Wednesday, February 21st.

The school has three school trips every year. The length depends on the year, and the specific event, but it's always a several day long event. Today is the very first one.

We're in the forest outside of Bightkeep.

There is a small city-like camp made specifically for these events, and currently the entire of the low-school is here. We have already been assigned to rooms and left our luggage behind, and we have been given our task for today:

Go around the forest in groups, find stuff that you think is interesting, make sketches. Don't touch anything, don't eat anything.

... Yeah, it's an elementary school outing alright..

Meh, it's not so bad, I get to run around and look at weird crystal plants. I haven't been to this part of the forest, but it's pretty similar to the part I'm used to.

We are put in random groups of five, and I have the dubious honor of being in the same group as one of the Nicolas's wonder-kids, Brightfeather Miguel..

I'll just keep my head down and ignore them as much as possible.

A fine layer of new snow has covered the layer of ice that covers the ground from the rain that fell over the weekend. This means the ground is extremely slippery, to the point where even I am having a hard time keeping my balance. The kids in my group are basically just using it to slide down small hills, playing around with the snow instead of making sketches.

They're kids, so I obviously let them play while I sketch a few trees and some of the plants that are sticking out from the snow. The crystal plants don't seem to be bothered by the snow, or the ice for that matter. They are strangely resilient to the weather, but at the same time I have seen how brittle they can be to touch and wind.

``Hey blackhead, is it true that you can't use magic?'' [???]

A voice asks behind me.

I raise my head from the sketchpad, and turn to see Miguel, with the three other kids behind him.

He's looking at me with an arrogant smirk, clearly showing off to the other kids, standing behind him.

``Nicolas told us that you can't use magic, because your hair is black.'' [Miguel]

``He's wrong, my hair isn't black and I'm sure I can use magic.'' [Nathan]

``Then why would the teacher say that you can't use magic?'' [Miguel]

What, other than because he's an arrogant idiot and a megalomaniac?..

``I don't know, but I'm sure I can use magic.'' [Nathan]

``Then why don't you have an aura?'' [Miguel]

``Why don't you ask your friends? Do any of them have an aura yet?'' [Nathan]

That stumped him for a bit.

``Just leave me alone so I can sketch these. I'll even say we did it together, so you can just keep playing.'' [Nathan]

I quickly continued before he had the time to think of a response.

His entourage was clearly dispirited, so they turned around and kept playing.

And I go back to my sketches.

Thursday, February 22nd.

Second day of the trip.

We're out making sketches again today. It's rather cold, and a bit windy. The class was complaining to Nicolas, but he told them that complaining about the cold won't make it go away. He then brought out some thicker coats for them, and told them to come back to the camp if they got too cold.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Me and the other kids in my group have been out for some time now, they complained a bit at first, but they have been quiet for some time now.

I saw a flower that I haven't seen before.

It's a crystal flower, which is why it's still a flower here in the middle of winter. These things are so reality defying, it's like they don't belong in this world at all.

Heh, kinda like me I guess.

It's hidden out of sight under a fallen tree trunk, so it hasn't been covered by the snow.

The petals are black, spreading out layer by layer like the spiral on a snail. But it's this royal blue at the outer most layer of the crystal, so it looks like every petal is highlighted in a deep bright blue.

I sketch it, together with the trunk, the fallen snow, the ice covered ground around it. With every stroke of the pen, I mirror the scene in front of me.

By the time I'm finished, I'm feeling a bit cold.

I get up. The kids shou-

They're not there.

Did they leave?

They must have left me behind, or?..

Wow, that's cold. Man, kids can be mean.

Well, the sun is still up high in the sky, can't be much more than noon. Might as well sketch a bit more before I go back.

I find some deer prints, and follow them for a bit. I quickly sketch a scene where the deer walked through a clearing. The prints continue out of the clearing, along a path between the trees. I follow them for a good ten minutes, making sure to remember how to get back to camp. It's somewhat freeing, following the dear into the filled nothingness of the forest. I haven't done this since..

Sigh..

As the path turns a corner, I see a large patch of red snow.

I stop dead in my tracks.

There was a struggle here. The snow is in disarray, and the ground have been scractched up several places.

There isn't a corpse.

I can see a red trail leading away.

Something killed the dear. Then it dragged it away.

I don't know of any predator big enough to do that around here.

No, I'm pretty sure there aren't any.

Mom taught me that this forest is safe, because the Bightkeep Chapter of the Sword keeps the woods safe.

There should be no real predators around here.

A set of prints can be seen near the blood stained snow.

I cautiously inch closer to the prints. I don't know what kind of beast did this, but maybe one of the teachers can recognize the prints. If I can show them how they look, they will know what to do.

Staying here is a risk, but it's a risk I have to take.

There seems to be six feet, so it's one of those weird lizard things that there are so many of in this world. Slowly turning my head, I watch my surroundings and try my best to listen. Silence. Too much silence.

Opening my sketchbook I strain my concentration, shaking with anxiety, as I quickly sketch a copy of the footprint. It has four digits, another hint that it's one of these lizards that inhabit his world. The claws dug deep into the snow, they most be long.

And it's big. The print is the size of a grown mans hand. Much larger than mine is.

I need to get out of here. Fast. This thing might be able to climb trees, I need to watch out above me.

If this thing hadn't just eaten, I would not have stayed long enough to sketch the print.

The path here was a winding and long. Too long. I cross through the forest.

I know where I am, and I know the approximate direction of the camp. Going through the forest without following the path is difficult, but I can manage.

All I hear is the blood pumping in my head, and my own ragged breath.

Threading through the untreated snow is hard. I try my best to keep a watch. I can't hear it. All I hear is my own heartbeat.

The camp comes into sight, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Even if it had stalked me here, it should be vary of a group of people.

``Nathan!'' [Nicolas]

Nicolas calls, as I walk into the camp.

He seems to have been waiting for me.

``Sir, I have to talk to-'' [Nathan]

``Where have you been, you stupid kid!'' [Nicolas]

He shouts at me, out of nowhere.

``Wha-, Sir, I saw a-'' [Nathan]

``I don't care what you saw! You stupid child! I gave you three rules, don't touch anything, don't eat anything, don't leave your group!'' [Nicolas]

He keeps shouting as he grabs my arm and drags me into the camp.

``Sir, I did none of those things, they-'' [Nathan]

``Don't lie to me you stupid kid! Miguel came back an hour ago and told me you had run off by yourself!'' [Nicolas]

``What? No, sir they left-'' [Nathan]

``Don't you talk back to me! You stupid, useless brat! You can't use magic, and you can't even follow simple instructions!'' [Nicolas]

He yells as he jerks me forward.

``But I-'' [Nathan]

He slaps me across the face.

``Silence! I don't want to hear your stupid excuses!'' [[Nathan]

I feel the skin on my face burning.

He-.. He hit me.

I look around me. People are staring at us.

I see them. They snicker at me. They have that, that look in their eyes, that look people would shoot me when Mom and Dad wasn't around me.

They laugh at me.

All the other children are laughing at me.

The teachers are looking at me like- like I'm filth.

Like I'm a freak.

Nicolas pulls me by the arm into the building where we're sleeping. He drags me past the other children, and shoves me into the room I share with my group.

``Stupid child.. You are to stay in your room until we leave for the tower in the afternoon!'' [Nicolas]

He slams the door.

``That'll teach him, that Incompetent brat.'' [Nicolas]

I hear him mutter through the closed door.