Hobbling along, I walked the garden path, towards the staff offices. June strolled beside me, a smile resting on her face as she hummed.

In my hand was a lengthy brown cane, polished to a shine. Its rounded handle fit comfortably into my hand. Leaning on it removed some of the strain on my back and reduced my hurt but I was still struggling to hide the shocks of pain jolting through my nerves.

June grinned at me sidelong. "You look like an old man."

"Because I am," I replied, wincing.

June deadpanned, her tone falling flat. "You're the baby of our year."

"Your point?"

Folding her hands behind her back, June skipped ahead. "If you're old, I'm ancient."

Smirking, I struggled to keep up with her. "You're only just realising?"

Shrugging, June smiled. "I'm young at heart." Glancing back at me, she giggled. "The tables have turned. Normally I'm jogging to keep up with your giant strides but now I'm waiting for grandpa. Could you get injured more often?"

I grunted, watching the ground carefully as I slowly stepped over the lip of the door. Shuffling inside, I glanced at June.

"I'm off this way," I said, gesturing with my head.

June nodded, her gaze falling to the floor. Shuffling her feet, she was quiet for a moment before mumbling, "hey, is Bark okay?"

The question hung in the air like a hawk, frozen in flight, so close to grabbing its prey. My face fell emotionless, a rock amongst a field of flowers. While others bent, flowing with the wind before straightening again, not losing petal nor beauty, I was steadfast but in a stubborn, ungracious way.

Is Bark, okay? It is hard to tell. Honestly, the mask he wears is inscrutable. Is he bending like the flowers in the field or is he buried under the snow, desperately hoping the sun will find him?

June's face clearing, she waved her hand dismissively and laughed nervously. "Sorry, forget I said anything. I'll see you later, 'kay?"

Flicking her a wave, I nodded and smiled weakly. "Copy that, Chief."

June muttered as she walked away. "Hm, Chief. I like that."

Shaking my head, I smirked and hobbled off. Was Josiah's office always this far? This feels like a marathon. Maybe it's not too late to go back to the hospital. I could get some buffoons to drop another piano on me. My thoughts flicked to Evelyn; I couldn't do that to her again.

Lost in thought, my feet mindlessly carried me to Josiah's office. I robotically knocked, entering with his permission. Josiah was lain across his desk, papers strewn about the office.

Cocking my eyebrow, I grinned. "This looks productive."

His eyes closed, hands folded atop his stomach, Josiah lay on his back, smiling peacefully. "It is in some roundabout way. I find it therapeutic."

"It looks like you threw a tantrum," I joked, approaching a chair. Wincing in pain, I slowly lowered myself into the seat. Damn, I am old.

"That's because I did," Josiah answered earnestly. Grunting, he wiggled and tensed his shoulders before relaxing again. "All part of the process."

The room fell silent for some time. I simply smiled and peered out the window, watching the world pass by. Josiah lay still. I could have sworn he began snoring at some point, but it quickly ceased.

Eventually, the headmaster sighed. "J, how are you recovering?"

"Slowly but surely."

Josiah nodded, as if he expected such a response. "You'll be given a passing grade for any assignments you missed and any due before Friday in one weeks' time."

Making a curious noise, I sighed appreciatively. "Thank you."

Josiah nodded and once again grew silent. As the minutes he ticked by, he groaned and rolled into a sitting position. His legs dangling from the desk, Josiah swung his feet childishly.

"You've made quite a reputation for yourself." Josiah made light conversation, dancing around his point. "People respect you. I haven't heard of a single person who dislikes you."

"It's my burden to bear," I joked, smirking.

Josiah smiled distantly. He was amused but desired a more honest answer. Shaking my head, I decided to indulge him.

"I've learned a lot at this school," I said quietly, twiddling my thumbs. "It's been good for me."

"You've been good for the people," Josiah countered. His brow raising, he watched me with growing curiousity.

I smiled at the floor. "I try my best and if I help people along the way, that's just a bonus."

"You look tired."

The wind was howling, all the flowers yielded, desperately clinging to their roots. The single rock was unmoved. Surrounded by beauty, warmed by the sun, cold and lonely was that stone. It was hollow.

My weak scoff became a sigh. I rubbed my temples, begging the strain to relinquish its grip. "The mountain does not bow to the wind," I whispered.

Josiah nodded his agreement, but the truth wasn't so simple. "True, but rain, whether relentless or sporadic, wears away at the rock. Even the strongest mountain can be reduced to a pebble."

"Some things are worth becoming a pebble for," I responded quietly. My gaze travelled to the distant horizon, hands resting contentedly atop the cane.

Josiah nodded again, his lips thinning into a sad grimace. "Oh, and what of cowardice? Is fear why the mountain lets itself collapse? Or perhaps ignorance?"

My lips turning down, I drummed lightly on my cane. Josiah's question echoed through my mind before quickly fading. Left in its place was a sense of foreboding, of guilt.

When Josiah next spoke, his voice was soft and kind. "What good are your answers if they aren't married to the truth?"

I tired of the conversation. This was the last thing I needed. So, I let the questions fall, buried in my deepest abyss. I sealed the doors once more, locking them away. The day I let that place see the light, is the day the world ends.

Groaning, I planted my cane on the ground and pushed against it, slowly standing upright. Shuffling from the room, I was halfway out the door when Josiah called to me.

"J, get some rest."

I didn't look at him, merely nodded, shut the door, and moseyed away. My feet dragged on the tiled floors. A dull screeching filled the corridor. That noise ricocheted lifelessly, dying before ever escaping this place. It was like that which I buried in the pit.

I'm not sure I understood all of what Josiah said, but he was right about one thing; I am tired. Though I cannot rest yet. I, I haven't done enough.

Haha, that sounds familiar. You have done enough. I told Evelyn that once. She really is better than me. I don't deserve her. Though, I wonder, when I said that, was I reassuring her, or was I crying for help? How selfish am I?

You, my friend, my family, anyone willing to listen, can you hear me out there? Please, help me. I am scared. This mountain is crumbling, and I'm not sure how much it has left. A cold stone may grow envious of the flowers, or it may not grow at all.