Moving right along.

Summer 2006

Phoebe Love is 13 years old. Finally an actual teenager! That mark of independence and freedom that she's so long strived for…She doesn't actually feel all that different, so life continues on as it always has. It's made her a little terser. She tries to be a little moodier now, a little more serious, as should befit her age, but that darn sense of compassion always seems to win out in the end. Her teachers say she's very mature for her age, but to her friends she's still just drummer girl. The moodier attitude has done very little her social status. The cool drummer girl just rocks out a little bit harder now.

Oh yeah, and she's got her marksmanship merit badge now. Many of them do, thanks to the endless bullet hell that was Sasha Neins mind last summer.

Thankfully, after the self-defense basics were out of the way it seems like the camp decided to ease up on their schedules. The sunny air returned to the campgrounds, and a sense of familiarity set back in.

As the bus pulls up into the parking lot the following year though, Phoebe finds something to be quite quickly foreign and unfamiliar. That dull summer vibe to the air, the way it just seemed to hang about waiting for a gust of wind to stir things up was very much the same. The lawns are still immaculately kept, and that fishy smell crossed with the forest pine fills her with more satisfied nostalgia than anything else.

As she steps off the bus she even finds the faces of the usual suspects present and accounted for, immediately spotting Crystal as the two bound towards each other with giddy joy before they break down into rapid fire discussions about how their years have been.

That's when she spies them out of the corner of her eye. New kids. They've haven't had new kids in years. Psychic phenomenon are of course incredibly rare. An anomaly occurring in just a little less than one in a million individuals, difficult to detect, often shrouded in myth, rumor and conjecture. It's a reminder that they truly are, at least statistically speaking the odd ones out. The fact that there are new kids here, kids plural is…surprising.

Phoebe guesses they just got in of the bus not to long ago. They're still huddled together not that far from the parking lot. The psychology's pretty evident to see. They can't be much older than Dogan was during her first year here (and at this she must push the fact that Dogan is already 9 to the back of her brain). They don't have their bags so they've been settled into the cabins, but at the same time they're still placing themselves so incredibly close to the only exit they know this place has.

She supposes it's must be unnerving for a lot of them. She probably would be a little freaked out too if she'd walked in on her first day and seen Raz fly by on his levitation ball, blasting through the air looking for scavenger hunt items. It's just not something you see everyday. Millaa and Sasha were both regular counselors when she first showed up, but it's evident that they both have full psychonauts commitments to attend to.

She made her move forwards at the same time Crystal did, the two girls obviously of a similar mind.

"Hi there!" though maybe Crystal took to it with a little more enthusiasm than Phoebe did. "Welcome to Whispering Rock!"

Phoebe's approach was decidedly less bombastic.

"You guys looking for something to do?" she asks from behind her friend. The child hang back, a little startled, but they nodded demurely in response. "Awesome, come on, follow us."


"Hey, look at you playin Momma Bear to the cubs already," Quentin notes, already grooving on his turntable by the time she descends the lodge stairway, having supplied the new campers with craft supplies, snacks and cartoons about talking chipmunks who travel the globe. Crystal has stayed behind, it seemed like she took to the younger kids a lot faster.

Quentin Hedgemouse, 13 years old, now a teenager, not that he's seemed to notice. He's the exact opposite of getting moodier as he got older. 13, still mellow and suave as always, who Frankie tries to tease by calling him officially one of the "cool kids," although Phoebe likes to say that this implies that they were anything but the camp designated "cool kids," before hand. This is in spite of the scarf, which the others only now seem to be giving him flak for. But making fun of a guy for a scarf just doesn't have the same ring as making fun of a kid for a security blanket, so it's a mild barb at best.

"What's up Quentin?" she asks casually. Her first words to him in almost a year, and they're chatting like it was just yesterday.

"You know the difference between a drummer and a large sized cheese pizza?" he asks wryly as she climbs up onto the stage and sits down in front of the drum set he's already graciously levitated down from the attic.

"…Yeah, the pizza doesn't have hands to cram that scarf straight up your nose with when it hears bad drummer jokes."

"Touché."

Same old Quentin. The turntable spins and scratches causing Phoebe to perk up her ears. Brand new rhythms though.

"So new kids huh?" Raz asks, suddenly appearing stage left. The old wooden doors to the lodge creak shut behind him as he and Lili come into view. Lil just sighs as she gives her usual one handed waive greeting to the band on stage.

"Yeah, dad said they all come from the same school. Apparently one of the residents from Thorney Towers Home for the Disturbed managed to get their hands on some psitanium back in the day. They carved it into some kind of sculpture and took it with them when the asylum was shut down. Relatives took the inmates stuff and stored it away in the attic where the statue remained until this February when some kid dug it out for show and tell."

"Aw no."

"Yeah, the worst psychic event in the nation in 13 and ½ years."

"Dang…wait, so why didn't I hear anything about this? Wouldn't the Psychonauts have been all over that?"

"No, see the Psychonauts are under the Clandestine Operations Unit which is a sub department of the Department of Defense. This was a non military related disaster which means it fell to the Department of Homeland Securities Office of Paranormal Affairs who have a sub department for these kind of cleanup affairs which they call…get this, the Ministry of Silence."

"Nasty!"

"Yeah, dad says they've been cleaning up the mess for months. Those kids up there are the ones who just started manifesting psychic abilities."

CRASH!

The thudding and abrupt finale of her monogramed sticks crashing into the aging drum set are loud enough to make even Raz and Lili jump from their seats.

"Let's ease up there Phoebe," Quentin tries her gently, hands coming from the turntable as he starts reading her face. He must be feeling the heat that's emanating from her mind right now. It's a skill he's only improved at over the years. Milla even says he might become a legitimate empath with a bit more training. He's so good at it it's almost annoying to be honest.

"Look," he continues gently. "You did what you could for them. Crystal's doing what she can…"

He lets his words trail off as a melodic voice sang it's way into the lodge.

"Good afternoon children," Their heads turned instinctually. If anyone could command the attention of a class without so much as a harsh word or even a demand it was Milla Vodelo. Composed, calm and criminally sweet, Milla's mere aura can change ones entire mood just by its presence. Obviously, if anyone could put the kids at ease it was going to be her.

"Milla!" It was practically a chorus from all of them assembled. They may have been teenagers now, but there was something about Mia that not even Bobby Zilch could bring himself to crack about. Her gentle mannerisms, and soothing speech put them at ease, even if she did continue speaking to them like they were perpetually eight years old.

"I hate to be so abrupt, I would just love to speak with each and everyone of you about your summers but," and here her voice dropps to a whisper. "Are our newest campers here?"

Four hands immediately point to the t.v lounge where the sounds of Crystal's trademarked high pitched laughter could be heard. Milla breathes an audible sigh of relief and levitates up to the second floor. Thirty second later the four new faces emerged, crafts in hand and smiles on their faces as the bounded down the stairs and headed for the door, Mia and Crystal both close behind.

"See? They're ok." Quentin offers her, hoping that the sight of it all will raise her spirits.

"It still sucks," Phoebe returns. As soon as she says it she gets the feeling that it might have been too much too quick. She doesn't let him know, but this psychic link they have is a two way street. She feels him drop into the defensive, suddenly almost wary of her. Quentin has this miraculous ability to read her feelings like a book, but even he can't predict her all the time, and when she snaps like this they both end up feeling a little testy, then a little guilty.

"I know dude, I know," he says in a conciliatory fashion. Well now the guilt is even worse.

"It's just…" Phoebe begins once again, now feeling like she has to vocalize why she's upset. "We come here for 10 years, get government training and leave? What's here for them beyond that? What can I do that Milla or Crystal can't?"

Quentin eases as he feels the frustrations flowing off of her, confident now that she's venting like usual. It's her way of dealing with stress.

"You make the camp a place they can enjoy," Raz butts in, completely ruining the flow of Phoebe's venting process. Quentin would face palm here if it wouldn't kill the mood anymore. Phoebe shoots him a glare that asks 'and just how would I do that goggles boy?'. Raz doesn't seem to notice, the gears have already been turning in his head. He tends to concoct ideas all his own to the point where he can get lost in the process and the idea itself. He ignores Phoebe's stink eye and continues.

"Yeah…Yeah! Camp traditions! We're the oldest generation at camp here, we should start a camp tradition, something we can pass down to the new kids someday, something that'll make them positive that this is they're own psychic summer camp as much as it was and is ours!"

With that he leaps to his feet and bolts for the door. Lili just watches him bolt like it's normal and looks at the band with a shrug. Just another day with her boyfriend.

Quentin gives a full turn of his head towards Phoebe, expectant look on his face, trying to probe her for a reaction, any reaction to this sudden babbling of ideas from the camps resident merit badge hoarder. For a good minute their's silence as Phoebe refuses to meet his eyes. Finally, she turns away from his gaze and mutters beneath her breath so that Quentin can barely hear.

"That's a pretty good idea…Traditions are cool I guess."

He smiles. Yep, Phoebe's back to normal.


Coach Oleander has described the paths of the camp, those back dirt paths and rocky trails that fill the mountain range as 'perfectly safe'. To a large extent he's right. Though the area is populated by all manner of pyrotechnically gifted mountain lions, giant psychic bears armored like tanks, not to mention at one point crazed mentalists who attempted to put children's brains into actual tanks, the populated areas of the camp remain relatively safe. The animals choose not to venture close to inhabited regions (the crazed brain stealing mentalists were another story).

This however, does not diminish from the fact that travelling down those dark backways at night, under the cover of the massive pines and oaks where the moon is forced to squeeze it's beams through a legionary host of evergreen appendages is, at best highly unnerving.

Trekking these silent roads instills the same feeling a human being might have coming up from a darkened basement. A feeling of unease can be felt tickling its way up the spine like the legs of a millipede. Can you really know whether or not something emerges from the black only to vanish into nothing the minute your eyes turn to observe it?

It's kind of spooky, is the feeling that Phoebe wants to covey.

When Raz said he had a great idea for traditions night she's pretty sure that getting lost in the woods and becoming the next meal for some foul bump in the night is not what he meant. Yet, here she is, having snuck out of the cabin in the dead with a few others to venture off into the unknown blackness for some ritual or another. Just her and…

Phoebe stops and turns to face forward down the path once again. She had started off with Lili and Crystal. All involved had left the cabins in shifts so as not to arouse suspicion. The entire idea of the camp traditions held so much more sway with the others when it was presented as a secret tradition, one kept only to the campers.

Now, having wasted a particularly large amount of time turning back like there was something looking over her shoulder Phoebe finds herself all alone. She takes it back, traditions are stupid, all of them. All at once. She tries to adjust, to find the path and catch back up with the others. She hasn't wasted that much time has she? Surely, they'd be just up ahead, just around the next bend, just past that next tree.

The feeling emerges from behind her once again, taking ahold of her soul and chilling it to the core. Quickly she breaks into a full sprint. Instead of calming her however, the sudden burst of adrenaline makes things seem ten time worse. In the dead of the night, in the middle of the woods, sprinting like the devil was after you is a good way to convince your body that…the something otherworldly really was hot on your heels and ready to do you grievous bodily injury. This is turn makes her want to run faster and well, the cycle really just takes off from there.

It's a miracle, Phoebe would say in hindsight, that she'd been able to stick to the path for as long as she did while not tripping over anything. Her legs carry her faster than she's ever remembered any gym teacher motivating her too, desperately casting her head behind her to see if she was being followed as well as giving darting glances to her left and right looking for a way out.

Finally, she sees one. Not pale moonlight, but a speck of a warm yellowish glow from between a group of bushes. Not even taking the smallest second to consider her own safety, Phoebe swerves hard and darts towards it. Launching herself through the craggle of twigs and branches that drag themselves against her clothing and face. It's rough, it's not pleasant, but she makes it through to the other side, huffing and puffing like a wolf, but safe all the same.

"Dude, I thought we were supposed to be travelling alone?"

She looks up, still panting and out of breath, at the light source which was now, for some odd reason, conversing with her.

Quentin looks back, old train lantern in hand.

"Ok," she begins taking a deep breath, before deciding to bend down and rest her hands on her legs as she took a few more. "First of all…what's up with the lantern?"

"What do you mean?" he asks with a shrug. "It's probably an antique, it looked wicked cool so I brought it with me to camp this year."

"Quentin…" she huffs again, "It's a piece of junk. Secondly…"

"Hey, hey, it's my turn. Where did you come from? I thought you would've left with the girls." He says, cutting in while she continues her regimen of deep breaths.

"I did," she breathes. "We got…separated."

"And you're out of breath," Quentin begins, already breaking his own rules and taking his second question out of turn as he tilts his head sideways to analyze her situation. Suddenly he chuckles and laughs. "Phoebe, are you scared of the dark?"

"Buzz off Quentin," she mutters, still feeling as if her lungs are kindling set ablaze. "What about you? This really isn't on the beaten trail."

In the yellow glow of the lantern light she can see the grin spread across his face. Slowly, he raises his hand and turns the old greenish metal knob, letting the light go out.

"Quentin!" she yells at him. This better not be his idea of a joke. Without time for anymore words however, she feels him grab her arm and pull her forwards to a break in the trees. From this vantage point the forest begins to slope downwards. It's not a total drop off a cliff like you see in movies, but she still wouldn't want to roll down this embankment.

Quentin's hand sweeps upwards and pans across the new view he's revealed to them. From here she can see Lake Oblongata in its entirety. In the distance lies the crumbling remains of the old insane asylum and a long uninterrupted line of dancing orange and yellow dots indicates the boundaries of Whispering Rock.

"You can see the whole valley from up here," Quentin says, the giddiness evident in his voice. For a moment, neither one of them has a word to say. For a moment, their entire world, the camp just lays basking peacefully in the moonlight

"Dang…what a sight that is," she says, finally finding her voice. For a brief moment, her it's all splayed out before her like a Whispering Rock miniature set. From up here she can appreciate the entire camp in all its rugged old glory.

She's going to miss this place when she turns 18. It's the strangest thought from left field to cross her brain. Graduation from Whispering Rock is years away, it might as well be light years away in fact. Still, she calls this place home, she wants to stay. Briefly she turns her glance at Quentin, his quiet smiling face taking in the grandeur, and quietly something starts to bubble up inside her. She's always equated the two, the camp and her dj friend together. As much as camp feels like home so has Quentin always felt like an integral part of it. Now though, something about him in this light…

The feeling in her gut is weirding her out, so she ignores it.

"Alright, let's go before we start bawling like my mom at my sisters graduation."

"Cool beans man."


"Heeey, Quentin's here, now this thing's a party," floats the voice of the camps number one ladies expert Nils Lutefisk. Quentin wanders over to where the boy sits atop a log around a fire with the others.

"What's good my man?" he asks, grin on his face as the two trade a secret handshake. Phoebe wanders over with her friend when suddenly she's waylaid by what were supposed to be her travelling companions.

"Hey what happened to you girl! We totally lost track of you! And now you show up alongside…" Crystal begins shouting in her face before she comes to stop and looks back and forth between her a Quentin, a lightbulb going off over her head like she just discovered trigonometry. "O-M-G. Phoebe!"

"Wait what?" the girl asks, now more than a little scared about what's to come. Slowly Crystal lowers her voice and leans forward. Unfortunately, as Phoebe well knows even Crystals quit whispers are audible within a one mile radius.

"Are you two together?"

"Well it's about time man," Nils chortles happily, slapping his friend on the back. The others hoot and holler as even Raz offers his thoughts.

"Yeah dude, congrads."

Phoebe's sure she's turning colors right now as Milka wanders over, giddy in step singing about she foresaw this one for years. Even Lili seems to be offering a tiny bit of interest in the matter. Between all the chaos the band mates share looks with each other. For once, even Quentin looks like he's at a loss for words. His face is confused as it tries to draft a version of the story at least someone here will believe.

"Ah, c'mon man…"