#was visiting the camp locations to hear voices so imagine how scary it was hearing an echoey dutch voice line while his tent is right there

[arthursfuckinghat]

I didn't see this on my first playthrough, even though I'd visited here before, but Dutch's tent was oddly still standing even in the epilogue?

[slashermom]

That childhood friend ask had my heart, so how would it be with the other slashers? Like a friend Michael made at Smith’s Grove, a camper that stood up for Jason before he was thrown in the lake, those are just a couple of ideas. I’d love to see what you could come up with💕(just to shorten the list, it’s still kinda long, but they’re soooo cute Billy Loomis and Stu (separate) Brahms, Bubba, Thomas, Jason, Michael, and Norman deserves some love too) thank you so much❤️ I adore your writing btw

You already know the drill. Nothing spooky just big and didn’t wanna clog the feed. Enjoy!

Michael was only a boy when he entered what would become his personal hell.

He wasn’t really allowed too much time with other children in the ward but he did get some supervised recreational time a few times a week.

Which is where your story begins.

You never really told Michael why you were there but he could tell you didn’t want to be there any more than he did.

You typically kept to yourself but seemed kind to anyone who approached you. Even though you were nice enough you were quite reserved, so you can imagine the surprise he got when you came to him.

Michael wasn’t a big talker even back then but you talked enough for the both of you.

Michael wanted nothing to do with you in the beginning. I mean absolutely nothing to do with you but slowly you began to grow on him - a part of his routine.

Every once and a while he would mumble a one-word answer and make your whole day.

But as he grew older those treats grew few and far between. But you didn’t seem to mind.

Dr. Loomis definitely studied your interactions with Michael and tried to use it to figure out more about the young boy.

Michael even began to enjoy tolerate your company. But just as things started to blossom between you two - you pulled away.

“I’m going home Michael.”

You’re what? Did he hear you correctly? No. You couldn’t go home. You couldn’t just leave him here.

“This is my address... Once you get out you’re more than welcome to come visit anytime you like. You always have a place with me, Michael. “

You slid a small piece of paper across the table and then went to go reach out to put a hand over his but he yanked his hand away like he had been shocked.

You begged him not to be mad. But he was livid. How dare you leave just when he was about to let you in? When he did let you in.

Michael didn’t say a word but his eyes spoke volumes and you left feeling sick that you managed to leave and he didn’t.

Quite some time would pass before you two saw each other again.

But bet your ass one of the first things Michael did when he escaped was locate your residence.

He had every intention of watching the life drain out of your eyes and being done with you. Forget you as you forgot him.

But as he watched you, he remembered how much he missed you. Michael didn’t think there was anything to miss but boy was he wrong.

He noticed how you kept some of the routine Smiths Grove lays out for its patients.

You can take the kid out of the sanatorium but you can’t take the sanatorium out of the kid, huh?

These quirks that made you so recognizable in the sea of grey at Smith’s Grove. Things that grew on him like moss and sunk their claws in deep.

He watched you turn on the news and see the report on his escape. You stared a the screen with an unreadable gaze before shaking your head and turning to go to the kitchen.

Not before bumping into the Shape.

Taking in everything that the young boy had become, not that you could really see much with the mask and jumpsuit but he definitely had changed a bit since you had last seen each other.

“Michael.”

He knew what he should do, what he had to do, but he couldn’t seem to make himself move. Michael could only stare at you intensely and catalog your features.

Michael didn’t react when you slowly reached out and looped your fingers into his. Ignoring how the other hand was white-knuckling a kitchen knife that you suspected was taken out of your kitchen.

He only felt your warmth.

“I told you that you always had a place with me.”

And with that his mind was made.

Jason didn’t have any friends. Period.

He wasn’t expecting to find one at a summer camp he really wasn’t interested in being at in the first place.

You two never really played together per se but definitely acknowledged each other’s existence.

Always giving him a wave or a smile in the dining hall or across the field.

You even sat down next to him during downtime between activities and tried to strike up a conversation. He wanted to talk to you, he really did, but it was just a little hard for him.

Jason was working on putting something together for you to show his appreciation and willingness to be your friend.

Unfortunately, he never got to give it to you.

He remembers you running towards the end of the dock where he was about to be thrown into the water

“Stop! What are you doing?!”

The other kids laughed and explained they were just gonna dunk him.

“He hasn’t done anything wrong! Just leave him alone! You’re gonna get in trouble if you do this.”

As hard as you tried they still threw him into the water and scattered and as fast as you ran for help Jason still drowned.

You never forgave yourself for it.

Which is how you ended up back at Camp Crystal Lake as an adult.

Feeling guilty and some way responsible for his drowning, you returned to the summer camp in hopes to be the best camp counselor and somehow make up for the past.

It was an accident. You told yourself.

But you could never get the look of Mrs. Voorhees’ face out of your head. Poor woman.

Well, those plans were abruptly put on the back burner when your fellow counselors began being murdered left and right.

You didn’t know who was violently attacking everyone only that he was big, scary, and was wearing a hockey mask. That was more than enough for you to get the hell out of dodge.

Jason had managed to corner you into one of the old bunkhouses when he faltered just for a second.

Wait.

You looked familiar... Where had he seen you before?

“Y/N! Where are you? We need to go now!�� The voice of one of your peers called from outside.

Y/N. That Y/N?

He flashed his gaze back down to your form across the hallway and seemed to come to the conclusion that it was, in fact, the same kid who tried to save him.

Each step you took back, he took one forward. You continued this dance until you were practically pushed up against the wall of the cabin.

Frantically looking for an escape or weapon you missed him reaching into his pocket and pulling out a piece of old construction paper.

His large hand held it out to your shaking form and waited for you to take it. Well, if you’re gonna die might as well see what the paper has to say.

It was old, wrinkled, and water damaged but still cared for in a way. You carefully unfolded the paper and felt your heart jump into the throat.

It was covered in colorful leaf rubbings and had flowers and pine needles taped all over surrounding a messy sentence in the middle that read:

‘My name is Jason. Do you want to be my friend?’

Billy was a little prick as a kid.

So not much has changed.

His anger always got the best of him and he had to always be king of the playground.

It wasn’t until you pushed him off the top of the jungle gym for messing with one of your friends that he really acknowledged you.

The rest is history.

You two were always picking on and chasing each other around the town.

That is until Billy formed his love for movies.

Always wanting to show you this new movie he got his hands on and get your opinion. He would watch your reaction and smile, especially if it was a scary movie.

You: That was kinda lame

Billy: Yeah... *flashback to last night when he was hugging his pillow and chewing on his fingernail* Totally!

Billy actually spent a lot of time with you or at your house.

He didn’t like being home.

His folks were always arguing or bossing him around and he wasn’t about that.

Billy would always brush it off when you asked if he was alright but it mattered a lot to him actually.

But he would sooner punch you in the gut before even hinting at the idea that he might be grateful for you.

He began to wish he told you more often than he did when you broke the news that you would be moving.

Billy was angry.

Not at you, he knew it wasn’t your fault.

He was angry at life for taking away what was supposed to be his rock. He didn’t have much and he didn’t need much but without you, what was the point?

But per usual, Billy’s anger got the better of him and he took it out on you. Claiming he didn’t give a damn where you went.

And that’s how things ended.

With Billy angry and you in new town.

Billy hated the way things ended and wished he could apologize but he wouldn’t even know where to find you. That is until he heard a new student had arrived at Woodsboro High.

He heard your name in a few different people's mouths but had failed to actually see you. He was beginning to think there was another person who just shared your name.

But as he came out of third period he just happened to look to his left down the hallway and find just the person he was looking for.

There you were. All grown up and still looking like a hurricane.

A smirk creeping on to his face as you met his gaze. It didn’t take you long to make your way over to him.

“Hey, jackass. You miss me?” It was meant to have more of a punch but he could see the fondness behind your eyes and words.

“You know it.”

Stu has been the class clown his entire life.

Which is actually how you two bumped into each other.

He was always up to some shenanigan or making things as difficult as possible for the poor teacher.

You two officially met each other when you were sent down to the office for something you couldn’t remember even if you tried and he was sitting outside the main office waiting to be called in.

Plopping down next to him and saying how you thought all his little tricks were pretty funny. But you also gave him some tips on how he could improve.

You began trading ideas back and forth, laughing about different things and exchanging stories.

From that day forward you were two peas in a pod.

Raising hell and having fun while doing it. Never a dull moment with you guys in the room.

It got to the point where you had to separated in class.

Which actually ended backfiring on the poor teachers.

Because this meant you guys had to resort to glances from across the room. You were practically able to read each other’s minds with just eye movements and facial expressions.

They basically just helped evolve your friendship to the next level of fuckery.

But you also shared some more tender moments.

Stu used to always confide in you. Expressing his frustrations about always having to act a certain way. It really got under his skin that nobody saw him.

When you told him you understood and that you saw him for who he really was he knew right then and there that you were a keeper.

But life always gets in the way.

Your family had found their dream home in the next town over.

Stu was heartbroken, to say the least.

He even offered to have you live with him. His parents have the money! He can take care of you!

You only laughed and promise that you would come back. You told him he could visit anytime he wanted and he told you the same.

But those sort of plans never work out and you lost contact.

Stu was actually just thinking about old memories he shared with you as he walked into the movie store where Randy worked.

Quickly finding his buddy at the checkout counter helping a customer, he had no problem getting into this person’s space while leaning on the counter to talk to his friend.

But what he didn’t realize was that the person at the counter was no stranger.

“Stu?”

His eyes flicked down to see who called his name and actually jumped when he realized who it was.

Stu took a step back in to get a better look at you and see if it really was you, all the while spreading a goofy grin on his face.

His features fell into a much softer smile as he opened his arms to give you a hug.

The partners in crime of Woodsboro were back in business!

You were actually friends with Emily Cribbs before you were friends Brahms.

Brahms believe it or not only had a few friends.

Emily Cribbs being one of them so it was only natural that you two would end up being friends.

Natural. Everything about his interactions with you seemed natural. Like it was always supposed to be this way, things always seemed right and just when he was around you.

And he felt this way almost immediately about you.

He would often invite you over to play games like hide and seek and listen to music while talking.

Brahms would often read you riddles or give you impossible challenges and you would beat almost all of them and ask him for a new one.

Brahms enjoyed your company more than anyone else’s and couldn’t quite understand why.

Probably because you never patronized or looked at him a certain way.

He found himself wanting to hang out with you more often than not.

But you had other friends. Like Emily Cribbs.

Brahms hated third-wheeling with you and Emily.

It could even be said this is one of the factors that drove Brahms to take his first life.

When you heard about the fire that broke out and snatched the lives of not just one of your friends but two, you were lost.

Even as young as you were you understood you would never see either of them again.

Or so you thought.

Many years had dragged on before you heard the name Heelshire again. After the fire, the couple kept to themselves and rarely went out in public.

You had heard of a nanny position at the Heelshire mansion through a friend of yours named Malcolm and decide to check it out.

Wondering if Mr. and Mrs. Heelshire had another child or adopted after Brahms’ passing.

But of course, it couldn’t be that simple.

You pitied the couple when they showed you the porcelain doll that looked about as close to Brahms as you could get in doll form.

We all cope in different ways you supposed.

The least you can do for your former good friend’s parents is to watch a doll for a few weeks.

But what you didn’t know is that it wasn’t just you and the doll.

The real Brahms had been patiently awaiting your arrival for days.

After his mother announced you would be applying for the nanny position he was ecstatic.

He wondered what you looked like after all these years.

Same smile? Same mischievous ways? Same ability to outsmart him in his own games.

All things he began to wonder even move as his heart hammered in his chest and his eyes moved over your figure from behind the wall.

Oh Y/N, welcome back.

Your father worked at the same slaughterhouse as the Hewitts which is how you and Thomas stumbled into each other.

You first caught a glance at him from a distance while your father was talking to the boss.

His mask is initially what grabbed your attention. Maybe he had it on because of the smell or he didn’t want anything to get on his face.

You didn’t know but you intended to find out.

But this innocent curiosity slowly grew into an interest in the boy and everything he was.

Thomas typically kept to himself and was skittish around anyone who wasn’t his family.

Hell, he was skittish around his family.

So it was some trial and error before you were even able to get a chance to get close to him.

But he did take note of your efforts. Thomas did wonder what it was like to have friends but he would never put himself out there in fear of being rejected.

You were able to catch him by himself hiding out back of the slaughterhouse.

“Hey!”

Thomas whipped his head up to see you jogging over towards him.

Thomas nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw you making your way over. Packing up what he had in his hands and turning to go back into the factory.

“Wait! Please stay! I won’t bite I just want to sit with you.”

Thomas stilled all his movements and waited to see what you were gonna do. You took slow steps over to him like you would a stray dog.

“Whatcha’ working on?” You sat down next to him on an old crate and looked at the piece of leather and needle he held between his fingers.

He didn’t reply. Only opening himself up from his hunched-over position and giving you access to see the piece of leather he was sewing to make a new mask.

“You think you could make me one?”

What would you want with a mask? There’s nothing wrong with you, at least not like Tommy.

He turned to make awkward side-eye contact with you to see if you were serious before giving a shrug. You seemed more than happy with the answer.

You two began to meet each other out back a few times a week where you would talk and Tommy would listen. Or sometimes you would go on walks down the road or through the tall grass.

He found peace in your presence.

No hatred, expectations, or ridicule.

Just peace.

But like most good things for Thomas, it didn’t last.

After your father was injured in an accident at the slaughterhouse you and your family could no longer afford the house you were living in and were forced to move.

There was never a formal goodbye between Thomas and you. Just a ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’

Hoyt definitely gave him hell for being a bit broken up about you leaving. So he kept all of that buried with the rest of his trauma.

Thomas thought he heard the sound of a car pull up from his hideout in the basement and quickly stomped up the stairs to deal with whatever poor son of a bitch that had wandered in.

Instead of Hoyt and Luda getting ready to nab the visitor, he saw them sitting down at the kitchen table having a conversation with someone he couldn’t see due to just being able to see the back of their head.

“-I’m sorry about what happened to your old man darlin’. He was a good man. Oh! Tommy! Look who it is! Y/N L/N! You remember them right?”

Remember you? How could he forget you?

You turned around in your seat and beamed up at him.

His peace had returned.

[svguavajelly]

“You don’t get to decide!”

By the time the meeting adjourned with Juan Arco, the director of the Macas Airport, his niece, my friend Adam Gebb and Marcelo who is our Shuar guide, the weather had drastically changed since our arrival after a beautiful 4+ hour drive from Cuenca. Transiting Parque Nacional Sangay on a windy mountain road the park is a UNESCO World Heritage Site (like Cuenca Centro) and is home to Volcan Sangay, a 17,400ft active volcano with a snow capped perfect cone. The weather had been mostly clear with typical mountain clouds and it was the same on arrival in Macas.

Valley to Macas. There’s a road in there somewhere.

Our plan was to depart after the meeting but unfortunately the tiny Cessna, 4 seat plane doesn’t fly well in sideways rain. When flying into the Amazon over the Cutucu and Shaimi ranges and landing on a primitive grass runway cleared by machetes on the edge of the Mangozita River you need the weather to cooperate. Juan Arco explained that during this time of year the weather could remain foul for days and suggested we backtrack and travel many more hours by bus to our planned final destination and do the trip in reverse. Clearly our plan to fly in and land up river and find a canoe to take us downriver is logically the best. We were anxious to start our journey and had suggested we fly the next morning when it is typically clearer before the afternoon storms roll in.

"That sounds nice but you don’t get to decide!” Juan Arco rebutted with a snicker. We all agreed we could look at the weather in the morning and decide and set out to find lodging for the evening. I needed to buy rubber boots for the journey into the deep Amazon anyway and we enjoyed our last night with a comfortable bed and good meal.

Fortunately the mist in the morning lifted and we lugged our gear to the airstrip, got weighed, paid the fare, tax and wandered around the hanger until we were called to board. Aside from the desk attendant, pilot and baggage handler, we were the only other people around. This is my kind of airport.

The cockpit of the tiny plane was smaller than most taxis we use around Ecuador. They had the plane loaded specifically to balance the weight. Adam offered me the front seat as I had the better camera but the pilot said we were specifically seated for weight distribution. That explained Adams giant backpack leaning against me in the seat between Marcelo and I in the back. After ambling down the runway we managed enough speed to get off the tarmac and immediately banked east towards the Amazon.

Within minutes of the bustling Macas (pop. 30,000) we were skimming the dense canopy of virgin rainforest. Looking down I was imagining what secrets lie below the treetops. There are few places with undisturbed forest like this and especially so close to developed areas. The next half hour we saw a couple of clearings with primitive dwellings but no roads. All travel was by foot and possibly pack animal.  Many parts of the dense forest, growing on the steep mountainous land, looked impassable.

Finally the river appeared and we got a glimpse of our airstrip in the distance before circling around the surrounding bluffs. As we descended the plane slowed we were soon looking into the trees as the canopy whooshed by beyond the wingtips. The bumpy landing was exciting though never particularly scary. It’s just another day for the pilot.

We quickly unloaded the plane while surrounded by a dozen uniformed schoolchildren. The heat and humidity was clearly a noticeable change from Cuenca and even Macas…about what you would expect for the Amazon jungle.  We shuttled the gear to the river and took a quick dip while asking about canoe transport to Miazal, our first village.

Our longboat canoe measured 25 feet plus an outboard outfitted with a 6 ft long shaft and a tiny prop for skimming the surface of the river. It wasn’t too stable and fortunately I am accustomed to tippy boats. We asked how far down river was Miazal and the teenage driver flatly responded “3 curves” like that would give us the info we needed. He was keen at navigating the features, currents and obstacles of an ever changing Mangozita River. The rapids were small but still made us grip he gunwale a little tighter as we approached any whitewater.

When traveling in the areas of the Shuar territory, which we were transiting, there are no public lands, per se. It is a community of scattered families and their connecting parcels. It is fairly remote and I doubt many of the locals make trips outside the area. There is no cell service (though some locals did have phones) and no internet nor electricity. Yes…off the grid. So the locals don’t really have any outside information or news.

We hired Marcelo to be our guide, mostly a liaison to vouch for our presence on their land. More than once when we desired to pull up to a village, while landing the canoe somewhere below a bluff, we heard shouts and warnings from above…voices from the trees saying we were not welcome…don’t stop…move on. It was hard to hear if they were speaking Shuar or spanish but it was clearly not welcoming. Having the local boat operator and Marcelo with us didn’t matter…they didn’t want Adam and I there.

In Miazal and subsequently everyone we talked to were aware of a new rumor that some gringo men had come to a village upriver and cut off the heads of 3 Shuar girls. Obviously not true and when we heard this the first time we laughed and thought it was a joke and soon realized they were serious. The two different places we camped for a couple of days each didn’t really believe this (so they say) but they did inform us that this rumor was strong and well traveled among the territory. Regardless of what locals really knew or thought about this, it made our trip a little tense and put restrictions on our ability to explore or go anywhere without a local family member in tow.

From Miazal we hiked to the next village to get permission to visit the Aguas Termales. Not your regular natural springs this sacred location has a 50ft waterfall with a temp of about 104F cascading into a mountain jungle river with other towering, cool falls. The 2 hour hike was on a very primitive trail and without our local guide, Luis, and his machete we would have never found it. We crossed the river half a dozen times and finally I gave up trying to keep the inside of my rubber boots dry and copied Luis and Marcelo who would just let them fill. We scrambled up steep banks that are frequently flooded and washed out and avoided all the pokey, stinging plants and animals of the jungle. These mountains are home to the 3 big cats that reside in Ecuador, the Puma, Panther and Jaguar. Though we didn’t see any, nor did we expect to, we did see some big paw prints down by the river.

Cold Cascada

After some time soaking, swimming and admiring this special place we sensed some nervousness from Luis as he kept looking at the sky. The weather seemed pleasant but he knew that it could be raining miles away and the flood could hit us before the rain even appeared. It would be impossible to get back with any level of inundation. So we gathered our snacks and clothes and returned a different way along the river.

Back at the village I was passed a giant bowl fashioned from a natural gourd containing chicha, the tradicional drink made from the yucca root. Harvested, cleaned, boiled and mashed. While mashing the women chew handfuls of the mixture and spit it with their saliva back into the mixture. Ferment for a day or so and serve it up! The weak alcoholic flavor is mild with a light, fizzy tingle on the tongue. The bowl is passed around and around or more commonly passed to a woman outside the circle who wipes the rim and offers it to the next man. It is an ancient tradition and I sheepishly accepted the patriarchal ways of this ritual. I felt it was important to participate and later found out they don’t really trust visitors that don’t drink chicha. This was done everywhere we went for our week in the territory.

Chicha-tender

A couple of hours down river was our second stop at the community of Los Angeles. Esteban and his family have a big parcel with a variety of fruit trees and a soccer field surrounded by various casitas. In our exploration Esteban pointed out a plant from which they make Ayahuasca. I got an immediate tingle up my spine as I caressed the trippy, twisty vine of the soul…a regular reaction whenever referencing Ayahuasca from my experiences with the medicine in the past decade. He informed me they had a ceremony the previous night and I was both bummed I missed another opportunity as well as somewhat relieved.

Esteban showing me the Ayahuasca Vine

Daughters Cabañas

None of this had any effect on the regular Sunday gathering at this property. Many families arrived with food while music blared from a giant single speaker and various official soccer matches were played, all the while the skies poured down on the party. At dusk, Esteban took us on a canoe ride and long walk exploring his property. The trail was flooded and knee deep for a long section as we approached his daughters' compound, a tidy area with a couple of cabanas and easy access to the river.

Right behind this goal the riverbank steeply descends. If they are lucky the ball will get hung up in the brush, otherwise it rolls or flies into the swift river below.

Goooooooooaaaaaaallllllll!!!

Our last night was spent cooking for the entire village as they lined the walls of the casita watching as if we were a 1 act play in the round. Using a camp stove we cooked up a vegetable stir-fry with jalapeño tuna topping with fruit and salami appetizers, finishing with Ritz and Oreos and they could not have been happier. Later we spoke with Esteban about the weather and departing mañana and after some discussion he matter of fact stated the familiar saying “I know you need to catch a ride but you don’t get to decide”. Duly noted.

Waiting for Dinner

Palm Larva. Yep, I ate it, crunchy black head and all.

Fortunately in the morning the rains had subsided while I made strong coffee for Esteban and his wife and chatted with the kids as they took turns drawing pictures in my journal. Before long we were packed and ready for the couple of hour trip downriver to meet our ride from Cuenca. Though the rain had stopped the river was still cresting and it took all hands on deck to keep an eye for floating trees, snags and changing currents. Half way down river we spotted the lost canoe from the night before, hung up in some overhanging branches which were normally 12 ft above the surface but now provided the perfect “arms” to stop the runaway canoe and cradle her until we arrived.

Our mission to recover the boat was dangerous and charged with the type of excitement I remember from a decade of sailing on Guava Jelly when these types of situations arose. We can do this but be aware, move deliberately, don’t do anything stupid and make matters worse. Crossing the strong current we made a wobbly approach and as Marcelo grabbed the line of the stranded canoe from the bow of our boat the current swung us around and pushed the 2 hulls parallel. While attempting to hold the position and not trying to pinch fingers the 6ft long prop shaft (still running) was stuck between the hulls, craned 180 degrees forward and spinning between Adam and my head. We remained calm and managed to get everything sorted and towed the canoe across the river, tying her up safely for Estebans’ son to gather later.

Riverfront Property

We arrived at what we thought was Puerto Morona to a flooded and confusing ‘dock’. Squeezing in and climbing over other boats we managed to exit without falling in the drink. This town, though small, had the regular port feel. Interesting and grimy with all the action at the intersection of the dock and the only road passing through town. We clearly were outsiders but people were generally curious and friendly while we ordered our almuerzo (lunch) and a beer.

Flooded Dock.

Ready to return to my crazy family in Cuenca, our ride was nowhere to be found and pondering another night in the Amazon..where would we stay, we decided to get a mixto (pick-up truck taxi) and hope we see him on the way. A few minutes down the road when we reach Puerto Morona…wha?!?…he was there. We had been waiting in Puerto Morona(ish). Do you know there are a half a dozen San Rafaels within 30 minutes of the capital of Costa Rica? Also quite a few San Antonios, San Isidros, San Franciscos, San Others in the same area? In my confusion I remembered this and shrugged it off…we had a ride home!

Climbing into a 2016 extended cab, 4 wheel drive Toyota, I felt almost at home with the familiar comforts the Amazon failed to provide. 5 minutes later our driver explained the only reason he arrived at Puerto Morona on time (the correct Puerto, not the one where we were waiting) was his truck. He approached the washed out road…no road remained, just a little sliver of flat ground over the curb of the shoulder, beyond the avalanche mud. The locals said you can’t pass (aka “you don’t get to decide) and our driver reminded them he just came thru an hour before. We were waved passed and we repeated this process a couple of more times. Hours later I was embraced with the hugs from the wee ones I so missed.

One of many landslides covering the road home.

Aside from the Amazon exploration and adventure, this trip had another more noble purpose. Adam Gebb has been putting together plans to save the rain-forest, albeit only the corridor we visited that is the Shuar Territory.

Looking over 2000+ miles of Amazon jungle basin before it reaches the Atlantic Ocean.

Like so many other unspoiled lands and last frontiers of the world, this area has no protection from the exploiting petroleum, mineral and other industries that threaten to destroy it. From those industries there is currently an influx of money and deals negotiated to steal these lands from the indigenous locals and they have little representation to prevent this from moving down that irreversible path.

The black oval is roughly the Shuar Territory. You can see the value of a bio-corridor between the 2 National Parks. Cuenca is to the west in the Andes.

Adam’s multi-level plan is relatively simple though it faces many hurdles and even if things move forward the progress will be at a glacial pace. Change is difficult when dealing with the many facets…the landholders, government departments, conservation organizations and the research, reports and knowledge necessary to achieve protected status.

Traveling to the territory to meet with the locals and persuade them to even listen to ideas about conservation is a daunting task. That was the purpose of this trip and as you may have read, it was difficult to obtain trust.

Briefly the plan, with the approval and support of the Shuar community, would be to establish eco-friendly tourism to the area by means of a simple hut to hut hiking corridor. This would get the locals involved, bring them some income and hopefully with the reports of like minded travelers and tourists who visit the area, alert the larger conservation organizations (where the future money would come from) to the importance of ultimately establishing a protected bio-corrodor connecting the Parque Nacional Cordilla del Condor on the Ecuador/Peru border to the Parque Nacional Sangay in the Andes of Ecuador.

Though it sounds straight-forward and obviously necessary, there are many steps in between and every turn requires much planning and revisions, meeting, studies, funds, travel, etc. All the while maintaining focus and awareness to the delicate needs and desires of the Shuar community. I hope the unforeseen hurdles are few and the project is successful.

[sacredlettersspn]

Letter #2: Courage (Wendigo, 1x02)

Theme: courage

Definition: the ability to do something that frightens one or strength in the face of pain or grief

Welcome back to the Sacred Letters of Supernatural. This week’s theme is courage and we’re taking a look at the episode “Wendigo.” Bravery, or courage, may seem like an obvious choice for a theme--Sam and Dean put their lives at risk and battle monsters every episode--but I want to focus on the less obvious acts of bravery shown in this particular episode. I think those might hold a lot of value for application to our personal lives. After all, none of us are hunting supernatural creatures on the daily. 

When thinking about every-day acts of personal bravery, I’m reminded of a recent fear-inducing situation I experienced. For those of you who don’t follow my personal Tumblr and don’t know this already, I went to Mexico last July. That trip brought up a lot of anxiety for me. It was my first time out of the country, first time in a place that didn’t speak primarily English, and first time on a plane. Before the trip, I was having anxiety induced dreams about forgetting my passport and not being able to get into the country. In general, I was thinking of all the ways things could go wrong and something bad could happen. I was nervous the entire way leading up to the morning of our plane ride, I was nervous walking through the airport, sitting on the plane, and through most of the plane ride. But once we landed and I realized I was really in Mexico, something almost magical happened. I walked through the doors of the Monterrey airport where our group of friends and family was waiting for us and the big ball of anxiety dissolved. Sure, there were smaller moments of anxiety during the two-week trip (anxiety never completely disappears) but the rest of the trip was fun and exciting. I made new friends and ate lots of good food, and now I want to go back as often as I can. 

Despite my fears, I made the decision to go through with the trip, not knowing how I would feel once I landed in Mexico or how I would like the food, culture, or inability to communicate with most of the people. I chose to go anyway and see what happened. A large part of what helped me was the presence of familiar people on the trip with me. Close friends and family acted as a support, especially during that first plane ride. The plane ride was one aspect of the trip I was especially nervous about. But after we landed, I sighed in relief because I had finally faced a fear. And I found out I actually liked riding on the plane. I got a huge confidence boost from conquering that fear. I love to think about how something that seemed incredibly scary to me became one of my favorite memories. 

Living normal life requires these kinds of “small” acts of courage, especially for those of us with high levels of anxiety. But by small I don’t mean “less than.” I don’t think it takes any less courage to do the small acts of bravery than it does to do the “big” things. Fear about a situation, and the courage it takes to face a fear, is relative. It seems almost easy for Sam and Dean to put their own safety on the line for others, but it’s not easy for them to talk to each other about their father or to talk about Sam’s grief. Spoiler alert: Sam and Dean do those exact things in this episode anyway. So then I asked myself: What makes someone have the courage to do the hard things in life like Sam and Dean did in “Wendigo”? Maybe we can find some answers by looking at the characters in this episode. But first, let’s go over the summary.

The episode opens with three young adults at Blackwater Ridge, camping in a remote location of the endless forest. They are playing video games in their tents and one of them, Tommy, is sending an endearing video message to his siblings, Haley and Ben. One of the guys leaves the tent to use the restroom and a few seconds later, he is heard screaming. Another guy takes a peek out of the tent to see what’s wrong, but he’s yanked out of the tent by something we can’t see. Realizing he’s in danger, Tommy turns off his lamp and hides, but whatever got his friends gets him, too. 

Sam and Dean travel to Blackwater Ridge because of coordinates that John gives them. They hear about the incident with Tommy, do some investigating, and find a witness to similar events many years ago. The witness’ name is Shaw and his family was killed when he was a child decades ago. Based on Shaw’s story, Sam and Dean get clues to what the creature might be. While most of the park rangers don’t believe Tommy is in danger and want Haley to stop bugging them about her brother, Tommy’s siblings hire a guide to take them through the forest anyway. Before leaving on their hike, Sam and Dean catch up to them and they all go on the search together. 

During this search, the guide is killed and Sam and Dean deduce that the creature is a Wendigo. They tell Haley and Ben the truth. Sam and Dean also find some time for a heart-to-heart after Sam begins acting more angry than usual. Dean and Haley are kidnapped by the Wendigo, but Sam and Ben find the trail and go into abandoned mine shafts to find them. Tommy is found alive along with Haley and Dean. Dean uses a DIY fire gun to set the Wendigo ablaze while Sam stands in front of the family to protect them. They all escape the mine shafts safely and alive. 

These first few episodes are ones I’ve seen multiple times because they’re “classic” Supernatural. I love to go back and watch them because they hold a nostalgic feeling for me. They’re slightly spooky, and they remind me of staying up late because I just can’t stop watching. But despite having seen this episode a few times before, I was noticing new details and aspects of the story. I saw so many beautiful moments of courage in this episode. If I had unlimited time and motivation to write, I would spend time on each of the moments. But for the sake of my schedule and your time, I will be focusing on two specific acts of courage seen in “Wendigo.” 

There seems to be a pattern of people confronting difficult conversations in this episode. Sam has a dream about confronting Jess at her grave while his grief is still raw. Haley repeatedly confronts park rangers who don’t believe her concerns. Dean confronts Sam when he notices Sam is more irritable than usual. Confrontation can require a hefty amount of courage. Not at all confrontation is an argument; sometimes it’s having a hard conversation, like Dean sitting Sam down in the forest and asking him what’s wrong. This scene happens at the twenty-five minute mark. While watching, I felt that Dean didn’t know how Sam would respond. I think he was a bit nervous about that, but he talked to Sam anyway because he cared about the wellbeing of everyone on the trip. Dean realized that if he didn’t confront what was going on inside Sam, it could be dangerous for everyone. Dean displayed bravery in helping someone get through a tough time and in trying to find the right thing to say to a grieving person. Sam also displayed bravery in confiding in his brother. We know Sam was dealing with heavy emotions because of the dream we see earlier in the episode, so I think it’s safe to assume it was no easy feat for Sam to divulge some of his inner turmoil. 

The moment of bravery which spoke to me the most in this episode happened when Sam and Dean visited Shaw. Shaw was attacked by the Wendigo when he was a young child, but no one believed what he experienced. Everyone told him it was a bear attack, and so for decades that’s what he told himself. When the Winchesters meet him, he’s an old man who’s had to carry his secret for a long time. There is a lot of shame in that kind of suffering, when there’s a feeling that no one believes you or cares to hear the truth. There’s also the fear that if you told your truth, you would be mocked, ostracized, or bad-mouthed. I imagine Shaw had a similar kind of fear and shame growing up. Shaw doesn’t say he feels shame, but I can see shame in his body language. He doesn’t want to look Sam and Dean in the eyes, he tells them “You wouldn’t believe me. Nobody ever did.” That’s when Sam sits down in front of Shaw, eye to eye, and asks him again, but softer, “What did you see?” Shaw finds the courage to open up and tell his true story with a shaky voice. 

As I watched that scene, I wondered how he found the capability to trust two men he had never met before. Sam’s empathy helped, and the boys knew the right questions to ask. Maybe Shaw had been looking for someone to understand what he experienced, and Sam and Dean were those people. Sam and Dean showed the right kind of curiosity and they created a safe space where Shaw could tell his truth and be accepted. There is courage and power in telling your story, but it requires faith and hope that you will be accepted. Shaw found this when he chose to be vulnerable with the Winchesters, and his vulnerability led to the rescue of Tommy and the death of the monster who killed his parents. 

I imagine Shaw found some amount of healing as well in telling his story, and maybe he would have been given more had he been told he was right all along. Sam and Dean never visit Shaw again, so we can’t know for sure how this meeting affected him. However, knowing how vulnerability can open someone up to healing and connection, I can guess that we would have seen a huge amount of relief on his face after Sam and Dean told him that this creature can never harm another person again. 

On a side note, Shaw tells Sam and Dean that he doesn’t know why the creature didn’t take him as a child. I’ve never noticed this before but Shaw says he was sleeping by the fireplace. After watching this scene several times, I remembered that Wendigos don’t like fire. Fire kills them. Shaw didn’t get taken as a child because he was next to a fire when his parents were attacked. Drop a comment if you never realized that either so I know I’m not alone!

Lectio Divina

The next segment of this letter is called “Lectio Divina,” which is a Christian spiritual practice for reading scriptures that involves interacting with the text on four different levels. I am following Harry Potter and the Sacred Text’s use of this practice and adapting it the best I can to the visual format. Normally, you pick a scripture or a line of text to meditate on. I randomized numbers between 1 and 42 (the amount of minutes in the episode), and picked the first full line after the minute mark I was given.

Line, 11:00: “Okay, watch this. I downloaded that guy Tommy’s video to the laptop. Check this out.” - Sam

Literal: Sam and Dean are sitting in a busy bar with a laptop and old newspapers. Sam wants to show Dean the video of Tommy talking to his siblings just before the attack happened. The clip in question that Sam shows Dean is “three frames, it’s fractions of a second.” Sam points out a shadow quickly moving outside the tent behind Tommy. This confirms their suspicions that the attack on Tommy’s camp was not a natural occurrence like a bear attack. The creature moved far too fast according to Sam. 

Allegorical/Symbolic: Watching this scene made me consider the amount of effort it would have taken to notice the quick movement of shadows behind Tommy. Sam would have had to go through each frame individually which would have taken an incredible amount of patience. In a situation where not many people are believing Tommy’s sister, Sam is taking a considerate amount of care into finding out what happened. Sam is also applying refined observational skills to dissect this video. He comes across intelligent in this scene, using his knowledge of computer technology and observational skills to give them a clearer direction in the case. In a lot of crime procedurals, there is the staple “geek” in the show, think Abby in NCIS or Spencer Reid in Criminal Minds. This person gives the team valuable insights that result in solved cases, even if they are at times eccentric. Sam is functioning like one of these characters here. He knows computers and video technology, and he went to law school, and he’s able to use his unique skill set to help crack the case.

Personal: Somewhat reluctantly, I was reminded of the grueling task of getting college assignments and papers done. Research papers require attention to detail and painstaking hours of research. I don’t think I applied as much care to each paper as Sam does to this case, but I’ll give myself a break. Sam is working with a life or death situation, so he may be more motivated than I was. But regardless, this scene made me think about what it means to stay focused and apply myself to complete a difficult job. How do I motivate myself when my brain is tired? How do I put myself aside temporarily when I’m helping someone else? Sam seems to have no trouble pouring himself into his work whereas I often feel like I could give more of myself to others. It takes genuine effort to put lots of care into a project, and I think approaching tasks with that kind of attitude is ideal. I’ll acknowledge that it’s a standard I give myself that others may not, and sometimes that standard may cause me to be too hard on myself. But I look up to Sam in this scene. He pushes through a monotonous task and comes out the other side with a valuable lead. 

Invitational: At first watch, I didn’t think this scene offered much in the way of reflection. How can watching someone show a video clip offer any useful insights to how I live my life? However, when I approached watching this scene as a lesson in observing the amount of care and dedication Sam put towards his responsibilities, this scene held more meaning. Sam’s actions led to saving the life of another human being. The amount of care Sam put into his task had a monumentally positive effect on someone else. This led me to ask the question: how does our focus and attention to detail affect others? I remembered that when I was younger, my mom would ask for help to clean the bathroom. Sometimes I would rush through it and miss spots in the bathtub or on the mirror. My mom would be frustrated, but as a kid, I didn’t understand what the big deal was. It was mostly clean, right? But this made my mom feel like she had extra work to do. Doing the job with great care to the detail and end results would have meant a great deal to my mom. I imagine there are other opportunities in which I can go the extra mile to make someone feel the same way.

Before I finish this letter, I would like to end with a question for the audience. This question is for personal evaluation or contemplation, but if you would like a chance for your answer to be featured on the blog or to begin a discussion, please send your answers to my Tumblr inbox.

This Week’s Question:

What do you think was the biggest moment of courage in this episode and why?

And last, but not least, a special thanks to our patrons!

Jamie S. 

[niknakart]

Cryptid Hunting, a PresNik fanfic

Evening was starting to fall, the sky over Camp Campbell darkening gradually. The kids should have been back in their tents over an hour ago, but on the makeshift stage of theatre camp, Preston was still scribbling away at a bit of paper, muttering furiously. He was working on a new play script, and didn't want to stop until it was finished. Nikki was getting ready for some night exploring, when she saw subtle movement at the stage. Thinking it to be a stray animal, she grinned and ran over, leaping out at him. "IIIII've gotcha!" Of course, Preston being Preston, his reaction HAD to be completely melodramatic. "AAAAAAAGH!" He shrieked, leaping backwards, utterly horrified. After a heart-stopping moment, he realised who his mystery attacker was. "Nikki! You evil little rat!" He clutched at his heart pitifully. "You nearly KILLED me! How dare you? What are you doing out? It's nearly dark!" "The dark's when the fun things come out." She noticed the papers. "Ooooo, whatcha writing?" "No!" Preston snatched his papers out of her reach. "No touching! It's none of your business." He turned his nose up snobbishly, but it was painfully obvious he actually really wanted to talk about it. Typical Preston. She smiled a bit wider, "Are you working on another play thing, like the one I was supposed to be in?" "Mmmmmaybe..." he drawled mysteriously, giving her a smirk. After a moment, he grinned excitedly, flourishing with one hand. "Picture this! It's Hamlet, except Hamlet's father was actually an alien who had an affair with the queen! Doesn't it sound wonderful?" "WOAH, NO WAY... who's hamlet?" "Who... who's HAMLET?!" Preston's voice rose to a shout. "HOW CAN YOU NOT KNOW WHO HAMLET IS?! THE BEAUTIFUL SPAWN OF THE BARD! THE ULTIMATE TRAGIC HERO OF SHAKESPEARE!" He coughed lightly, blushing a little as he realised how loud he'd been. "...my apologies." She giggled, "He sounds important. So his dad's an alien now? Does he know?" She seemed genuinely interested. "No, that's the best part! He only finds out when his father dies, and his ghost comes to visit him!" Preston chuckled proudly. "It's genius, if I do say so myself. I was wondering, Nikki, if you'd like to play Hamlet. Considering you didn't get to play Juliet last time. I'm sure you were very upset." "Wait? I get to play the hero?! Do I fight things?!" She was bouncing on her toes "Yes! In fact, you get to kill everyone in the play!" Preston grinned, handing her the script. "Have a read through. I knew you'd love it! And you'll absolutely nail the part, too! AH, you're perfect for it!" He pranced around the stage in his enthusiasm, flourishing dramatically. She read through it, smiling more as she went on. "Wow, I do kill everyone. Can I do cool stunts?" "Of course! We can use state of the art special effects, just like they use on Broadway!" He was only imagining now - that could never really happen - but the theatre kid was so excited he almost believed it. "You know, Nikki, maybe one day I will be on Broadway." "Broadway? I think my dad called my mom that once." She set the script down and walked over to him. "That's the music/play thingy right? You could definitely do that." "Ah, I hope so. My father doesn't seem to agree, but I'm going to keep trying my hardest to get there." He paused, seeming curious. "Do your parents fight a lot, then?" He sounded stiff, as though he wasn't used to asking about other people. That was true enough; Preston only really spoke about himself. She shrugged, and began playing with one of the prop swords. "Yeah, but all parents do that. That's what Neil says." "Hm." Preston sat down on the edge of the stage, patting the boards beside him for Nikki to sit down too. "In all of Shakespeare's plays, there is some form of family dysfunction. I suppose it's been happening for hundreds of years. But that doesn't mean it's good, or normal." He shook his head, laughing with that manic suddenness that only Preston could pull off. "Look at me, getting all serious over something that isn't theatre!" She sat next to him and laughed a bit too. "I guess you just know about all kinds'a drama." She still played with the plastic sword, nervously picking at some of the lose plastic on one of the seams. "You're not wrong though, I guess." He tone was a bit quieter than it usually was. "Ah, Nikki. The woes of tragedy are all too familiar to me, being in the theatre." He gave her what looked like an attempt at a kind smile; still a little bit manic, a little bit snobbish, but kind nonetheless. "What seems to be troubling you? Talk away!" "Me? What, no, I'm fine!" Her smile immediately perked up and she looked like her normal self again, though it looked somewhat forced. "I wanna hear more about the play and your broads and stuff!" Preston chuckled, leaping to his feet. "Of course!" He seized a prop sword, and pointed it elegantly at Nikki. "Care to rehearse a fight scene?" He'd noticed how forced her smile looked, of course he had. But she really seemed to enjoy this kind of thing. Maybe he could cheer her up this way? She immediately bounced up, grinning ear to ear. "YEAH!" She ran at him like a raging bull, gripping the sword in both hands, ready to strike. Preston instinctively shrieked, waving his sword frantically, before regaining his former composure and blocking Nikki's strike with delicate skill. Thank goodness he'd taken those fencing classes to help with stage fights. "Amateur!" He teased, leaping out of the way with a smirk. She stopped for a moment, clearly impressed. "I kinda thought you were gonna faint on the spot, not bad." She watched him closely before making another attempt, this time a more subtle strike. Preston managed to block the strike, but only just, his blade slipping off the surface of Nikki's with a nasty 'shwing' noise. She was matching him in style now, and it was getting more difficult. "Good, good..." "Let's see how long you can keep this up" She struck several times in succession, each blow aimed for a different location. That did it. Flailing his ridiculous noodle arms in an attempt to block the strikes, and leaping backwards simultaneously, Preston lost his balance and fell off the edge of the stage with a cry. It wasn't far to fall, and there was grass below, so he wasn't hurt. But, being Preston, the shock had made him faint momentarily, just as Nikki had predicted. Nikki giggled, but ran over to make sure he was alright. She leaped off the stage and landed in the grass next to him. "You're not actually dead, right?" Preston whined and rolled onto his front. "Just let me bask in my humiliation," he huffed, his voice muffled by the grass. "I was supposed to kill you though, that's how you wrote it." She scooted over and started pulling the grass and piling it on his back. "Stop it this instant," Preston grumbled, lifting his head a little to glare at her, but not making any effort to move. The sky was fully dark by now, and all the lights in the cabins and tents were switched off. She didn't stop, but kept piling ripped up grass in the same spot on his back. "I'm burying you. I'm pretty sure that's what you do when your friends die." "Hm.. yes.. that is.. that would be... correct..." Preston murmured, his eyes fluttering closed. He yawned quietly. Evidently the repetitive movement of placing the grass, combined with how dark it was, was relaxing him. She stopped and tilted her head slightly. "Are you actually going to sleep out here?" "Hm...? What?" He mumbled sleepily. The boy's eyes suddenly snapped open and he sat up quickly. "Oh! Oh my, I didn't realise." He yawned quietly again. "Aren't you tired?" "No way! I can go for hours, I'm getting ready to go in the woods and look for cryptids!" "Cryptids...?" Preston's eyes widened dramatically and he grabbed Nikki's shoulders. "Oh, Nikki! That's ever so dangerous! There could be things in there that could EAT you, and you were planning to go alone? No, I won't allow it. I'm taking you back to your tent." "Nah, if they try it, I'll wrestle them like alligators and then they'll raise me as one of their own! I'll be a little Big foot... a Big Toe?" Despite himself, Preston let out a snort of laughter. "Well, if you are going to insist upon this frankly ridiculous activity, I should probably come with you." His voice wavered slightly. "Sure, they could probably adopt you too!" She brushed the grass off him and stood up with a small bounce. Preston shuddered inwardly. "Sasquatch? Adopting me? It hardly bears thinking of." He stood up too, trying to stop his legs from quivering already. He wasn't going to faint again. It wasn't THAT scary out here, right? "Then maybe you'll get lucky and find the chupacabra or Goat Man!" She grabbed his arm and made a beeline into the forest, It was close to pitch black at this point. "Oh, this is a bad idea. This is a terrible idea. This is a terrible, terrible idea!" Preston muttered regretfully as they made their way into the forest. "It's most certainly not because I'm frightened, not at all, but I really believe the both of us should turn back..." An owl swooped down near his head, and he practically screamed, jumping violently. "Is that Owlman?! I think it is!" She let go of his arm and climbed on a large rock sticking out of the ground, she stood up and put her arms spread wide out, "I'm hear Owlman, come and get me!" She was standing on her tip toes on the edge of the rock. "Don't fall!" Preston screeched, waving his arms. "If you die I'll be blamed! I'd have to live as an outcast, running from the law. My family would disown me!" He stood tensely at the base of the rock, conflicted. Should he climb it to make sure Nikki was safe? Should he stay on the ground, where it was safe? She didn't seem to hear him, her focus was on the wildlife around her, "I'm right here! I'm ready for you to take me home!" She inched forward, her toes were now off the edge. Real fear caught at Preston's heart, and he instinctively started to climb the rock. "Nikki! Be careful, for goodness' sake! Step back!" She turned to look at him. "Huh, why?" As she said that, her foot slipped. The adventurous look on her face was quickly replaced with panic, and she managed to grab onto the rock with her hands to keep from falling. "NIKKI!" Scrabbling clumsily up onto the top of the rock, Preston reached out a hand desperately, holding it down for her. "Take my hand! I-I won't let you fall! You'll be ok!" He wiped at his eyes furiously with his other hand. He was NOT going to cry. She carefully reached with one hand, while the other stayed clutching the rock. The outstretched hand was just centimeters away from hers, but she couldn't close the gap between them. "I can't!" Her grip with her other hand was weakening. "Keep holding on for just one moment!" Preston gasped desperately, leaning right over the edge of the rock to grab her hand in both of his. With a bit of manoeuvring he managed it, and, breathing hard, hauled her up over the edge. She was out of breath, and still a little shaken. "I almost fell... I could've died... that... that was... AWESOME! Let's do it again!" She was genuinely excited, but seemed to be joking about that last part. "What? WHAT?" Preston grabbed her shoulders and shook her furiously. "Yes, you could have died! You could have died and I might not have been able to help you, and... I.." he dissolved into frightened tears. "I-I want to go back to the camp. Now." "Don't cry! We'll go back to camp, okay? Just don't cry." She pulled him into a tight hug. Preston whimpered, burying his face in her shoulder. After a moment or two he sniffled, trying to stop crying, and nodded. "It's too dark and dangerous out here." "Sure, let’s go back. I had enough fun anyway, I'll get adopted by Mothman tomorrow." She rubbed his back comfortingly. "Now I understand why Neil has such bad anxiety," Preston mumbled under his breath, rubbing at his eyes again as he climbed carefully down the rock. He waited at the base of it for Nikki to follow. Nikki slid down it with ease, still smiling ear to ear. "Yeah, I keep things fun." Preston folded his arms irritably, seeming almost back to his normal self already. "Your definition of 'fun' is rather worrying, Nikki." "Kids? Kids!" The shout echoed through the trees, high and panicked. Preston tilted his head. "Is that David?" "I think so, he probably thinks we died or something." She grabbed his arm again, "C'mon, last one there is platypus crap!" "Hey!" Preston took off running behind her, David's shouts getting louder as they approached the camp. Now they could hear Gwen calling too, both of them sounding painfully like terrified parents. "Uh oh, we're in trouble!" She didn't slow down though With a burst of speed and holding tighter to Nikki's hand, Preston made an attempt to run them both past David without being spotted. Unfortunately, it didn't really work out that way. "Nikki! Preston!" Both kids were suddenly smothered in a tight hug. "Oh, thank goodness, we were so worried! Gwen, I found them!" "Let... go..!" Preston gasped, squirming indignantly. "We're fine, we were just looking for Mothman and Bigfoot, oh and we found Owlman!" David pulled away, looking stern. "What the gosh darn heck would you do that for? The woods are dangerous at night, kids. Dang, I'll have to do a workshop on safety tomorrow..." Preston opened his mouth, then shut it again. He wasn't going to worry David even more by telling him about Nikki's near-fall. Instead, he huffed, glaring. "Yes, yes, now if you don't mind I'd really like to be getting my beauty sleep. I've already missed enough." Nikki seemed intent on acting as if the near fall never happened. "Yeah, I might get some shut eye too, got big plans tomorrow." She let out an exaggerated yawn. "Alright, kids, off you go. Sleep tight, and get ready for another day of activities tomorrow!" He flashed them a blinding smile and hurried off (with a very relieved Gwen) towards the counsellors' cabin. Preston glanced at Nikki, giving her a quick smile. "Goodnight, Nikki. Oh, and don't you dare tell anyone I cried. Or I might just give the part of Hamlet to somebody else, hm?" He smiled sweetly and walked in the direction of his tent She pantomimed a zipper on her mouth and gave him a thumbs up, before walking away to her own tent.