CHAPTER EIGHT: TRUTH OR DARE

Octavia was sore. Her back, calves, arms, ass, and even her face ached. She wasn't sure how that had even happened. She felt a bruise had formed beneath the feathers on her ribs from falling in the cave. Shit like that was why she had never cared for camping.

Yet still, she had grown a bit more amicable to the campfire. It gave her the same comfort as the school bell at the end of the eighth period. The nightly campfire session marked one less day of camping and one day closer to going home. One day closer to going back to school…

The campfire meetup had initially seemed uneventful. The campers were extra respectful. Unusually so. It wasn't until the counselors had all left the campers unattended that one of them pulled a six-pack out of his backpack.

The following ten minutes consisted of her fellow campers pulling cans of beer out of their bags, some even pulling out wine bottles that had already been half emptied. One kid had somehow fit seventeen little airplane bottles of vodka into his cargo pants.

Cameron had told her it was a stupid Deadwood tradition that had been going on for years. Students would steal a few bottles or cans of beer from either a gas station or their parents. Somehow, the counselors hadn't caught a single person.

Another twenty minutes had passed, and a few kids were swaying around, giggling and cackling. The merriment around the fire was about forty percent more merry. It wasn't surprising that the high school students were getting plastered on 14% glutton ring Lager. They had basically no alcohol tolerance.

Then again, neither did Octavia, who held a red plastic cup filled halfway with what the camper pouring it had claimed was four hundred proof. She didn't know what that meant, but neither did he. She hadn't touched it yet, letting the cup sit on a log slab before her. The kid who had poured it may have taken a few sips himself. He hadn't even asked Octavia; he had just wordlessly placed the cup in her care. Octavia refused to question the judgment of a drunk teenager.

Octavia looked at the cup, considering it. There was nobody to stop her, and while she didn't have any interest in getting shitfaced, she was curious about the taste. She picked up the cup and gave it a sip.

She made the mistake of trying to swallow it as if it were a mouthful of water. The whiskey immediately singed her tongue, and as it burned down her throat, she coughed and hacked the amber fluid back up, splattering it on the ground as she set the cup down, miraculously not spilling anything.

Next to her, Hubert harrumphed. "It's common knowledge among trained pediatricians that alcohol use among teens is associated with lower academic achievements," he said, crossing his arms. "Perhaps you don't care about achieving your maximum potential in school, but I do."

Cameron reached out for the cup, taking it from Octavia. "Lemme have a try. I've only ever sipped on rich person stuff once." As he brought the cup to his lips and took a sip, his face scrunched up, eyebrows rising as he fought with all his strength not to spit it out all over Octavia.

Octavia chuckled, shaking her head. "Dad would kill me if he found out I was drinking whiskey. So would Mum, but probably for a different reason."

"Let me guess," Cameron said after swallowing the whiskey. He grimaced and set it back on the log. "Whiskey is poor-people swill, and the rich should only drink fine wine."

"Holy shit," Octavia said with a faint smile. "Do you live under my floorboards?"

Cameron shrugged. "There are people like that on Earth, too; Snooty rich people aren't exclusive to Hell." He caught himself, leaning back as he tensed up. "Uh, not saying your mom is snooty or anything, I just mean that-"

Octavia stopped him with a raised hand. "She is," she said, smiling. She shook her head. "You know, it's weird to think about Earth. Dunno what's weirder, the fact that there's just an endless supply of fucked up psychopaths spilling into Hell, or that Hell has so much in common with Earth."

The fire crackled, and the group fell into a reflective silence, the kind that shared warmth and the night's coolness knit tighter together. After a moment, Cameron leaned back, his eyes tracing the dance of the flames. "It's funny. Sitting around a fire like this makes me want to spill everything. Like, all the barriers come down."

Octavia nodded, her eyes reflecting the firelight. "Yeah, I guess. It's like the fire burns away all the bullshit. Just leaves the raw, real you." She scoffed, already feeling how cheesy she sounded. "Or maybe that's the whiskey that does that."

"That's it!" Cameron snapped his fingers, a spark of excitement in his eyes. "Why don't we play something to get to know each other better? Something like truth or dare. What do you say?"

The suggestion hung in the air. Octavia grimaced slightly. She was way too sober for something like truth or dare.

Upon seeing her grimace, Cameron immediately clarified, "No kissing or weird stuff, just a good-faith icebreaker. A real icebreaker, not like what Mr. Maxson put us through."

Hubert shrugged. "I fail to see the harm. I have nothing to hide."

"Well, then I'm gonna dare you to do things," Cameron said with a smirk.

Octavia pondered it for a moment. She didn't want to be a stick in the mud; a truth or dare wouldn't be fun with two people.

Fun… That was the whole reason her parents had sent her to camp. She was tempted to sulk for the entire summer to spite them. But what good would that do? It wasn't like they were watching her.

Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad if she tried to have fun for just one night.

"Alright, I'm down."

Cameron fist-pumped. "Alright, that's what I'm talking about!" he said before leaning in and adjusting the red cup on the log table. "Here's the rules. We go counter-clockwise, starting with me. I'll pick someone and ask them, truth or dare. They can refuse, but they'll have to take a shot of this," he tapped at the cup of whiskey.

Octavia glanced around. There were dozens of campers sitting around the multiple firepits on the hilltop. However, they all seemed more interested in doing their own thing. Half of them had already trekked to the lake for a night swim.

"Hubert," Cameron said, pointing to the piglet. "You're too young to drink."

Hubert gave Cameron a bemused side-eye, to which Cameron threw his hands up. "Alright, fine, touche, we all are. But you're actually too young. We'll need to find some alternative for you."

With a grin, Octavia grabbed an empty cup off the ground and scraped the leftover marinara sauce from someone's abandoned dinner plate into it. She mixed in a scoop of peas, some orange juice, and a splash of chocolate milk. Both she and Cameron grinned wickedly as Hubert took on a horrified look.

"I-I'm going to be sick," Hubert groaned, watching Octavia stir the chunky pale brown sludge with a plastic spork. "Cameron, please punish her by daring her to drink that vile concoction!"

Cameron laughed, shaking his head. "No sir, that's for you if you don't play along." He looked at Octavia, a smile on his face. "Let's start with you, Octavia. Truth or dare?"

Octavia didn't want to risk having to drink the disgusting brew she had concocted. She was fifty percent sure she'd contract a disease if she did. Besides, she had nothing to hide. "Truth," she said confidently.

"What's the most embarrassing thing you've ever posted on social media?" Cameron asked.

Octavia shook her head. "Nope," she said, immediately reaching for the whiskey. She would end her life before telling anyone about the My Little Pony fanfiction she posted four years ago. Not even that green stuff from Dad's liquor cabinet could loosen her lips on that.

As Octavia took a small sip of whiskey, it once again burned her tongue, but she pushed onwards and swallowed it. The amber fluid filled her mouth with a smokey taste that climbed up her throat and burned her sinuses. Her tongue tingled as warmth bloomed in her chest.

Cameron's eyebrows raised as he watched Octavia tank the shot without a second thought. "Wow. I should've asked you how old you were when you started drinking," he said, sounding rather impressed.

Octavia gave an amused scoff. "Once, when I was fourteen, I had half a bottle of Mum's wine because it tasted like honey and blackberries. That's it, though."

Octavia smirked, recalling how mad Mum had been at her, and then how mad Dad had been at Mum for not watching over her. Octavia had been so drunk that watching them fight had been funny.

Hubert cleared his throat. "We're going counter-clockwise, meaning it's my turn." He pointed at Octavia. "Do you choose the truth, or do you choose to dare?"

Octavia groaned. Twice in a row? Unlucky. She picked truth again, knowing she would likely be dared to drink the vile mixture she'd made for Hubert.

As if expecting her to pick truth, Hubert reached into his back pocket and pulled out his notepad and pen. He turned to Octavia with an expectant look. "How did you identify the difference between the Mystic Boreal mushroom and the Burstcap mushroom back in the cave? I must know."

Octavia stared for a moment in disbelief before laughing. Of course he would ask that, he was a scholar at heart. It was probably the main reason he agreed to play truth or dare. She sighed as she tried to recount what exactly had guided her to the mushroom. "Honestly, I don't know. It just felt right. It felt a bit deeper than a gut feeling. It felt more like I was being compelled."

Hubert nodded along, scribbling down notes on his notepad. "Possible psychedelic effects…perhaps airborne spores… Arcane attuning, maybe?" he murmured to himself before clicking his pen and tucking it away. "That will be all. I would like to withdraw from the game now."

Both Octavia and Cameron laughed. Cameron put a hand on Hubert's shoulder, patting it. "Nice try. You can't just truth-or-dare someone and dip right after your turn!"

Hubert spread his hands in confusion. "Why not? That's a perfectly valid strategy!"

Cameron laughed and picked up the toxic sludge Octavia had mixed up. "If you wanna leave so early, you'll need to drink half of this."

"You can't make me!" Hubert boldly declared, huffing indignantly.

"Can't I?" Cameron asked with a mischievous grin. "What if I poured it in your mouth while you slept?"

Hubert looked at Octavia wide-eyed, expecting her to bail him out. Octavia merely shrugged.

He reluctantly continued.

It was Octavia's turn to choose. She wanted to get Cameron back for what he'd asked her, so she chose him. She hoped he would choose truth – she was at least a little curious about his past, about Earth. Thankfully, he did.

Octavia leaned in closer. "What's the most illegal shit you've ever done?"

Cameron sat upright. "Well, I…" He cleared his throat, checking over his shoulder before lowering his voice. "Don't tell anyone. That car of mine isn't mine. It's my parents' car. I stole it."

Octavia cocked an eyebrow. "Hm. Not bad," she said, regarding him with a bit of respect. She wasn't expecting much in response. Either he was a crazy murderpsycho kid on Earth, in which case he would never outright admit what he did over truth or dare, or he was a boring rule-follower who only got sent to Hell for jacking off too many times or something. That was also something she didn't need to hear about.

"Yeah, I guess it is pretty cool, the stolen car story," Cameron said with a growing smirk. "You know, they're still looking for…" Cameron trailed off before waving his hand and shaking his head. "Never mind."

Octavia perked up. "What do you mean they're still looking for it? Did you lose it or something?"

Cameron shook his head. "Nope, I already answered. Now it's my turn." He ignored Octavia's disappointed groan and looked at Hubert. "Huey! Truth or dare."

Hubert thinks for a moment before taking a deep breath. "So long as it doesn't involve the repulsive concoction of milk, juice, and peas, I shall choose to dare."

Cameron nodded, seemingly surprised by the decision. "Wow, bold. I dare you to do ten push-ups," he said.

Hubert grunted in outrage. "Push-ups are beneath me! I only partake in cardiovascular…" As Cameron crossed his arms, Hubert sighed. "I can't do ten push-ups."

Cameron eyed the cup. "Well, then I guess you'll have to drink the-"

Before Cameron could finish his sentence, Hubert was on the ground, doing push-ups. He grunted, his arms trembling after just four. By the ninth push-up, Octavia just felt bad for the kid. He collapsed to the ground after his tenth rep, panting. "I don't like this game…" he moaned.

Cameron patted his back. "You gotta put in the work if you want to be big and strong like your brother," he said.

Hubert stood on his stubby little legs, brushing the dirt and pebbles off his clothes. "I don't want to be anything like Brutus," he said with a disdainful sneer.

Octavia's eyes widened. She glanced across the firepit at Brutus, seeing his vast, wide frame facing away from her. She looked back at Hubert, the chubby little piglet barely reaching her waist. "You're related to… that?" Octavia asked in disbelief, motioning to Brutus.

Hubert nodded. "I'm only related to that oaf by blood. Needless to say, we don't live under the same roof anymore." He climbed up onto the log, settling into his seat. "That, my avian interlocutor, was my father's only good decision."

Octavia's gaze softened. Beneath Hubert's stoic tone was frustration and anger that Octavia resonated with. She wasn't the only one with father issues.

Cameron rubbed his hands together, looking into the fire. "Yeah, well… no pressure or anything, but could you maybe ask him not to pulverize me tomorrow?"

Octavia wracked her brain, trying to remember what was happening tomorrow. Her eyes widened.

The wrestling trial…

Hubert shrugged, seeming unbothered by Cameron's plight. "We aren't exactly on speaking terms, Brutus and I," he said, turning to Brutus with a glare. Brutus looked up from his lap, seeing his little brother's scowl. Brutus then matched it with a middle finger.

Hubert snorts, looking up at Cameron. "Brutus has always been a stubborn brute who only cares about pursuing his own ambitions, and he doesn't care who he leaves behind."

Cameron lets out an unsure hum. "Don't you always pride yourself on having greater ambitions than everyone else?" he asked Hubert.

The little Hellboar shook his head. "Even I know when to contribute. I may be younger, but I've still made sacrifices that he…" Hubert trailed off. His face was unreadable, though his tone had been anything but.

Abruptly, he pointed to Octavia. "You. Truth or dare?"

Octavia stammered, caught off guard by the sudden shift in topic. "Bwuh, uh, dare," she said, stuttering. She had forgotten about the game for a moment.

With a satisfied nod, Hubert gestured to Cameron. "I dare you to slap Cameron for making me do push-ups."

Octavia's eyes widened. She looked to Cameron to make sure she hadn't misheard. He seemed just as surprised, though amused as well.

Hubert smirked triumphantly. "It will prepare you for the brutal evisceration tomorrow. A bit like slowly easing yourself into a cold body of water."

Octavia wasn't comfortable hitting Cameron. She had never hit anyone before, despite fantasizing about throwing certain bullies off a bridge. So unless Cameron was totally okay with it…

Cameron sat silently for a moment before suddenly slapping his knee. "Screw it, Huey's right. I'm dead meat tomorrow. This'll at least help me prep for the next few weeks in the infirmary." He looked at Octavia, giving her a nod. He leaned in and tapped his cheek, tilting his head to the side for Octavia.

Octavia looked at Cameron incredulously. "In front of everyone?"

"A dare's a dare. Gimme your best slap, right on the face. Or else you're taking a shot of whiskey."

She looked his skinny frame up and down. "You want… my best slap?"

Cameron looked up at her with uncertainty. "Well, don't take my head off or something, just a normal… Just do it already! You're psyching me out!"

Octavia got up, standing over Cameron. She slowly brought her hand next to his cheek, preparing herself. Every fiber of her being was telling her not to. "You're sure about this? You want me to slap you?"

A few people turned and pointed, grinning. Cameron ignored them, nodded emphatically, and fixed his gaze on her hand.

Octavia wound her hand back, feeling her heart race as she prepared to slap him. And with a sudden motion, she brought it down, making contact with his cheek in a loud smack. She winced as he recoiled from the hit, his eyes opening in surprise.

The nearby campers cheered and laughed. Some even whistled. Octavia ignored them, her gaze fixed on Cameron who was slowly sitting up. "You good, dude?" she asked with a sorry smile, feeling a twinge of guilt in her stomach.

Cameron chuckled, rubbing his cheek. "I'm fine! Though I probably won't be after you know who is finished crushing me into tiny little pieces tomorrow."

She felt terrible for him. "I hope you don't break anything." She sat back down on her log as everyone around went back to their drinking games.

It was Octavia's turn at last, and she knew just what she was gonna ask Cameron if he chose truth. "Cameron. Truth or dare."

"Dare."

Octavia frowned momentarily before coming up with a brilliant idea: "I dare you to tell me what happened to your parents' car."

Cameron threw his hands in the air. "That's not how this game works!" he said with an exasperated chuckle.

Cameron looked like he was having fun. It made Brutus sick. He wasn't sure who he hated more, Cameron or the little shrimp. Hubert had wronged him, but that was a while ago. Cameron had wronged him just the day before, plus that stunt with the boar head, which he just knew Cameron had something to do with.

Tomorrow, he would teach that little whelp the rules of the jungle. Hopefully, at least. Part of him knew it wasn't gonna happen.

"Damn, holmes. You look like you wanna kill that dude."

Brutus glanced to his side, seeing Marbles next to him. The black cat had caught him glaring a burning hole into the back of Cameron's head.

"Yeah, because I do," he said, clenching his fist hard enough to crack his knuckles. "Tomorrow is the wrestling tournament. I'm gonna ask Coach to put me against Cameron, but I don't think he will."

Marbles nodded. "I gotchu." He stroked his furry chin absentmindedly before leaning towards Brutus. He looked side to side. "Yo, you wanna get back at him good? Like, real good."

The jock regarded the cat with a curious eye, nodding for him to continue.

"Yeah…" Marbles purred with a cheeky grin. "I got an idea. See, on our way back to camp, I smelled Cameron's trail. But it was old – like, a day old. I tracked it down, and it led to this little nature hideout, away from camp. That's where he went last night. And I bet you the next time he disappears from camp, that's where he'll be again."

Brutus smirked. "No counselors nearby to save his sorry human ass. We'll squash him good." He patted Marbles' shoulder. "You just hold him down for me. I'll do the rest."

Marbles nodded. "Yeah, you got it, homes. One thing, though." Marbles' smile faltered slightly. He looked over his shoulder into the woods beyond. "It's in the Dark Woods."

Brutus' smirk dropped.

"I know, I know. You don't trust those woods," Marbles said, placatingly raising his hands. "But I been that way before, it's safe. There ain't any bear traps out there, Walt was just talking shit."

"I'm not going in there," Brutus stated resolutely. "Something's wrong with those woods. Don't you remember the…" He looked around and lowered his tone. "…that head we found in the cabin?"

"Fine, fine. Aburrido…" Marbles rolled his eyes, pulling away. "He's basically a skeleton, I can handle him myself. Next time he leaves for that spot…" Marbles skewered a marshmallow on a wooden kebab, holding it over the fire.

Brutus had already tuned his friend out. He had gone back to bitterly scowling at the fire and imagining himself suplexing Cameron into it.

"Bring him back to me in one piece," Brutus growled bitterly. "I got some words for him."

Stolas paced back and forth in his room. The meeting with Lady Delia had been uneventful and not the least bit exciting. As always, Stella was an overthinker, despite having only half a brain to think with.

No, he was worried about something else. Octavia.

He had sent his letter the previous night, and thanks to his powerful spellcraft, the letter should have arrived instantaneously. Indeed, royalty such as himself was granted express mailing, no? He should have gotten his letter back from her several hours ago!

Knock knock knock! "Stolas, your Highness?"

Stolas gasped, rushing for his bedroom chamber door and ripping it open. An imp servant stood before him, a letter in his grasp. Before the imp could even say anything, Stolas snatched the letter from his hands like a feral goblin before slamming the door.

He returned to his bed, sitting on the duvet as he opened the letter.

Dear Dad

I'm trapped in a forest for the next two months, and I hate almost everyone here. So I made you my own poem. I hope you like it.

In the shadows of enforced summer light,

I suffer in summer camp, a cruel blight.

Distasteful words, you think they're right,

Your rhymes, your lines, painful sight,

Your poem is a joke, a cruel oversight.

Read my words, admittedly filled with spite,

I curse this camp, this forced summer "delight."

I'm in misery, in this endless night,

from the bottom of my heart, go eat a pile of shite.

Love,

Octavia

Stolas clutched at his heart. His daughter had made a poem? For him? He had to hold back tears. He didn't care if the poem was filled with spite. It was beautiful! With no Octavia to hug, he settled for rereading the letter.

Upon rereading, he noticed something. He had overlooked it initially, but upon squinting, he realized she had said she hated almost everyone. Meaning there was someone she didn't hate.

His eyes widened as a smile slowly started to creep onto his face. He couldn't hold it back. He didn't even try to. He laid back on his bed, smiling ear to ear and fist-pumping. "Yes! Fuck yes, it worked! I knew it would work!" he cried, squeezing the letter close to him.

"Stolas, what the Hell are you doing…?" came Stella's voice as she peeked around the corner into their room. For once, she didn't sound full of anger and hatred. She just sounded tired and mildly disappointed.

It was then that Stolas realized he was lying in bed and hugging a letter close to him like a stuffed animal. He didn't care; he was shameless. "It's our daughter, Stella," he said, his voice full of mirth. "She's made a friend!"

Stella's brows raised. "A wealthy one?" she asked with shared enthusiasm.

"Who cares?" Stolas asked, sitting up. His big smile didn't leave his face. "My daughter has friends!"

Stella rolled her eyes. She looked down at the envelope on the floor. "And I suppose you plan on turning our bedroom into a landfill with all this trash lying about?" Stella grumbled as she picked up the envelope. As Stella pulled out two Polaroid photos, Stolas realized something was still in there.

"Give me those!" Stolas said as he scampered over to Stella and roughly snatched them from her grasp. She squawked in surprise and indignance as Stolas inspected them.

The first photo was of Octavia standing before a tiny rustic cabin. She was flipping off the camera with the meanest, most disappointed frown. He chuckled. That was just like Octavia.

He flipped to the second photo, and a confused look came across his face. He had no idea what he was looking at for a solid two seconds. And when he finally realized, he burst out laughing.

Stella tried to get a look at the photo. "What? What is it, Stolas? What's so fucking funny?"

Stolas shook his head, wheezing as he leaned against his desk, looking at the photo. "No, it's nothing, dear," he said, trying to hide the photo from her.

Stella peered over his shoulder, glancing at the Polaroid photo of a giant dick-shaped boulder, and threw her hands up. "Oh, you are a child, Stolas!" She cried before turning away and burying her beak in her shoulder. "No more mature… than Octavia!"

"I can see you smirking!"

"You most certainly cannot!"