That evening as Gwen laid down to sleep she was haunted by a strange vision. She kept seeing a tall, shadowy man with tan horns peeking over his ivy covered head. She couldn’t see his face clearly. The man was pointing at something, a small piece of parchment. She rolled out of bed, frowning.
The Stag King was trying to tell her something, but what she couldn’t be certain. She struggled to her bag, rubbing her eyes and yawning. She needed to sleep sometime this century. She couldn’t help anyone if she was too tired to move or think. Finally she had wrestled open the pack and was searching through any piece of parchment she could find for an answer.
Nothing was really striking her, she turned to her trunk at the foot of her bed. It opened noisily and one of the other girls grunted. She grimaced, trying to keep back the sudden fit of giggles. The situation was so ridiculous she couldn‘t help but laugh at herself. She was searching through a term’s worth of parchment trying to find something that would jog her memory, give her a clue as to why the Stag King wouldn’t get out of her head.