362 Chapter 16, No Entry

After watching Suzanne and Arthur leave in a truck, Miranda and Hoffa waited for the bus on the outskirts of the city. They waited from morning to noon, until Hoffa was sweating in the sun, and an old bus came from a distance with black smoke.

Hoffa glanced at the bus schedule on the stop sign, and it turned out to be a bus to Scotland. Due to lack of memory, he didn't know the exact location of Scotland, but he vaguely felt that it was a far, far away place. It takes a long time to travel by bus.

When Miranda took Hoffa into the car, he couldn't help frowning. The old bus was crowded, full of people, and even stuffed with two goats and four chickens. The air smelled of moldy wool and the sweat of not taking a bath for a long time, and on the ground there were pearly goat droppings and gray chicken droppings. It's definitely not a good smell. Hoffa, who just got into the car, was almost fainted by the smell. Fortunately, Miranda was beside him, and he could reach the short chestnut hair of the other side with his head. The violet scent on the short hair was at this moment Smells like angel's bath water.

However, after only smelling it for a few seconds, Hoffa felt great anxiety emerge from the bottom of his heart. He turned his head away in fear, his body trembling constantly.

Miranda looked normal, she was neither disgusted by the bad smell in the bus nor annoyed by Hoffa's inadvertent movements.

Seeing that there were no seats left for them, she stood where she was, grabbed the ring, took out a palm-sized novel from her bosom, and read it on the spot with a calm expression.

Seeing her like this, Hoffa felt ashamed. He sighed secretly, holding the ring and looking out the window.

It wasn't until three hours later that someone got off the platform, leaving two seats for Hoffa and Miranda. Hoffa wanted Miranda to sit by the window, but Miranda pushed Hoffa inside without any explanation.

After taking the seat, Miranda didn't say much. She crossed her legs, buried her chin in her collar, put one hand in her pocket, and turned the pages of the book with only one finger, as if there were a hundred Shakespeares living in the book.

In fact, after the conversation that night, Miranda hardly had any communication with Hoffa, and if there was any communication, it was only through the eyes. Oddly enough, sometimes Hoffa knew what Miranda was thinking when she just pursed her lips, and the tacit understanding made him upset.

The bus drove all the way until late at night without stopping. The sky outside the window was sometimes clear and sometimes rainy, and people on board got up and down. Gradually, Hoffa's eyelids became heavy. Miranda had folded her arms at this moment and fell asleep with her head down. Looking at the sleeping Miranda, Hoffa thought that they were still far away from their destination, so he leaned his head against the car window and began to doze off.

In the haze, the vehicle seemed to have stopped. Some male passengers on the bus went to the wilderness to relieve themselves. He saw Miranda get off the bus too. Let him follow.

Hoffa thought that Miranda was going to the bathroom too and needed someone to let her out, so he got up and followed Miranda. The two left the bus and walked in the wilderness. There are waist-deep alfalfas all over the wilderness, and the cool night wind blows the alfalfa rattling. The figure in front walked fast, and Hoffa had to use all his strength to keep up.

As they walked, a building unexpectedly appeared in the wasteland, and the girl walking in front stopped outside the fence gate of the building. After approaching, Hoffa found that it turned out to be a magnificent villa.

In the courtyard of the villa with a fountain, several children were piling sand on the gravel-filled ground, and they couldn't see clearly.

"Do you know them?"

Miranda stood outside the house, pointing at a few children playing in the sand in the yard and asked Hoffa.

Hoffa looked at Miranda in confusion and shook his head.

"Do you know what their names are?"

Miranda asked again.

"I don't know," Hoffa said.

"Do you want to know their names?"

Hoffa looked at the backs of those children and the beautiful big villa, feeling a faint disgust in his heart for no reason.

"No," he replied. "I'm going back to the car, let's go, the car may be leaving."

After speaking, Hoffa turned and left without hesitation.

After walking for a while, he found that Miranda had not followed, so he turned back and called Miranda. But when he looked back, there was neither the big villa nor Miranda, only a huge burning red moon over the wilderness.

The giant moon brought Hoffa an unparalleled sense of oppression. Under that oppression, he couldn't walk or even breathe, and his body was as heavy as a stone. He raised his hand, trying to stop the unparalleled oppression, but in vain.

ah! ! ! !

Accompanied by silent screams, the sweaty Hoffa woke up from his sleep, the shocking and suffocating oppression still lingering in his chest. He stretched out his hand tremblingly, opened the window of the bus, and put his head in hastily.

At this moment, the bus stopped at a gas station in a small town, and there was a drizzle in the air, accompanied by the cool water vapor full of gasoline smell entering his lungs, Hoffa finally recovered from the huge sense of oppression. After taking several breaths, he retreated into the carriage and leaned back on the chair, feeling lingering in fear.

Miranda on the side pushed his shoulder: "Hoffa."

Hoffa turned his head mechanically, and saw the deep brown eyes of the girl beside him.

"What's wrong?" he asked hoarsely.

"It's almost there." Miranda said, "There may be no cars on the road ahead, so we can only walk."

It was only then that Hoffa realized that there was no one in the car. He didn't know how long he slept, and all the people in the car fell asleep. Miranda stood up and stretched her legs.

"Why didn't you wake me up earlier," Hoffa muttered, his heart pounding.

But Miranda didn't answer his question. She pulled up the hoodie on the back of her head to keep her hair from getting wet, and then she walked away from the bus.

Hoffa followed Miranda, pinching his face from time to time to prevent himself from dreaming. However, the pain and coldness negated his guess, and he was extremely sober at this moment.

The small town is in the mountains, very strange. Not long after they walked, they left this unknown town and entered the wilderness. Hoffa could only follow closely behind Miranda, he didn't know how Miranda knew the way. But when he crossed the valley and the woods in the drizzle, an old railway appeared in front of him.

Here, Hoffa gradually felt a little familiar. There was no doubt that he had been to the railway, but he could not remember when.

Miranda led him along the railway, and they left the railway and entered a strange fork at about dawn. At this time, some figures appeared faintly in the rain and mist. They were of different shapes. Gathered in twos and threes, unable to see clearly.

"It's almost here." Miranda said, "It seems that there is indeed a rally here."

Hearing what she said, Hoffa felt a little excited.

Is there magic here? Can he get his memory back?

Not far away, a tall figure appeared in the rain and fog, blocking their way. He has gray-white hair, blue eyes, wearing a butcher's leather coat and high boots, holding a whip in his hand, and is surrounded by a herd of goats grazing. He looks like a shepherd in the countryside.

"Hey, where are you from?"

The shepherd stood by the side of the road and questioned Hoffa and Miranda on the way.

Miranda stopped. She looked at the shepherd on the side of the road with a surprised expression, and took a step back without saying a word, looking a little vigilant.

"What about asking, you two, are you deaf?"

Seeing that the two were silent, the shepherd scolded impatiently.

"Your Excellency, we are from London." Hoffa stood up and said respectfully.

“From London”

The old sheep herding man rubbed his chin, looked the two of them up and down, clicked his lips, and said, "No wonder you are dressed so greasy and powdered, it's disgusting."

Hoffa scratched his head. The other party didn't seem to like their appearance.

"What are you doing in Hogsmeade?"

asked the old man herding sheep.

"At the rally." This time it was Miranda who answered.

She looked at him cautiously, with a hint of confusion on her face.

"At the rally."

After pondering for a moment, the old man suddenly asked, "What is left after the flame burns out?"

Miranda was asked by this nonsensical question, and she didn't react for a while.

Hoffa on the side reacted quickly, and he said, "Uh, are there any ashes left?"

Unexpectedly, the simple word "ashes" made the face of the shepherd in front of him change drastically. He raised the whip in his hand and yanked it off. Seeing that something was wrong, Hoffa quickly hugged Miranda, and the whip mercilessly hit his face, leaving a bloodstain.

"Go away! You idiots, you are not welcome here! Go away, go away!" the shepherd cursed.

Hoffa, who had been whipped in vain, was also furious. He turned around and pointed at the shepherd's nose and cursed, "Hey, are you sick, do you beat people every now and then?"

However, the shepherd was merciless, and immediately raised his whip again, and drew it down towards Hoffa, cursing as he whipped, "You're beating an idiot, get out! Do you hear me?"

Miranda pulled Hoffa back quickly, dodging another whip. Hoffa refused to accept it and wanted to appeal.

But Miranda gave him a look, and that damn tacit understanding made Hoffa startled. He looked around and saw a few tall figures in the rain and fog approaching here.

"Walk!"

Miranda grabbed Hoffa and ran away.

While running, Hoffa heard relentless scolding coming from behind: "Bastards, I remember your faces! London boy, don't appear in front of me, or it won't be as simple as giving you a whip next time!"