Elegant iron braziers light the staging pavilion, illuminating the brightly colored tents, and giving a good view to the tall, spindly spectator's stands which face the forbidding treeline of the Forest.  Banners for each school flap wetly in the rain.  Blood red is the banner that flaps for Durmstrang Institute.  Sky blue is the banner for Beauxbatons.  Hogwarts and Salem fly banners in a similar shade of purple, each flying their school's crest.   

Filling the stands are spectators, eager to see what happens.  Students, school staff, and visiting press and special guests, including Minister of Magic Persepolis Zephyr beneath a personal purple awning emblazoned with a golden letter M.

At the center of the staging area is wooden dais and upon it stand the Tournament officials beneath umbrellas and wide-brimmed hats.   Among the lot were also the four Headmasters and Headmistresses looking a bit damp.  Before them, a long table with three rows of objects. 

The first row - twelve identical vials filled with a glimmering potion. 
The second row: four small silver compasses on thin chains. 
The third row: twelve birdcages - each about large enough to hold a quaffle.

Nearby a small fleet of security volunteers stand ready with their brooms. 

"Welcome, witches and wizards, students and professors, and the press, to the Third Task of the TetraWizard Tournament!" 

The stands filled with applause as the official's amplified voice filled the night air. 

"Twelve champions have been selected by the Goblet of Fire to enter the Forbidden Forest of Hogwarts to be tested!  Now, our champions," (who are waiting in the tent and can hear all), "have been given no forewarning or clues about what they will face!  They will endure perilous challenges and their only safety being their wit and skill.  And of course our fleet of security witches and wizards who will only interfere should our champions shoot red sparks into the air."

She unfurled a scroll. 

"Without further ado, the champions!  From Durmstrang Institute, currently leading: Lyov Molchenoff! Magdalena Eisenburg, and Yekaterina Alkaev!"

As each name is called, the crowd applauds and the Champions are called forth from the tent to gather in front of the dais.

"From Salem Witches Institute: Damien Reynolds! Annie Enright, And Kayla Austin!"

More applause.

"From Hogwarts School: Mason Hawkins! Philip Kinsey! And Alexandra Carstairs!"

And finally,

"From Beauxbatons Academie: Corey Gaubert, Étienne Miroux, and Leonardo Duarte!"

'This is just like any other competition', Annie tried to convince herself as she wrung her hands together, tugging anxiously at her clammy fingers. This wasn't her first competition. It wasn't even her first competition in front of a crowd of spectators! She'd done things like this before and she'd never once died! Somehow, that didn't feel very comforting as she stood in the tent in anticipation of the third task. Normally she knew what to expect during a competition – she knew what horse she'd be riding, the order in which competitors would be called to compete, the tasks she'd be asked to complete, what the scores would be based on, the works. She'd felt prepared for her gymkhana events! This was something else entirely. This was testing, not a set of specific skills, but every skill she'd ever dabbled in over the course of her entire childhood and adolescence. If she performed poorly, she wasn't only failing herself – she was failing herself and her entire school. No pressure.

Whatever this was, it would be taking place in the forest. She wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. On the one hand, the forest was her home terrain. She was a Mainer through and through! Her home was surrounded on all sides by woods which were home to any number of magical creatures native to the area! The difference was, the woods of Hippogriff's Crossing weren't the untamed sort of wilderness that Hogwarts' forbidden (forbidden!) forest was said to be. If the rumors served, then the forest was a breeding ground for every creature under the sun, from the mundane to the malicious. Yes, Annie was a so called 'animal person,' but she wasn't sure that label extended to encounters ravenous, angry creatures bent on eating her alive. Then again, she'd also heard other rumors... rumors of good things. Supposedly there were unicorns in that forest. As soon as she'd found out exactly where this task was supposedly taking place, and after she'd frantically run everything she knew about that forest through her mind, that had become her mantra – unicorns, unicorns, unicorns.

Hey, it was better than the usual 'gonna puke, gonna puke, gonna puke.

Her wrists were trembling, just like they did before any old exam. Why oh why did it have to be her wrists? Of all of the responses her body could produce in times of high stress, why did it have to whip out the one thing that destroyed her accuracy with a wand? She knew how to compensate for that by now, but it was still an inconvenience that she didn't want to have to deal with in addition to whatever challenge she was about to face. Plus, it was raining. Of course it was raining. Granted, it was always raining, but this time it felt personal!

Her face was as white as ivory while she waited, listening to the disembodied voice booming over the crowd. All she heard was 'blah, blah, blah, you're unprepared, you're probably going to die, abandon all hope, you suck'. She countered each word with a syncopated chant of unicorns, unicorns, unicorns. And then they were calling her school, her name, and she swallowed hard, shooting one pleading look to her two teammates – a preemptive plea of sorts, begging them, wordlessly, to take care of her, to accept what she had to offer and, if necessary, to forgive her. She walked toward the dais as though she were marching to her death. She could hear her mother's voice in her head, telling her to smile, to pretend to be pretty for once. Instead, she swallowed back a throat full of bile.

Close enough.

Waiting in the tent was definitely a deliberate decision made by the powers that be in order to scare the champions, as if any nerves that they would be feeling weren’t already at fever pitch. Being placed in a relatively confined space, within easy hearing distance of the crowd and the announcements, didn’t feel like the ideal precursor to trying to compete in the tournament – Alex was okay, but it was the kind of okay that people said just before they raced to the bathroom, a hand over their mouths. Well, not thatokay, she didn’t think she was going to throw up. Probably. Throwing up would be unbearably humiliating. The only reassurance was that the others, no matter what they were doing, all seemed to be as nervous as her, the mixture of behaviours obviously designed to combat their fears, just as the way she was staring fixedly at the floor rather than do anything was her way of pretending that she was completely fine.

The call to the start of the task seemed to take far, far longer than it should, and when her name was finally called, Alex stood carefully, looking to Phillip with what she honestly hoped was a reassuring smile but probably looked more like she’d been stabbed with a coat hanger. “Good luck, Kinsey,” she said, relieved that she at least managed to sound like she was mostly fine, and she tried again to smile, with slightly more success, preparing to file behind him only to have her hand grabbed, making her stumble as she walked out of the tent, turning up to snap something at him only to shut her mouth before the first syllable had left it. She was, almost falling over aside, grateful that he’d taken her hand, and it made her step more confidently, not that she rushed to catch up with the other champions, huddled around a dais. The distance seemed a lot shorter than it might have, buoyed by the crowd’s cheers, and Alex was beginning to hope that, horrendous weather aside, it might not be too awful.

Unless she failed, which would be completely awful. But she wasn’t going to fail, and already she was using the brief minute’s wait to look at the objects laid out in front of the happily miserable dignitaries, wishing they’d had more help with what they would be doing – realising now, moments before the task began, that the empty cages probably meant they had to catch something, and that obviously their location meant that the something would be in the Forbidden Forest, felt like too little, too late. Hopefully being under the cover of the trees would mean being away from the rain, which would justify using a quick spell to warm herself, because while her teeth weren’t chattering, she was shivering like a jelly being threatened by a mountain troll.  A spell to warm herself being out of the question, for now, Alex shifted closer to Phillip, squeezing his hand slightly and looking at him, for a moment, already as drenched as she was and looking slightly insane. Nothing unusual, then, so she turned forward, giving his palm another quick squeeze and hoping that the existence of twelve cages didn’t mean that they wouldn’t be working as a team.

Finally coming to a halt, she kept her eyes fixed on the point of McGonagall’s hat, a reassuring sight, and tried to take deep, calming breaths to steady her pulse. It worked, to a certain degree, but the waiting was what really alarmed the Ravenclaw, standing before her peers and the judges and trying not to throw up her dinner while she waited for the instructions to be given and the challenge to begin. When she had that information, she’d have something to do rather than think about everything she knew about acromantula, which she would possibly have to face if she went into the forest; she was relieved to note that the cages were far too small to hold one, which meant that she wouldn’t be expected to go toe to toe with them. Well, probably not.

Swallowing, she tried, for what was not quite the first time in her life but was still one of the first times, not to think.

Clad in Salem's traditional black and purple, Damien Reynolds waited patiently in the tent with his fellow champions. He stood beside Annie and Kayla for now, figuring it would be better to stick with the familiar faces around here. With any luck, they'd stick together, so they might not go the challenge alone. Although from the looks of it, Annie wasn't going to be much help with her tinted-green cheeks and her i'm-gonna-throw-up expression that she was obviously trying to hold back. Luckily Damien didn't have any nerves or anticipation writhing in his gut, only excitement and well, maybe a bit of anticipation as they awaited to see what they were going to be facing for the task.

Salem Champion. It had a nice ring to it, and Damien was excited to compete. Even if he lost miserably, or just failed the challenge altogether, his mother and father would be so proud of him for getting this far. But Damien wouldn't be satisfied until he gave this all that he had. This so called 'perilous challenge' was going to push his every limit, and he was prepared.

Or so he had hoped.

When the announcer started announcing names, Damien caught Annie's worried look. He placed a gentle hand on her back and rubbed it reassuringly before they walked out, giving her a silent look back that said he would do everything he could to help her. The rain brought an extra element to the atmosphere, and a cold sweeping breeze fluttered across the tent's opening as the Salemite's walked out together.

He noticed Annie's solemn look, but didn't adopt it. Damien had a game face on, but he also threw a cheeky grin to the students in the bleachers. Just like he would do at a baseball game when he stepped up to plate. Throw a grin, piss off the pitcher, and hit it out of the park. Not that he necessarily wanted to tick anyone off right now, the kids from Durmstrang wouldn't be fun friends after you ticked them off, or so he assumed.

He took up his position in front of the dais. Back straight, muscles rigid, posture check complete. Military style. Like his Dad had taught him over and over and over. Maybe if they ignored the youthful-grin that he was trying to hide, the competition might actually think that he had something to bring to the table, along with the rest of Salem. They were a threat. A challenge. A competitor. Now they just had to make sure that they didn't royally screw up.

When his name got called, the only logical thing Phillip could think of was 'grab wha'ever's closest and hold on fer dear life, mate'. So he did. He grabbed Alex's hand, barely even registering her talking and started walking slowly, but assuredly, to his death. Because this was his execution, he was sure of it. Demic, the entire thing was and he couldn't bloody cope with the idea. The walk to dais seemed to last forever, but it was rather short and yet his brain was a mess. It was just empty. He would've like to compose his last will while walking there, but no. Really, all he could concentrate on was hoping his hand was not sweating awfully on Alex's...

And then they were there, and his bum brain was still not up to par with everything happening. But then he felt Alex, shift closer to him and for some bloody minging reason his 'I'ma blonde prince charming coming ta save the day on me bloody shiny fictional broom' complex popped up, just like that. His brain was definitely not functioning properly because the next thing he did was drop Alex's hand, and put his arm around her and kissed-KISSED her hair, or forehead, or something that smelled ridiculously like home and flowers and everything nice and went "Don't worry, harpy, if anyone's dying in these—these hunger games, it's me" and then he froze, just froze, but not because of the ridiculousness of what he just did, but because—Hunger Games.

He slowly dropped his arm from around Alex and just stared at her. "Oh God. Oh my God! I'm Katniss! I'm... Katniss?" he said with all the panic in the world gathered in his eyes. And then his face went from complete and utter horror to determined and almost stoic. "I can't possibly die before Mockingjay comes out" he said softly, with a look that might've as well said 'I found the deepest mysteries of the Universe'. And then Phillip, turned around, looking very much like a blonde-bleached warrior, stared at the stands and all the people and took a step forward. There, he took his three middle fingers to his lips before plunging the arm in the air with all the respect of a newly selected District 12 tribute. He hadn't really expected anyone to actually get the reference, but he smiled to himself nonetheless and got back to Alex with a stupid grin on his face.

"So, I reckon we'll go solo, aye" he said finally looking at the table. "At least there's potions" he said swallowing around a huge knot in his throat. "And, well, ye won't have me on yer conscience if I die, eh?" he said smiling halfheartedly to Carstairs.

Kayla had been keyed up in the days leading to the challenge, all relentlessly jiggling legs in class, flighty fingers, prone to daydreaming, altogether fidgety in the extreme. She wasn't near so bad as Annie, whose clear anxiety had given her something else to worry about rather than her own fate, but in the tent now she just couldn't stay still.

It was mostly excitement, now that she'd realized they were to run the forest. The Forbidden Forest. The place of Kayla's dreams! Within the first week of being at Hogwarts she'd already snuck away first thing to explore. Though she'd never wandered in too far, its wild green depths called to her. The creatures there were of little interest: what Kayla itched to get her hands all over were the plants. Though she wasn't a particularly competitive person, it gave her a surprised little thrill to realize that in this environment she was likely to do very well indeed. She knew forests. She loved forests. And generally, they loved her back.

Unless the gamemakers had done something she couldn't anticipate, her resonance with Herbology and natural magic lent her a hefty, unexpected advantage. She wasn't looking to win - she had never been looking to win - but for the first time she considered the possibility that she could do very well.

She stood with Annie and Damien, her fellow Salem Champions, looking on sympathetically and approvingly as Damien rubbed Annie's back. She caught the girl's free arm from her other side and gave it a gentle, reassuring squeeze, exchanging a smile with Damien too. "Luck," she whispered to both of them with a cheery wink just before their names were called and they all walked out.

Yekaterina sat near her fellow competitors reading a book and seemingly ignoring the hustle and bustle around her.  Her inner thoughts, however, were far from the picture of serenity she was trying to portray. This was the second time she sat in the Champion’s tent and soon the second time she would compete for the glory of her school, and you would think that she would be far less stressed about today’s events than she had been the first time she sat in the champion’s tent.

This time, however, was different than the last. Both her parents and her fiancé would be in the audience, so the pressure was far higher, in her own mind, to perform well. There would always be pressure of course, Durmstrang wasn’t a school where you wanted to fail. But with her loved ones actually present she didn’t want to only win, she wanted to blow everyone else out of the water.

That desire, however, came with complications. Yekaterina glanced over at her fellow Durmstrang champions briefly before returning to her book and her thoughts. It would not do her status at school any favors to show up the headmaster’s granddaughter, especially when she functioned as one of the headmaster’s spies at school.

She closed her book and placed it in her lap when the announcement started, signaling the start of the task. She stood and placed her book on her chair and went to stand next to Magdalena and Lyov. She had a delicate balance to walk, she needed to do great at the third task, but not too great. She’d manage, she always did.

Lyov would be lying if he denied feeling a bit of nervous anxiety of the unknown that faced him. Then again, Lyov wasn’t one to openly admit to weakness, and therefore would be more than happy to lie about it. The flight-or-fight response was pushing adrenaline through his body faster than he could think.

The tent was thick with the unspoken feelings of the twelve chosen. Lyov stood near Magdalena and Yekaterina, back straight and hands lightly clasped behind his back. His eyes took in each, lingering for a moment on the book that Alkaev was supposedly reading. He forced himself to look bored, eyes lazily moving over the other students.

He listened to the official’s words, attempting to pick up on any clues before they were called out. Forbidden Forest... yes, that sounded challenging. A small smirk slipped out as he glanced to Magdalena; the other Durmstranger was busy with the book.

“-From Durmstrang Institute-”

Lyov gave each of his fellow students a small nod of the head before walking to the entrance, holding it open as their names were called. Once both young ladies were out, he followed behind, knuckles cracking as he flexed his hands into fists at his sides. The rain was a minor annoyance. His eyes took in the objects on the dais, and he mentally counted each item. He glanced up towards the speaker before turning his eyes to watch those following in Durmstrang’s wake.

Though his stomach rolled in expectation, he smirked. It was important to keep an outward appearance of confidence and aloofness. It helped keep the opposition on edge.

Mason sat in the champion's tent quietly, breathing deeply, and thinking. In his hands was a school picture of his little sister, a note from his parents, a friendship bracelet Chloe had made when they were younger, and a blue ribbon that reminded him of Katherine. For the past few days, Mason was convinced he was going to die, no matter how much studying he did, how prepared he was. Compared to Phillip and Alex, he was the third guy, he was just there to help him out. But now, Mason had positive energy flowing through him. The Hogwarts crest felt right on his chest, and his house colors and name on his back were meant to be there.

Mase stood as the announcements began. He rolled his neck, his vertebrae clicked one-by-one as he prepared himself to walk out into the rain. His name was called, and he took one last deep breath, then tucked the photo and the note into his pocket and tied the ribbon and bracelet around the handle of his wand; he was finally ready.

The Forbidden Forest, a place of nightmares and risk; Mason had never dared enter before today. The star-littered sky was covered by the clouds and rain, thunder rumbled lightly, he felt lightning coming on. Sonny walked just behind Damien Reynolds, whom he had bitten earlier that year. He hoped that the Salemite wouldn't feel too badly about it and not try to kill him while they were in the woods.

"Stay alive, stay alive, Hawkins, you're here for a reason, stay alive" Mason repeated over and over in his head until all that mattered to him was "Stay Alive"

Since Corey had already done a task before, he seemed far less apprehensive than some of his other competitors when it came to assembling for this one his Beauxbatons schoolmates included. As far as he was concerned, the tasks couldn't get any crazier than giant spiders and rubbing berry juice all over himself. In his mind, he was prepared for just about anything. And even if he wasn't the smartest fellow around when it came to the more cerebral subjects, he couldn't get bogged down in thinking about that. He was just going to have to do his very best. Afterall, Beauxbatons couldn't do much worse than they already were doing, right?

Still, Corey wanted to look at it as positively as possible for the sakes of Etienne and Leonardo.

When his name was called out first among the Beauxbaton's students, a cheer went up from those who clearly remembered him from the first task. Someone even jokingly shouted, "Take it off!" in reference to his shirt, causing him to smile but drawing a few pointed glares from professors and officials alike. Corey gave a wave to the anxious spectators and patiently waited for the other two to join him and for the task particulars to be shared.

The Minister of Magic was in fine array, in a heavy dark blue cloak embroidered with runes and all manner of motif.  She covered her head with a large hood and from beneath it observed the beginning of what would promise to be a dark and trying journey.   No doubt, they were headed into the Forbidden Forest, which seemed to see more guests than it's name implied.

"That Beauxbatons boy - he's been chosen twice," an aid said into her ear and pointing at Corey Gaubert.  His arrival was heckled by someone bold in the crowd.  "The berry juice," she was again informed and she had to chuckle.  He was resourceful, wasn't he?  It was such a chilly day - would he take the same advantage?

As all twelve of the lucky Champions were gathered all in a row, Zephyr applauded.  They seemed a mixture of confidence, anxiety, and well - that one looked hungry. 

The crunch of the cold dirt beneath her boots reminded her just for a moment of home. But it was too springy, and the forest ahead was not as thick with snow as the land that surrounded the Unchartable ice fortress where the Durmstrang champions in blood red robes had been educated. The tree tops seemed somehow softer, perhaps direly misleading for today’s task. If they had had any doubt in their last few minutes in the Champion’s Tent, setting foot beyond its warmth was enough to know that they would be heading into the seemingly-slumbering greenery. She had yet to discover what was so forbidding about the forest.

Her grandfather’s loud impressions and his hunter’s heart had peppered her opinion. She found him easily in the group of officials and headmasters; he towered over many. Her confidence in facing the forest was only reaffirmed by his presence. She saw too her professors, and noted that the British Minister of Magic would be watching. Magdalena was not overly interested in the politics of Britain, but the letter M emblazoned sharply upon the Minister's awning seemed a fitting omen.

She came to a stop, taking her place in the gathering of the dozen chosen by the goblet. She stood to Lyov's right, shoulder nearly brushing the arm of his uniform. She could see him in her peripheral, his sharp profile and dark hair. They had trained hard since the flames of the goblet had spit their names. Magda was in turns ruffled by Lyov and glad for his company after dark. They were both unrelenting, did not go easy on one another; he made an ideal dueling partner. He could be dangerous. His habit of pushing into others’ minds occasionally made training with him questionable; sometimes it was why she wanted to. Before she had retired to Durmstrang's cellar dwellings last night, she had worked until she was shivering, sweating coldly in an atrium where it was not so infuriatingly warm as the rest of the school.

Now her eyes were focused on the collection of items beneath the flags. Like the others, she began to quickly weigh what the items— and perhaps more importantly, at the moment, the number of items— might mean. It seemed they would be competing together and separately— or at the very least, that the axiom, the whole is greater than the sum of the parts, was true. But that was true of every task, no matter one’s thirst for personal victory. Even so, Magdalena was fairly convinced that the potions and bird cages meant that they would be scored individually, not as a team. The young man beside her and Yekaterina would be necessary allies and competitors both.

The compasses made sense: they were trekking into what was, in theory, unknown to all of them. The birdcages were curious. Were they to catch something, or were they only symbolic? Another token, prize, puzzle piece, like the thestral box? The shimmery potion might have been the most curious of all.

When she had appraised the clues and the forest’s edge, she glanced over her competitors. The boy who had lost his shirt in the first task was there again, also competing for a second time. Students cheered him good-naturedly, and it was easy enough to remember what he had looked like wearing less. Durmstrang’s own supporters, a swath of signature red that was simply unmistakable at any visible distance, were proud as any of the other students who shouted from the stands. Prouder, perhaps, Magdalena thought, because they wore murder in their eyes and on their backs. They were like a stormcloud, inevitable, but saving the downpour for the appropriate moment. She did not worry herself with prayers for the students who had to sit adjacent their group.

He was confident in his own way—and his mother had often told him that he was too confident and headstrong for his own good. Leo didn’t think there was such a thing. To him, the way he was and the way that he behaved were the reasons he was here. They were the reasons that he had gotten this far in his academic career. To Leo, his personality, his persistence, and his stubbornness were traits that pushed him into being one of Beauxbaton’s champions. Next to Corey. He was confident that his good friend would be a positive force for their group—especially if this task was going to involve plants and potions and the like. If that was the case, Leo could only envision one outcome for himself: Doom. Doom and the glory of being Herbology-challenged.

But, it wasn’t like he could make Beauxbatons do any worse, could he?

As soon as Leo’s name was called, he froze. He was full of doubts that hadn’t been there before. Doubts that he wouldn’t have dreamt of even ten minutes ago. A faint sweat began to form on his brow, and he wiped it with the back of his hand hopefully before anybody could see.

Leonardo gave Corey a smile that was supposed to be confident—but there was a hesitation in his eyes that betrayed his newfound nervousness.

“Bonne chance.” He said quietly, his words directed to his schoolmates. Inside his head, Leo was struggling to reassure himself.

If he did awful, Corey could do well, right? 

It wouldn’t be so bad. As long as he did better than Etienne, Leo would nearly be content.

Amongst the throng of the crowd of observers, tournament personnel and foreign delegates, one reporter paused with quill raised, retrospectively contemplating the moment of tension: excitement held in the suspense of what the next stage of the tournament would bring.

There they were – the future of the wizarding world. A group of champions so diverse it was almost comical; some chosen for their school more than once. A ministry official, after a word from the Hogwarts Headmistress, stood patiently as the mass of champions filed from the tents onto the misty grounds. The cheers from the crowd were deafening, making the witch smile even more broadly.

“Welcome champions!” She called, quieting the crowd with a wave of her hands. “Your task is simple: catch a snidget! However simple that may sound, it will not be easy.”

“Four teams have been chosen to traverse the perils of Hogwart’s Forbidden Forest – a task itself that would be perilous, with dangers untold, to which there will be additional tools to aid the champions beyond their wits and wands.” She lifted her hands into the air for dramatics, then brought down her right arm hard, wand in hand, and watched as the twelve tiny birdcages floated through the air to land at the feet of the champions.

Next, the four small compasses glided through the air to land lightly within reach of Mason Hawkins of Hogwarts, Annie Enright of Salem's, Lyov Molchenoff of Durmstrang, and Corey Gaubert of Beauxbatons. Finally, with one last flourish of her wand, the phials of glimmering potions made their way to pause in midair beneath the champions’ faces. The intent was clear:

Drink.

---

The main Task threads will be linked within two days or less, after your responses. Champions, watch your PM boxes!

Annie wasn't normally the touchy feely type, and she recoiled slightly from the feeling of Damien's hand on her back. From the wide eyed, panicked expression on her face, one would have thought she'd been goosed. She'd never really equated physical contact with affection, so his gesture didn't have any kind of intrinsic calming or comforting effect on the Salemite. It did, however, distract her from all of the other slightly uncomfortable feelings coursing through her trembling, roiling body, and she was thankful for that. The very presence of that hand on her back forced her to focus on it above the other sensations, and instantly she found herself feeling slightly less queasy and much less self conscious about her shaking wrists. Kayla's squeeze to her arm distracted her even further, but the moment the three American champions were called to the staging area her comforters abandoned her, and every uncomfortable feeling came flooding back at full force. She wanted to pass out. She wanted to die. More than that, however, she wanted to know what the task was going to be! Silently, she waited for directions, swallowing over and over again out of nerves, her left hand jiggling at her side as though it was possessed. Her throat had never felt so dry.

It seemed to take forever for someone to take pity on the girl (and everyone else) and signal the crowd to stop screaming. This wasn't anything like the genteel pageantry she was used to. The masses didn't scream like that at her shows and competitions, and never before had those masses seemed so massive! She fixed her eyes on the table rather than on the crowd, trying to occupy her reeling brain with a task other than the self conscious panicking that came so naturally. Nothing brilliant came to her, however – not until she was finally being given instructions.

The word 'snidget' caught her attention instantly. Oh, Merlin! She knew what that was! She actually, honestly, instantly knew what that was! It took her a moment to realize that the flood of relief that whooshed through her veins wasn't yet warranted – knowing what a snidget was wasn't enough. This wasn't an essay. They weren't looking for facts. All the same, she had to imagine that knowledge could only help. The sigh that she expelled from her lungs was so very deep that Annie was sure it could be heard over the amplified announcements and ambient mutterings of the crowd. A teeny, tiny bird in a teeny tiny cage was so much nicer than giant, man eating spiders. Sure, there were probably a few of those in the forest but, well... better not to think about that. Unicorns, unicorns, unicorns...

Before the unicorn mantra could bring Annie back to her distant mental happy place, there was a shiny little compass floating her way. Her way. Not Damien's, not Kayla's – hers. She almost let it fall through her sweaty, trembling hands, but she didn't, and almost didn't count. She found a tremendous sense of pride in the fact that it hadn't fallen and gone skittering to the ground, like not dropping expensive looking artifacts was an accomplishment. Huh. Maybe she'd already reached her public humiliation quota for the week? She couldn't help but look to the other champions who'd been entrusted with compasses, as if to try and figure out why she'd been the one singled out. They were all boys. Having made that quick but obvious observation, she gave up on trying to determine why she'd gotten one herself. Wasting her mental facilities on that was so not worth it.

As if this explanation couldn't get any weirder or more confusing, the champions were clearly being made to drink something. The problem was, she had no idea what that something was. She knew the number one rule of drinking potions was ' whatever you do, don't sniff before you swallow,' because that usually lead to gagging and reluctance, but she was dying to sniff! How else was she supposed to know what she was being asked to choke down? She wanted a clue! She also felt incredibly nauseous already, however and, based on her recent history...

She held her breath and swallowed it down without taking a whiff. She supposed she'd find out what she'd ingested soon enough.