I know you're out there. And you know you're out there. I know you're out there because if you weren't, you wouldn't be reading this. You know you're out there because if you weren't, you'd be in here. And you're not. So now you have to review. Get it, got it, good. This week's metaphor is more realistic. "You are the hidden chocolate in my backpack that I eat in biology to keep me awake." There you go; you know the deal.

A light mist was falling from the trees and onto Alexander. Absentmindedly, he pulled his arms against his chest in an attempt to warm himself. His hands were icy as he held his arms and his breaths were a wispy cloud hanging in front of his face. The world around him seemed inverted and somehow alienated, as if he were in a different world. His foot brushed against something large and bulky. Startled, he took a few ungraceful steps backward and fell awkwardly down. Sitting up, he glared at the cumbersome object—which was actually only a moss-covered log. He sighed, and allowed himself to fall back onto the questionably squishy earth and placed his hands on his forehead. In heavy contrast to his hands, his brow was extremely warm. Closing his eyes, he relaxed and allowed his own forehead to warm his hands.

He was obviously sick, but it didn't worry him too much. Actually, he'd never had a sickness last for more than three hours before (it was when he was six and had a nasty bought of the chicken pox. He vaguely remembered being extremely itchy). Yay for super immune systems.

Slipping slowly into a semi-conscious state, he opened his mind to all of the sounds and smells around him. This foreign world seemed strangely peaceful and welcoming, as though it was trying to drag him deeper into the heart of its odd existence. Creepy. Struggling upwards against unusually strong gravity and even heavier eyelids, Zander propped himself up and looked around. The mist had condensed into a thick fog, but it only lingered around his feet—obscuring his vision of the ground. The forest seemed dead, no noises or movement to shatter the fragile illusion of the wood. He took a step backwards, and looked around clumsily for any sign of light. Everything blurred for a moment when he lifted his head. He swung his arms out awkwardly, and he managed to keep himself from cracking his head on the same accursed log he had tripped over earlier.

The one side effect of his super immune system? A whole week's cold would hit him all at once, trying to pack all of its torture into an hour. Damn that super immune system.

A sudden flash of movement caught his attention. Raising his head, slower this time, his eyes fixed on a small bird. It was the same brown color as the tree and had perched on top of a tall branch, but that was about all he could see before it flew quickly away. He was about to start walking again, but then stopped. He'd just had an epiphany. It was a delirious epiphany brought on by a bird, but it was an epiphany none the less.

Gripping a branch on a nearby tree, he pulled himself up. He'd lost a lot of strength, but he'd still be able to make it at least 20 feet. Sure, he'd most likely fall to his death, but if he succeeded, he'd be able to see his house. North, south, east, and west made no sense to him right now, so this really was his only hope (unless, of course, his dad had come to save him. But he was too proud to admit he couldn't get home on his own). As carefully as he could, he made his way up the moss-covered tree. Nearing the top, he rested for a moment on one of the stronger branches—which were becoming exceedingly harder to find.

A flutter of motion behind him made him turn his head. There was the bird—the same, one-and-only epiphany-giving bird. Cocking its head, the bird hopped slightly closer. Reaching out with his left hand, he gently coaxed the bird closer. Uncertainly, the bird hopped back towards the end of the branch. Determined to show the bird thanks (no, that's not crazy at all) he stretched out his arm, leaning further off the branch. Surprisingly, the inevitable happened: his arms flailed out wildly in a futile attempt to catch himself, but he only managed to grab air.

Branches went flying past him as he fell towards the ground. It seemed to take forever to finally land. The forest floor softened the blow slightly, but he did hear some snaps that he knew weren't branches. Unconsciousness quickly enveloped him, but he did manage one last thought. Stupid bird.

Raechel was running—no, sprinting through the dense forest. The mist was adding to her tears, but, as long as no one could see her, she needed to cry. Her feet were no longer visible, but she wasn't too worried about falling. Right then she was so angry at her father that nothing else mattered. Her mom would understand, but then her dad would say something like, "Now Emily. If I let her go out there, she'll get hurt. She's way too impulsive." Lashing out, she struck a tree hard with the palm of her hand. The bark crushed weakly under her fist, but the age-old tree barely shuddered.

Wiping her eyes, she looked around her. Tall trees surrounded her completely; that in itself was familiar, but the smells around her made her wonder if she was still in the reserve's woods. Great, she thought, kicking a stone lightly. I was too impulsive and got myself lost. Sitting down dejectedly, she hung her head. This was exactly why Sam didn't trust her.

She raised her head and looked back around to find any landmark that could help her. But before she even stood up, something caught her interest: it was a smell. Not just any smell, but a strange and unfamiliar one. Standing, she sniffed the air, trying to pinpoint it. Its sweet, but almost dangerous quality attracted her. She knew curiosity killed the cat—but luckily, she was a dog.

Following the scent didn't take her much time. As she grew closer to the source the fragrance cut through the other scents of the forest. Her head was lifted towards the canopy in an attempt to see something, anything. Suddenly, she fell hard against the ground. Cursing, she rolled over, ready to punish whatever she had tripped over.

What she saw shocked her. It was an unconscious boy. His skin was pale and his face perfect, like some European supermodel. But his messy auburn hair shot that idea down. Leaning towards him, she examined him closely. All of a sudden an idea struck her: could he be the source of the smell? Bringing her face dangerously close to his flawless cheek, she gently sniffed him. Yep—it was him.

Closing her eyes, she smiled softly. Everything was good right now. There was a hot, non-supermodel, good-smelling guy in front of her, and her dad was nowhere in sight. Everything was good until, "Are you sniffing me?"

She shot back quickly and clumsily. Her cheeks were already flushing as she stared back at his open, green eyes. His eyebrows crinkled slightly as he stared at her with a very confused look. After a long—and uncomfortable—moment of staring at each other, the boy turned his head and looked away. Slowly, he sat up and looked around.

Completely mortified, Raechel stood up quickly and started walking away. That was way too embarrassing; her only chance was to walk away and hope he didn't remember her when he was getting his hair done in Paris or Athens or wherever he went.

"Wait!" he called out.

His voice was silky and tantalizing. With one word, he was able to make her catch her breath. Turning, she tried to make the blush in her cheeks fade and she stuttered, "W-what?"

Stumbling up, the boy ran towards her clumsily. Uncertainly, she took a step away. He stopped, realizing he was scaring her. A childish, crooked smile appeared upon his face as he stepped back. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

Glaring, but still blushing, she turned her head. "You didn't startle me. You just…"

He took another step towards her, slower this time, and looked at her pleadingly. "Nonetheless, I know I made you uncomfortable and I apologize."

Her chest tightened slightly as she took another step back. "It's okay." Why did she feel like she was being hunted?

Another look passed across his face, as though he felt bad about something. "Sorry," he whispered again, sincerely this time, then mumbled something about being hungry. When he raised his head again, he flashed her sad, puppy-dog eyes. "I'm lost. Any help would be great."

Sighing, and not feeling threatened anymore, she stepped forward. "To be honest, I don't know these woods very well. I live in the La Push reservation."

Hanging his head, he sighed, "Oh." Quickly rising again with a smile, he walked to her side. "So," he said enthusiastically, "we're both lost."

She stared bewilderedly at him and replied, "No… as long as I can get back into the woods I'm not lost."

"…Oh."

"Do you know where you live?" she asked, trying to be helpful.

"No. I just moved here so I'm literally, utterly, and completely lost."

"…Oh."

"…Yeah."

"…Do you have a cell phone?"

"…Not with me."

"…Oh."

She stared at him for a moment, and then sighed. Suddenly becoming defensive, she scowled. "You promise you're not a creepy stalker?"

Smiling reassuringly, he answered, "I promise. But that's probably what a creepy stalker would say anyway."

Shaking her head, she turned. "Well, come on."

Following, he became quiet for a moment, then asked, "Where are we going?"

"Back to the reservation. You can call for help from there."

"Thanks. I really appreciate this, you know."

"Yeah, whatever. Just trying to help."

Yeah, I know it was short. Yeah, I know the dialogue kinda sucked. The next chapter will be better, and probably a lot longer… Does anyone see a conflict coming on???

Remember to look forward to next week's METAPHOR!!! I promise it'll be bigger and better if you comment!!!!!