As I walked along through the trees, bundled in my coat, my mind went back to the first time I had ever walked this way. There was a well worn path on the ground now, because I had been here almost every single morning since I had first come here. But my mind went back to that first time, when I had been going to the cottage rather than from it, and I descended into a memory.

I walked through the woods, stumbling over the thick snow that now lay on the ground. I glared at the tree roots under my feet that kept trying to trip me. A little over a month ago, I would have thought it preposterous if someone told me that I would be climbing through northern Canada during the first snowfall of November, trying to find a cottage that might not even exist. A month ago, I wouldn’t have believed anyone who told me that I would need to completely disappear off the map because I had been framed as a traitor. But here I was, frozen to the bone, trying to trudging through what seemed like half a meter of snow. I had gotten food and some supplies in a small town that was supposed to be about an hour from the cottage; that is, if I was going in the right direction. I paused, and took the compass out of my pocket. North, the shop owner had said. North to get to Tice Lake. My compass confirmed that I was headed the right way, and I set off once more with a sigh.

About 30 more minutes passed until I saw a break in the trees. I leaped forward, eager to see something, anything but the pines and elms that had been my only scenery for such a long time. I was on a ledge above what appeared to be a 20 foot drop to the surface of the lake. The real beauty, however, lay before me. A tiny cottage could be seen across the green water, and with the small snowflakes that floated in front of it and the backdrop of snow-laden pines, it was breathtaking.

Further looking around revealed that I was on the bank of a small bay that was only about 2 km wide. I set off to the left to walk around it and get to the cottage. I walked faster now that the end was finally in sight.

There was a wooden dock that led out onto the lake in front of the cottage, reaching about 100 meters onto the surface. I nodded in appreciation; that would be a good spot to set lures and traps for fish when the ice thawed a little. The cottage itself seemed to be in pretty good shape, although the roof had a couple of cracks that rain would leak through, which would need to be patched up.

I looked at the small handheld GPS I had managed to purchase at some point along the road, and checked my coordinates. 59°44'40.8"N 100°57'18.4"W. A few digits off from the number that my mom had given me, but that wasn’t a big deal; this was undoubtedly the right place. I walked up the stairs to the porch of the house, stepping carefully to avoid slipping on the ice that coated them, and stood in front of the door. My hand shook from the cold as I inserted the key (also given to me by my mom) into the lock, and twisted it gently. The door sprang open with a click, and I stepped inside.

I dropped my bag at the door, and looked around. For the first time in over a month, I could relax. Safe. I breathed. I was safe.

I looked up as I heard the sound of voices, and realized that my feet, trained to walk this path, had brought me to the edge of the town. I took a deep breath and steadied my nerves; no matter how many times I walked into this town, I was always nervous that the Scorpion would be there, and that would be the end for me. I stepped off the path and walked out of the forest.


Author's Note: Sorry I didn't update last week, it's just that I have a lot going on with muggle school and everything. I tried to make this chapter a little longer though :)