Marluxia stood and looked around frantically. "What was that?"

"You tell me." He said slowly as his eyes darted around the perimiter of the small island.

I don't know. I'm not psychic. I don't know what's out there."

Gandal could hear faint whispers... was it singing? The... singing... grew louder; growling voices humming a tune. More leaves crunches. More twigs cracked.

"Druids..." she whispered. She listened to the song and began to sing along to it. She shut her eyes and let herself go. The elements began to swirl slightly but before they could go any further she finished the song. "How could I not have known."

"Uh..." Gandal was uncertain about this, "Do they know you? Are they friendly?"

"Yes. They know me. Are they friendly? To you maybe. They won't be to me." She sighed. "This would be the same tribe that shipped me off to the church in the first place."

"Oh..." He looked concerned, "What should we do?"

She sat on the ground and closed her eyes. "Nothing. We wait. They'll get here soon enough."

"Uh..." He sat with her, "Wait for them?"

"Yes. They know I'm here. That' why they are out here. They need to get rid of me before it is too late."

Gandal took out his sword, her riddles angering him. He was not prepared for what was to come.

"Put it away you fool," she said angrily. "If you threaten them they will kill you on sight." She looked up at him, rage flaring in her eyes.

Okay, this was scaring him. Alot. Gandal sheathed his sword. He had never been so frightened in his life. Not even the day he lost his parents was this scary.

The druids came shortly afterwards. She stood and looked up to see him standing there, watching her like he used to. "Vigon. I should have expected as much," she muttered. The young man smiled.
"Nice to see you too Marluxia. Long time no see huh? Where you been?"
"Oh quit with the small talk. You were never good at it." Vigon dropped the smile.
"Fine." Vigon was a tall druid for his age. He was eighteen (two years older than Marluxia) and built like an ox. From what she could see, he still found pride in those biceps of his.

Gandal stood slowly, stepping away slowly, trying not to let too much of his worry consume him.

"It's okay Gandal. He won't hurt you if you don't strike him."
"He'd be dead before he could unsheathe his sword," he chuckled.
"Don't be a prick. You may be the Elder's son, but you are no genius." Vigon scowled at her and grabbed her throat. She held a hand up to Gandal. "He won't kill me. He's not authorized to do so."

Gandal laid a hand on the hilt of his sword, gulping.

"Don't do it boy," Vigon said. "You'l be dead before you could take one step."
"It would be wise to listen Gandal," she gasped from Vigon's grip. "He'll have his lackeys lurking in the trees."

Gandal moved his hand away, totally unsure of what to do.

Marluxia used the air around her to push Vigon back. She rubbed her neck and gasped for air. "Better," she croaked. She looked at Gandal and smiled before Vigon grabbed his sword and put it to her throat. "You know it is forbidden to use magic on other druids," he spat. Marluxia looked away.
"Did you brush your teeth this morning? Your breath stinks."

Gandal couldn't help but laughing at what she said.

"I see you have a supportive audience," Vigon whispered viciously in her ear.
"It's a lot better than your lumberjacks," she said scathingly. Vigon scowled and turned her around pinning her to a tree. He bound her hands and she held no resistance. She looked over at Gandal. "Don't resist," she mouthed.

((Do I cut him up now?))

(No)

Vigon pulled her off the tree roughly and brought her close to his body. "You will die for your stupidity," he said. She turned her head to him with a groan. "The Elder has the last say in this. Not you." She looked forward again. "If today is the day I die, so be it. I would rather die at the hands of a druid than at the hands of that slime." Vigon scowled and pushed her forward. He turned to his hidden thugs.
"Bring him." And with that, they moved toward the village.