Flying through the air at the speed of a bullet, Atwell was flung sideways and through all of the thick brush. Atwell jerked to a halt and noticed that he was positioned close to the spot the boy had vanished into the tree. Atwell's head was still trying to find some logical explanation for what had just occurred, and he didn't think this was just a regular old dream. That boy was him. Although he couldn't remember any of this happening, it must have. Now that he thought about it, Atwell couldn't seem to recall anything at all from his childhood years, except for the vague understanding that he once had parents. A rustling noise cut sharply into Atwell's thoughts, and in front of him, a scruffy boy emerged from within the brush, his laugh ringing out in the dark forest. He seemed to be following something small and fluffy with tufts of hair sprouting from its face.

 The boy's hair was a light brown color; the same as Atwell's, and most all of his defining features were extremely similar. However, one small thing made him completely different from Atwell... His eyes. Atwell thought his eyes had always been the same, odd color his whole life: Orange with a tint of brown. Atwell had never thought it to be an odd color for eyes to be, as he was never around humans, so he thought that it must be normal. Hands flailing wildly in the air, the boy kept up his slow running pace, giggling and attempting to catch what appeared to be a squirrel in his arms. Force pushed up against Atwell's side, and he was thrust towards the boy, suspended in the air as if he was a balloon held in the hands of a giant. The boy continued to follow the squirrel, until they reached a large tree stump, about the size of a small barrel, and weathered by time. 

The squirrel dashed into a crevice in the stump, and hid away, while the younger version of Atwell observed the trunk with utmost interest. Something was happening to the stump of the tree. Something out of the ordinary. A gurgling noise emanated from somewhere within the stump, and an orange light began to pulsate ominously. Layers of wood began to melt away from the top of the stump as if it was a thick liquid being poured onto a surface.  A large book rose up from within the melting wood, propelling itself forward, and sliding onto the dirt before the boy's feet. Bending down, the younger version of Atwell gripped the book in both fo his hands, and heaved it into his arms, despite how heavy the book was. Before Atwell could say anything to stop him, the boy plopped down into a sitting position, and cracked open the book playfully, unaware of what might happen. From somewhere within the boy, a blinding light shone, so bright that Atwell had to shield his face. The boy's eyes began to turn different colors, flashing between orange, yellow, and blue. Within the pupils of the boy's eyes, the same orange glowing light throbbed, like the steady beat of a heart. The orange light began to grow in size, dominating the blue eyes with a vibrant shade of orange...  the exact same shade that Atwell's eyes were. Atwell's head was spinning with information, all too much to handle at once. Dropping down to his hands and knees, Atwell cried out, confused, and afraid, wondering if things would ever be the same again. 

It was him. His family didn't abandon him, he ran away from them. Just to catch a squirrel. If only he had stayed. Then things would be normal. Atwell curled up in a ball, sobbing his eyes out, wishing for it to stop. Meanwhile, the small boy closed the book and got up clumsily. Atwell collected himself enough to refocus on the scene in front of him. The boy was now trying to find his way back to his parents, but couldn't. The spot where he had previously entered was gone. In its place, two huge trees stood, with interwoven vines in between them, making it impossible to get through. "Mommy!", the boy called out despairingly. "Daddy, where are you?".  There was no answer. Atwell felt bad for the kid, but then he remembered that that was himself, just younger. "Mommy!", the boy called out again, this time much louder. Still no answer. Screaming, the small child collapsed into a pile on the forest floor, cradling himself, and rocking back and forth. Another bright flash erupted in front of Atwell, forcing his eyes shut. No more birds were chirping, no more trees rustling in the wind. A change in the environment was imminent, and Atwell knew that he was no longer in a forest.  

Slowly reopening his eyelids, Atwell found himself in the white tent, yet again. Creatures crowded around him, all gazing quietly at Atwell. Atwell had developed a headache, pounding in the back of his head, and causing immense pain. Laying a hand on his head, Atwell let out a soft groan and sucked in a breath of air, preparing himself. "I remember. My family. The book. It ruined my life." "Vat eelse do zoo remembeer?", inquired a creature from within the crowd. "Tell oos more."  Atwell closed his eyes motioning fr quite within the room and cleared his throat. "Twelve years ago, when I was about the age of three, my family and I went on a camping trip in the woods. After having a nice lunch, we sat around the fire, laughing happily, and enjoying ourselves. Just when we were about to pack up our supplies, a rustling noise came from somewhere within the bush. I was a small child, so was eager to see what it was, and stumbled over to the bushes the was coming from. While investigating, I must've seen a squirrel, and decided to chase it through the forest." Atwell continued to repeat the rest of his experience, as while as the flashing light at the end. The creatures where intrigued, and were watching intently, some grimmer than others. When he was finished, Atwell asked the Creature with the scroll, "What is going on?". In response, the creature sat and stared.