According to Aunt Matilda, in the depths of the Forbidden Forest of the Felled Druids, there is a cavern so deep that you must supply your own light. There is no flame that stays lit, even electric ones would fizzle in moments. When she crashed to the bottom she was entirely convinced her adventures would end then and there, the flames of the aeroplane fading as the glint of creatures eyes did so as well, leaving her in a truly helpless position. It was only from the interest of the druids that she was able to find sanctuary. They have an uncanny sense of character, and the tenacity of her soul was indomitable. She never denied the terror racing in her veins, but she was not a foolish woman. She had the means to protect herself and would give her best shot at anything that made itself a challenge. ‘Not a killer, just a winner,’ she would always say. The druids felt it appropriate to commend her unfaltering courage and grit with a wand, akin to the creatures at the depths. While she could not understand their tongue, they communicated emotion even still. She is vehemently proud of her time with them, and often wonders if they think of her as much as she thinks of them.
