Half-past midnight, Bella had fled the Welsh village she'd agreed to meet Mr. Gladstone at, having shared little more than a few minutes and a kiss—(oh Merlin, that kiss!)— with him before uncertainty wore her to madness. The realization that she had no idea what she wanted out of life was a crushing defeat, and one that would remain firmly at the forefront of her mind for months to come.

Her only sensible action of the night had been waiting until she returned to her room at the MacFusty home to pull out the flask of whiskey she'd stuffed in her dress pocket before making her escape. Over a two hour period, Bella sucked down as much of it as she could. She coughed and spluttered, saliva and whiskey mixing with tears (and much to her dismay, snot) as her memories were overwhelmed by a sea of emotions. Bella felt a sudden urge to crawl into bed with another person, if only to wrap her arms around their warmth, but even she knew that was an impossibility... unless it wasn't a human body. Yes, she thought. She'd go to Jamie's and see the wolves! Yes, it was an infallible plan.

Minutes later, once she'd dressed herself to the best of her ability and fumbled to put her hair into a half-assed braid, Bella left the MacFusty house and made a solid trek through the darkness of the island before realizing she had a wand. Magic. With a cackling laugh, Bella withdrew her wand, and with a crack, apparated to the place she'd grown familiar with: Jamie's shack.

She made it there with (fortunately) no injuries apart from the missing finger she belatedly realized had already been missing. She approached the shack, noting that it looked far eerier in the darkness of the night. She'd seen Jamie locked it up before, so it took only a minute to unlock it. Satisfied, Bella went indoors, brain too hazy to realize just how loud the floorboards creaked under her steps.

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