“Wilderness camp? C’mon, Mom, you know that’s stuff for druids,” Grackle’s voice whined from the back of the carriage, almost drowned out by the sound of the rocks under the horse’s hooves. “,and I don’t need to learn anything they teach, those spells are all for softies. A mere kit could cast guidance.”

In the front, his mother rolled her eyes again. “For the fifth time, you are going to this camp. You are going to learn something. And you’re going to like it,” his father hissed back. “Unless, of course, you’d like to stay and help us clean graves?”

“no…..i guess not…….” Grackle mumbled back, quieting down. He stayed that way for the rest of the ride, lashing his tail back and forth but not daring to complain again. Few things were worse than the desecrated graves his parents cleaned for a living.

After a couple more hours, he felt the rumbling slow to a stop, followed by the crunch of his parent’s paws on the ground as they walked around to open the back. Sun flooded into the cramped body of the carriage as the doors swung open. Once his eyes adjusted, Grackle was greeted with the typical cold scowl of his father’s face and the enthusiastic grin of his mother.

“We’re here!” she cheerily announced, ignoring the clear expression of displeasure on Grackle’s face. “Get your stuff, your counselor is waiting. Let’s go!”

Begrudgingly, Grackle hopped down. He pulled his trunk after him from the back, dragging it on the ground as they walked to the front area. The entrance was a brightly lit clearing swarming with people. Waiting expectantly for them towards the center was a tall elf in a bright red capelet, clearly the counselor Grackle’s mother had mentioned. A tag on his chest read “Cervinae Fallow.”

“Grackle, is it?” came his icy voice, likely meant to intimidate Grackle. However, having lived with his father his entire life, this slid right off of him. “Yes,” he responded, using the same icy tone. And then, to mock him; “Cervinae, is it?”

A disdained expression crossed the elf’s face for a moment before he could collect himself. That was met with an eye roll from Grackle, who’s attitude hadn’t changed. Regardless, he continued, not to be put off by the sheer disrespect; “No. You may call me Mr. Fallow.”

He glanced down at his list, checking that he truly had to deal with this unruly kit. Seeing Grackle’s name very definitively carved onto it, he sighed and met his eyes once again. “ I will be your counselor for the next few weeks. I do hope our program helps your…issues.”

[yippee yay]