Chapter Text
With a long, shaking breath, Timberly smoothed down the skirts of her dress with trembling hands and surveyed her reflection in the small mirror, lifting one hand to roll a curl around a finger. She'd not done too badly with her hair. At least-- At least she didn't think so. It looked strange to her own eyes, to have it around her shoulders after such a long time of keeping it short - and transfiguration had never been her strongest suit. But perhaps she was just being overly critical? Either way - it would have to do until her hair grew out naturally.
She swept her gaze around her small cabin - her trunk was packed just as haphazardly as it had been the day she'd left - she's had little reason to venture into it - except to extract a quill, ink and parchment or money. She checked the lock once more - still locked and still set to hide the true contents of any intruding muggle customs officer. On the small dressing table sat what muggle money she had left, and a somewhat hastily written note.
'My apologies for the mess, please find a what I hope to be a generous tip for both tasks of transporting my trunk, and for the cleaning of my cabin.'
The mess she had not made yet, her bunk tucked away neatly, but - as she picked up a large double bass case and a large pouch - it was not far away. Struggling slightly, she opened the pouch one-handed and, carefully upended it pouring dirt onto the floor. The dirt kept coming, for much longer than was sensical, as if the pouch itself was bigger on the inside, somehow holding more dirt than the outside might suggest. Eventually, the dirt slowed to a trickle, sputtered and then stopped. There was quite a mound of it now and lifting her dress with her spare hand, she stepped onto it. She stashed the pouch, drawing out her wand and holding tighter onto the handle of her case she took a deep breath, paused and then whispering to herself "Destination, determination, deliberation. Destination, determination, deliberation." She took a step forwards - and with an audible pop - she disapparated.
~
She staggered slightly as she landed, bumping into the brick wall of the alleyway - but grinned, glancing about. She'd done it. Apparated from British soil - to American... Technically. It would make for an excellent opener to her book. Elated, for the first time in well over a week, she slipped her wand away and then... Hesitated. Left, or right? Which way would take her to the main streets? She chose left after another seconds deliberation.
Her journey had been draining -- a full week alone on a ship with nothing but her thoughts had allowed dread to settle thick in her stomach. She had packed in a hurry, left her parents home in the middle of the night and not looked back. There had been no plan but escape and adventure. She had gone first to London - and then timing, luck, providence... Something on her side, she'd found a passenger boat boarding to leave for America. A brief stop at Gringotts to empty her account and change enough galleons into muggle money for board and lodge (with an even briefer interlude for the dirt she'd carried in her pouch) and she was as good as gone. She had, at the time, felt clever - brave - daring - adventurous. But those emotions soon waned and as they did, in came a tidal wave of dread.
She had been foolish, impulsive, idiotic. What was she going to do?
But being in America---?
The effect was bolstering her. Here - here she would find freedom. Here she would find adventure. Here she would find excit-Or perhaps it would find her. She should have gone right. Instead of emerging onto a street she came to a courtyard of sorts, stumbling upon five men, duelling fiercely. Their wands were drawn - but there was not a raised voice between them - each throwing spells viciously at each other in near silence. Her gaze whipped around - they were alone, and the stone walls of the apartments that enclosed them had no windows - concealing their activities to everyone - but her.
The duel came to an end almost as soon as she came upon it - two of the men beating the other three. Either she had stumbled upon it at its closure or the fight was not long lived. Adventure? Yes. Excitement? Please. But something illicit, illegal and potentially dangerous? No, thank you. Perhaps not today, not on the first day of her adventures. She took a silent step backwards, determined to immediately forget what she had seen. She turned - and the case still clutched in her hand swung with the momentum of her haste. The trash cans it hit fell with a deafening clatter and as if in slow motion, she glanced backwards as one of the men turned - their gazes locking.
Panic flooded her brain. She had been turning to leave her muscles recalled - and so - she ran.
~
A brief curse. "A No-Maj?"
"Why else would she run? I'll take these three in - go get her and obliviate her."
~
She was aware of being followed - but her options were slim. She'd gotten quite a head start - the width of the courtyard, the seconds of deliberation about who should follow - the problem was she could almost feel that gap closing - her dress and case were impeding her escape and she had always been built for speed, rather than stamina. She would not make it out of the labyrinthine alleyways and into a crowd fast enough - she would be caught, like an animal in a trap, or.. Or she could use the advantage afforded to her and use her head start to lay a trap herself...
Spotting an alcove, she side stepped into it, drawing her wand and waiting, heart hammering for the sound of her pursuers foot falls to get closer. One hand clutching her case, the other holding her wand, as he approached she swung. Her case connected with - well, certainly with something from the sound he made - and she dropped it, using her free hand to seize the front of his clothes and drag him into the alcove with her, wand pressed into his jaw.