"So there they stayed, within their shell of stone, frozen in time. Some say that they still sit there, waiting for the Child of Stone to set them free. Preparing to set their record straight... Permanently,"

The image of the two wizards' statues, hidden by thick, lush, overgrowth, disappeared from Grayson Ritcher's mind at the sound of the storybook snapping shut. The picture was replaced by a haunting view of the clouded night sky, which almost anyone over the age of seven couldn't help but appreciate.

Gray, however, was six and a half.

At first, the scrawny child barely shifted his position on the low branch of the Red Tree, as if sitting quietly enough would add a few more chapters to the end of his favorite story.

It never worked, but it was always worth a try. So when he didn't hear the familiar cracking from the old book's spine, or his mother's voice dropping dramatically while announcing a new chapter's title, Grayson wasn't surprised. But he was, obviously, slightly disappointed.

He turned to look down at the base of the tree. Down at his mother, who set the Skelitin Saga by: Sara McKinney down by her side, and stared back at him expectantly.

They both knew she was waiting for the questions that were inevitably going to be asked about the story they'd read together dozens of times. But this time, he had. Surprise for her:

Nope. Gray thought, turning back to the clouds, and bright red leaves above. Questions just prove that you don't know something. So I'm not going to do it.

And he wasn't. He didn't have any questions this time. So ha! She was waiting for nothing. For once, his mother couldn't read his mind...

But, there was one thing that was bothering him.

"Mama?" Gray called slowly.

"Gray?" She called back softly, leaning up against the trunk and staring, calmly and contentedly, into the horizon.

Gray hesitated. "I wonder... since Dare was really in control for the whole last chapter... I wonder why he didn't just kill Scary, instead of ending up freezing them both," There. See? That was a statement, not a question. Chalk one up for the Gray man.

"I was wondering about that myself," she replied. "Maybe he began to grow a conscience near the end. Or maybe all the other magic he did weakened him, so he didn't have the strength to finish the job,"

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking," Gray smiled, inwardly patting himself on the back as he slid off the branch.

Gray landed on the soft dewey grass. The kind that looked only damp, until you touched it and ended up soaking your entire hand. He stood up slowly, and set his beat up sneaker on top of a patch of grass, just to watch the ground surrender an inch as he stepped down.

He wasn't sure how people took things, like grass, for granted. Even though they walked on it every day.

Next, Gray patted the Red Tree in silent thanks for holding him up all night, just like his Mama always did, and walked to the edge of what he and his mother called the Big Drop.

It wasn't actually all that big, but it was in fact a drop. It went straight down about ten feet. Like a stair, for giants, crudely carved into the earth.

"Careful over there, Gray," his mother called, using the Red Tree to stand, then patting it's rough surface in thanks. "I don't think you're ready to fall off of that, yet,"

"Do you think the statues are in this forest, Mama?" He asked, ignoring his mother's heeds, just long enough to scan the trees. It was said that the two fought in a large cave in the mountainside. He hadn't seen any caves. Or mountains... but then again he hadn't explored the whole forest either.

Wait... Gray bit his lip. Oops. That one was definitely a question.

"You know," his mother began, taking his hand. She leaned in close to him and smiled down into his eyes. "I'll tell you what. Next summer, we'll go looking for them. How does that sound?"

"Really?" Grayson squealed. "Awesome!" The idea that the characters he thought about, day in and day out, could be hiding in the very forest he stood in, was overwhelming.

Especially Scary Skelitin. And the other allies, including Scary's best friends: Simon and Luft.

"But for now let's go home," she smiled, interrupting his runaway imagination. Gray slipped his hand into hers, and traced her fingers with his index finger.

"Where do you think we'll find them?" He asked. Shoot, another question! He was really slipping.

"Supposedly in a cave somewhere" Mama replied, in her bedtime story voice. "If they're here, they'll be waiting for you,"

"Me?" Gray asked "Do you think they'll know me?"

His mother thought about that, then combed his hair with her fingers. "They'll know of you," she told him. "But they might not know your name,"

Statements like that only multiplied all the questions that were swimming through Gray's head, but he bit his tongue the rest of the way home, refusing to let another question slip out. And he managed to make it the entire way home in complete silence.

"How was your night?" His father asked when they came through the front door, an apron tied to his waist and a wet dish in his hand.

"Night Dad, night Mama!" Gray called out in reply. He hugged them each quickly around the waist, kicked his shoes into a corner, and booked it towards his bedroom.

"What's his big hurry?" Mr. Ritcher chuckled, pulling his wife in for a hug with one arm.

Mrs. Ritcher put her arms around her husband's waist and laid her head on his shoulder. "He wants it to be next summer already," she sighed.

She'd been strong, and acted tough the entire walk home, with her son. But as soon as he'd traveled out of sight, Marie could barely keep herself upright.

Her husband looked down at her curiously. "Are you okay? You look a little sick..." He leaned back and looked her in the eyes, then put his hand on her forehead, to check her temperature. "You're not pregnant again, are you?"

"No! You'd know, because it'd be just as much your fault as mine, Mister." she laughed. "I'm... I'm fine. I'll be fine,"

"Alright," he held up the plate, "I'm going to finish the dishes, and I'll meet you in the room," He left her with a wink.

Upstairs, Gray dove into his bed and scooped up his walkie talkie from the dresser. Cshht! "Hey Luke!" He hissed into the device.

No reply. Gray tore open the curtain that blocked his window, and stared at the house across the street. "Luke!"

He watched the attic light of the distant house come on, then a sleepy voice replied, through the device:

"Did you know that getting the correct amount of sleep at night can help prevent insanity? One day in the future, I'll lose my mind and blame myself, because if I wasn't insane I'd be blaming you,"

"Luke," Gray interjected, excitedly "Mama told me that next summer she'll take me looking for the statues of Dare and Scary!"

"Aww, spoiler!" Luke whined from a distance. "I haven't finished that part yet,"

"Oops, sorry Luke,"

"It's fine," his friend sighed. Then a note of excitement cut through the exhaustion in his voice. "Do you think she'd let me tag along?"

"If I accidentally packed enough for both of us, she couldn't say no!" Gray clapped. He leaned against the window and stared at the forest off in the other direction. "I can't wait for next summer," he sighed, happily.

"Me neither," Luke yawned. "G'night Gray,"

"Night Luke," Gray chirped, then dove under the covers. He stared at the ceiling, dreaming of the upcoming adventures that next summer would bring.

But before the school year could pass, his mother did instead.

Only after she was gone, did Gray realize how much he didn't understand.

How long had his mother been sick? How long had everyone known? Where did she go? How did she get sick? Why didn't she get better? Why did she leave him and his Dad? Didn't she want to stay with them?

And the one person who always had the answers he needed, was gone. And he only wished that, once upon a time, he'd asked every question he was too proud to ask.

The first thing Gray did was pick up the old, black, book with the skull in the center of the cover, and shoved it as far back on the highest shelf in his closet as it could get.

It was hours before little Gray stopped crying. Days before he came out of his room to be with his father. Weeks before he talked to Luke again. Months before he smiled and laughed.

However, years later, The Skelitin Saga still sat on that shelf, surrounded by a dozen other forgotten items.

But its story was just beginning.