Morning broke over the Virescent Woods with all the tenderness of a hammer to the face.
Birds chirped.
Bugs buzzed.
Class C, meanwhile, was engaged in the noble art of panicking over breakfast.
"Who took my rations?!" Julien barked, rifling through his pack.
"You mean these?" Wallace said innocently, holding up a crumpled packet. "It looked expired, so I thought I'd test it."
"You WHAT?!"
"I'm still alive, aren't I?"
"That's debatable!" Mira hissed, rubbing her temples like she had a migraine coming.
Meanwhile, Garrick was boiling water in a battered pot Wallace had salvaged—because apparently, surviving without a kettle was unthinkable.
Leo was chewing on dried jerky with the haunted eyes of a man who'd already accepted gastrointestinal doom.
Felix… was trying to be responsible.
Naturally, this made him the target of all my attention.
I sauntered over and clapped Felix on the shoulder so hard he nearly dropped his tin cup.
