On Saturday morning Thomas left the dining hall with Alex to begin his short journey. The Headmaster and Mr. Ericson were waiting near the gate to the school grounds. "Are you sure you'll be okay," Alex asked for the hundredth time. Ever since Thomas had informed her of the problems he was having, she had become increasingly worried for her lover and frustrated at her inability to help. When Thomas had told her of the upcoming trip, it had led to the first true fight between the two since their friendship had begun. Even now, it would be more accurate to say that she was resigned to his plan, rather than that she approved of it.
"Good morning, Mr. Mason, Mr. Walker." called out Mr. Ericson.
"Ah, welcome. Ms. Mason, are you here to see Mr. Walker off?"
"Yes, sir. Although, I wish his plans didn't rely so entirely on voices only he can hear." Alex took the opportunity to voice her discontent one last time.
Suddenly Mr. Ericson jerked around. "MS. Mason?" he put a considerable emphasis in the honorific. "Headmaster, do you mean that Mr. Mason is actually a female?"
Alex began to chuckle at the dumbfounded expression on Mr. Ericson's face. Thomas was pinching the bridge of his nose in an effort to maintain a semblance of decorum, but the grin on his face was wide enough to be seen, despite the fact that he was currently looking at his boots. The Headmaster shook his head, but whether it was in amusement, disbelief, or both was uncertain.
"Mr. Ericson, have you even looked at the student files you are responsible for? The very first page is the student's personal data sheet. And the second line on that form includes their gender."
"But, Mr. Mason… I mean Ms. Mason… he never… she…no one said… why…" As Mr. Ericson fumbled through his jumbled thoughts, Alex lost her battle to contain her mirth. Huge rolling guffaws of laughter burst from her helmeted head. Her laughter set Thomas off as well and the two of them stood laughing for several minutes. The Headmaster eventually joined in. Even Mr. Ericson eventually saw the humor and let loose a laugh of his own. Many of the students who had just finished their breakfast stopped to wonder at the mirth.
Once everyone had dragged themselves back under control, Alex removed her helmet. Ignoring the collective gasp from some of the onlookers, she addressed Mr. Ericson. "Don't worry about it, Mr. Ericson. I don't really care if I am described as a man or a woman, as long as those closest to me respect me for who I am and what I accomplish. I find the societal norms of gender bias to be foolish. As long as you can accomplish the task you want to do, I don't think it matters what reproductive bits you have."
Thomas, who had heard this explanation several times before, took this moment to return to the purpose of this meeting. "Well, Mr. Ericson. Now that that's over, shall we be off? We have a lot of ground to cover before nightfall."
"Yes, I think you should," said the Headmaster. "Good luck, and try to be safe."
As Thomas turned to say good bye to Alex, she wrapped her arm around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. "If you don't come back safe, I'll never forgive you. Do what you have too, but remember I'm here waiting for you." She said as she pressed her forehead to his.
"How could I ever forget?" asked Thomas, stroking Alex's cheek.
After a relatively uneventful day of traveling and plant collecting, Thomas and Mr. Ericson reached the shelf Thomas had pointed out to as the site of his intended ritual. As the two went farther from the school, the voices Thomas had been hearing became more distinct, but no louder. Still Thomas had learned enough to be reasonably sure that he could complete the ritual properly. As the sun was setting, Thomas nervously prepared the herbs he had collected along the way. First, he flattened the bulbous heads of the white blood poppy between two stones, collecting the sap in the large flat leaf of the yellow star waterpad. Then he stripped the leaves from the Cordish vine and used the sap to stick them to the large leaf. He then tightly rolled both of the leaves together. Peeling a strip of bark from the Cordish vine, he tied the rolled leaves so they couldn't flatten out.
When that was done, Thomas began to prepare a tepee style fire. Mr. Ericson, who had built a fire for cooking while Thomas was preparing the herbs, questioned Thomas when he saw the second fire being built. "Are you building a watch fire? It won't be that cold tonight"
"No. The fire you built won't work. I need a fire of wet wood that will last for a few hours," answered Thomas as he covered portions of his unlit fire with thick bark that he took from a fallen oak limb lying nearby.
"I know that this ritual is secret and all that, but do you know that those plants you picked are all poisonous? You need to be careful; I don't want to have to carry you back to the school."
"I wasn't told that they were poisonous, but it doesn't surprise me."
"They didn't even tell you about the ingredients you're going to be using? For that matter, why didn't they come with you?" Mr. Ericson's face started go pale, "Who told you of this ritual?"
"The spirit voices," Thomas replied calmly as he lit his fire. His words shocked Mr. Ericson. "They became much easier to understand once we passed out of the town." As the full moon became visible through the mountains across the valley at Griffin's Peak, Thomas knelt downwind of his fire and placed the rolled leaves in the center of the flames.
Mr. Ericson jumped to his feet as Thomas was beginning his ritual. "Are you telling me we're here messing with poisonous plants on the orders of your imagination? Well, this stops now!" Mr. Ericson finally noticed that Thomas was calmly inhaling the greenish orange smoke that was rising from the plant roll. "Shit!" he exclaimed and went to pull Thomas out of the smoke. But he was stopped in his first step when his foot sank to the knee into the solid rock he was standing on. As he frantically tried to pull his leg out, tendrils of stone wound their way up his body. Mr. Ericson fought hard to break himself free, but the tendrils soon had him caged without any leverage. But other than holding him captive, the rock caused no harm. Mr. Ericson's cries for Thomas to release him went unanswered.
With the first breath of smoke, Thomas felt the world receding. By the time Mr. Ericson was calling for his release, Thomas only heard a distant echo. He was in a world that seemed to consist of nothing but an almost white shade of gray. Soon he saw the shape of a man, almost transparent but shaded. Almost as if a sculpture had shadows cast on it by the sun, then the sculpture was removed, but the shadows remained. This phantom was calmly walking towards Thomas, but seemed to be moving much faster than its stride would suggest. As it approached, Thomas recognized it as Richard Grant, the last Shaman instructor of the Green Key school.