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There, through the smoke and and looking almost hellish in the light of the flames, Christof emerged.

"You're alright," Barth said, too shaken up to sound anything but relieved. "Is there a way out? You can't stay here. I can last a little longer, but there's kerosene..."

And he couldn't run. Only walk. Everything blurred as the heat rolled off the corn in waves.

Trying to keep up with Calder without falling over her robe, Emily didn't say anything, but instead just hung on tightly to the kelpie's hand. Her eyes roamed freely over the fog, though, seeking...seeking...

Suddenly, she pulled his hand a little, "This isn't the way. Calder, this is wrong."



The word repeated over and over again. It surrounded them, as if the fog and sound had merged into a wall of everything better left unsaid, unseen, and undone.

He paused, stopping when she told him this was the wrong way and her words echoed. Wrong. A lot of things were wrong. This place was wrong. Being left alone without teachers was wrong. Being on this island to be hunted by reapers was wrong. Being left along in the fog to be bothered by scary, little, ghost boils was wrong. All his friends leaving him was wrong. THIS WHOLE PLACE WAS WRONG!

Worried, he looked to Emily, still holding her hand. " But...I have to find them. We can't leave them alone." What if Christof came this way. "ANYONE?! WHERE ARE YOUUUUU?!" He cried out, before looking back at the ghoul. ".....Do you know the way? Can you show us how to go the right way? The way to someplace safe? To the door?" He wanted to get them all together and follow Emily. He was sure she had an idea of where to go since she was here before them for so long. So very long. Poor ghoul.

It was just that Christof left him. He needed to find him.


Christof left you....why do you need to find him?

It was the little ghost boil. He could hear him, walking around the stalks of corn as if he was enjoying a nice little stroll.

"I have to find him. He's my friend."


He left you. He doesn't want you around. He practically RAN away from you. Who wants a stupid, pretty kepie as a friend anyways? Dumb horse. Christof only wants useful friends. Smart friends, like Riley and Barth. You're not even a demon.'

He turned about sharply to try and catch sight of the boil, but he was gone, and he noticed the shapes of dogs moving in the tall stalks.


'Stupid little pony. Sitting there all lonely. My wolves will eat on fresh stitched meat. The Igor doesn't look too boney.' The little ghost laughed, happy with his song, and the wolves howled with glee.

Christof had hesitated when Barth mentioned a sofa, his gnarled, fear-sharpened pipe lowering for a moment- but as Tybalt suddenly broke free of the fog's curtain, he recoiled, face flushing. No no no no no there couldn't be witnesses! He'd get in trouble, Mistress knew that, she would have trusted him to d this cleanly, he couldn't get suspended... but they weren't in school where they? They were in the middle of no where. His breathing quickened, and he could swear he heard a dragon's snarl and the smell of sulfur at the edge of his senses.

He had just regained his resolve when the dog boil gave him good reason to take his eyes off of Barth as the pipe collided with his chest. He gave a sharp gasp through his nose, almost dropping his own as he staggered back, grabbing his head to make sure the bandage staged tied nice and tight. What the...?

He had spotted him! He knew what he was trying to do! His hands clenched around his own weapon, lurching forward to take a swing himself at Tybalt with a guttural, muffled snarl- there would BE no witnesses.

He listened out, hearing shouting and something about cats. They were close by. They had to be, and he was going to find them. He'd find ALL of them, and they would never, ever, EVER be alone. He would take them, and he would find that door. He was going home, and he would take his friends with him!

Turning about, he dropped down to his knees. He didn't want to drag Emily around when it just slowed him down. So he couldn't shift, but he could outrun a wolf. He could outrun A WHOLE JACK PACK OF WOLVES if it meant they wouldn't gobble up Christof and everyone else. They were sitting ducks out here, and he didn't like that stupid ghost boil. "Get on, Emily." He said, looking about, his ears turning in all directions at the slightest noise or howl. "We're going to find the others, and then you're going to point the way out of here. We'll link arms and never let each other go. NO ONE WILL BE DOG FOOD!"

It seemed Calder was set on finding his friends and getting the heck out of here. "I'M COMING GUYS! JUST DON'T TRY LOOKING ANY TASTIER!!!!"

"Um...um...o-okay!" Tentatively the small reaper climbed on Calder's back, wrapping her arms around his neck. "We'll find them, Calder. Just like you said. We'll find them and never let them go."

She was silent for a moment and then pointed, presumably toward the others, "He sounds angry..."

Christof staggered with a growl as there was a slight tingle in his shoulder, lowering his weapon. Too many were around. No. No, he' dhave to wait. There was a rustling in the corn over his shoulder, and he turned sharply but then wished he hadn't... The bringer of flames was still out there, lurking... he didn't know how log he had to wait. How long would his Mistress give him?

Perhaps until sun rise. Did the sun ever rise on this wretched island? He couldn't remember the last time he had slept.

No sooner had he lowered his weapon, though, the dog-boil's snarl made him jump, face flushed. He had already seen too much... But no, not in front of Calder and the Ghoul...

Whisper stumbled through the fog, keeping her hands in front of her so she didn't bump into anything and hurt herself. If anyone could see her, she was sure that she would be made fun of. Whisper was really hoping she didn't bump into something unfriendly, or something that would eat her. That...would suck to say the least. The feeling of the moths around her ears was beginning to grow to be more than just a minor annoyance. She kept twitching them furiously, even though there were no moths in sight. Then again, if there were, the fog was thick enough she may not have been able to see them.

Whisper began to whimper slightly. when she bumped into something. Make that someone. She managed to make out that it was a boy, a black dog perhaps? He seemed to be swinging a pipe around fairly frantically. "Hey...uh...sorry about that...what are you swinging at?"