Abnormalities

She stumbled mindlessly through the forest, trying to calculate through a muddled head exactly how much damage had been done. She knew there was a great slash across her forehead, a nasty piece of work had been aiming that severing charm at her throat, and luckily she ducked, but not enough however. An hour back she had had a blinding pain from her left knee down, but now she felt nothing. The feeling of complete numbness was more horrifying than the feeling of blinding pain to her. She swore under her breath where was her wand? Without her wand she knew it was useless to try and heal herself and she continued to limp aimlessly around.

She paused hearing a rustling in the bushes near by, and her fists curled ready to attack by force if absolutely necessary. But as soon as it had come it was gone again, and she presumed that it was just a bat or a fox or some other creature of the night.

She squeazed her eyes tightly shut for a second trying to make them grow more adjusted to the darkness, but nothing worked. She was just as blind now as she was before her attempt. She let out a low hiss annoyed with the situation at hand. It was actually pathetic.

She was completely useless without her wand...when had she lost it? The whole battle on the grounds and in the woods was in such a blur to her that she couldn't help but be annoyed.

"I am young no longer," she said emotionlessly to the night air.

How deep in the forest had she gotten? She could see no traces of the battlefield, no hints or signs of warfare. Perhaps her comrades had all fled and she was the soul remaining troop. She was loyal to their cause, if perhaps none of the others were. What time of the night was it? She looked around her surroundings again but nothing was familiar.

Tears pricked her eyes...no she would not cry...she was young no longer hadn't she said?

Taking a shaky breath she eased herself onto a patch of forest floor and winced at the protesting screams of her ribcage. She must have broken them and not even noticed.

She lay like that for several minutes, growing acutely aware of every spot on her body as the time slowly passed. She had not one slash on her forehead but three, and her right ribs were broken in four spots and her left in one. Her left leg was infected with some sort of hex that she couldn't identify and it was worrying her. If she couldn't get to a healer of some sort soon she would be at risk for an amputation. She tried to gently roll her right ankle to see how her right leg was faring. She grimaced in pain; she had obviously broken her ankle.

It was her own fault, she thought with a sigh, she was nearing her fifties and although she was not truly old, she certainly was no longer young and agile as she used to be. She had been doing this for more than half her life span. Had she ever had a life without the glory of killing? A life of simplicity?

She prodded her right thigh and let out a low hiss. There was a very large bruise there. Why had she gone out into the front lines? She knew that she was considered by all to be one of the best, so why did she have to push herself and push herself? If she had joined the battlefield in the second wave she could have avoided many of these injuries.

She inhaled through her nose, trying to pick up the scent of a fellow human, but all she got was blood. Her own blood. She had never been that good at tracking anyway. Her eyes were misty, perhaps why she kept having so much trouble seeing. Her own tears just may have been the obstruction that stopped her from getting out of the forest.

If only she had her wand! Then she would be able to heal herself and rejoin with her army quickly. Her breathing grew rapid as she became angrier and she noticed a pain stirring in her lung every time she inhaled too heavy. Someone had punctured her lung. "Damnit!" she cried out angrily and then regretted it as the contents of her stomach decided to reacquaint themselves with her.

Her vomit was mixed with blood and she silently cursed. Internal bleeding was never good. At least external bleeding could be stopped the Muggle way.

A gentle breeze flowed by and she shivered. Her elegant black robes were torn and tattered her hair was matted and caked with blood. She was beginning to panic slightly...why were there no people about? Only dark morbid forest creatures...nothing that held a normal existence on this Earth like her own.

A thought crossed Bellatrix's mind. Just how normal was her existence? The life she led was not one of anything but torture and darkness...and what had she gotten for living a completely abnormal life? Three slashes on her forehead, a broken ankle, broken ribs, an infected leg, a punctured lung and many bruises. For a second she regretted having been so easily drawn into the dark delights that Voldemort offered, but then in her mind's eye she saw the shimmering green skull in the air that marked the death or an enemy, and heard the cackle of her Lord's voice. She willed herself to stand. She could put pain aside; it was something at which Bellatrix excelled. She grinned cattishly before starting the hunt for her master again.

Normalcy was not something commonly found in the Black family after all...just look at her cousin Sirius, he was quite far from the norm.