Roy silently walked out of the tent, took out a small piece of wood he had prepared beforehand, and transfigured it into a chair.
Roy sat before the campfire, took off the backpack on his back, and sorted through his equipment by the faint light cast by the crackling flames.
"Let's see. Communication Notebook, Practical Manual of Ancient Magic, lockpicking tools, Black Eagle dagger, Dungbombs, the secret Rocket Fred and George gave me last summer..."
As Roy sorted through his gear, he considered how he could use what he had to help the two of them survive.
"Completely useless..."
After putting everything away, Roy let out a helpless sigh and stared blankly at the blazing campfire.
"I should think about what we can find to eat tomorrow morning first."
Roy cast a worried glance at the canvas tent behind him, which had been transfigured from the piece of wood. Aisling could not Apparate, and her current condition would not support a long journey on foot. He could only pray that Dumbledore and Snape would quickly realize that the two of them had been transported to America.
Several owl cries came from the pitch-black horizon in the distance. Their mournful calls echoed over the entire plain, and the ghostly howls made Roy's scalp prickle.
"Something's wrong."
Roy drew his wand and rose warily to his feet. With one kick, he extinguished the campfire before him, then stared fixedly through the darkness at several vague shadows emerging along the distant horizon.
"They really won't let us have any peace."
On the distant horizon, a group of American Aurors searching for their target noticed a faint flicker of light far out on the plains. The black-clad man leading them made a gesture, and the group vanished from the spot with a crack,