It had to have all been inside her head.
Whether it was a nightmare or a dream, Rose couldn't decide.
There was not a single physical trace that proved it was true. Nigel had charmed her dress to look as good as new, and cleaned all the grime, blood, and dirt off her before dropping her off at the orphanage.
No one in the town had any memory of their behavior, indeed, they remembered a quaint normal Sunday without any sort of fuss or bump in the road. The only thing that gave Rose some semblance of belief that it was real was the undeniably new warmth that beat beside her heart. If she didn't know any better, she would say she had a second heart.
Something so wonderful, or really, something so interesting couldn't have possibly happened to Rose… or horrible, if she allowed herself to linger a moment or two on the fact that a mob was formed after her. But such thoughts were too scary for the girl to willingly dwell on.
She was an ordinary girl, surely, no matter how much she might wish that were not the case.
So, with practiced ease, she dismissed those fantasies from her mind and continued about her life. Or, at least, she tried to.
Even if it was all only a vivid dream, she couldn't shake off their furious and disgusted looks at her when they chased her down and shot at her. She flinched every time one of the men pulled out their guns and talked loudly of their latest hunt. She stayed away from the other children who she knew carried pocket knives of some sort. She refused to make eye contact with many of the adults.
A couple weeks of doing that had brought her into some trouble with the matron, and she was sent to do lines under the pastor's watchful eye. Afterwards, the pastor gave her some homework to complete and sent her off.
When Rose put off her homework, Mother Mara scolded her, saying, "A good girl wouldn't wait. Do your homework, or no supper for you tonight."
Rose slunk off to finish her homework, wisely not retorting.
Rose pulled up a small white wooden chair to her desk—which was shared by all the girls—and flattened out her blank sheet of paper. She fiddled with the pencil in her hand, twirling it around her fingers and trying to bring herself to carry out her punishment.
The desk was in the center of a lone, tall window in the girls' bedroom. There were bunk beds lined up against the wall: six of them in total, with only three being in use. Rose was the oldest girl at the orphanage now—as most were sent into foster care or adopted—and as such had the privilege of getting to choose which bed was hers. She chose the one closest to the window—the top bunk, naturally—and it was kept nice and neat, per the matron's orders.
There were no distinctive features that set her bed apart from the others—all her personal belongings were kept in a chest at the foot of the bed. Rose didn't even really have clothes to call her own, as all the clothes she wore were provided to her by the matron. When she outgrew them, they would be handed off to the next girl in need.
It was a quaint and warm room, though, despite its lack of diversity. There were many potted flowers and happy pictures on the wall, and in the corner of the room was a cute little sitting area with a soft pink rug and a couple of bean bag chairs. There was even a large bookcase up against the other wall, although it was filled mostly with religious, educational, or picture books.
Rose liked the room well enough. It was her home, even if it wasn't entirely a home. It was the only world she had ever known. The people were kind to her, and while the matron may be a bit stern at times, she would always show a gentle hand after the punishment, or when one of the children behaved especially good—baking sweets or promising to read. Good girls and boys were always rewarded there.
Rose could walk down the street on any evening, strike up a conversation with anyone in the town, and be treated warmly and kindly. It was a quiet, happy place, far away from the cold world. The matron always told them they were blessed to be there, and not be in some city.
She always told them it was dangerous out there, spoke of it like a rabid dog circling them. She told them that, but she always told them it was safe here. Here, they would always be sheltered and welcomed.
Rose stopped twirling the pencil in her hand, her body and face stiffening as she recalled that… that dream.
She could already feel her stomach dropping, her heart quickening, her breath coming into shorter gasps, and the cold, undeniably overwhelming terror begin to course through her veins. Every inch of her had the desire to move—to get away, yet she didn't dare.
She wouldn't dare, because it was… silly.
It was a dream. No one turned on her. No one wanted her dead.
It was all just a big, silly dream.
Rose chanted that inside her head, gradually calming down. She swallowed roughly and let out a long sigh. She gripped her shaking hands together and held them close to her chest, her brow furrowed, and she bit hard on her lip.
She stayed that way, completely silent and trembling as she tried to shove that dream away. Seconds crawled into minutes, but eventually, she calmed.
It was time for her to finish her punishment. It was a pleasant day—there was still light out—and if she finished early enough, she was certain the matron would allow her to play outside with the other children, or—even better—with Mr. Whiskers, the local stray cat she had been taking care of almost all her life.
She would much rather spend her day out in the sun and running about, rather than sitting still and give her… her dream chance to resurface.
She wished she could play with Mr. Whiskers. He always kept the bad dreams away.
Thinking about her cat, Rose found the motivation she needed to get her punishment over with. As she was about to start writing, the matron appeared in the doorway.
"Little Rose," Mother Mara chimed from the doorway behind Rose, "you have a visitor."
Rose's head snapped around and her eyes widened. The matron was smiling kindly at her, and her eyes looked slightly glazed over. There was a… hazy look to her, as if she was lost in a dream. Such an appearance reminded Rose an awful lot of when that man had helped her earlier: they both wore the very same look.
"Who is it?" Rose asked, already standing up from her chair, unable to quite meet the matron's eyes.
Her stomach twisted nervously as the entire situation seemed surreal, but she couldn't entirely keep the hopeful tone out of her voice. Although she didn't want to admit it, some part of her was hoping.
Hoping for what, she wasn't quite sure.
"Your professor, dear," Mother Mara answered absently, already turning away.
"We don't have—I mean, yes, Mother Mara. I will be right down."
Rose reflexively gripped onto her plain gray dress, squeezing the fabric in her hands in a vain attempt to comfort herself. She was nervous, and as she began to head down the hallway to see the professor, her anxiety began to grow like a sickly plant nearing bloom.
Upon reaching the small entrance hallway, Rose found herself greatly surprised to find none other than Nigel standing there. He was—or appeared to be, at least—examining a large painting of a grassy field that hung up on the wall. Rose noticed that his once black cloak was now a deep scarlet.
"This is a painting of Ireland, isn't it?" Nigel mused, not turning around. "I spent a few years there."
"I-I don't know," admitted Rose, eyeing Nigel anxiously.
Then, realization came upon her. Her eyes bulged, and she took a staggering step back. Her hands flew up to her mouth to repress her gasp.
"It wasn't a dream?"
This time, Nigel turned towards her, cocking his head. "A dream? Why ever would you think it was a dream?"
Rose flushed. "I—how could—I mean—"
She stopped herself, feeling her tongue tied more tightly than when she was tricked about the evil reaper in the woods by the children in town, and only later realized they fooled her. Her cheeks burned something fierce, and she could feel her embarrassment growing.
Despite that—or perhaps even because of that—Nigel seemed to be smiling at her. "I can understand why you would want it to seem a dream. Being a victim of your own thrall can be—ah—unsettling."
Rose swallowed roughly, her stomach dropping like a cold stone in a river. Her embarrassment was replaced with what she would describe as discomfort. She shifted anxiously, her hands bunching up her dress and squeezing it with all her might.
"Yeah."
Nigel reached out and gently patted the top of her head. "Soon enough it will fade away from you like a bad dream, and with time, when you learn to master your powers and know how to better defend yourself, you'll be able to look back upon it and have a good laugh."
Rose couldn't resist snorting dubiously at that. His gaze seemed to soften, and there was a warm gleam in his yellowish-orange eyes behind the mask, like glistening treasure peeking out of a dark, gloomy cave. Instinctively, Rose felt at ease upon seeing those eyes because they were eyes that seemed to belong to an old friend. She wondered if she had seen them before, but she thought surely not because she would have remembered such unique and pretty eyes.
"Come along now, Miss Rose. It is time to be on our way."
A thrill ran through Rose at that, goosebumps crawling up her arm.
Time to go? Time to leave this place?
Rose dreamed of leaving this orphanage for the longest time, and yet when the opportunity presented itself, she found herself hesitating. Even if this was a town in the middle of nowhere… it was still where she had lived all her life since she came to the orphanage a decade ago.
She wouldn't consider it a home by any means, but "home" was the only thing she could call it.
She hadn't ventured far outside its forest before—just a scarce few trips with Mother Mara to the other town over, along with the incident…
No.
No, no, no, no, no.
Rose was not thinking about that. Rose abruptly forced her mind elsewhere, viciously shoving away the previous thoughts, imagining herself throwing them out like one would old trash.
Nigel stretched out his hand and, tentatively, Rose placed hers in his. She wasn't sure she wanted to leave, but she was even less sure she wanted to stay. She knew that much.
And besides, Nigel had helped her earlier. She couldn't deny it was a dream anymore. Him being there, and she being able to feel the warmth of his soft hand in her own verified that.
So, if it wasn't a dream, what else was she to do but go?
If she stayed, then what would become of her? Would she succumb to her powers and ensnare the townspeople again with her thrall? Would they hunt her down and—unlike the last—she would fail to escape? If she went, would he really take her to this school? Would he really help her control her thrall, and make sure no one else would be overcome by it?
It's what she had fantasized about—being whisked away to a magical new world. Yet… yet…
There was that wiggly little thought, unease worming its way into her convictions. Could she trust him?
He was a stranger. He was masked and shrouded, so not a single bit of his skin was seen. He bewitched Mother Mara and promised Rose things that she had always wanted. If she didn't know any better, she'd accuse him of being in her head, reading her very thoughts and wishes.
He tightened his grip on her hand, and with a gentle tug, before Rose could have any more second thoughts, they were gone.
It was a light, fluttering sensation, and the world around them melted away to a warm softness. There was only blackness to see, but there was a deep rumbling sound—like a cat's purr—that rang in Rose's ears.
The sound disappeared, and when Rose opened her eyes once more, found she and Nigel stood in a massive, vividly colorful courtyard.
Bright green grass covered the ground as far as Rose could see until it disappeared behind thick white fog. Trees dotted around the courtyard, along with a few hills. Many of the trees seemed to be dancing on their own, swaying gently in a breeze Rose didn't feel and stretching out their branches to the fog that shrouded them.
At the top of one of the larger hills stood a towering castle made of a shining white stone. There were numerous windows on every side of it, and Rose could see gleaming and colorful designs on them.
Many vines and flowers grew around the castle, wrapping around its walls and blooming brightly and warmly. Most of the flowers were odd blossoms Rose had never seen before: there was a purple flower in the shape of a star that had a glowing white middle, growing on dark, thorny vines that wrapped around one of the towers. Another looked like a sort of bright yellow snake, waving about in the breeze.
"Careful of your step around here," Nigel warned her lightly, still holding onto her hand. "We have the bubble up, but sometimes she likes to play tricks."
Rose turned to look at him curiously. "Bubble—?"
Her breath caught in her throat as the fog slowly lifted.
It wasn't a fog at all. Blue—vibrant blue—skies surrounded them. Numerous white fluffy clouds swirled above and beside them—one of them lazily passing through the top of the castle.
How high up are we? Are we at the top of a mountain?
Rose swallowed roughly. She could feel butterflies of all kinds fluttering in her stomach, excitement and anxiousness fighting for domination within her at the wondrous sights. Crisp air entered her nostrils and she inhaled deeply, catching many odd scents.
"And, hmm, as I suspected: you belong with the Warrior Kingdom,"
Nigel commented, peering down at her. His tall stature leaned towards her, and there was a slight tilt of his head as he regarded her.
Rose shook her head, clearing her bewilderment—everything was so… so… magnificent.
She followed his gaze… down… to… her…
"What…?" Rose whispered in confusion, staring down at a skirt she was not wearing a moment ago.
"A quick changing spell," Nigel dismissed her incredulity. "Used often by parents to change their children whenever they are having a tantrum, also used frequently for groggy adolescents that oversleep and are in a hurry to get to class."
He seemed to be smiling at her behind his mask, his tone tinged with warmth that was not there before. "It's not taught in class, but I would be delighted to show you later when your Blue Magic is at an acceptable level."
"My what? And what did you mean by Warrior Kingdom?"
Nigel gestured towards her uniform. It was a simple white blouse—and Rose had already begun to immediately push up the sleeves in irritation, not fond of their full length—with a blood-red tie. She wore a red and black plaid skirt, long black socks, and adorning her feet were a pair of matching ballet flats. Lastly, she wore a red cloak that fell to the small of her back, its hood pulled down.
"Red and black are the Warriors' colors," Nigel explained before he cleared his throat. "In our school, we welcome all magical Neheburs. Every student is sorted into a kingdom that will help them prepare to join the Community after graduation. Red and black belong to the Warrior Kingdom. Your uniform will change its colors to show whatever kingdom the school has chosen for you. It's how we figure out where you belong, if you will, so we can better prepare you for the future."
Rose's brow furrowed. "What exactly does that mean for me? What's the Warrior Kingdom?"
"Neheburs that fall under the Warrior Kingdom most commonly have an affinity for Red Magic," Nigel seemed to hesitate, choosing his words carefully and wringing his hands, "they are usually those that require a more hands-on approach to life. They are the more physically active side of the Community."
"Like athletes?" Rose asked. She enjoyed playing outside and sports, so she supposed she would be okay with learning to be an athlete.
Nigel cocked his head. "I suppose that would be an appropriate example."
"What about the other kingdoms?" Rose inquired.
"There are five kingdoms in total," Nigel said, slowly pulling away his hands. "There's the Hero Kingdom, Logicke Kingdom, Aisling Kingdom—"
"Ai—what? And why do those two have weird names in comparison to Warrior Kingdom and Hero Kingdom?" Rose asked, her mind still reeling from all this information.
Why were students separated in the first place? To help them learn? Did that mean they would have different classmates? How many students were typically in a kingdom? Did they have kings?
"Hero and Warrior is what they refer to themselves as now. The Logicke and Aisling are the last two Kingdoms to adopt a more modern-day name for their kingdom. Why? You would have to ask them that," Nigel said, seemingly amused by her question.
"And what about the fifth kingdom?"
"The Chasm Kingdom," Nigel answered her. "Ah, but you will learn more about them later. Come with me, Miss Rose, and I will take you to the other first year students, and soon, to your kingmates. I must alert the other teachers that you have arrived so we can begin orientation."
Nigel held out his arm and Rose reached forward, taking it. With ease, Nigel began to guide her through the sunny courtyard, and Rose looked about it with renewed wonder. They walked along a multi-colored stone path that led up to the castle in which everything was brimming with life. The scents of numerous things Rose had never smelled before dominated the majority of her senses. She never thought she had a particularly good sense of smell, but at that castle, it was almost overwhelming.
There was a constant conflict of unique smells. Cinnamon. Willow trees. Rivers. Oceans. Violets. Moss. Dust. Rock. Dirt. Then there were things that she couldn't identify, smells she had no idea of what they could be.
As they neared the castle, however, the smell of running water began to overtake the others, and for the moment, her thoughts were able to quietly settle as she absorbed everything Nigel told her.
It's certainly a lot to take in, Rose thought.
They walked up the stone steps to the front of the building, and the wide glass doors opened before them as they entered a brightly-lit hall.
Rose entered the castle, surprised to immediately find other students within. The entranceway was large and beautiful with colorful glass artwork carved into the wall. They depicted tall men and women with big butterfly wings, all clad in shining armor. They held up their weapons towards the ceiling, glimmering like jewels. Large bubbles of rainbow lights filled up the ceiling, lighting a kaleidoscope around the room.
Eyes turned towards Rose, mostly curious. Everyone else was in their uniform, but she didn't see any other red and black colored outfits.
Nigel raised his voice to address the students, "Hello, students. I am Professor Nigel. I welcome you all to Gardenia and I hope you will remain patient for a little longer while I fetch your advisors."
The students returned to their quiet conversations and Nigel disappeared in a black swirl of smoke. Rose barely managed to stop from squeaking in surprise at a person disappearing in front of her.
How was that possible? Where did he go? Did he go to some dimension first before coming back here? Were there other dimensions? Was there a dimension filled with talking cats, or a dimension filled with talking dogs?
A glimmer of light pulled Rose out of her thoughts, drawing her attention to her surroundings.
Oh.
Right.
Magical castle!
Rose's eyes roamed around the room, taking in the beautiful glasswork and entrancing lights that floated around. She wondered if the lights would be warm, or if they would pop like real bubbles if she touched them. They were too high up for her to try, though, which she thought was a shame.
A glance down and she noticed the shiny marbling on the floor. There was a spiraling design that circled the entire room, and the longer Rose stared at it, the more fascinated she was. If she blinked, she would have sworn it moved a little bit.
She felt a gaze on her, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up and her stomach drop. Instinctively, Rose searched to find the person who was watching her, and her eyes locked onto a single purple glow.
It was like a jolt of electricity shot through Rose, with confusion and fear following soon afterwards. The tips of her fingers tingled, and her heart pounded so hard in her chest that she thought for sure it would burst out.
The student in question was shrouded in a dark black cloak with the hood pulled up so only blackness could be seen for his face. The only thing that permeated through the darkness was a single glowing purple eye on his left. The cloak fell to his knees and Rose could see he wore a standard uniform with black and purple pants.
She certainly hoped that meant he wasn't a Warrior like her.
"Hullo."
The voice sounded so close to her that Rose was startled out of her reverie. It was another student, this one with dark cinnamon skin and green eyes so bright, she had no doubt they glowed. His hair was yellow like sunflowers, and messy like a mad scientist's. Rose noticed that his ears were pointed, too.
The student was grinning at her. "I'm Chester. You okay? You look like a nyan caught in the cookie jar. If you need to see the doctor, I can take you to him."
Rose tried out a small smile, tearing her gaze away from the dark-cloaked student. "I-I'm fine, I think. I feel like I just got shocked."
Chester frowned. Rose smiled weakly, resisting the urge to fiddle with her fingers.
"I'm sorry… I'm Rose."
"Chester," Chester introduced himself again, offering his hand. He looked relieved. "You're the first Warrior here I've seen! I'm in Logicke."
"Logicke…" Rose repeated, trying to remember if Nigel said anything about the kingdom.
Chester's grin stretched wider, his green eyes sparkling. "Is this your first time at the school?"
"First—uh, yeah. To be honest, this whole magic thing is a first for me," Rose admitted quietly, giving in and fiddling with her fingers.
Chester blinked. "Huh? Well, all first year kingmates will be starting their magical studies, too—"
"That's—I mean, I honestly thought I was human before all of this," Rose whispered. "Ni—I mean—Professor Nigel said that my magic was suppressed for the past ten years, so this whole thing is, um…"
"Wow." Chester's eyes were wide. "My brother said you were the one to watch out for, but I didn't realize it was because… wow. This must be a huge cultural shock for you."
"Your brother?" Rose inquired, gripping her skirt to try and stop from fidgeting. Chester grimaced.
"He's the headmaster. He means well, he only told me to help out the new Warrior if I could. I can certainly see why now, though. If you need help with anything, don't hesitate to let me know. I'll do the best I can, I promise."
"Thank you," Rose responded politely, a small frown on her face.
Chester's eyes shone with an obvious kind of sympathy. "If you don't mind me asking, what species are you?"
"I was told I was a dragon," answered Rose.
One of the light bubbles shone a bit brighter than the others and Rose tilted her head back to look at it.
Those things are pretty, Rose decided. Then remembering she was still in a conversation with someone and it was impolite to ignore, she redirected her attention to Chester.
The boy was giving her a queer look before clarity dawned on his face and he chuckled. "Oh, you're joking. Really, if you didn't want to tell me, you could have said so."
"I'm not joking," Rose insisted, then fell silent.
A very sick suspicion clawed at her, and she had brief images of running through the forest with the mob chasing her flashing in the back of her mind. She swallowed thickly and mustered the courage to ask, "What if I told you I really was a dragon?"
Chester frowned briefly at that, his brow furrowing. "Well, I would apologize for laughing earlier, but I would be very surprised."
Surprised? We're in a floating magical castle and me being a dragon is what's surprising here?
Getting back at hand, though, Rose cleared her throat, and continued with her questions. "Would you run away from me? Be angry with me?"
Start a mob?
"I wouldn't, certainly," Chester said firmly. "I am a firm believer in not to judge a being by their birth rights. It would, however, greatly surprise me."
"Well," Rose began, hesitating a moment, "Professor Nigel told me I was dragon, and I have wings, horns, and a tail, and a mall, so I think that means he's right?"
Chester's eyebrows rose in surprise. "That is… certainly a shock. I—ah—do apologize for my assumption earlier."
"You're fine," Rose reassured him, relieved that it seemed like she wouldn't be getting a repeat of the mob so soon. Then, her eyes widened. "Thrall! That was the word. I have a thrall that I used when my magic was released."
"Is that what Professor Nigel said you did?"
"Yes."
Chester paused, clearly uncomfortable. "That must have been—uh—incredibly unsettling. You were raised as a human, you said, so I cannot begin to imagine what had happened when you… a thrall is one of the highest forms of Black Magic. Pureblood dragons are infamous for it, so I suppose that answers the question if you're a pureblood and not some new hybrid."
"Are hybrids common?" Rose inquired, thankful she had read a book that featured a hybrid, and thus, understood the concept.
"Not especially," Chester answered. "But every couple of centuries or so, there are a few."
There was the sound of a cat's purr, and then a sudden chill ran through the air. All eyes immediately turned towards the hallway where five teachers stood. Rose zeroed in on Nigel, as he was the only one she was familiar with.
One of the teachers, an incredibly beautiful Asian woman with long, flowing black hair, stepped forward. Her smile warmed Rose's heart.
"Afternoon, precious students. I am Professor Yūei, advisor to the Aisling Kingdom. My darling newest kingmate, please follow me."
A boy smaller than Rose approached Yūei. Yūei's eyes softened with obvious warmth and she turned away, the boy following behind her.
"Miss Rose," Nigel said, and Rose perked up. "If you would please follow me."
Rose gave Chester a small wave goodbye before she hurried after Nigel. Nigel brought her down the white stone and glass hallway and they took a turn to the right. The stone slowly transitioned into something darker, and the glass no longer filtered in sunlight.
The castle had a crisp smell, like running water in the forest on a cold morning. It was a pleasant smell that reminded Rose of times when she would play by the creek. It made Rose's nose tickle as she inhaled it. Usually things that smelled like water were water, yet the smooth gray stones looked nothing like it. Rose's brow furrowed as she tried to solve the little mystery.
Does magic smell like water? Rose wondered. The whole castle must be magical. Maybe the stones smell like it?
Conspicuously, Rose leaned over towards the nearest wall and gave it a sniff. True to her assumption, it smelled like running water. Rose looked up at Nigel and asked, "Does all magic smell like water?"
Nigel paused for a brief second in his stride, turning his head back to look at Rose. "Why do you ask, Miss Rose?"
Rose frowned briefly. "The whole castle smells like… like running water. Is that what magic smells like? I thought for sure the castle was magical, so if it smelled like water, then maybe magic smelled like water."
"Magic does not typically smell like water," Nigel answered. "The castle is magical, though, and it smells different to everyone."
"Why?"
Nigel seemed to be smiling at Rose behind his mask. "A lot of our students have lived in relative isolation with their family for most of their lives. The transition to coming to stay at the school can be a scary experience for many of them, and the school realizes this. To help put their minds at ease, the school will change itself to each student to comfort them. The smell you describe as running water likely reminds you of a happy memory, yes?"
Rose realized he was right. Every whiff she got made her think of her time in the forest playing with Mr. Whiskers. She loved playing by the creek.
Rose felt her eyes prick as she remembered. Without realizing it, she had stopped walking entirely. Mr. Whiskers was a black cat she had been taking care of for as long as she could remember. Mother Mara was kind enough to give Rose allowance to buy him food, toys, and flea medicine. She even bought a tiny little white collar that he dirtied within a day.
Nigel stopped walking as well and turned around to kneel in front of Rose. "Miss Rose?"
"I—I remembered Mr. Whiskers," Rose mumbled quietly, her eyes burning. "He—he won't have anyone else to take care of him. I need to go back."
"Now, now," Nigel soothed, "there's no need to fret. I'm sure Mr. Whiskers will be fine."
"I'm the only who takes care of him," Rose protested, feeling a horrendous guilt and loneliness all at once. Panic bubbled up inside of her. "He's my—he's family. I need to go back."
Nigel's voice softened, "I'm afraid I will have to insist you stay in school, Miss Rose. If you are so concerned for Mr. Whiskers, though, I will personally see to it that he is taken care of."
"Promise?" Rose asked.
"I swear upon the sun," Nigel promised.
The oath sounded foreign to Rose, but she couldn't bring herself to question the sincerity it carried. She gave a slow nod, although her eyes still burned, and her stomach churned with feelings of guilt and longing. She wished she could see Mr. Whiskers again and hold him tightly. While the castle seemed wonderful and nice, Rose still found herself missing the comforts of the orphanage.
Then she remembered the mob and a shot of fear added to her emotions.
Nigel gently patted the top of her head. "I'm sorry you miss your home, Miss Rose, but I promise you won't feel like this forever. Many have come to view the school as their second home, and I hope you will as well."
Rose gave him a wobbly smile, and he patted her head once more before continuing his journey.