The forest ended abruptly into a clearing. Wood huts were spread out every where. It was mostly deserted, except for an old, dark skinned women sitting by a fire. Over the fire was a metal rack, on the rack sat three brown lumps.

My mouth watered. I was so hungry. I took a careful step forward, and stepped on something that cracked. The woman looked up. She saw me. For a second she looked like she was going to cry.

She got up and almost ran over to me. She moved quite fast for her age. "Tika!" She cried. "Oh Tika, you've came back to us!"


"Wench!" Cried a man, "How could you lose her?!" The woman crouched in front of him shook.

"Master Crowstaf, she wouldn't give up the stone." She said quietly. He growled.

"How?" He fumed again, "How could you lose her?" She shook her head.

"When Mary tried to take the stone, she.She killed her." Crowstaf flinched, "She what?!" The woman opened her mouth to answer. Crowstaf waved his hand. "No, don't tell me. I know."

He sighed deeply and sat down behind a paper covered desk. The ebony wood matched that of his black cloak and shadowed room. "She has her powers back, then." He murmured, more to himself then the kneeling woman.

After a moments time, he slammed his fist on the desk. "Find her!" He roared, "Find her now!"


The woman pulled me into a hug. "Tika!" She cried happily. I was confused. Who was Tika? Who was this woman? She stepped back. I looked at her.

She saw the sheer confusion in my eyes. "Tika?" She said, "Tika, what's wrong?" I shook my head. Once again her eyes watered, this time in sadness. "Don't you remember me?" She asked. "Don't you remember your own grandmother?"