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Chapter 1: Mist Valley

The changing of the seasons accelerated as our bright pink school bus wound tirelessly through frost-coated trees and toward the valley by the mountain's summit. In the city of Rennitrin, sprawling capital of Kennuraine, summer had not yet been driven back by the cold rain and warm colors of fall. As we ascended, however, I began to see glimpses of yellow through the small, frosted window, glinting in the sunlight like a song's first notes. These were then joined by a dotting of orange, and then the two colors crescendoed in harmony until the full symphony of orange and red was playing. Then finally the leaves retreated to a tired brown as winter overtook the landscape in a cascade of swirling ice.

"Leonin wandered through the snow," I muttered absentmindedly as the trees sped past. "His eyes roamed tirelessly across the landscape..." I shook my head, trying to focus on the story I was hoping to create, but it was no use in blocking out the noise. The rest of the Cinder High ninth grade class was not nearly as interested in the view if the persistent chatter was any indication. Deprived of their electronic devices, the students had rediscovered the art of shouting over one another in an attempt to hold a conversation.

A prod in my back brought me harshly back to this world of blaring noise, and I turned to see Tennielle glaring at me accusingly, her dark eyes narrowed. "Are you determined to ignore me the entire four-and-a-half hour drive?"

I grinned. "Yup." Then my slightly obnoxious grin melded into a genuine smile. "I just like watching the trees."

Tennielle shook her head, auburn hair rustling. "Most people nowadays don't even know what trees are."

I nodded and turned back to the window, but a crackling sound drove me from the peace of immersing myself in the swirling snowflakes. A second later, Ms. Caneleaf's voice came into focus.

"In ten minutes, we will be entering Mist Valley."

A cheer rose up, and I smiled at Tennielle, who muttered, "About time!"

"Our campsite is fairly close to this edge of the valley, so the ride shouldn't be much longer. Now, we just received an updated weather report proclaiming heavy fog. Please do not panic when we enter the foggy area. I can assure you we will still reach the Silver Heron Campsite by six o'clock. Thank you for being so considerate throughout the entire ride."

I turned eagerly to the window, and this time Tennielle followed suit, stretching her neck across my space to see. The snow had stopped, and we were able to see further ahead. Like a jagged knife, the mountain's peak pushed up through the cold sky, its reign unquestioned. To its left, I could just see the beginnings of a deep fog, pouring over the sides of what I presumed to be the valley.

The valley's border wasn't distinct, but it was still noticeable. One minute, we were enjoying the glow the sunlight gave, now unrestricted by snow, and the next the sunlight was warded off by the mist of Mist Valley National Park.

I lost my sense of direction as we were pulled deeper into the fog, winding back and forth toward the bottom where the Silver Heron Camp was located. It felt like we were driving for hours, but when I glanced at my watch it had been only twelve minutes before we were pulling into a parking space by a row of cabins. It was very dark beneath the mist, but if I squinted I could see enough to function. It was going to be a long week if it was this dark the whole time.

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