Chapter 1
Looking around the woods, Hermione concludes that yes, this path is identical to the path she started walking two days ago. Granted, it was supposed to be a long trek to her parent’s cottage, but the journey should not have taken longer than at most a day. And here she is, two days from when she started walking. The food has run out, her water bottle is empty, and she is completely and utterly lost.
As she rakes a hand over her face, she crumples to the forest floor. With gritted teeth she mutters to herself.
“Well you’ve really bloody done it now. ‘Death by hubris at age 19’ that’s what will be written on your gravestone if anyone even finds your body…”
Her monologue is cut abruptly short when a sarcastic voice echoes deep from within the woods.
“Well, well, well, what have we here? A lost little girl muttering to herself? You should try something original next time, that trope has already been exhausted”
The voice is that of a woman, dark and smoky with a slight rasp.
Before she can stop herself, a counter-remark slips out from Hermione’s lips.
“I suppose you’re the old witch who is going to drag me to her cottage and eat me then?”
The voice chuckles, this time slightly closer to where she is sitting.
“Hmm, I suppose I could, though I can’t really say that I have been all too keen on the idea of trying human flesh. It seems somewhat barbaric, even by my own standards.”
Hermione just snorts in response.
From the shadows a woman emerges.
She looks to be in her mid-forties with dark curls piled high on her head, unruly ringlets cascading down. Her dark eyes are glistening, and her dark, bloodred lips form a razor-sharp grin. She walks with calculated steps, like a predator stalking its prey, waiting for the right time to strike. Her dark satin cloak sashays around her heeled boots, just about touching the ground. She exudes danger.
She stops right in front of Hermione, forcing her to crane her neck to get a look at the woman.
“Tell me little one, do you have any idea where you are?”
Hermione goes to respond, but as she does the woman’s eyes flicker to a milky white and then back again in an instant.
“You don’t, do you little Hermione?”
As the words leave the woman’s lips, Hermione’s stomach sinks. How did she know her name?
Pushing through her unease she manages to respond through gritted teeth.
“No, not anymore. How do you know my name?”
The woman just cackles and walks backwards to the edge of the tree line.
“I know a great deal of things, more than you can comprehend”
Ravens flock to the woman’s side, obscuring Hermione’s view of her. Once they disperse, she is nowhere to be seen.
Hermione slumps back against the tree.
She is losing it, she must be. There is no other way to explain what just happened.
She closes her eyes, and slowly drifts to sleep slumped against the tree.
She dreams of the dark-haired woman, surrounded by ravens as she cackles before transforming into black smoke. As she does, the ravens all dive towards Hermione, talons outstretched and cackling.
She wakes in a cold sweat. Out of instinct she grasps for her water bottle and is surprised to see that it is full once more. Before her lays a wrapped package. As she opens it, her nostrils are invaded by the smell of smoked meat. Hidden under a piece of wrapping paper is a note, written in neat cursive.
‘You’re in dangerous territory pet’
Trying her best to push the encounter with the mysterious woman and the package to the back of her mind, Hermione pockets the note and begins walking. Though this time she is not alone. Her every step is watched by almost a dozen ravens, their beady eyes burrowing into the back of her head.
It takes four days before the woman visits Hermione again.