[Terri]

Over a tree root and flat onto his face falls a little boy.  This little boy is ten years old and he has never been more determined.  He has also never been more frustrated.  He doesn't move from where he's fallen, his cheek pillowed in the sour-smelling moss.

"I'm lost," he moans, pushing his face into the ground.  He can't believe it.  He'd spent the last four days planning out his route, poring over an outdated map with a dull pencil and a protractor.  Just because he had no idea what a protractor was supposed to do didn't mean he couldn't use one.  It made him feel grown-up.  With his mommy so sick, being grown-up was a necessity that he was more than willing to embrace.

He sits up after a moment, pulling the crumpled map from his backpack for the ninth time in the past half hour.  He smooths it on the ground in front of him and flips it right-side-up, wishing there was a magical YOU ARE HERE sticker that followed him wherever he went.

[[ Sam; 1 ]]

[SpringsSong]

(Click for human/anthro form)

There was another character within the rain forest that day, but unlike the boy, she most certainly wasn't lost.  However, there were days where she certainly wished that she was lost.  There was nothing that could be done about that, though; whenever this curious winged female began to think, things began to change.  She had discovered this ability at a young age; the ability to manipulate things to her will by simply narrating it as if it was a story.

There was many a time when she caught herself using her ability without initially realizing it.  However, she would catch onto it soon enough, and she would stop, horrified.  She never knew what kind of people would be around her, or her sisters, when they used their powers.  There were doubtless people that would try and use her power for their own gain...

"Oh, my..."

She said this as her eyes rested upon the young boy and his map, trying to figure out where he was.  She stepped on a twig just as she said this, which caused her to freeze.

[1]

[Terri]

Sam, being a ten-year-old with a mission, doesn't even hear the snapping of a twig behind him.  He shoves his face into the weathered map, squinting against the night that's starting to fall in the forest.  A mosquito alights on his arm and he swats at it, not looking up from his task.

If this is... no wait, that was over... that river I passed, it had to be... no, not that one... it's... West, I'm heading... no, I'm heading North... past that, uh, funny-shaped thing... and then I turn... left... or right?

With a cry of frustration, he crumples the map into a ball and whips it over his shoulder in a perfect arc towards the Paragon whose presence he has yet to notice.

[[ Sam; 2 ]]