Rhapsody

Chapter XII | Findings.

The next few weeks passed by in a blur of exams and assignments for the trio of just-barely-adults, and the morning of December 14 found all three eating breakfast around a small circular table, chatting in lowered voices about the coordinates- and their plan of action.

'From what I found, the coordinates given by Mark are located in a forest,' Sicily began, frowning down at her notebook.

'Which we will probably not be going into.'

'You got it.'

'We can always sneak away, though.' The two glanced at Markel, faces dubious at the suggestion.

Twirling a lock of tiger-orange hair, Sicily added, 'That's only if we manage to be anywhere near the forest.'

'But if you look at our planned route-' Markel was abruptly cut off by a holler from the Headmaster's secretary, a squat little lady who was serving as chaperone.

'Everybody, to the bus!'

The three exchanged looks before silently picking up their backpacks, tossing their uneaten food into the rubbish bin.

To say that the tour guide was boring and insipid would be cliche. To say that the tour guide was captivating and enthusiastic would be a lie. To say that the tour guide had lost all but one student's attention would be like hitting the bull's eye from two kilometers away.

Out of the entire group of thirty-strong college students and chaperones, only Markel was studiously jotting down notes and occasionally interrupting her to ask questions. If he thought that his participation would impress her, he would be dumber than a stick. Each time he raised his hand, the tour guide would glance at him in distaste before calling out 'young lad' in her heavily accented voice.

However, what no one knew was that he was collecting information, data about the climate, edible plants, history, sources of freshwater and local water purifying techniques. All the things that he was jotting down would later come in handy if he decided to get himself lost in the forest whilst searching for the Rhapsodies.

When the tour guide got tired of Markel's participation, she moved on to the next aspect of the tour. As Markel finished his notes, the unenthusiastic woman led the group to a nearby copse of trees and announced the beginning of the two-hour forest-exploring time slot with a warning to stay on the trails.

'I say we go this way.' Tightly clutching the map as though all of their lives depended on it- which it did- Markel pointed at a rough, thorny bush that clearly said 'don't touch me'.

'Markel, I don't think that's north.' Taking the his roommate's phone in his hand, Xavier adjusted the angle of the small device, then passed it back to him.

'There. So that means,' the black-haired man pointed at a jacaranda tree- 'we'll be going in that direction.'

There was no point in denying it anymore; the three composers were off the trails, and as a result, were hopelessly lost.

Joy glanced at her watch; it was now about 4:00, an hour after they were supposed to return to the group, and she could already feel the signs of dehydration start to show themselves in addition to the terrible shivering she'd fallen prey to.

She felt as though she was being watched from all sides, which was probably true because she knew the inhabitants of the forest on a personal level, but the longer they walked, the more intense their gazes were.

When Xavier looked over his shoulder to check up on her, he found her gone.

Panic rushed through the pale man as he grasped his roommate's shoulder and shook him until his eyes focussed.

'Markel! Markel, have you seen Joy?'

'Unless she walked in front of us, no. Why?'

'WHY?!?! Markel, you dumb emotionless idiot, don't you understand? She's gone!'

'Gone? What do you mean?' Markel spun around, the despair and alarm radiating from Xavier finally getting to him.

'Sicily? Sicily Joy O'Connor? Little Irish girl?'

'Joy? Joy, where art thou?'

Just a flash, but it was enough. Markel started sprinting into the underbrush, only pausing to wave for Xavier to catch up.

What they saw made them unable to believe their sense of sight ever again.

A/N: It seems as though the chapters are getting shorter the closer the beginning of sophomore year gets. Sorry.

Unlike the rest of the chapters, this one was really hard to write for some reason. I think I'll need more time to plan everything out because most of this was just listening to Switchfoot and staring at the laptop screen.