They may have left the abbey with anger simmering inside them, but now, Britta felt numb. She felt as if when the full gravity of the situation hit, she would keel over. She couldn't begin to understand what had happened but knew it had something to do with The Voice. The loss of control scared her more then she would have her sister know. 

They walked to edge of the forest in the wavering light. Diana spread out the blankets and they wrapped themselves in the shawls to sleep. Britta couldn't get comfortable. It was the first time she had slept outside the safety of the Abbey's walls. The dark forest could hold any kind of evil inside it. Every time she heard an owl hoot she jumped and was jerked wide awake. Her life was crumbling down around her, and she wasn't sure she wanted to rebuild it anymore. Diana had drifted off to sleep, despite the uneasiness Britta was no doubt threading through her. 

The morning found them gazing out at the wilderness ahead of them. There were dark shadows under Britta's eyes, and her back ached from her curled up position. The woods in front of them, White Hart woods, were thick with every kind of plant in the area. Sunlight didn't seem to reach the forest floor, where brambles trailed, their thorns sharper than cats' claws.

"We should put on the trousers." Said Britta finally. Diana looked reluctant, although she'd been the one to grab them. "Think about it." Said Britta firmly. "The only way to explain the whole thing at the Abbey is gunpowder. It will look like we've tried to hurt Mistress Core. The whole village will be looking for two girls, they'll never find two boys." Britta untied the bundle. Her heart ached when she realized they really would never be able to return to the Abbey.

Diana nodded wearily. "How long will we have to keep this up?"

"We can say we're looking for work or something. When we have enough we can set ourselves up and begin our life again."

"Do you think the news will have gotten out yet?" Diana asked.

"Obviously." Said Britta, deciding there was no longer any point in talking gently and tactfully; this was her own sister after all. "The Strange Man – He'll have people looking for us too. Do you think we are the princesses he mentioned?"

Diana shrugged. "He must've wanted us for something." She said uncertainly. "We never knew our parents." 

"Then how come he's never seen us before?" Asked Britta. Diana did not answer, only passed her sister one of the two trousers they'd grabbed off the line.

Britta examined them. The trousers were made of a light, strong material, softer than anything they had ever owned, the ends were evidently supposed to be tucked into boots as they were long and would drag on the ground.

"The ends of these will get covered in mud, we need to keep them clean somehow."

They had to cut them off, folding the cut-offs into the makeshift bag. It left them with a garment that ended just below the knee. Britta then pulled her long hair out of its tight bun and gripped the hunting knife tightly in her hand. Hesitating slightly, knowing she couldn't undo it, she sawed through it so it fell just below her earlobes. With less weight, her hair fell into tight, wiry curls. Diana's hair when it was cut similarly looked less feminine as it was straight.

After looking down at herself, Britta pulled the ends of the trousers back out and bound her chest tight. Under the loose clothing, her curves were now barely visible. Diana did the same, kicking dirt over the hair.

Diana smiled slightly, taking in their appearance, then, her smile froze. "We're going to have to be careful to keep this up. Speak deeper and don't smile, you'll give yourself away."

Britta nodded and straightened her face. "We'll practice all that on our way." She said, toning her voice down. "But you still look like a girl."

"I wonder how we'll hide our faces?"

"We could keep them dirty, but then when we're told to clean them, the dirt will have to come off."

"Do you think we can use The Voice?" Diana did not often suggest using it and Britta raised an eyebrow. Diana sighed, "Well it's the only thing I can think of."

Britta nodded and joined hand with her sister, the way they did when drew support – or magic – from each other. With a shiver, Britta envisioned their faces with a stronger jawline, a more robust nose, rough eyebrows, and shorter eyelashes. She imagined a sprinkling of freckles covering her honeyed skin and for good measure, a deepened voice. Then she and Diana turned to look each other over.

"Okay, so still no smiling, but I think we look more.... masculine."

Britta's hand shot to Diana's mouth. Behind them, came several men from the direction of the village, clearly looking for something. Uncomfortably, Britta crossed her arms over her chest.

"Hello." She said quietly.

"We're looking for someone, two girls who attempted murder." One said, ignoring her greeting.

Britta blinked. So that was how Mistress Core choose to describe it. "Well, what do they look like?" She asked carefully.

"Auburn hair, dark skin. Same age, one has a scar near the corner of her eye."

Britta shivered, resisting the urge to push her hand to the scar which made a distorted crescent moon shape at the corner of her eye.

"We'll keep an eye out, they can't have gone far." Pointed out Diana.

"I haven't seen you two before." Said one of them.

Britta shrugged. "Do you know every boy in the village?" she asked. "We're just about to head through the woods, we'll keep an eye out, they can't be far." It was strange talking about the two 'murders' as if she didn't know them. As the men walked away Britta sighed with relief.

Close.

Too close, why'd you tell them where we were going?

I don't know, I needed something to say, with any luck, we'll get a head start while they search around Weatherston for a few days.

We better get going. Diana looked over Britta strangely. You're acting... Weird. Why the sudden confidence?

It figured that Diana had gotten used to her twin hiding behind her. Britta shrugged, biting back that thought, and they started on their way.

The dense undergrowth was only beginning to become green, but the prickly stems of plants stayed in place throughout the year. Paranoia set in; each noise was someone else's footsteps following them. Unconsciously Britta began to watch where she placed her feet. When her eyes trailed along the ground she looked for things to avoid stepping on and any food they could eat. She was glad Mistress Layla had taught her so much about herb lore and plants.

The first night she had found wild carrots and potatoes. While Diana made camp she knelt down by the small river and scrubbed off dirt, before laying them out on a warm stone. She absentmindedly wondered if it was warm enough to cook on but dismissed the thought with a quick touch of her hand.

With her new deep voice, she turned to Diana "We need to get firewood and light a fire to cook these." She paused and considered for a moment, "Duane."

"Okay, Bren"

Britta curbed her mouth away from a grin just in time and instead turned and headed back into the woods to help collect firewood. She came back with an armful of dry wood and set it out as if she were setting it inside the rusting cooking stove inside the Abbey. She pulled out the small fabric pouch, and stuck the flint against the steel, glad she had chosen to take this one instead of the matches present in other areas of the house.

With a fire going Britta made a platform over top with a large flat rock. That night was a simple meal, though appreciated by them both. Britta also lay out the herbs she had collected for her breathing; the smoke was clogging her lungs, and she felt the familiar tightness in her chest. She cleaned the pan, and filled it with river water, adding in the herbs she had found. There was no thyme in the forest, but even the action of breathing in the warm steam made her feel better.

"Will you be okay?" Asked Diana from behind her.

"I-Yes, yes, I will be." She said. With no building surrounding her, the steam seemed to be whisking past her face and into the night air.

"Here." Said Diana, laying a blanket over her back and enclosing it around her head.

Only a few minutes later, she could breathe properly again. She put the remaining wood on the fire hoping that it would burn long enough through the night to keep them warm.

Camp was packed up swiftly that morning, as it was every other morning for the next few days. Now they were away from the Abbey, Britta could put everything behind her, or rather, lock it away in a memory prison. She knew it wasn't a good way to deal with bad memories but she felt best when she ignored them.

They tramped for the next few days, squelching through the mud near the stream, afraid they would lose sight of it in the dense undergrowth. Walking was fine, but they barely got a glimpse of the sky, which made Britta think longingly of the wide spaces at the Abbey.

They slept under a roof of greenery, cuddling in the blankets and leaving at dawn after a breakfast of the first wild berries of spring. After over a week of traveling, the woods started to seem bigger. Never-ending, even. But they kept going, closely following the river.

Finally, they reached a clearing. There was true sun on the ground, not the dim dappled sunlight they had been seeing for the last few days. With the light being much better, Britta quickly picked up deer tracks leading down to the water.

"What I would really like, is some fresh meat," said Britta.

Diana practiced a grunt of agreement, somehow conveying how pleased she was that her sister was beginning to act normal, or even more confident.

Britta knelt by the water. It was clear, but the ripples distorted her vision. "I see fish." She said suddenly, jumping up and pulling a handful of cattails from the water. She sat and began to weave the fish trap. Diana weaved one too.

"Maybe we can stay for a few days." Said Britta hopefully, panting as she struggled to keep the cattails steady.

Diana shrugged, "Shouldn't we be running?" she asked.

"But we haven't seen anyone else since those men by the village and we don't look much like 'Britta and Diana' anymore. We're supposed to be boys, remember?"

Diana nodded. "How will we get rope tied to this?" She asked instead, dropping the trap in the river and promptly grabbing it as it began to float away.

Britta stood up and looked around. "What if we make some tree bark into twine?" She asked thumping a tree near the river bank.

She pulled out the knife from the sheath that had sat so comfortably against her skin. She began stripping the bark off a few of the close-growing willow trees. She pulled off the inner layer of bark and set it aside: boiled up it would be a meal similar to pasta. She then stripped anything off, further thinning it down until it was pliable. She folded it in half and began twisting into a long cord, adding on bits whenever a strip ran out.

Soon she and Diana each had a length long enough to tie the fish trap to the trees overhead. They dropped them into the water and Britta began preparing the bark, boiling it like pasta in the pan. She used dandelion, watercress, and various other herbs as seasoning.

The waited a few more days in the clearing. During that time, they caught two fish and, after eating them cooked in different ways with the vegetables at hand, began making their way through the forest again.

By the time they reached the open prairie the small stream they had been following spread out and met three other streams, fanning out with the added volume of them. It was now a much bigger river and its depth and speed sent shivers down their spines. Britta felt a tingle of fear.

She didn't like the way the water churned. The way it whirled around and sucked under made her feel sick and dizzy.

They walked slower once out of the forest. The road was starting to show, the packed dirt broken up by the grass which pushed its way through. The road wasn't as well used as it could have been. Diana knew that Weatherston held the oldest Abbey on this side of the mountains, but she wasn't sure if there were any other differences. The river made a reasonably clear track through the forest, which was why the road was built beside it, despite it being washed away annually.

They spent the day meandering along the banks of the large 'new' river. They were no longer in such a rush; they had escaped the town and there was no longer such a risk of being discovered. They thought of the river now as their guide, so they kept following it, stopping when it got dark and rising with the sun.

They reached camp after the second day of traveling across the prairie early. The opportunity of the rocky outcrop was too good to pass up; it was going to rain. They set up camp by means of the usual blankets on the floor after Britta had made a rough broom out of sticks to clear the ground of sharp stones. They went out to find some food before it rained. Diana nearly bumped into Britta when she stopped dead.

"What is it?" Diana whispered.

Britta felt something strange. A presence of something different. Not a ghost, but a memory. The bank of the river wasn't familiar, but there was a tree sticking out of the water, its trunk slimy and its bark worn off by the endless water flowing past. It had been there for a while, surviving the constant battering flood waters.

***

Her hands grappled for a purchase on the unrelenting wood. Her breath came in gasps. How long could she keep this up? Her grip weakened and she was held there only by the thick fabric of her clothing. Dark hair clung to her face. There was a desperate light in her eyes.

***

The memory was triggered by this place, the tree was the same. They stared out for a long time. The memory wasn't really theirs. It wasn't from their lifetime.