the ground facing me the bow string has been pulled taught then released, sending the sharp projectile hurtling towards me.

I react quickly to the drastic change of events but not quite quickly enough, my feet slip and skate against the unforgiving ground, sliding against the dry, brown leaves and it takes me two attempts to gather myself up and clamber onto my knees. The arrow sides past me, landing against the dirt and quivering with the force of impact. It's only when I both see and smell my blood coating the weapon that I realise the sharp head has caught my upper arm and split the skin.

The ground is hard against my hands and I feel more than a few stones press into my flesh; still I push myself up and onto my feet. Finding momentary sanctuary by squeezing between two trees, the bark scraping, painfully against my injured arm and I can hear it tearing my clothing.

The large brute behind me is forced to meander around the two oak trees I have escaped through and as such I am able to gather more ground on him, hopefully giving myself enough time to be able to think of a viable method of escape.

At the same moment I spy a low hanging branch that I should be able to clamber up to, I hear a thundering cry from behind me. Some sound that cannot be made by man nor beast, a deafening howl somewhere between a battle cry of a man and the furious whiney of a war horse. It echoes around the trees far off into the distance, moving the leaves with the shear force of the noise and making my heart pound to such an extent that I can feel the rapid beat of it inside of my ears.

The loud shout draws the attention of two more centaurs almost instantly, one a chestnut brown with thin brunette hair atop his head and covering his chin in thin stubble. The other a short white, specked pony in comparison to his companions, his thick mullet of blond hair shaking two and fro as his spins a rope, looped at the end over his head, a deep frown of concentration marrying his brow. Both of them crossing each other right in my path and once more forcing me to try and change direction.

Again I set myself at right angles to the path I had been taking. The move itself I manage to pull off without stumbling too much but it's all in vein. From the corner of my eye I see the blond pony release his looped rope and there is nothing I can do to stop its flight. Even before I feel it swipe at my forehead and settle just above my elbows I already know I'm done for. It doesn't stop me trying to run and the rope tightens around my torso, once more forcing breath from my lungs. My legs keep on running, even though there is little chance that I will be able to break the grip of such a majestic animal, one clearly well practiced with this piece of rudimentary equipment. As such, I over reach with my footing; sliding and land flat on my back with a dull thud. Without the full use of either of my arms I am completely helpless. It's not exactly a position I relish being in and it's not over yet.

My captor dashes off and the sound of hooves is almost familiar now, what frightens me more is that I can hear the individual strands of twine rubbing together as it tightens and I realise what is happening less than a heartbeat before it pulls taught and I am dragged along the floor at a rate which must be twice the speed of my own sprint.

My surrounding wiz by in a blur of green and brown, too fast for me to see or navigate in any way, with the tops of my arms pinned tightly to the side of my body I don't have any way to steady the bumpy journey. Nor do I have any method to stop myself careering into the side of a tree and bouncing off it into another. Time and time again. I don't have either the coordination or the energy left to be able track the injuries, only that they are numerous and possibly cover me from head to toe.

I have no idea how long it is we travel like this, dragged behind a speeding centaur, what I do know is that it is long enough for me to realise that by digging my heels into the ground I am able to at least keep my face out of the dirt. Although by that point having it scraped against the unforgiving ground so often and at such a speed it has probably worn away my skin, right down to the bone anyway.

I do notice when the centaurs pace begins to slow because I find that I have much more control over which direction my body is pulled in, able to direct myself around a few trees but not quick enough to stop myself from sliding over a sharp rock that slices deep into the skin all along my back. I feel myself cry out against the stinging pain but cannot hear it, the shout of anguish lost to the wind and I girt my teeth. The gash is pulled further open when the rope is swung around and I cannot stop myself from rolling over several times from side to front and back again, before teetering to a merciful stop. My face pressed tightly against the leaves and the booming sound of dozens of cheers invading my pounding ears.

Every muscle burns, or aches, or screams at me as I push against them to try and wriggle out of the confines of the rope around me. Able to dislodge it enough to press my hands against the ground and lift my torso so only my forehead rests heavily on the ground.

'Up.' Ammy says. Her voice is so different, that I would almost have thought I could have imagined it. Usually even when irritated it is filled with so much understanding that she manages to fill me with that blinding sunlight. It has always been there but until this moment I had never noticed it. Not until her voice is cold and hard, void of anything but burning rage. 'I said. Up.' She repeats in a deathly command, when I fail to respond.

My hands flatten against the floor but my muscles are still ablaze and my arms collapse from under me. I grit my teeth against the throbbing pain across my chest and a spit out from behind them; "I'm trying."

Above me the centaurs don't take note of the small confrontation happening within my skin, the chorus of their cheers drowns it out. Most of them stamping the ground to add to the ominous sound but one of them is too jittery to stand still. I can hear his stride against the dry earth, a brisk walk that begs to be allowed into a frantic trot, passing two and fro in front of his brethren. "Yet more of these vile humans encroaching on our lands, you see them here before you!" This provokes more stomping, more pounding at the ground until it almost sounds hollow under my ears. "Nothing more than pawns to them, beasts to be feared and destroyed! I say we bare this, no more!" his voice raises with every passing syllable, riling up his compatriots who in turn rise into another bout of loud cheers.

'Get up, or I will do it for you.' Ammy's voice is still cold, heartless and bare. I fear it almost as much as the army of beasts above me and I try, really I do to push my body upright but it isn't ready. Gone through too much, too soon and it will not respond how I ask it to. Either way I take too long for Ammy's liking. 'Fair warning was given Human.'

Whenever it is that happens to me, it's instantaneous. The pain is still coating my body, I am still in agony from the tip of my crown to the ends of my toes but I don't have control of my muscles anymore. My limbs do not give out and they press against the ground and push me onto my knees. They don't flinch against the torturous suffering I feel in my ankle. They shouldn't but both of my legs take my weight and I can hear my screams bouncing around inside of my skull, echoing and growing louder and loader against the burning pain but not a single sound is uttered from between my lips. As if Ammy doesn't feel a thing and right now, she is in complete control.

She stands, motionless for a moment. Watching the prancing centaur, which is the same black animal that first chased me through the forest, pass from one side to another. All those surrounding him pause, some of them still with fists in the air, stopped mid-motion and unable to continue. Using my eyes she scans the crowd and I cannot feel a drop of fear. Only her anger. She meets the eyes of one I recognise to be Tamlen's Father. A brief look passes across his face as he remembers my face and instantly he is bowing. So low to the floor that his long hair reaches down around his neck to touch the earth.

This action, along with the silence all around him pulls the ringleader up short. He still stomps at the ground but this in annoyance that he isn't being listened to. "What are you doing, Ashreal?"

Now I have a name to go along with, what I still regard to be a friendly face but he doesn't answer. Ammy strains at my vocal cords and does it for him. "He looks with his heart, not with his eyes."

The dark creature turns on Ammy, malice and hate already etched into his face, right up until the moment he looks into my eyes and sees her staring back at him. His features first drop into shock then completely mortification. One long leg curls under him while the other outstretches into a low bow until his nose is but and inch from the floor. "I would pray forgiveness, Great Mother." Around him, one by one every centaur takes to a knee in reverence and repentance.

"You would be lucky to get it in a single lifetime." Ammy responds instantly. She holds my hands behind my back, grasping one of my wrists in the other palm. Somehow making my body appear regal and commanding with the simplest of movements, even though she is not used to it. "From what I have seen this night, I would be loath to offer it though all eternity."

The dark stallion takes deep breath and I can hear it rattle against his ribcage. "Great Mother…"

Whatever excuse or reasoning he was about to say is immediately cut off by my voice in a low demand of; "Silence." And he listens. This creature, this majestic being that stands at least twice my height and thrice my weight, clamps his mouth closed to listen. "You are my sons. All of you. I give you lands, I give you forests and I have defended your existence for a thousand lifetimes, in a thousand ways. Yet this. This violence, this unprovoked attack, these barbaric acts. This is how you repay me!" For her final sentence she raises my voice to a level that I have never heard before and the whole forest goes deathly silent in its wake, holding a collective breath, waiting for the purge of this goddess's fiery rage.

"We didn't know." These are the first words the break the eerie silence.

Ammy takes two very quick steps forward, her pace confidant and commanding, even though my ankle is screaming against the pressure being put onto it. She bends, but doesn't stoop, still maintaining a higher posture over the bowing creatures. "All that draw breath owe credence to Apollo. All of them deserve to do so." She spits to his lowered back. "Time progresses yet you do not. Evolution cannot be procured without progressive variants. Yet you treat all that is different, all that is new with suspicion and fear. Deeming it beneath you, beneath your respect and your mercy. Then dare to think yourself civilised."

This sentence proves to be too much for the proud male centaur, so much so that he forgets himself; drawing himself to his full height with wide eyes and his hind legs stomping the ground in indignation. "Music, culture and foresight make it so." His response may be practiced but doesn't make him believe it any less.

"Every savage can dance." Ammy spits from behind a sneer. She may now have to tilt my head skywards to be able to chastise the man but in no way does this spoil its effectiveness. She takes a moment, just to stand and watch the reaction to her words, watching the man's chest and gaze fall in shame. "You speak of foresight, I gave you this gift, to map the future in the stars. Yet every mortal, whether prophet or warrior, all make the same mistakes, time and time again." She steps forward once more, pressing my body deep into the animals personal space, he dare not take a step back but he is forced to coil his upper body away from the intruding goddess. "We do not learn from the future, we learn from the mistakes of our fathers and those that came before." The rage that was washing through my vein just moments ago begins to ebb, as all rage must but what is left in place of it is a great sorrow, the likes of which I didn't think any god or goddess capable of. "Do you understand what I have told you this night?"

The centaur takes a moment to answer; waiting to be absolutely certain that he is being given permission to speak and when he does his voice is low and chastised. "Yes Great Mother."

"Then show me." She answers, from behind tensed teeth. "Get out of my sight." She continues in a dismissive tone turning away from the man. "Ashreal." She then continues, both her tone and her demeanour much calmer, all but ignoring the rest of the tribe rising to their feet and walking quietly out between the trees. "Rise. There is another matter I must discuss."

Tamlen's father does as requested, rising to his full height but still refuses to look into my eyes. Choosing a leaf on the ground and deeming it the most interesting sight in the world.

Ammy reaches out, placing her hand over the man's bicep, he doesn't return her mournful gaze but does nod in reverence at the touch. "Do not be afraid." She says quietly, then turns my sights out into the gloom of the forest her next words for me. "The rest is up to you."

Again, as if she snapped her fingers and her will is made so. She withdraws herself from control over everything, including my balance and the nullifying effect on the pain running rampant through my body. I don't have time to catch myself, or prepare myself. I cry out in agony, the pounding in my ankle too much and the limb crumples from underneath me. The only thing that stops me tumbling to the ground once more is the strong pair of arms that circle my torso and catch me under my arms.

For a long moment I am forced to stand on a single shaking leg and accept the help of this centaur, my arms shaking and my hands balled into fists against his back. All this effort just to keep my teeth closed and any shout of pain hidden behind them. "I had not realised your injuries were so extensive."

"Neither had she." I say, trying to spin a joke and failing miserably.

Asreal shifts me so I may rest upon one of his long, strong arms and reaches down to his flank into a pouch strung across his chest, pulling out of it a short strip of brown wood, which he promptly pushes into my grasp. At my questioning look he explains. "Bark of the willow tree. You must chew it and it will ease the pain." I shoot him a sceptical look that he does naught but titter at. Still I press the bark between my teeth and try not to screw up my face with disgust, more to stop myself pulling at the fresh wounds than to try and save face against the woody taste in my mouth. "There was another matter?"

I hum in the back of my throat, the bark just becoming pliable between my teeth. "There were others, they came to the forest before me."

"The two foals?" He asks and at my nod he continues. "They were well when they left us. Unharmed. Others say they took to the skies, upon the winged black steeds."

The shock of this new very nearly makes me swallow the splinter in my mouth, which is surprisingly helping with to such an extent that I am able to rest a portion of my weight down onto my ankle. "Thestrals? They got on Thestrals? Where did they go?"

He shakes his head slowly, going back over his memories to see if anything might help. "Far to the south. Why are these children so important?"

"One of them is my mate." I say, choosing the word that Ammy used so long ago.

It works; I watch his face flatten out as the gravity of the situation dawns on him. "Then I apologise that I cannot be more help."

I push a curled fist to my forehead, in part to stem my rising panic and also to try and think of any reason that any of them would chose to leave the grounds. "You have been helpful. Don't fret, I'll think of something."

I try to walk away from his grasp, the swelling and the pain in my body not eradicated but at least diminished enough for me to be able to stand on my own two feet. The only thing that stops me, from walking away and trying to formulate another plan of action is the tightening of grip around my lower arm. Ashreal for just a moment stands silent; trying to judge how I will react then slowly his tongue reaches out to motion his lips. "There is one more matter that we should address."

When I lift my head in a sign for him to continue he sweeps his arm out to guide my gaze. What my eyes land upon has my body deflate and I would almost prefer being chased through the trees by the terrifying centaurs.

Curled up between two roots of a tree, her hands tightly bound in front of her body, her eyes as wide as her mouth around the rudimentary gag is Professor Dolorous Umbridge.
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By The Light