Camping Out (18 Oct 2001) Tom and Simon camp out under the Gnarly Tree. (Restricted: Mirari players other than Tom should not read this log.)

The Gnarly Tree
This tree seems nearly as wide as it is tall, a great mass of twining branches and leafy boughs unlike the conifers prevalent in the area, but resilient enough to weather Ainigton's cold winters. Within its boughs are many forks and nooks, and anyone properly nestled inside is granted considerable cover from prying eyes, as well as vantage-points from which to look down upon Ainigton and Danzwyck Stables, with even more majestic scenery beyond. A dirt path runs nearby, making this tree not entirely secluded from the paths of casual explorers of the wilderness, but it nonetheless offers considerable privacy for the adventuresome at heart.

A fire crackles in a circle of stones, the occasional sappy branch snapping in a blaze of aromatic smoke. Tom and Simon sit on rocks, cooking marshmallows on long sticks over the fire, a good dessert to round out the night. The tree house is nearby but visible only where it blocks out the stars and the moon, and the elevator has been raised so that one must climb the tree to get in it, where the sleeping bags have been stowed.

It's late and sleep seems imminent. Simon has been telling a ghost story about the child who was so very bad that even the bogeymen didn't frighten her. "And then the biggest bogeyman made the most dreadful face he could, and bared all of his seventeen jagged claws, and his fifty gnashing fangs, and he leaned so close that she could see inside his mouth where there were little animals trying to escape..."

"And still, she wasn't frightened!" the younger boy continues. "She said, 'Is that all? I see scarier things every time I go to the market and buy fish bait to catch mermaids for Father's dinner!'"

"So, they all agreed, she was so horrible ... that they each decided to give her one gift! But even then, hearing that, she still didn't run away. She said that nothing they could give her could possibly frighten her. And that ... was her undoing," Simon says, pausing for dramatic effect.

The eyebrow over one of Thomas' green eyes arches up as he lays on his side, head propped up on his palm. Slowly, he sits up and straightens out his black tee-shirt and dusts some debris from his dark jeans. "So, how was it her undoing?" Thomas asks, tone indicating definite interest.

"Because then, the first one gave her a greenish complexion like his, the second gave her warts, the third gave her hair like snakes, the fourth gave her sharp, sharp claws with hooks to catch little kids..." Simon makes raking effects as if to demonstrate how it was done. "The fifth gave her tusks like his, the sixth gave her spines that stuck out of her back, and the seventh..."

"Probably improved how she looked," Tom comments. "What did the seventh give?"

Simon laughs at the jest. "Maaaybe ... but what happened then was, the seventh gave her his crown. They made her the Bogeyman Queen, and now whenever you go down that alley, you must watch out, because the Bogeymen will be out there, looking for kids to catch. And the Queen will be out there too, and when they bring her a kid, she tries to scare them, and if she can't, then she might decide to give him one of the gifts that she got. If you see her, then it's better to simply..."

"Run away! Look! She's there behind you right now!" Simon points behind Tom with an expression of shock painted broadly on his face.

Tom grins slightly and falls backwards. He arches his back some so he can look behind and says, "Really? Cool! Maybe you could ask her on a date?"

The younger boy laughs. "No way! Bogeymen don't exist, you silly..." He starts to look a bit less sure about that, and cranes to look over Tom's shoulder.

Tom elbows Simon. "Oh, stop it." He grins. "C'mon, no real monsters around here right now, anyway. Well, unless I'm back to being a monster for leaving the others." Still, Thomas looks backward, trying to see if Simon did, in fact, see something.

Simon laughs and pokes Tom in the side. "You aren't too sure yourself there's nothing around here, are you?"

Tom waves his hand. "Oh, come on," he says, "I've lived here a long time. I know this terrain like the back of my hand. There are no monsters around."

"Well, I don't hear any growling, so I guess we're safe," Simon agrees. "Anyway... I don't know, I guess you have your reasons for wanting to avoid the others for now, but I still hope we can find out what is going on, what happened to the King ... and, I guess, the rest of the mystery." He peers owlishly at Tom. "Is that why you're out here?

Tom laughs. "Something like that, yeah." He stretches slowly, neck and back popping, then asks, "How much can I trust you, Simon? I mean, if I tell you things, like my plans, would you keep them a secret?" He shrugs. "I've got ideas, risky ones. Agatha would probably call me stupid."

Simon pauses before answering. "A few weeks ago, I would have said 'Sure!' Now..." He glances uneasily at the trees. "Crows could be listening. Watching."

One of the logs on the fire crackles, sending sparks into the air. The sound masks the rustling noise of tree branches shift in the breeze, in the forest to one side of the little camp.

"Can I ask you something, then? Just something I've been wondering. If it's too personal, just tell me such and don't answer," Thomas says, now glancing out at the trees as well. "What happened to your parents?" He asks a minute later.

"It... It was a car accident," Simon says slowly. "My uncle took me in, but I think he resents having to take care of a kid he didn't ask for. He doesn't make very much money; he just does farm work when it's there."

"I know I really shouldn't ask things like that, but ... I'm trying to research everyone's family -- even my own," Thomas explains. "This whole thing is freaking me out. Elinor told me there was a real Thomas. Her vague description even matched me somewhat. It's too weird for just a coincidence, isn't it? What do you make of it?"

Simon stifles a yawn, as the hour is drawing late. "Mirari... It sounds a lot like 'Mirror', doesn't it? Maybe that's what it means in some foreign language. Maybe Rebecca would know."

"Well, yeah. I've already considered that," Thomas says, "The idea that our world somehow mirrors theirs in some way." He shrugs slightly and changes topics. "Getting tired already? This is the perfect time to go out into the woods, you know."

"What? Why?" Simon says, blinking up at Tom.

"Easier to hide by. Best time for the ol' Mirari messengers to be out and about," Thomas replies. "Now, have you ever seen Ryland, or any bird, come to the Travison residence during the day? Night would be the best time." He turns and glances back at Simon. "Care to go check out a Siege at night?"

Simon grimaces. "Night time would be the perfect time for those jruuh too, you know. But, I'd better go with you to make sure you don't get in trouble." The younger boy grins. "Someone's got to run for help if you break your leg or something."

Tom waves it off. "Bah! Give me some credit. And let me go get suited for the task. I've come prepared," Thomas says, standing.

Simon grins apologetically. "Okay."

Thomas slips up into the branches of the tree and into his fort. After a few minutes, Tom comes shimmying back down and hops onto the ground with a soft thud. Grinning, he tugs his black fingerless gloves, tightening them some. His hand slips around and pulls a black bandana out of his pack. Deftly, he ties it over his hair, settling down the unruly locks. Elbowing his pack, he says, "Well, I've got a flashlight, rope, and my Swiss-army knife. Oh, some paper and a couple pens to map things if I need to. You need to grab anything? I can put out the fire while you do, or you can help me."

Simon nods. "I've got my backpack up there. I'll be right back!" He shinnies up the tree.

Tom dutifully goes about extinguishing the campfire, then covering the smoldering remains with loose dirt to make sure it's out and a breeze won't carry off embers that may start a major fire.

Three Circles in the Grass
Some days ago, there were three intersecting circles of flattened grass in these wild fields, as if they had been trampled out or flattened by some large oval objects, but the grass has all butrecovered, leaving only faint trail-sign to show that they were here. Nearby, three trees growing so close together provide a sort of roofed shelter from possible rain. A wolf laired here some time ago. Perhaps it may return tonight ... or perhaps it will not.

Simon stays close to Tom's flashlight, looking about with misgivings far more like Jester Simon than the dauntless Sir Lefallon. "Are you sure this is a good idea? What if we run into that wolf you saw?"

"Of course it's not a good idea. That's why we're doing it," Thomas replies, grinning. He glances over at the shorter boy and asks, "Where's your spirit of adventure? If anything, we run and climb a tree. Wolves can't climb trees."

"I think I left it at home. I'd better go and get it," Simon replies with a wry grin.

Thomas reaches out and grabs hold of Simon's arm. "I think not. You're staying right here." He then lets go a moment later. "Well, if you really want to, you can go ... in the dark ... with the jruuh ... alone."

The younger boy decides after a moment's thought, "I think I'll stay right here." He looks about the clearing in the moonlight. "What are we looking for?"

The breeze rustles the grass behind the pair of boys as they advance, though the night air feels warm and still otherwise. A distant bird caws to another, but not even the grasshoppers chirp otherwise.

"Tracks, prints, movement, dropped items, other footprints, that sort of thing," the taller boy replies. "I say we start out wide, and circle in slowly toward the center." Thomas then pauses and listens for a moment. "Does it seem too quiet to you?"

"It can't be too quiet, because that means we aren't hearing growling," Simon opines. Nevertheless, he holds still to listen.

"I'm being serious, Simon," Thomas says. "It's summer. We should be hearing bugs."

"I don't listen to many bugs," Simon points out.

Tom grabs Simon's arm and pulls downward as he drops low. "Down, Simon. The wind is too still to have made that much rustling noise," Thomas says in a whisper.

The younger boy gulps as he squats low, then eases onto his back. His head sticks up as he scans the clearing.... Nothing before them.

Thomas flicks off the flashlight and looks out into the darkness, hoping his eyes adjust to let him at least see movement. He tries to remain perfectly still and just listen.

As Tom lies still, watching, he feels the air stir next to him, and when he whips his head about to look--he sees in the starlight the outline of a great wolf, striding past not two yards away. As he watches, the wolf's head turns to regard the boy, yellow eyes like flecks of amber in a grey face. The lower muzzle drops, as if to smile.

Thomas taps Simon's arm lightly and whispers, "Hey, care to meet a friend of mine ...?" Thomas raises a hand instinctively to brush away the strands of his hair that usually hang in front of his eyes, forgetting that the bandanna holds them back. He blinks, glances at his hand briefly and shrugs, feeling a bit dumb.

Simon startles, having completely missed the wolf's appearance ... until now. "He's your friend?" The younger boy gathers himself up, looking about to run if the wolf growls or snaps.

The wolf circles until he stands before the two boys, watching them with a cool, level gaze. He looks to his den, not far from the remains of the circles in the grass, then back to Tom. So, boy-who-would-not-be-spied-on, the wolf seems to mean, have you come to spy on me?

"Whomever doesn't kill you is a friend ... or something like that," Thomas mutters. "Stay here if you like." Carefully, Thomas gets up and starts to slowly move toward the wolf. "So, we meet again, it seems," the boy says.

Simon seems quite willing to do as Tom suggests, watching the older boy and the wolf with big eyes.

Thomas chuckles. "Well, I didn't expect to find anyone here at this hour. I figured you'd all be out and about. I came to look for more evidence -- more clues to help understand." He crouches back down a fair distance from the wolf, eyes locked on him.

The wolf's smile remains in place. It takes a half step towards town, its stance inquisitive, then glances back to Tom. I see. You will not mind, then, if I go to your home and look for clues to understand you?

"Haven't you already? This is my home, after all," Thomas replies. "The woods here are my home. I know them well."

The wolf turns his head, and pads to the base of a nearby tree, where he sniffs at it ostentatiously. He look back at Tom. For a land you claim, it is not well-marked.

Thomas can't help but laugh. "Not all mark that way, you know," Thomas replies. "You are a strange fellow. Honestly, I'm surprised to find you still in this world."

I know, the wolf seems to say, glancing to the fading trio of circles. I stay because I do not have what I have come for. He walks back to where Tom stands, looking pointedly at the boy. What have you come for?

Thomas replies simply, "Knowledge. Understanding." He watches the wolf for a moment, then says, "Look, I do not see us as enemies at this time and I feel silly calling you 'wolf'. My name is Thomas. Who might you be?"

The wolf straightens, lifting his head. His pose holds great nobility, and there's a strength in his frame. Tom gets the impression this is an introduction, but whatever he was just told the wolf's name is, he's not sure he can pronounce it -- or gesture it, as the case may be.

"Well, um, thanks. I don't really understand, I'm afraid," Thomas admits. "If you're here to also find out how we've been able to affect your world, I honestly don't know. We were just playing a game to pass the summer by," Thomas says. "I pretended to be a character I thought I made up: an Explorer called Thomas, of the Golden Hawks. Agatha played a Knight, Alice, a princess, and Rebecca was a sorceress. Somehow, it's become real, or something." He pauses and takes in a breath. "I'm not really a part of that game anymore, but I still worry about them. I'm still trying to figure out how all this happened, and what we should do about it."

Simon peers past Tom at the wolf. "I think he's saying... he's a Lord. Maybe we should call him Lord Wolf?" A second of thought, and then the young boy adds hurriedly, "Er, it's an honor to make your acquaintance, Lord Wolf. I'm Simon. Jester Simon, they call me sometimes."

The wolf gives a nod to Tom, then gazes at Simon, his amber eyes locking onto the smaller of the two boys. His nostrils flare, and he moves, slowly and deliberately, towards the two, looking as if he intends to stand nose-to-nose with Simon, if the boy doesn't move away.

"Don't run," Thomas says calmly to Simon. "He probably wants to scent you." Thomas watches intently just in case he needs to help Simon, however.

Simon gulps as he leans back, still uncomfortably close so that his nose is barely a foot from the wolf's. "Er. If you'd rather some other title..." The young boy's eyes are large as he realizes just how big the wolf is, up close.

Thomas starts to move closer to Simon. "Just relax, Simon," Thomas says again, trying to calm him down.

"You'd better be right," Simon mutters, though his voice certainly carries easily to the wolf who is much closer. "If he eats me, I'm going to come back and haunt you."

The wolf leans even closer to the younger boy, sniffing the air around the recalcitrant child, but after a few moments, given Simon's discomfort, the lupine turns away. He inspects the nearby, and rather less timid, Tom, instead.

A sigh escapes Simon as he leans forward again.

Tom crouches back down to place himself back at wolf's height. "Find something interesting?" Thomas inquires, holding steady.

After a thorough examination of the black-haired boy, the wolf nods, and sits back on his haunches. Perhaps. His yellow eyes gaze around the clearing. The game is not so easy to leave, boy, he seems to say, looking restless despite his seated pose.

"Care to fill me in on the 'perhaps'?" Thomas asks, then says, "Leave from the perspective of my friends, then. For if I had truly left, would I be standing here?"

The wolf shakes his head in response to the final rhetorical question. He stands, pacing towards center of where the three circles met, then looks back over his shoulder. You are no master of my language. It would be easier to speak ... elsewhere.

"Quite true. I'm not," Thomas agrees, "although, I do not know where else would be better or safer than here. And if you're suggesting your home, well..." He looks over at Simon.

Here is not so safe as you might think. The wolf looks down at himself pointedly. Wild things lurk, he appears to mean, an ironic cast in his yellow eyes. He regards Simon, then glances to Tom. Do you trust him?

"I think he means ... Mirari," Simon says. He looks indecisive. "And well, if he wanted to kill us, he's had plenty of chances."

"That's what I meant by his home, Simon," Thomas says, glancing back at the younger boy, considering. Slowly, he looks back to the wolf and says, "I trust him. He's always been by my side when I've needed a friend to talk to." Tom shrugs. "I'm more concerned with jruuh than the natural wildlife here. But, if you wish to speak elsewhere, can you promise to show us home afterward?"

I will. The wolf bows his head, solemn. He walks to the two boys, and circles around Tom, once, then returns to the three circles. Come with me, boy, if you will. The grey wolf sits on his haunches where the three meet, and lifts his head.

Tom stands and motions to Simon. "Well, shall we? If you want to just go back, I'll give you the flashlight." He then heads over to the wolf and crouches down again.

"I'll come along," Simon says, though worry is obvious on his face. He grins suddenly. "I wouldn't miss it for anything."

"I'll remind you you said that," Thomas replies back with a grin.

The wolf watches both of them, his eyes narrowed as he studies Simon. But he makes no move to block the small boy from joining him and Tom. Instead, he throws back his head and howls. The sound is deep and throaty, piercing the night, and in a moment, another howl joins it, then a second, and a third -- until the night is alive with howling. From nowhere, a breeze picks up, and it swirls around them, cutting along the faint lines of the former circle like a scythe, flattening to shape a new Siege.

Thomas inhales sharply, his body tensing. His green eyes flash around the clearing, watching the Siege form, the idea of running flashing through his head. Instead, he holds his ground, remaining crouched, fingers curling tightly around some blades of grass. He looks over to Simon, hoping he's holding up under all this.

Simon stands by Tom, backpack slung over his shoulder, hands tight on the straps so that it won't be pulled away by the winds. He looks awestruck by the formation of the Siege.

The wind whips around them, sending loose fur from the wolf's coat flying, but the howl continues, almost inaudible above the roar of a wind turned bitterly cold. It freezes limbs dressed for summer and tears at their eyes, making them blink against it. Then, suddenly, howl and wind alike dissipate -- and they open their eyes on a new landscape.

Winter in Mirari
The moonlight from above shines over a field covered with snow, with icicles hanging from the branches of trees like upside-down candles. The stars are the same as those seen in Ainigton, but brighter somehow, and the moon limns a castle made of ice some distance away, only the towers visible from here over the treeline. Wind whips the snow up, stinging lightly on bare skin.

Around the three figures in the white snow, three interlocked circles are carved in the otherwise unbroken circles. The wolf gets to his feet, his breath a fog in the cold winter air, and he steps out of the circles, his feet breaking the crust of the snow.

Tom stands slowly, his hand slipping out of the snow where he had once been gripping the field grasses. He takes in a deep breath, the cold air stinging as it glides over his face and arms. He crosses his arms to help keep them warm and glances over to Simon. "Well, Agatha was certainly right. It's cold."

Simon begins shivering. His flannel shirt was good enough for a cool summer night, but no protection against the deep of winter. "M-m-maybe we should have brought s-s-sweaters?" he whispers to Tom. Though of course, there's no way that Tom could have foreseen their arrival here.

The lupine's footsteps crunch over the snow as he strides away, then he glances back over his shoulder at the two. He pauses, considering, then lifts his head and howls.

"Just keep moving and you'll be fine," Thomas tells Simon. "I never thought we'd end up here or I would have packed for it. I just intended to look for clues and scout the areas at night to see what's different." He looks back toward the wolf and cringes. "Either he's calling friends to help, or we'd better go." The boy starts walking through the snow, footfalls crunching loudly as he heads toward the wolf.

A howl replies from far away in the direction of the ice castle.

Simon whispers back, following close by, "Well, with luck, his friends will have nice warm fur coats and then we can get in between them for some protection from the wind."

"I'll give you the bandana if you think it'll help," Thomas replies in a whisper, feet crunching through the snow.

With the Siege complete, the wind is no longer as biting, but it's still pretty cold. The wolf waits for the children to join him, then leads them toward the distant castle.

"Your home?" Thomas asks the wolf as they walk.

The wolf looks to the ice castle, and nods gravely. He perks his ears and pauses at another distant howl, but he does not respond to it in kind.

Tom considers the howl, trying to discern if it sounds any different than the ones they heard earlier. "Honored you would bring us here, then, friend," Thomas says to the wolf. He starts looking around the landscape, trying to see if any of it seems familiar.

A procession of servants comes into view in the distance, approaching along the path, illuminated by lanterns they are carrying on long staves. They do not look human. The closest are two humanoid fey with faces that seem long of nose, with back-swept ears, their eyes yellow and wolfish; then there are guards that seem more like large wolves standing upright, and there are tinier, dog-like ladies in waiting who bear, wonder of wonder, fur-lined cloaks which they hurry forward to drape around the boys. Other of the servants, scruffier in appearance, lead two ponies which whicker and whinny as they trot along the trail. The appearance of the servants seems faster than could be explained if they had simply walked from the castle ... that is, if they were human.

Several of the servants approach the wolf, some apparently just to make a fuss over him, and he shrugs them off with a disinterested growl. One of the human-like fey with yellow eyes stoops beside him, however, whispering to him, and this the wolf tolerates, ear lifted while one eye watches the two boys to see that they are safely mounted on the ponies.

Tom looks at Simon and mouths, "Ever feel like you're in an amusement park?" His attention momentarily diverted from the landscape, he eyes the strange servants, inspecting their expressions for looks of, well, friendliness -- if such expressions would even be the same. He grumbles softly and is assisted onto the pony; he never has liked horses much, but it beats walking.

Simon gapes as he gets wrapped in a cloak, which is rich and soft to the touch. "Wow," he whispers to Tom. "He must be--" His statement is cut off as one of the servants boosts him up onto a pony. Thereafter, the young boy seems to have all he an do just to hang on.

Tom nods to Simon and mouths, "Figured as much. Lord December."

The yellow-eyed faerie finishes his conference with the wolf. The wolf appears to give some kind of answer to him, but since he's not directing the words to the boys, it seems much harder to tell what he's saying. The wolf sets off again, loping with effortless, ground-eating strides. The pace seems much faster than the boys could do on foot, but the ponies and fey servants don't seem to have difficulty keeping up.

Simon gulps. Apparently whatever jester training he's received has never prepared him to deal with a real Lord. "What do we do now?" he calls to Tom.

Thomas shrugs and replies, "I wish I was Lord Explorer Thomas; maybe I'd know to actually behave in court. Just be polite, and let's not get separated, okay?"

"I'll try," Simon says.

"Scared?" Thomas asks Simon.

Simon grins. "Yeah, but are you gonna tell me you aren't?" he snaps back to Tom. "If you can handle it, I'll try to as well."

"Not terribly. Like you said, if they wanted us harmed, it could have happened by now," Thomas replies, grinning. "This is actually really cool! Another world!"

It doesn't take long for the procession to reach the gates. More servants wait just inside, hailing the great wolf. Some approach him, bowing and curtseying, but he brushes all but one aside. With her, he speaks briefly, then he summons another to his side and imparts some instruction. Meanwhile the scruffy servants who led the ponies to them help the boys dismount.

Castle of December
The walls of the castle are chill to the touch, and smooth. Some of the outer walls seems to be of ice, putting great windows to shame with their impressive vista, but the rest of the walls are of some whitish stone. In each chamber, at least one brazier burns to provide light and warmth, and thin furry rugs that suggest bears or deer provide some insulation between the cold floors and one's feet.

As Tom dismounts, he thanks the servant and smiles. He stands and looks around in awe. Slowly, his hands move up and untie the bandana, releasing his hair. It spikes out, perhaps in protest of being held down. He does his best to finger-comb it back and looks over at Simon. "You know, I almost wish the others were here to see this."

The wolf turns the to the two boys, after sending the bulk of the servants scurrying away. He smiles again, as if amused by some thought, then walks to the main entrance, and waits there for the children to follow.

"I've never been treated like, well, someone special before," Simon says, still marveling at the cloak he's wearing. He trails behind Tom, looking around at everything.

"And that would be our cue," Thomas says, "Onward, faithful Simon." He grins and walks toward the wolf, albeit slowly so he can gawk at his surroundings.

Their host leads them through halls where high-vaulted halls are lined with statues of molded snow and crystal-cut carvings of ice. At length, however, he brings them a private, cozy chamber, with a low ceiling and chairs upholstered in velvet. A fire blazes on the hearth, while the chairs are circled around a low, elaborately carved table of light wood.

Thomas walks over to the table and runs his fingertips lightly over the surface, feeling. Slightly lost in thought, he looks around the room. His mouth opens, then just shrugs. "This is incredible," he finally says.

Simon nods agreement. "You'd think a castle made of ice would be frozen all the way through," he says. "This is ... comfy!"

Tom can't help it; he laughs. "Did anything out in the woods look familiar to you?" Thomas asks Simon.

"Familiar?" Simon looks puzzled.

Tom nods. "Yeah, like you'd seen it before? You know, like how we played in our game and visualized how things looked," Thomas explains.

"Thank you," says a strong, deep voice, "and welcome to my home." When the boys look away from their admiration of the chamber to the sound, they see a tall man with a long mane of iron-grey hair and piercing yellow eyes. He has a wolfish cast to human-like features, and is dressed in garb of grey and white, with a silver chain about his throat.

Simon shakes his head, then turns to stare at the man.

Thomas' green eyes grow wide and he joins Simon in staring. "Um, thank you for inviting us here, uh, sir," Thomas manages to say. He shakes his head and blinks, the initial surprise wearing off.

"Yeah, thanks, uh, milord," Simon says with amazement, apparently finding it easier to play the servile jester as he bows.

The man gives a slight bows from the waist. "And my thanks for your acceptance of the invitation. I am Lord Blaez of December, and this is my home." He settles into one of the chairs before the fire, steepling his fingers together and watching the boys. "And you gave your name as Thomas, young man, but you carry more identities than one."

Tom tilts his head and says, "Thomas, Thomas Winthrope, Tom, Whiskbroom, uh, other even less polite names." He grins slightly and shrugs. "I'm just me."

Simon settles into a chair as well, but seems content to let Tom do the talking for the two of them.

Lord December's sharp eyes rest upon Tom, and he nods. "Indeed, you are. And what of you, Jester Simon? Whom are you?"

"Sometimes I'm Sir Lefallon, and then I'm brave and kind and good," Simon says doubtfully. "But mostly I'm the jester for the court -- er, for our make-believe court." This last with a glance toward Tom.

"Is that what you are ... mostly? And the rest of you?" The wolf-lord has a stern cast to his jaw and a sharp look in his eye as he responds to Simon.

Simon shrinks a bit. "Sometimes ... I'm just Simon Lefallon. And then I live at home and try not to annoy my uncle." He grins wryly. "I'd rather be Jester Simon or Sir Lefallon."

Thomas nods to Simon. "I can't possibly be this Lord Explorer Thomas. I mean, I made up that name when I was put on the spot about the make-believe court identities, like Simon said," Thomas says, looking back at Simon. "Right?" he then adds, looking to Lord December.

The Lord of December folds his hands together, looking between the two boys. "It would seem that you play at the same game, Simon and Thomas. Yet you--" He fixes his gaze on the smaller boy. "--I do not trust, despite what your friend has said. I would speak with Thomas alone. Leave us."

Thomas looks to his friend. "Simon, I'll talk with you later, okay? It's all right. Just don't wander far." He then looks between Lord December and Simon. "He will be safe, right, sir?"

Simon looks stricken. "But..." Seeing the look in the December Lord's eyes, he nods. "All right, milord." In a lower tone of voice, he adds, "Tom, I'll come back for you if I can."

"He is in my House, at my invitation," the Lord of December says, and the way he speaks suggests that signifies something important. "He will come to no harm, and you may rejoin later, as you desire."

Tom nods to Lord December. "Thank you again, sir. It is my responsibility he is here, and thus his safety is my concern. I meant no offense by doubly insuring he will be well." Tom turns to Simon. "Really, it's okay. I'll see you soon."

Simon looks relieved at this, as if his only concern had been Tom's safety, and not his own. He exits the chamber, and a servant replaces the heavy fur that hung over it, while another is heard to apparently escort Simon to a place where he may be made comfortable.

The Lord of December waits patiently until Simon is gone, then he returns his attention to Tom. "It is not my preference to mince words -- so let me ask this plainly: Thomas, do you know where the King of Mirari has gone?"

"For certain, no," Thomas replies plainly, finally sitting down into one of the chairs.

"But you suspect." The master of the house watches the boy sit. "Will you tell me your suspicions?"

"Sir, with all your hospitality you have shown, and your patience with me, I would like to. But, I cannot," Thomas admits. "He left for a reason, one I do not know. It was obviously a good one. Until the reason he left is known, and alleviated, I cannot risk his safety. I am truly sorry if this offends you." Thomas looks to the fire and is silent a moment, then adds, "The jruuh exist. We've fought them. I believe The Year's End exists as well, and the members of it are unknown. I can't risk them somehow finding out."

The grey-clad man's nostrils flare, and he inhales deeply, taking the measure of Tom's words in silence. At length, he nods. "You believe what you say -- for the most part, at least." He rests his chin lightly against the fingers of one hand, considering. "You say you have met the jruuh, and fought them. What proof have you?"

"None physical. I can tell you that the creatures we knowas jruuh appear badger-like. But, moments after you see them, they vanish. They cannot be seen and survive, it seems. We first encountered them near the Siege of Stone and Water," Thomas explains, "where we found the piles of lost items, and where we met Ryland." Thomas pauses to rub his neck, then continues, "Either Ryland, or the jruuh, were gathering items that belonged to all of us. I still do not know why."

"Items that belonged to you?" The Lord of December frowns. "Of what sort?"

"Odd things. My favorite pen. Agatha's sword letter opener, Alice's blue bow," Thomas says, "items we did treasure, but ..." He shrugs. "... nothing that wasn't replaceable. But why take them?"

"Items hold power," the wolf-lord answers. "Autumn was once the closest ally of Winter, but in these dark days ... it is hard to say that there are any one may trust. You say you do not know the King's reason for leaving -- Have you any suspicions on that?"

"I'm even less sure of those," Thomas answers. "I think he must have been betrayed by someone close. It's hard to leave people behind ... I know that one. Perhaps the Year's End tried to entrap him by using someone close to him? As you said, it seems hard to know who to trust."

"Indeed." He looks to the doorway that Simon departed through, a few minutes ago. "And people in both your world and mine may not be as they seem."

Thomas looks up and says, "You know, all the Houses might be playing right into the hands of the Year's End. Seed discord among you. Instill distrust to prevent you from all finding what you seek. Divide and conquer." Thomas halts speaking, hit by the utter irony of that statement; hindsight is always twenty-twenty. He follows the gaze of Lord December, toward the direction Simon left. "Always too many questions, aren't there? Mind if I rest a moment and think over things? Maybe I'm just forgetting something." He pauses, then adds, "Perhaps later you can tell me your suspicions of my friend, as well."

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This site serves as a chronicle of sessions in an online roleplaying campaign moderated by Conrad "Lynx" Wong and May "Rowan" Wasserman. The contents of this site are (c) 2001, 2002 by Conrad Wong and May Wasserman except where stated otherwise. Despite the "children's fantasy" theme of this campaign, this site is not intended for young readership, due to mild language and violence.