I’m sketching another bird. This one with larger wings so that it can glide longer. I should practice breathpainting larger creathures, but I really like birds. I like that when I bring them to life, they take flight, and I can feel the wonder of seeing everyone on this mountain reduced to ants, and pretend they’re the problems I’m leaving behind.

Like the fact that Marvin is in a coma, and I could be next.

I saw what happened to him. I’m well aware of the despicable acts humans are capable of, and Sages -- or almost Sages -- are humans too. But it still shook me to witness such needless cruelty.

I recall Marvin's screeches of pain and pleas to stop, as I run my finger along the outline of my bird. The strong devour the weak. That is the way of the world. I need to be stronger.

A soft breeze rustles the leaves of the forest, carrying over the scent of damp soil and moss. The call and response of the cicadas remind me that humans aren't the only ones around me. The forest pulses with life. I inhale the fresh morning air, hold it for a moment, and exhale my worries.

I fall back into the rhythm of drawing. It heals my soul as I envision the texture and weight of every bone and feather as I shade. This creathure will not have aberrations that keep it land bound like me.

I lift my sketchbook into the light filtering through the leaves to see if I missed any critical details.

I see a shadow. A hand.

I launch off the bench and whip around, barely avoiding being grabbed.

There are three Saplings in silver lined black tunics surrounding me.

“Hello, Kai.” The tallest one says my name with a sneer. He steps closer so I have to look up at him. “That’s a really cool bird you’re drawing there. Can you breathe it to life?”

I’m gripping my sketchbook so tightly, my knuckles are white. I force myself to relax and roll my shoulders back, trying to look taller. “Sure,” I smile.

I open the sketchbook, but instead of the bird, I flip to the back.

“Which would you like? The left or the right?” On the left is a millipede with twisted human limbs for legs, and a gaping mouth with infinite rows of teeth. On the right is a long haired female corpse with every bone bent gruesomely. Her head is swinging off her neck, her eyes bulging, and her swollen tongue looks to be reaching out of the page. Both are shaded in grotesque detail.

“As you can see, I’m just a Sprout," I indicate to my gold tunic and red tights, "so I’m not so good at controlling my creathures yet. But they love getting acquainted with delicious looking Saplings like yourself.” The more I bluff, the bolder I feel, especially as I see the blood drain from their faces. “Besides, you’re not worried right? You seem like big boys who can handle yourselves?”

“S-stay back you freak.” The Sapling retreats in such a hurry he trips over his feet and sprawls on the ground.

I step closer, peering down at him. “Oh no, that’s no fun. Didn’t you come find me to play? So let’s play.” I stretch my lips and widen my eyes, producing my creepiest smile. “Since you can’t choose, why don’t we let them both get a taste?” I lick my lips then inhale like I’m about to breathe life into these nightmares.

The Saplings make garbled choking sounds as they scramble to their feet and scamper away. “Shit that kid’s a psychopath!” I hear as they disappear from view.

I smirk. That felt so satisfying. I snap my sketchbook shut, and brush off the dirt they kicked up when they fled like they were peeing their pants.

I feel a gaze. I snap up to lock eyes with someone watching from the shadows between the trees. Shit. From his robes I can tell he’s a Sage. A very powerful one at that.

I swallow back my unease. The whole point of handling the bullies myself was because I didn’t want to give the Sages any reason to pay attention to me. I’d spent the past three years with my head down, doing everything I could to go unnoticed, and in a single moment of carelessness I blew it. I should've kept an eye out for the Sages...

Maybe I can still play it off.

I collapse onto the ground and call tears to my eyes. I imagine I’m Marvin or any other Sprout, naive, starry-eyed, and simple. I open my mouth to gush about how relieved I am to see him when the Sage chuckles. He’s laughing?

My prepared speech dies at my lips as I suspect he’s seen through me. I feel heat crawling up the back of my neck as I imagine how ridiculous I must look.

The Sage gives me a nod, then turns and leaves, his pristine white robes embroidered with silver clouds billow behind him.

It takes me a moment to realize I'm still on the ground, staring blankly at an empty cluster of trees. I spring up and brush the dirt off the bright gold tunic that signifies I'm from the Mystic Canvas Sect.

Who was that Sage? And why was he watching me? I was planning to keep a low profile while passing through this Sect, but that may no longer be enough. The best way to protect myself is to be one step ahead.

It’s time for me to make my move.