Weaving dark thoughts around myself like a protective web, hunched over and with my hands deep in my pockets, I wandered. The trees passed by me in a haze. My hand was numb; my brain likewise.

I had zoned out, and was no longer stalking among a forest in Vermont, but meandering through my own mind. It was a strange place, full of dark, dusty corners and fantastical shapes. Danger and excitement lurked around every turn; my mind was a foreign place, even to me. 

My face hit rough bark, and I flinched. 

Oh, right. Forest. Leaving. Expelled. 

I looked up, and realized that I was still in the wood. This wasn't strange in itself, because the trees in Vermont are plentiful, but what was strange was the fact that I didn't recognize this one.

 I knew most of the trees in the town I lived in, partially because I wandered frequently and needed to know good places to hide, and partially because I had always felt a connection to this place. 

I wondered how long I had been walking. The sun was low in the sky, and with a start I realized I must have been literally lost in my own thoughts for hours. Come to think of it, my legs did ache quite a bit. My hand had scabbed over now, and I sunk down to the ground, exhaustion hitting me all at once. 

I didn't know where I was, and logic dictated that I shouldn't fall asleep until I knew I was safe. 

Logic, unfortunately, was not a ruling voice in my brain.

I huddled into a tight ball, clutching my knees to my chest. I was so, so, cold. Tired. The sort of bone-chilling tired you don't get unless you've pulled several all-nighters, and the caffeine has finally run out.

Just before I passed out, a tiny voice in the back of my head whispered a warning. This sleep didn't seem natural...

I was dreaming before I could even consider fighting the insistent, steady pull. 

* * * * * * * * * *

It was dark. 

The type of pitch-black that only comes in dreams or nightmares, where it seems to swallow any light into the abyss. You know it can't be real, not truly, but that doesn't stop the fear. Nothing can be seen, so your own mind betrays you, stretching itself to the limits trying to piece together reality from nothing. 

Blots in your own sight morph into night terrors, patches that seem, somehow, to be even blacker than the surrounding darkness. Pulling at you, steadily coming closer, whispers curling around your ears and sneaking into your head until you can't distinguish your own thoughts.

Falling, always falling. 

My chest is constricting, and I'm panicking. I can't breathe- can't see, can't even scream. I'm choking on my own words. 

Child's laughter cuts through the suffocating silence, freeing my chest. 

It's light, and happy, and almost makes me smile.

Then it twists and stretches into laughter- cruel, mocking laughter that slices my mind open. She can see everything. 

* * * * * * * * * *

My head snapped back, and I woke up. 

The laughter was quieter, only an echo in the back of my consciousness. Not overpowering, but not gone. 

I was aware of dirt against my nose, and I realized that I had fallen over. Also I was screaming.

I snapped my mouth shut, accidentally catching a moldy leaf in the process. Jostling my head, I pushed myself up and rolled over. I was stiff and freezing, but there was warm light on my chest. It felt nice, so long as my eyes were closed.

I scrunched my nose as I realized that I could hear something close by.

After a second, I realized that it was the pitiful sound of an animal in pain, a whimper and a high-pitched whining. I didn't really care for people, I had known too many bad and not enough decent ones. Animals, however, were different. I understood them, and they accepted me with no conditions. If only people were like animals, I might have more friends.

Wincing as I realized that I needed to stand, I grabbed the tree and pulled myself up. The sun was right in my face now, and I had to screw up my eyes as it struck me with its full brightness. 

I needed to find that animal, and help it.

I followed the noise to its source, winding my way through the mighty trunks and stepping over bushes and rocks. Stumbling a few times and kicking the offending rocks, I made my way closer.

Looking over a large boulder, I saw the goal of my pursuit and winced. A border collie- reddish brown, with a white neck and belly- sat in a clearing, licking its front left paw. There was an ominous puddle of dark liquid under it. I wanted to help it, but I was not sure how to go about doing so without scaring it. 

Clearly it had been hurt by a human. I could see slash marks along the coat, and a fresh scar ran from the right ear to the muzzle, barely missing the indigo eye. Only a knife could have cut so cleanly. I decided to step out carefully and try to coax it into letting me aid it.

I prepared to move- but before I could, the collie shifted. As I watched, its ears perked up and it swiveled its head, sniffing the air. Laboriously, but with a quickening purpose, it stood up and limped away from me. 

I followed, obviously. 

He resolutely shuffled on three legs toward something I could not see. He knew I was there, he must have -combat boots are not the best for being sneaky- but he didn't look back. I found myself struggling to keep up with his lithe auburn form, even though he was wounded and I was not. His nose was strong, and he followed it faithfully, his tail wagging softly and ears pricked.

He stopped just ahead of me and looked back, smiling a puppy smile, tongue lolling. Then, shaking his head quickly, he turned, trotted forward, and disappeared. Literally.

There were two trees ahead of me, and in between them was a clearing. Normal, right? Except that a limping dog had just walked between the spreading beeches and vanished right in front of me.

It was a portal. That was the only way to explain it.

I had always figured that a portal would have one of those magical sparky borders so that it screamed "Wormhole to another dimension" and, you know, looked cool. This one was nothing like that. You could pass through it on accident. 

I stuck my hand through the living doorway, slowly reaching into what was probably another world. 

First my fingernails, then my fingers, then my hand, all gone. It was like reaching into the surface of a vertical lake. The air seemed to ripple around my wrist, and I quickly pulled my hand out.

It was real.

My mouth would have dropped open, except for the fact that I am clearly much too cool to gape. I nodded thoughtfully, reached into my pocket for my .45 ACP -which I am totally allowed to own at 17 and with no legal guardian- and fingered the many bullets. Which I had with me. Yes.

Ok so don't listen to me, I'm a bad liar. I gaped immensely and then grinned.

Smart option number 1- Turn around and find an adult with which to investigate. 

Smart option number 2- Run. For your life. 

Bad option- Follow the cute deadly doggy into the disappearing portal and hope you don't die.

Guess which one I picked?

___________________________________________________

A/N

Obviously. 

This was a bit of a rushed revision job, but we are finally getting somewhere! The first draft was a lot lighter than this second one, so I'm trying to reconcile the darker themes with the humor into a happy medium. Hopefully I succeed.

On a bit of a different note, I just received copies of a book that I edited, and I am very happy with them. 

Woo!

Happy reading, 

--Litore Grace