Author's Note: This is my addition to the Clan LeFemme Fics. I make no claims to GARGOYLES, yadda yadda yadda. My addition has no beginning and no end. It is written deliberately that way so that it may fit in anywhere. Much much thanks to Skydancer for submitting this into the Giant Clan Story for me along with my other tales. As well as Sky, I would like to thank Firedancer, Mad Merlyn (how are ye, my sister?), Le Mage Lisette, Shadow, and Sonia. I also extend a talon to our newest members: Angel H., Robyn, and Lady Foxglove-- from the Pen, the deepest of welcomes and I hope to be hearing from you. To both my Clans (LeFemme and Segod) and Aaron Z.: I send my gratitude. With much love to all mentioned, Laura J. Rose ~Pendragoness~

The moon rose high into the sky, signaling nightfall. The forrest below spread like a tapestry, forts and castles and villages wove in between. But Saxon raids from long ago had destroyed the castleforts and villages of this part of the land. Indeed, Scotland had always harbored such lands of far-away regues in its heather-stream fields and forests. Nearby the Great Forrest, a village or town thrived. Its inhabitants never went near the abandoned and crumbling forts and deteriorating villages. So that those sites became the target of legends and ghost stories of demons and the like dwelling there. One such tale the old told to their young grandchildren was that of a raging demon with wings spread far enough to equal that of three men, and eyes and hair as red as hell.

True, Demona fit this description perfectly, Pen thought, but the immortal was not around these parts. Pen was, and that's all she knew. The young female gargoyle exploded out of her stone shell that night and growled at the full moon which seemed to glare back. It had been months since she had seen Leia and Matt-- or William for that matter.

Pen sat down on the aged parapet, legs dangling over the side, the folds of her tunic laying over her knees. Her once-lover had left her weeks ago, without so much as an explanation to his decision. William had been so gargoyle-- and truthfully, Pen only was because she wished it and it was granted to her-- but his strength and heart had first attracted Pen to him as he had been the first man she'd glimpsed of since she had journeyed forth from her twin and her mate. The dragon he had called himself, for his powers and strength-- (when she had traveled with William through an ancient island far-away across the continents, they'd called him Tatrio, which meant his self-given name: The Dragon Man).

The first glimpse Pen had of him was of his bare back, where a tattooed dragon coiled across his muscles. It was true that both of them bore dragons in their names, and Pen's strength of will had almost matched his to identical means. Thus, they had loved for months.

William was kind, yes, and loving when he wanted, but sometimes he was angry-- angry as a taunt Piccolo ready to burst.

Pen had loved him until he left her. She had wept for what seemed an eternity, and she felt she would never be happy again. By herself, it was hard and she once seriously thought of slitting her wrists with her talons. But, as time progressed, through meditation, hunting and tracking, Pen healed herself from bitterness and depression somewhat. For even a grieving creature has a will to survive, though she was quieter now. But that was to be expected when one was alone.

Pen dangled her hands between her knees and sighed, lowering her head. Her first lonely nights when William left, shamed her now. When she screamed herself hoarse and killed animals savagely without so much as a prayer to the gods to take its life, or to simply replenish herself (feeding the villagers' tales of the demoness's bloodlust).

It had been a bloody sport until Pen let her rage go, staring at the seeping blood covering her talons and staining her tunic, and the dried blood encrusted between her knuckles. One brush at her mouth rubbed blood across her hand, her teeth had been doused in another's lifeblood. And as she remembered how civilized the beautiful houses of that far-off isle were, Pen was appalled. She'd stripped and washed her tunic and herself in a running stream, purifying herself.

But Pen was stuck right now. She had to find Leia and Matt, and she had to leave this graveyard. In a way, she didn't know how. She lived in isolation for quite a while and felt such a hermit that she didn't know if she could face her dear sister and clan brother. Leia and Matt had only met William once when she had journeyed with him across the lands. The two had been happy to see Pen with a mate, but something about William had troubled Matt deeply.

Pen looked out at the forrest, sitting as still as the statue she became during the daylight. Leia-- her identical match in flesh and blood but with longer hair that framed her face more gracefully than her own did. Matt--the good mate Leia had found, with long hair that swept to his waist, and a beard which enhanced his every expression. Pen had promised to meet them at the lake to Arcadia where they would finally meet Clan LeFemme, their Rookery sisters in spirit. Pen had promised three moons ago-- tonight was the third! She must leave tonight or she never would.

Pen stood, letting the tunic fall to her shins in folds and drapes. She came to a decision-- she could stay and feel alone or she could find her friends. She decided to leave.

Along with her tunic, Pen had another one just as long, but sleeveless, allowing the long sleeves of the bottom tunic to show. She turned and stalked into the deserted Great Hall and chambers where she kept her clothing. Her over tunic and cloak lay strewn on a smashed table. In the darkness, Pen's glowing eyes provided sufficient light. She slid the overtunic on, poking her wings through the accustomed holes torn on the back. Over that, she tied her sash over her waist, tying the ends tight to cinch her waist. She bent to tie strips of rags to her angular feet, the taloned toes free.

Wings spread, Pen collected her cloak. She would carry this in her arms as she was flying. The heavy cloak and hood was mostly for dress in case she ever needed to enter a village with her human-based clan, so that her gargoyle form would be well hidden.

Pen shook her long hair out of her face. It was long down her back, wavy locks with a coarse texture, unlike Leia's silky tresses. At that moment Pen didn't care if her long mane stood out in elf-locks. A creature of the night, especially on the move, seldom had time to groom anyway.

With a running start, Pen took a deep breath and plunged off the old castle, catching the strong wind and rising up over the forrest. For added effect, she screamed a joyous scream to the night. To other than gargoyles and her clan this would sound more like a blood-curdling scream of a demoness.

Well, Pen laughed, this night the villagers would surely shudder by their staked fires, whispering of demons and faeries.

Two nights later, Pen had traveled the whole breath of Scotland to the borders of Hadrion's Wall. Hard travel and flight had progressed her rate so quickly, along with a pure thrill of being on the winds and new grounds.

Now, two nights later, Pen was wading through the waist high grasses of the Mists. It was on the shores of the Lake that she had promised to meet her twin and sworn brother.

A fabled meeting place of the Clan on these shores was an ancient oak tree with a familiar yet just as ancient symbol carved there. Pen's four-fingered hand covered that symbol, tracing the hope of it with one talon. She was here, but where was the Clan?

Pen stood, staring at the mists rising over the lake. Time to make herself presentable. Pen folded her wings over her shoulders and covered them with her cloak, clasping it at the shoulder with a bare brooch, no doubt left by some Saxon warrior. As the boe slid easily through the heavy cloth, Pen knew that her promised sisters would be glad to see her, no matter what her appearance!

The cloak fell almost to her feet, going well past her long garments. Pen knelt to shake grass stems from the hems of her tunics. Her pointed ears picked up the slightest sound of a boat's hull scraping on the water. She stood up. A skiff was skimming the lake towards shore. Nobody was in it. Had her sisters sent the skiff for her? Were they already on the Island?

"Hey, Pen!" a voice called, shattering her period of isolation completely. Turning, Pen saw the silhouette of the figures, both clad in long tunics with long hair to their waists. Matt and Leia.

Pen stood as straight as dignity would allow her to greet her twin and her mate, who broke through the grass hand and hand. Pen felt a stab of a long-missed joy slice through her so suddenly it was like pain and soon she found herself running the rest of the way to meet them. Matt hugged Pen and Leia also, in turn hugged her sister.

"Pen, how are you? How was the isle?" Leia was asking a dozen questions, laughing and glad to see her twin again. Pen watched her with envy. Her sister was bursting with happiness. It seemed to radiate off her.

Matt watched Pen closely. "Pendragoness-- where is William? Are you meeting him here?"

Pen kept her answer to the point. "He decided to go his separate way."

As Matt and Leia were silent, Pen turned her head in direction of the landed skiff. "Our fabled sisters must be waiting," she said.

"Pen--"

"I'm alright. Really!" Pen flashed a grin which showed her long teeth. It gave her the appearance of a fierce and sarcastic grin.

So the three stepped into the skiff, which automatically began to skim across the Lake towards the Mists-- no incantations or rowing was needed. And on the other side of the Mists, thought Pen as she drew her cloak tighter around her, lay Arcadia. She looked at Matt and Leia. She was glad to be in company of other living beings, of course. But her loneliness would take a very long time to go away. There is a difference.

The Mists closed around them.