The Lost ( A Sequel To The Forgotten )

Tools From Nothing Land

We're just walking. Walking like we have been for days. So it hits me as a total surprise when two words fill the air:

"We're here." I look up, and there are tree leaves. Looking around, there are trunks. And bushes. We really are here! But... where is here?

"How do we know where we are?" Person asks, voicing my thoughts. No one knows the answer to that question.

"We can look for our house!" Shawn exclaims happily. "Or the river, or our camp."

"We can't search the entire forest!" Rolly says. Shawn's grin slowly fades. I pat him on the back to console him.

"He has a point, actually," Tarna says thoughtfully. Shawn's grin springs back to his face. "I have a plan. Cass, could you scale one of these trees?" Cass studies a tree.

"They're a bit rough, but I could probably manage. What's the plan?"

"If you reach the top, you'll be able to see a long ways away," Tarna explains. "If you see anything familiar, shout down to us." Cass salutes and examines a tree. Then she takes a running jump and lands sideways on the tree trunk. She dashes up the tree, and soon she disappears into the leaves. We wait a few moments. Then Cass comes sliding down the tree.

"Guys!" she says excitedly. "Guys, I saw the roof of a building! It could be the Collections House."

"Then that's where we're headed," Tarna says triumphantly. "Lead the way, Cass!" Cass begins a dash through the trees, and we all follow behind her. While running, the memory of being in the plains fades, and it almost feels like we never left. Excited energy bounces around. Once we reach the Collections House, we'll know exactly where we are. And then we can be just as good as before.

After a while of running, it's more of a halfhearted march. We're all panting and disappointed.

"Are you absolutely, completely positive that you saw the Collections House?" Tarna asks.

"Yeah! I saw something... I mean, I'm pretty sure I did..." We all sigh and give up on the running. Everyone plops down and takes a deep breath.

"Who are we kidding?" Rolly asks, sounding disappointed. "There's no building, no river, no riddles, no anything but trees! We're lost, still lost."

"That's not true," Cass protests desperately. "It can't be true! If we're lost, then we could be anywhere. Anywhere! And that would be devastating. Devastating! So we must be close, right? Right?!?" Her breathing becomes quick and heavy. As much as I love being hopeful, the odds of us being in the right place are slim. Rolly could be right. But if he's right, then Ray's gone, and the riddles are gone, and the P.A.T.H. is gone. And we've got nothing, nothing! We'd have to start all over.

"Hey Wrive?" Tarna asks. "If we have to start from scratch, we'll need tools. And you know how you made that axe? Maybe you could, you know, make some other things." I shake my head.

"I'm not really sure how I did that." Everyone's shoulders slump, and there's a group sigh.

"But..." I continue. "I'll try."

"Thanks," says Tarna, relieved. I get up and walk a little while away. I close my eyes, and imagine a tool. What tool should I try for? I decide on a sword, and picture a nice sword. A firm handle, a nice long blade. The black of my closed eyes begins to get lighter, turning grey. And then I'm standing in a empty grey land. It's Nothing Land again. But instead of white, it's grey. Well, no matter what color, this is how I got the axe. Hopefully I can get a sword, too. I stare at the blank grey sky, willing the sword to appear. And then black dots begin to fly. I glance around, and the black dots are forming around me. They all soar to the sky, and start forming... is that a handle? And there's the blade! Yes, in the sky is a massive black sword. I reach out to it, even if I know it's too far away. The sword glows, and my hand reaches out, and suddenly the grey snaps out of existence, and everything is black. I can still see the sword, though. It stands out, a solid against the nothingness. And then I blink, and the sword is gone. I'm back in the trees, and everything is brown and green and normal. No sword. I sigh and my head droops, and I stare at the ground. And there, at my feet, lays a perfect black sword. I lean down and touch it, afraid that it's an illusion. But the feel of smooth, cold metal greets my fingers, and at my touch, the sword turns a shiny silver. I grab the sword and run back to the group.

"Guys! Guys, I... pointy! Black, and sharp, and whoopee!!!"

***

After showing the gang my new sword, Tarna asks again.

"That's an amazing sword, Wrive. But can you make another axe? That'd help for wood, and wood means fire."

"Sure," I reply happily. I set the new sword down to focus on an axe, but to my horror, the silver of my sword begins to fade, replaced by a black. A black like my Bestowing. Energy black, not solid black. I fall to my knees as the entire sword turns energy black, and then vanishes.

"NOOOOOOOOO!" I scream. I fall to my knees and frantically grasp the air that my sword had just occupied. Tarna looks sadly at the empty air.

"Well, that ruins your creations. As soon as you stop touching them, they're gone."

"But- but that didn't happen with the axe!"

"True," Tarna says. "We'll figure it out." Then Person comes running toward us, panting.

"Guys, I've got good news and bad news. The good news is that we found the Collections House, not far away."

"That's amazing!" I exclaim, promptly forgetting about my disappointing sword.

"What's the bad news?" Tarna asks suspiciously.

"Well, it's Rolly. He's gone."

"Gone?" Tarna asks in disbelief. "Gone where?"

"I'm not sure," Person replies. "He just ran off. Right before he did, he said something."

"What did he say?" I ask. Shawn steps out from behind a tree and approaches us.

"He told me," he says proudly, pointing at himself. "This is what he said: 'Shawn, no matter what you hear, do not come for me. Keep everyone away, far away.'" There's a moment of silence.

"We're going after him, right?" Cass asks.

"Of course," Tarna replies. "No matter what we hear." Then, we hear the quietest whine. Which turns into a loud whine. Which turns into a wail. Which turns into a scream. Or maybe... a roar.

"Which way did Rolly go, Shawn?" I ask, trying to stay calm. Shawn's big eyes grow bigger with fright from the roars.

"That way," he says, pointing in the direction of the roars. We all look at the trees, which are probably hiding something horrid from view. An image flashes in my mind of a nervous Rolly, surrounded by noise. Horrible noise. No matter what you hear...