{Unknown}

There's a sudden PLOP from behind me.

"Oh come on!" I hear Roxie's irritated voice shout, accompanied by the sound of arms rapidly hitting the soft snow.

Ah, another infamous Roxie temper-tantrum.

I let out a sigh, turning around to face her.

Roxie's laying face down in the snow, her hands angrily hitting the snow as if they were actually to blame for her tripping.....again.

"Grand freaking-tastic." She mumbles, bringing her red face out of the snow, some of it sticking to her eyelashes, freezing in her hair and coating her face.

We've been on the move for probably five hours now, not even sure where we're heading.

All I know is I have a feeling it would be very bad to stay in the same spot for too long.

There's been this annoying tug in my head-like a warning, constantly keeping me on edge.

Then to add to that. There's been a deep dread on my chest, weighing me down with one simple thought.

I have no idea what we're supposed to do.

I mean, we're in a completely different world for goodness sake.

I don't know what the time difference is-if there is one. I don't even know how long we were passed out earlier before we regained consciousness.

We left...Earth, around 8 P.M. Which means it was dark. We wake up here, and it's daylight.

But how would Roxie even be alive if we'd been laying in cold snow for the past ten hours?

That's just not logical.

She would've been a Roxie-pop.

So maybe there's some sort of time loop?

"This isn't fair."

My attention snaps back over to Roxie as she starts getting up, her movements stiff and jerky from the cold.

She stands completely back up, dusting the snow off her clothes.

"You run around in a T-shirt, feet barely even sinking halfway through the snow. And here I am, freezing my butt off, tripping every ten feet because my toes keep catching on stupid branches. Because I sink all the way to the ground!" She yells, eyes wide with anger, her bright red hair falling loose around her face-making her look like some crazy woman off those apocalypse movies you see these days.

Her loud voice echoes around the forest-that instead of growing thinner like I'd hoped, is only getting thicker, creepier, darker.

My eyes scan through the thick trees, shadows getting longer as the sun already starts to sink further down in the sky.

It's going to be dark soon.

And-

I glance back at Roxie.

She's blowing into her blue tinged hands, the hood from my hoodie up over her head, mouth trembling as she shivers.

-We need to make camp. And not only because it's going to be dark soon, but also because she's not going to make it much longer before she completely freezes.

It's a wonder how she doesn't have frostbite yet.

I look around again, trying to see any spot that would be suitable for camp.

My eyes land on a giant dead cedar-looking-tree.

What? I don't exactly know what all these trees are called. So bear with me.

The trunk must be at least eight feet thick, its height reaching a rough two-hundred feet.

I start heading over to it, not bothering to make sure Roxies' following.

I glance down at my feet.

Roxie is right about one thing. My feet only sink down to maybe halfway through the snow. Unlike Roxie, where hers sink so far down you can see brown leaves sticking out of her footprints.

I reach the cedar tree, placing my hand on the trunk.

Glancing up, I check to make sure there aren't any limbs that are noticeably going to fall and squish us.

Crouching down, I tuck my throbbing right hand under my left armpit. Then I use my left arm to shovel the snow away from the base of the tree.

I hear Roxie walk up beside me, staring quietly down.

"What are you doing?" She questions.

Without looking up, I continue with my work.

"Making a shelter." I simply reply with.

She huffs, standing there for a minute, the sound of me moving the snow filling the quiet air.

And right when I begin to think she's really not going to assist me, she crouches down next to me.

Taking her trembling arms, she helps me clear the snow away.

Once we have the snow cleared six feet away from the tree-leaving only a very thin layer that would be impossible to shovel away by hand. I start using the snow we piled along the edge to build a slight wall.

Roxie attempts to help.

But with her fingers that barely move now, she doesn't get much done.

She sits exhausted on one of the humongous roots that snake out from the tree, back resting against the trunk, hands tucked under her armpits for warmth.

I finish patting the snow together, standing up to examine my master piece.

The walls I managed to build up to about four feet, which will help keep the heat in and shield us from the wind that's starting to pick up.

It's pretty decent for half an hour job.

Now, for a fire.

I look around again.

Carefully stepping out of our little campsite, I walk over to the other side of the cedar.

Grabbing onto one of the lower limbs with my left hand, I give it a tug, immediately hearing a satisfying CRACK as it breaks off.

It's about five feet long, four inches thick.

Tucking it under my arm, I walk over to a tree that looks to have a strange moss growing up the side of it.

Only it's blue.

Eh, red sun, blue moss.

Makes perfect sense.

I touch it with my pointy finger, quickly retracting it like I'm expecting the moss to attack me or something.

Satisfied that it's not in fact about to jump off the tree and eat me. I pull some off.

I squeeze the handful of blue moss I've collected, noticing it doesn't even feel damp.

It might just work.

Lightly walking back to camp, I grab a large piece of bark off the cedar, then I step back inside.

Roxie looks up at me, her brows furrowing together as her eyes focuse on the materials I'm carrying.

"You know how to make a fire?" She asks, a little desperation leaking into her voice.

I nod.

"Well, kinda." I admit.

Orenda taught me once, just like how she taught me sword-fighting and archery. Except unlike with those, survival skills sadly weren't practiced as much because she got annoyed at me one too many times.

Curse me and my inability to pay attention to things.

Placing the blue moss in the center of our igloo, I take the stick, jabbing it down into the soft ground.

Angling it sideways with my left hand, I lift my right foot, bringing it down directly onto the middle of the limb.

Roxie flinches as there's a loud CRACK from the limb breaking in-half, the noise echoing eerily through the woods.

I pause, straining my ears to pick up any noises.

Something doesn't feel right.

But like I said earlier, I've felt this way ever since I woke up.

But something's different now.

And suddenly it hits me.

It's too quiet.

Throughout our roughly five hour hike, we were accompanied by the sound of strange birds chirping high up in the trees.

But now.

Silence.

Complete and utter silence.

I tense as my ears suddenly catch the soft crunch of snow being stepped on.

Something's out there.

I glance out of our camp, the thick forest keeping me from seeing more than a few yards away.

I quickly go back to breaking the limb into smaller pieces, a new urgency towards building a fire fueling me.

Roxie must've sensed something was wrong.

She sits up straighter, glancing around outside with wide eyes.

"Callon, say I believe you about your crazy idea that we were magically transported into that painting." She whispers.

I'd told her my suspicions about being transported to the world in that painting while we were walking earlier. And let's just say.

She didn't believe me.

Even with the evidence of the red sun, she's still stubbornly thinking we're on earth.

Because she doesn't want to admit it.

We're not on earth.

I glance over at her, simultaneously crouching down.

"In that...painting." She mumbles, fear growing in her eyes. "Weren't
there....monsters?" She gulps.

I cringe, the same thought having been swirling in the back of my mind for the last four hours.

Down at the bottom right corner of the painting there had been a darker settings, making a huge contrasts against the bright happy painting.

It had monsters.

All different shapes and sizes, glowing red eyes, fangs.

I shake my head, resuming the task at hand.

"And if we're in the land of that painting, doesn't that mean that everything on it." She pauses. "Is real?" She lets the question hang in the air.

I lay the bark down, using a sharp rock I'd found when removing the snow to dig out a small round indent on the inside of the bark.

"There's a possibility." I mumble out, taking the two foot long stick I'd broken earlier and poking it into the indent.

Annoyance sparks in me as I suddenly remember this takes two hands to complete. The pressure that's been steadily building behind my eyes, growing ever more tighter.

I lean my head back, letting a deep breath out as I try to calm the raging storm in my head.

Why now?

It's not uncommon for me to get headaches and migraines. It's actually very normal for me.

For as long as I can remember I've always been extremely sensitive to light and noise. Which Orenda says is what triggers my Intense Migraines.

And those aren't just any migraines.

These migraines I get usually every five or so weeks-the really bad ones. Wherein I can function perfectly fine with all the other headaches/migraines I get.

These leave me with a high fever, bent over the toilet while I puke my insides out. Bedridden for days while the world throbs and spins around me, the pressure in my head literally getting so bad I used to complain to Orenda that I was going to explode. Any light whatsoever sending stabs of deep pain through my head, my body sore-like I have the flue.

Not very pleasant.

But I just had one of those two weeks ago. So why do I feel like I'm coming down with one now?

I take another deep breath, feeling some sweat drip into my eye, coating my forehead.

Panic squeezes my chest.

It's just sweat from all the stress and exercise.

Yeah, that's it, nothing more.

The reassurance doesn't help.

I glance over at Roxie, her stiff hands still tucked under her armpits.

She can't do it.

I bring my right hand out from under my left armpit-where it's been for the last fifteen minutes.

I halfway unclench my throbbing right hand, revealing dark red liquid soaked into the piece of white fabric that I tore off the bottom of my shirt to wrap around the wound.

Hey, don't judge. I know that's a typical move, but It's all I have at the moment.

Now how am I supposed to do this when I have a very painful cut on the palm of my hand?

I hold both my hands out, staring down at them.

My head pounds, drops of sweat streaming down my face, thoughts running through my mind a mile a minute.

I run my left hand over my face, feeling the sticky sweat coat my hand.

Oh, what the heck.

I grab the stick with my left hand, making sure it's securely in the chiseled hole on the bark.

I wince as I fully unclench my right hand, feeling the skin painfully rip apart where a small scab had already started forming over the cut.

This isn't going to end well.

I quickly place my right hand on the right side of the stick, my knee coming down so I'm in a kneeling position, the wet ground uncomfortably soaking into my jeans.

With a hand on each side of the stick, I start rolling it in between my hands.

I grit my teeth through the pain in my palm, locking it up in the back of my mind.

Pain is only a feeling.

"Isn't it really hard to make a fire that way?" Roxie questions.

I ignore her, speeding up my hands to keep the stick moving.

I hear her sigh in annoyance. But I still feel her hopeful gaze focus on the stick.

After about five minutes of keeping my hands moving. I finally catch the scent of smoke, blackness growing around the hole in the bark.

Roxie shifts forward, holding her breath.

Come on.

"It's not going to work." Roxie dejectedly says.

I speed up even faster.

Then suddenly, a spark.

Hope swells in my chest.

Take that little miss disbeliever.

A steady flame seeps out from between the bark and the stick.

I stop my movements, immediately grabbing some of the moss.

Placing it beside the small flame that's already dying out, I lean my head down and start to lightly blow on it.

There's a small quiet explosion as the flame catches onto the moss, my head jerking back in surprise as the fire suddenly becomes blue before quickly returning back to the normal red.

"Why is it doing that?" Roxie naively asks.

I give her an irritated look. "How would I know."

She shrugs.

I roll my eyes, placing another piece of moss on the fading flame, watching as I get the same result.

Blue fire.

Roxie jerks her head up as there's a sudden chirp up in the trees, the birds suddenly resuming their noisy chatter.

I pause, tilting my head to the side as I listen for anymore footsteps.

Nothing.

I let a relieved breath out.

After placing one of the sticks into the small fire, I stand up.

Roxie looks up at me as I pick up the three foot long stick I specifically kept for me.

As a weapon.

When I'd broken it, the end had splintered leaving a nice sharp point at the end.

Can't be too careful.

Her face turns frantic as I step out of the shelter, her eyes glancing around at the fading light.

"Where are you going?" She frantically asks, still keeping her voice quiet. "There could be something out there." Her wide eyes scan the surroundings.

I snort.

"Well unless you expect us to survive the night with only two sticks for firewood and some moss. I believe I need to go collect some-more." I sarcastically say.

She crosses her arms, looking mildly hurt for a second.

I rub the back of my neck.

I'm not very good at socializing.

"I'll be back in a minute, keep the fire going." I gruffly say, taking a step.

"What about if something's out there?" She questions once again, eyes flickering up at me.

Her concern for my wellbeing warms my heart.

"It's safe right now." I say. "Besides," I motion towards the stick in my left hand. "That's what I've got this for."

Now she rolls her eyes, placing her hands over the small fire. "Not that I'd care if you got eaten or anything." She grumpily mumbles.

Well, so much for her caring side.

I walk a small distance off, gathering firewood off the dead trees I happen to pass by-which happens to be a lot.

And yes, I know trees look dead in the winter. But there's a difference between winter dead, and dead dead.

I look around.

The forest is crowded with both small and large trees, only a couple feet between each one. But the odd thing is, there's this strange blackness that's stretched across several of the trees within eye range.

It loops around-as if it was choking them, all the way to the top.

And the stranger thing is. It's only on some of them, like they were specifically targeted.

I shake my head, feeling stupid for even thinking that.

It's only trees. Trees get diseases all the time.

I continue piling some sticks up in my arms, holding them cradle style.

I stop beside one of the trees that has the strange marks on it, my eyes examining the huge ancient tree.

Then, as if drawn to it. I take my left hand and gently place it on the trunk of the dying tree.

Suffering

Pain

Death

Destruction

Evil

I gasp, pulling my hand away. The sticks falling from my arms and landing in a scattered pile at my feet.

My chest rises and falls rapidly, my mind in a jumble as my headache begins to pound louder, the pressure continuing to build inside until I can actually feel my ears start to pop.

I close my eyes, those words repeatedly being shouted in my mind at full blast.

Destruction

More voices join in, the pressure in my head becoming overbearing.

DEATH

I fall to my knees, my hands automatically coming up to cover my ears-as if they would help shield me from these overpowering voices.

LOST ONE

SAVE US

PROPHECY

DELIVER US

Then, like a vacuum, the voices evaporate from my head. Leaving an emptiness in their spot.

I take some deep breaths in through my nose, hands still grasping tightly to my head.

What.

Was.

That?

The pressure in my head begins to subside slightly, the headache sadly still pounding away.

I shiver as tendrils of cold suddenly run up my back, dissolving into my skin.

I hesitantly stand up, tugging the beanie protectively further down on my head, eyes cautiously looking over at the tree I'd just touched.

Those voices.

They sounded strange.

Ancient, old, like they've been alive for eons upon eons. Seen things, know things.

But one thing stand out the most.

They sounded.....frightened.

Yet they had a strength to them, like they aren't ready to die just yet.

I take a shuddering breath, bending down to pick up the sticks with partly trembling hands.

Great.

More voices.

Why does this have to happen to me?

I must be losing it or something.

Turning around, I glance over my shoulder at the tree once more.

Is it just me, or does it seem like it's leaning slightly towards me now?

It wasn't like that before.

I shiver again as another flash of cold washes over me, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.

Only this time I recognize the feeling.

I'm being watched.

I shake my head.

I'm just being paranoid.....

I slowly begin walking, my feet carrying me to the destination I wanted to inspect before returning back to camp.

The spot I thought I heard something earlier.

My eyes scan the ground, only to widen.

There, leading off further into the woods is a pair of paw prints that can only be described as.....Huge.

I kneel down beside one, placing my hand spread out on top of it.

It fits perfectly into the print, even leaving some extra room.

The print sinks about halfway down into the snow, long claws leaving very noticeable indents at the tips of each paw.

Is this a wolf?

I stand up.

That would be one gigantic wolf then.

My eyes travel along its pathway until it disappears further into the thickening trees.

Well, at least it's gone.

For now.

I turn, heading back to camp.

While walking, I glance down at my throbbing right hand.

I hadn't really looked at it after I'd finished making the fire. But now the makeshift bandage is completely soaked through with blood, an odd warmth circling around the cut.

I readjust the load of branches I'm carrying, clinching my right hand together.

I'll be fine, I have a habit of healing quickly anyways.

As I make it back to camp, I step back inside.

Roxie jerks up in surprise, eyes wide with fright.

I freeze, staring over at her with a questioning gaze.

"Oh my gosh." She places a hand over her heart. "You scared me, I didn't hear you coming." She explains, still looking a bit surprised.

"Sorry." I say, not even sounding a bit like I am.

I neatly stack the small pile of branches over in the corner, placing one on our dying fire.

"What are we supposed to do for water? Or food for that matter?" She suddenly asks, crossing her arms.

Come to think of it, I could go for some food just about now.

I glance over at her, then motion towards the snow.

"Eat some snow." I simply say.

She furrows her brow. "I thought you weren't supposed to eat snow?"

Your not.

I shrug, placing another twig on the fire.

"Just don't eat a lot." I specify. "And I don't exactly see anything we can use to melt the snow in to melt it, so we're stuck with this for right now." I roughly say.

She huffs, pulling her legs angrily up to her chest.

I let a sigh out.

I don't mean to be so standoffish with her, and I'm not usually like this.

But with the constant headache, the pressure, the stupid cut on my hand, the voices in my head. And with everything else that's happened within these last 24 hours....

I'm starting to get on even my own nerves.

Now that takes skill.

I feel like I'm a ticking time-bomb. That's just waiting to explode.

Not a very pleasant feeling.

"So what are we going to do?" Roxie speaks up, her voice hard once again. "Huh Callon, tell me!?" She spits out, venom coating each word. "You got us into this mess."

I narrow my eyes at her.

"I've got people back home who are most likely then not, freaking out right now because they can't find me." She keeps her voice low.

I search her face, surprised when I see tears start to form in her eyes.

"I need to go home." She dejectedly says, a few tears streaming down her cheeks before she brings a hand up to wipe her face off.

I stay quiet.

"What? Don't you think your mom and dad are worried about you?" She questions.

I feel a stab of sadness deep in my chest.

Yeah, I actually wouldn't know the answer to that question.

But, why would she ask that?

Either she's just trying to be a jerk and make fun of me. Or she really doesn't know.

I stare blankly over at her.

She shifts, seeming to get uncomfortable under my stare.

"What?" She asks after a moment.

She must not know.

I raise a brow. "I live with my aunt." I slowly say, still unsure if she really doesn't know.

She looks surprised for a second before quickly masking it.

Wait.

  Aunt.

Orenda.

Oh snap!

I'd thought about it earlier, but I hadn't really gone over it in my mind.

Orenda's going to kill me for missing our evening plans.

What's she going to think happened to me?

That I was kidnapped?

Or I ran away?

But maybe....

No, she couldn't of.

I reach a hand up to my chest, feeling the outline of the necklace through my shirt.

Did she....know about this?

I think back to the day she gave it to me.

How she was acting all strange when I opened it, wrapping me up in a emotional hug-almost like...like she knew this would happen.

But that's stupid.

Sh-she would've told me, or at least warned me.

"Keep it with you at all times Cal."

I hear her voice like she's with me now, washing over me.

And deep inside, I feel an absolute certainty.

She did know something.

I look down at the ground, ashamed of myself when I feel betrayal leak into my mind.

She had a reason I'm sure for not telling me anything.

Yeah, just keep telling yourself that Callon.

Whatever helps you sleep at night.

I frown, reaching up to reposition my beanie with my left hand.

"So, what are we supposed to do?" Roxie stubbornly asks yet again.

"I don't know." I stab a stick roughly down into the now soggy ground beside the fire, keeping my head down.

"Well we have to do something!" She loudly says and I can hear the anger boiling inside her words.

She seems to be coming back to herself now that she's been warmed by the fire.

I'm still determining if that's a good thing, or a bad thing.

I press my left hand to my temple, trying to massage away a sudden wave of nausea.

"Callon."

Her voice sends spikes of pain through my brain, piercing me.

I wince, holding a hand up to stop her from saying anything else that I'm sure
She's getting ready for.

I hear her grumble at me in annoyance.

"Can we just be oh, I don't know, quiet for a little while right now." I quietly say, squeezing my eyes shut as I get hit with another wave of nausea.

"I will not." She firmly states, either being completely oblivious to how awful I must suddenly look. Or she just doesn't care.

I'm going with the latter of the two.

"Like I said, I need to go ho-" She cuts off as I quickly stand up.

"Hey, where do you think your going?" She furiously asks, standing up as well.

"Getting more firewood." I mumble out to her, stumbling out of camp.

I walk a short distance away.

Leaning against a tree-but checking first to make sure it's not one with that strange blackness on it. I run a hand down my sweaty face, taking a few deep breaths.

Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.

A cool breeze picks up, sending a welcoming coolness across my warm skin, my hair blowing lazily across the back of my neck.

I just stand there for a minute, trying to unwind my stiff shoulders, my head.

Pushing away from the tree, I start to do what I actually said I was going to do.

~~~~*~~~~

After I've gathered another armload of branches, I find my way back to camp.

As soon as I step in, Roxie shoots up, her face concerned.

"Where were you?" She quickly asks.

More spikes stab my skull, but I keep my face neutral as I stack the firewood with the rest of what I've already gathered.

"Chill." She rolls her eyes. "Like I said, I got more wood." I tell her, motioning to the pile of sticks.

"You were gone for like forty minutes!" She exclaims. "It's dark, and I thought you got eaten."

I glance around, only just now noticing it looks slightly darker then it was earlier.

I shrug.

"Well, I obviously didn't." I point out.

She sits back down, letting some of her anger out by furiously poking the fire with a stick.

I walk around, taking a seat two feet away from Roxie on another large root that sticks out from the tree.

Hey, it beats sitting on a soggy ground any-day.

We sit in silence for a few minutes. Me resting against the trunk of the tree as far away as I can get from the hot fire. Roxie leaning as close as she can possibly get without getting burned, absentmindedly playing in the fire with her stick.

I sigh, really feeling like I could go for a nap right now.

Roxie looks up at the sky.

The fire reflects in her green eyes, making them sparkle. Her wild red hair looking even brighter then usual.

She suddenly smiles, her face transforming as it fills with wonder. Eyes latched onto the sky.

"Callon," she whispers. "we're definitely not on earth anymore." She breaths out, still examining the sky.

So now she admits it.

I follow her gaze up to the sky, curious as to what made her finally admit it.

And through the skeleton limbs of the dead trees, my eyes land on what Roxie's been so fixated on.

I feel my own eyes widen with wonder.

The whole sky is lit up with millions of twinkling stars, much more noticeable than I've ever seen on earth.

Then, further to the left.

A large moon rises in the far distance, almost obscured by our position.

It looks to be six times as large as the one on earth, looking like someone took a balloon and blew it up.

It's so close, you can make out each crater on it, each one of its lumps, the patterns.

And what's stranger.

It has a glowing blue halo surrounding it, mixing together, creating a sheen of blue across the surface of the moon.

It's....breathtaking.

I keep my eyes up on the sky.

"No, we're not."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N

Hello everyone!

So, great news!

*Clears throat*

We made it to my goal for the last chapter!! *Runs around screaming at the top of lungs* 🎉🎊🎉🎊 Yippie!!!!

See, I knew y'all could do it. 👍🏻👍🏻

Give yourselves a pat on the back.

Questions:

1. If you were in this predicament, how do you think you'd be handling it?🤔🤔

2. Whatcha think of those footprints Callon found? You think something bad is going to come from it?

Alright y'all!

Nine votes this time! (Think you can do it?😉)

Good luck! And see ya on the other side.😲😁

Teaser:
There's a bit of a disturbance and Let's just say, the bomb goes off and it's not pretty.

Maggy