It had been some time since the arrival of the Frenchman and by the time the dark shape of the Sky Witch appeared on the horizon, the sun was high in the Sicilian sky and its bright reflection off of the crystal waters below seemed to mirror the overwhelming joy that Madelief felt deep within. It was a feeling that had not left her since she had received word of the reforming of the Wolves, as if a fire had been lit once more in the cold hearth that her soul had become in her isolation from the team.
'Oh my god, this is amazing...' she thought to herself contentedly, paying little mind to the heading of her craft with her head resting back against the low, worn leather seat as she gazed up past the cacophony of metal sheets and guidewires to the sky above.
It had been a long and trying task to make this meeting for Madelief, but one she met with all the enthusiasm of a child on Christmas morning. Firstly, her neglected rust-bucket of a plane had to be restored. Saying goodbye to her mother in Den Helder with little ado, she had bought an old flatbed truck which was barely in better shape than her plane. Despite the state of the vehicle, it got Madelief and her scrap pile to Amsterdam where she then sold the truck and set about having what had once been her pride and joy repaired. Repairing went on and on until it became more of a rebuild, a restoration or even a resurrection. She was somewhat shamed by it but her aircraft had been so poorly maintained that many components were rusted or had seized up and by the end of the process, Madelief practically had an entirely new machine and was short a whole pocket full of guilders.
With her aircraft now fully functional and disguised with an unassuming blue and white color scheme, she began hopping port to port down the east European coast. As she flew, she tightened her skills up with all manner of unnecessary maneuvers, ducking diving, whirling and getting a little too close to the water on a few occasions. It felt fantastic to be back in the air again but Madelief was undeniably as rusty as her aircraft had been.
After taking some time to drill her skills and get her groove back in the Bay of Biscay, she finally reached the French/Spanish border where she had turned inland and crossed into the Mediteranean sea where, with heart aflutter, she realised she would soon be re-united with her old gang. It all became very real as she soared out over the coast and seaward for the first time in eight long years
Still, Madelief had one more stop to make before making for the hideout. Further port hopping got her to Milan where she met with a former contact, showing up as if it had been weeks, not years since their last business together and having her plane resprayed once more in its traditional colors. The deepest of deep dark midnight purples made her craft rather less than difficult to spot in the daytime, but style, not function was Madelief's primary concern when choosing it. Her tail bore the visage of a rather cheery looking yellow skull wearing an old, crooked witches hat in a much brighter purple than the rest of the plane with white wings protruding from its sides, the symbol of the Sky Witch and Madelief was practically aglow as the elderly Italian man pulled back the stencil to reveal it.
It had been three days since her plane slid out of that Milanese boatshed and made off for the secret cove off of Sicily and now, she finally saw it, their old hideout.
Gasping at the sight of the little cluster of rocks, Madelief leapt to her feet on the seat of her cockpit and ripped the dark goggles from her eyes to behold the seemingly inconsequential formation. Holding a guidewire from her wing, she leaned out over the side of her plane to get a better view with little care to the abrupt pitching of her purple bird as her mass of blonde locks billowed about wildly in the wind and the white fur of her flight jacket's collar tickled her cheek, a nostalgic feeling to be sure.
'Yes! I'm here!' she mentally reminded herself as if to certify that the sight was not an illusion before pumping her gloved fist in the air and letting out a wild scream of joy as she plonked herself back down in her seat and sent her plane into a tight, spiraling descent.
"Yahooooooooo!"
Over and over her plane twisted, around and around, down down down. The sinking feeling in her stomach as the plane seemed to lose all weight before plummeting reminded her of reaching her zenith on a trapeze, it was euphoric and she laughed the entire way down.
With a little less finesse than she would have hoped, Madelief soared down and skipped a few times across the surface of the sea before cutting her engines and puttering into the hidden cave.
Madelief gazed wide-eyed at the craggy stone as she floated through the cavern, unable to wipe the excited smile from her face. She was surprised to find she felt more kinship with this place than the did her own home, drifting up the entrance to the hideout brought her a greater feeling of peace than she had walking up the garden path of her family's home eight years ago. Madelief was happy beyond belief to have the chance to see this place again, she had thought these days were done but in that instant, it was as if the Wolves had never separated.
When she saw the trio of planes sitting there in the cave, Madelief could not contain herself any longer. Before her plane had even come to a halt, she scrambled up onto the wing with rope in hand and ran out to its tip, taking a running leap to the narrow path of rock at the cave entrance and hurriedly fastening her aircraft to it before charging along the rock shelf into the main chamber deeper in.
As she rounded the corner, her eyes fell upon the wooden cabin that sat within and she skidded to a halt on the heels of her knee high leather boots, bringing her gloved hands to her mouth in an excited gasp before hurrying forwards.
Practically kicking the door open, Madelief burst inside and saw the trio, sitting about as if they had always been there.
It was overwhelming really, with her father gone, her brother studying away from home and her mother being...her mother, the last time Madelief had felt any form of companionship was when she last said goodbye to these fine folk. After eight years alone, here she was again, amongst friends.
Throwing her arms open wide with a beaming smile on her face and a gleeful gleam in her icey blue eyes, she greeted them.
"Friends!" she cried with the warmest of smiles, her accent having thickened in the eight years since their separation "I am so glad to see you all!"
Unlike Wolfgang, the optimistic Madelief had little doubt that the others would answer his call to reform ranks. It was naive and narrow minded, but she could scarcely imagine that anyone was doing anything more important and exciting than this. In her mind, everyone's lives since the breakup of the gang had been as dull and lifeless as her own and she simply couldn't fathom someone refusing. She did note the lack of Valeria in the cabin, though Madelief had utmost confidence that she would arrive.
Just a few months ago, Madelief would never have given such an exuberant greeting. Indeed, there would be no laughing or running or leaping from planes. The absence of the wolves and death of her father had left her empty and directionless. Eating little and less exercise had left her frail and willowy, her face was drawn and gaunt and she sequestered herself inside her home and did little all day other than joylessly drill her acrobatics and play her father's piano.
It was truly a sad, pathetic slump she had fallen into, one that had all changed the day she had met with Wolfgang's contact and learned of the meeting to take place this day, now she was practically glowing and looked as if she had hardly aged a day, color had returned to her face and she was back on form, she even fit into the same smashing, cream colored jods that she used to wear.
From the doorway, she looked at each of the group in turn.
Wolfgang, the rough, tough looking leader caught her eye first. It was rather hard to miss the imposing looking fellow that had led the Wolves through their piratical romp. She still remembered the day she had seen him stomping through the crowd at one of her airshows with Valeria at his side to recruit her. She had immense respect for the pair of them although she often wished they'd lighten up. He looked as strong as ever, though somehow she caught a dreary sorrow in the tiniest corner of his eyes which caused her to frown slightly. She supposed eight years was a long time, much could have happened in the time since their separation.
Next to catch her eye was Mister Dubois, the debonair Frenchman who was, of course, sipping from a glass of red wine, the strong, fruity smell reaching her even at the doorway.
Madelief always found Dubois to be somewhat pompous but somehow it suited the highborn gentleman. He was undeniably classy and very knowledgeable about the fields that interested him and Madelief had managed to learn much from their conversations, even if she did have to yammer in his ear for half an hour to get him fixated on a topic enough to speak to her about it. She did remember finding his calm demeanor during combat somewhat unsettling and would regularly tease him for carrying around a 'diary'.
Lastly, and with a measure of surprise that betrayed the fact that she had failed to recognise him instantaneously,was Fredrik Ole Erik.
She gasped as she noticed the towering Swede and rushed towards him, arms wide open. It had been far too long since she had seen the bearish man who had taught her everything she knew about flying, right from ignition to barrel rolls. Yes, she had nearly killed him several times during the more advanced maneuvers but patience had prevailed and he had transformed her into a true pilot, it was good to see him.
"What's this?" she finally asked him after a long hug, tickling his paunchy belly with a cheeky grin.