The air is still. So is Bonnie. The sun's heat beams down on her presence. Sweat drops from her chin to the split between her toes. She blinks.

To Bonnie, it feels like it's been months by herself. Alone in an unfamiliar land. Of course, she knows how it feels to be alone. To be with her self, her favorite tea, and her favorite book. Or to be in a park under the fiery sky, or sitting on her porch, or just listening to her music. She understands being alone.

It's loneliness that's been de-familiarized, detached from its derivative in Bonnie's mind. It's the sound of waves becoming intrusive and the innocuous air developing a voice. The sudden reliance on her instinct, never losing the faith resonated within it. Being alone, from what Bonnie knows, as she stands rocking back and forth and back and forth with little effort, is a choice.

Loneliness, Bonnie begins as her thoughts form into their own, manifesting so that they consume her, is fate.

Bonnie stands in front of a small cottage, a shard of glass in her hand. As she walks towards the cottage, fresh blood drips from the glass.

She stops. Her jaws tighten as she sees another indiscernible sign on the ground in front of her. She's been getting these. Cryptic messages, or warning signs. Bonnie reads them as an omen— that something evil is approaching. And if loneliness has taught her anything, it's to keep her guard up at all times.

The message Bonnie stands over now is burned into the grass; she can still see the smoke rising above. It read 'Go'. She bends down, hovering her hands over the message.

She's thinking so much about who could be the one writing these messages, and though she associates them with apocalyptic imminence, the only person she can think of Grams. Her Grams is the one who told her she'd be at peace, but she hasn't felt it once. Maybe this is her Grams way of trying to help her find it.

Her mind is in a flux, though, of emotion, of grief, of so many things. Her face resembles nothing but content, even in these damaging conditions. But inside, it's a whole different world. A planet of its own emotion and grief and latitude.

Bonnie looks up at the cottage, ignoring the message. It's brown and is surrounded by white trees. She walks up to the door, knocking on its wooden surface. The door nudges open and Bonnie pulls away. She peaks through the dusty opening, seeing a white wall. She pushes the door open further and steps in, curious as to what or whom may be inside

"Is anybody here?" Bonnie says, holding up the glass. Her face shifted into survival mode, a face that almost cemented itself upon her. Deep down, Bonnie knows that if that happens her life will change dramatically. And what's locked inside that dormant cage of hers, will claw its way out until there is nothing left of her humanistic soul.

But it's appropriate now. It's a must. She may be trespassing in this house and if she isn't prepared for an attack, it could be the last of her. And she'll be damned if this is the way she goes out.

She looks down the hall seeing a kitchen, as she walks and looks to her left there is a room. A study, maybe. Across from that is another room, a living room.

Thud!

She hears a noise.

Her head shifts to the right, narrowing her eyes at the idyllic white sofa in her view. Her foot steps into the living room, landing on a loose plank in the floor. She freezes, staring at her foot. She swallows, taking a deep breath. The plank could creak, and she'd reveal herself, if she moves too fast. Slowly, she lifts her foot off of the plank and it lands back in its place silently.

Bonnie sighs in relief and continues into the living room. She looks around the room, walking into the sun's rays shining through the casement window.

A panther cub sways its way to Bonnie from the dark shadows of the room. She looks to her left, startled but happy to see it. She bends down, smiling and hugging it as it falls into her grasp. The cub buries its head into Bonnie's neck and she smiles as if she's been reunited with a close, close friend.

She pulls away from the cub and sighs, rubbing her hands against its soft fur.

"Hey," Bonnie says in a caring voice. "Any sign of him?" Bonnie looked into the cub's eyes and her excitement faded into a depressed state. She sits back, sighing. She shakes her head, fighting away tears pleading to fall. "We're never going to find him are we? We'll never find any of them."

Bonnie's head slowly drops to the floor as the corners of her mouth recede even more. Her bottom lip twitches to the side. The hazel orbs residing in Bonnie's eyes look up at the cub.

"What are we going to do?" She whispers. Then she waits. As if she's waiting for the cub to respond. For the panther to tell her that she'll find Damon, or that she'll find Arabess, Luca, and Ross and that everything will be okay.

Hope in this treacherous place is blinding. It's deceiving and deserves ridicule. Bonnie knows this, but that's the one thing that has kept her surviving. Her desire to find her friends. Her desire to finish what she started and make good on her promises.

Damon left her in a vulnerable and confused state. Arabess' disappearance put her on a chase for loyalty. And Luca… it just doesn't feel right leaving someone like her behind. A witch.

Bonnie jumps. The sound equivalent of nails on a chalkboard pierces Bonnie's eardrums. She turns around, seeing a message being written by some invisible force on the window. Her face coils up in anger.

"WHO are you?!" Bonnie screams at the window, and in an instant, finds herself inches away from the window. Her mouth opens as soon as she realizes, and she wonders how she got there that fast.

My magic? Bonnie thinks.

After a moment, she hears rumbling above her, like thunder in a dark, cloudy storm. Bonnie looks up, following the loud sounds. She runs into the hallway, looking for an entry way into an attic.

The panther runs its fur along Bonnie's moist leg. She looks down, a menacing look on her face.

"There is someone up there," She says.

She runs into the kitchen, looking around the ceiling for something that could lead her to the attic. She finds a string hanging down in the corner and runs over to it. There's a loud thump— then a crash.

Bonnie runs back into the hallway and sees a person landing on the ground hard. She sprints down the hall as fast as she could. Bonnie notices it's not an adult, but a kid, who struggles to get back up on their feet after that hard landing.

Bonnie reaches the doorway but the little kid got away.

Bonnie stops. Her chest heaves up and down, breath escapes from the small opening of her mouth. She watches as the little kid runs so dangerously swift, so acutely agile, as if there is something bigger chasing the kid. Something of the complete opposite nature of Bonnie herself.

She raises her chin.

"I swear."