3:17 p.m.
The Forbidden Forest


As most clearings in the Forbidden Forest were, the one they stood in now was foggy and dark, with a bit of mist rolling in. Around them, the trees that stood were tall, forbidding shadows– grim, watchful, and unfriendly– and though they were silent, there was no mistaking it for emptiness. If anything, it was the silence of patience, and waiting, and consequence, and if anyone knew anything that was good for them, they stayed well within Shona’s sight, where she could keep an eye on them.

And hand them the syllabus, of course. At least Shona, for her part, seemed to be a good mood—excited, even; she wasn’t rocking on her heels or clicking a pen (–these were teenagers after all, anything less than composed would be the same as painting a bullseye on the back of her head), but she constantly looked around– with a keenness that was less wary than their current surroundings suggested. A broad smile tugged at those curling lips, like she couldn’t help it, and though she managed a blank, patient look in her eyes, they still gleamed pale and bright beneath those expressive Donovan brows. She was very keen to start the lesson.

As the last straggler emerged from the treeline, Shona swiftly jogged to the back– to peer into it, despite the fog, in case anyone had been left behind. When it didn’t seem like it, she turned around, her smile broader than before, “alright, settle down! It seems like everyone’s here, but just in case someone got snatched from the back…” Maybe she should have made them hold each other’s hands. “Short people to the front!”

And with that, her clipboard sandwiching a stack of papers to her chest, Shona stood on her toes and counted. When all were present and accounted for, she fell back onto her heels, her smile warming with satisfaction. “Great, looks like we’re all here,” she said, and moved back to the front, where she led them to the base of the squattest tree in the area (though at 12’ from the tree branches down, it was still pretty tall).

(It was also thick, knotted, and twisted with age. It also, coincidentally, made for a very good seat.)

“I,” she began, thumbing through the stack with a solicitous lick of her thumb, “am Professor Donovan. And with any luck I’ll be your professor for a very long time.” Brightly she looked from face to face, mouth still curved in that irrepressible smile; what a cute bunch they were. They still stank a bit of course, especially those whose ill-advised perfume clashed unfortunately with the usual stink of teenage hormones—but in spite of that Shona saw the potential buried in those little lamb faces. “It’s come to my attention that one of my predecessors, Professor Hagrid, had you guys focusing on tracking.”[1] Separating them into smaller stacks, she passed them around. “Which is great because we’ll be doing a lot of that with me,” and she beamed, bright and terrific, when that elicited more than a few unhappy groans. “Oh hush,” she chided, playful, “you know that was fun!”

For some of them, anyway. Heh. Anyway, “if you aren’t looking through your copy, you should. But to sum it up…” Rising to her feet, Shona walked towards them, until she was just standing a foot or two away. “I only have a few rules, and they’re be punctual, be prepared, behave and do the work. So I expect you guys to be here on time with your gear, your homework, and your manners. You’ll need them for class, especially for trips like this.

“Now. Office hours.” Shona took a breath then—could already see the comprehension beginning to dawn on them in the form of wariness and uncertainty. Well, it couldn’t be helped. “It’s exactly as it says on the paper. So long as I don’t have plans or it isn’t the full moon, I’ll be in my office. Otherwise you’ll have to find me outside, or try again some other time. Questions? Great. You can speak to me after class.

“And now… today’s lesson.” Patiently she waited for the murmurs to die down, pointedly silent (and glaring) until the last whisper dried up. “In this clearing you will find a number of traces left behind one creature who’s still here. Unfortunately, it hasn’t been the only one to pass through here, so your job is to figure out which ones are the ones you need, and use them to figure out what the cause was. When someone guesses right, we’ll let you know.”

In one spot, beside the root she had sat on just a minute before, were, upon closer inspection, a smattering of bloodstains, bone fragments, and decaying bits of flesh. (Actually, the whole tree seemed to reek of death.) There were also down feathers, a dark, dirty, purplish reddish brown in color, and even some contour feathers, too—although there seemed to be some everywhere, particularly among the local shrubbery, which looked like something large and ungainly had crashed into it.

In another, a streak of thick, lumpy mucus glistened wetly atop the face of one boulder. Up close, it smelled rather nasty, and appeared to have the consistency of glue.

On some of the lowest tree branches around were claw marks that had been scratched across them. They ended in deep, pinprick gouges that were visible only because of the splinters jutting out of them.

By one sunken, rotting log, a small, silvery pile of dung lay almost hidden by a toadstool’s cap.

And for those with an especially sharp eye– greasy strands of blood red hair all over the area, but most notably on the roots, and the branches they seemed to have fallen off from. Some of them had tips covered in black, brittle flakes.



Watching them wander off one by one (or in pairs, or groups), Shona smiled. She’d already given them a hint.

1.	If you’re having trouble with the lesson, please refer to The Big Friendly Giant, or feel free to contact me with your questions!

Care of Magical Creatures was, by far, his favorite subject.

It had always been Zel’s favorite subject.

 The last couple years though, teachers seemed to be leaving as soon as he got attached to them, so Zel was apprehensive about this Professor Donovan. That apprehensiveness only intensified when she mentioned that short people had to go to the front—he was uncomfortable with his height, and while he moved towards the back of the group, he slouched as if it would make him unnoticeable while he towered over everybody.

But, as Donovan spoke, his concerns regarding her  completely disapparated. If he heard her correctly, she was a werewolf (unless there was some other reason for her to not be around during the full moon). Not only that, but since she was a werewolf staff member, she was going to be a consistent chaperone for the student werewolves when they went to the ministry safe houses. At least, that’s what Zel hoped. 

Non werewolves, no matter how well intentioned they were, would never understand the circumstances the werewolf students were in.

This put Zel in a position to trust her more easily.  Despite the fact she made tall people go in the back, even if usually went there anyway.

If they were doing tracking, though, he wanted to be up close to the evidence. To any sign of disturbance. And there was a lot in the area. He wondered if he should partner up with someone, or be a lone wolf (arf arf). Two pairs of eyes were better than one, and others could catch things he’d otherwise miss (and vice versa). His eyesight wasn’t the best, but it was much better than it would’ve been if he didn’t take a potion to improve it.

He squinted his eye at the tree. Professor Donovan led them to this location for a reason. She stood there, for a reason. Perhaps, that was where the first clue was. He made a beeline towards the tree (trying to avoid bumping into other students in the process), and began to examine it, starting from what was easily visible at his height. He looked up-- it was dense and difficult to notice anything. He worked his way down, silently taking notice of.... The decaying-bits-of-whatever by the roots. He scrunched his nose at the smell.

Vladlena Savitskaya was many things. Short was not one of them. So at the professor’s command, the cool Russian simply stepped aside to allow those below her height to step forward (and if she did so with a vaguely condescending gaze, well, she was from Durmstrang, where such expressions were something of the norm). She was not one of those that groaned at the announcement of more tracking, but her lips thinned slightly and she only barely contained a resigned sigh. She rather felt she had already demonstrated she was more than adept at that particular skill of track-and-identify[1]. After all, Durmstrang—and her own family, firmly ensconced in the care of magical creatures—started their students on hands-on curriculum…well, quite a bit sooner, so perhaps it was unfair of her to be frustrated with the Hogwarts curriculum, which, after all, had to cater to students without her experience and education.

But still, it was tedious, to repeat things. Her expression showed none of her frustration, except, perhaps, in a sharply annoyed flash in pale eyes that faded as soon as she recognized its presence. Her lips pursed, then smoothed, as a barely audible sigh escaped mostly through her shoulders. Best to let the local students have the practice, so they could learn, catch up and they could move on with course material. Not that she had high hopes for this professor either, as all those before her had failed to impress in the area.

From her small bag, Vladlena retrieved an advanced care of magical creatures text. It was not the book assigned to class (Vladlena had already read that cover to cover, and stored its contents in the eidetic trap of her memory) but since she was hardly going to further advance her education by practice in this class, she would do so through independent reading. It was her responsibility to productively be involved in education.

And if asked why she remained standing, reading during class instead of participating, she would coolly respond she was researching possibilities before foolishly poking at potentially dangerous magical remnants, thank you, which while patently untrue, should serve an adequate explanation.

1.	Here Lena identified a Snidget…really quickly. While also managing to upset a couple of people because she’s Lena.

At the professor’s signal, Gracie headed for the tree as well, attracted by the stench that seemed to reach even as far as where she’d stood. She circled it, though, looking around to see if there was anything else worthy of note other than eau de roadkill, and came to a stop by Zel when something fluttered off a tree branch and caught onto the dark cloth of his robes.

A smile flashed across her features, quick and brilliant, before she smothered it beneath a blank look. Without so much as a warning, she sidled over to him – offered a bland, nonthreatening smile if he looked her way – and plucked the strand of hair off of him without preamble. “Hair,” she supplied, grinning toothily as she held it up for his benefit.

And then she stepped away, hair still firmly pinched between her fingers, toward a spot where, with any luck, she could inspect it without wanting to retch. It was smooth and thick like a human’s, she saw, but stiffer; it still bent like a normal strand of hair, but with noticeably (if not considerably) less give.

The black flakes, she thought, looked a lot like–

“Blood,” a voice murmured in her ear– familiar but unwelcome. It took more effort than she liked to keep herself from visibly stiffening. “Old, too.”

“I know that,” Gracie snapped, leaning away from Theo Bloody Whitman’s awful face. “So you can just keep your observations to yourself.”

Ugh.

Effort.

Deus, perennial to-all-appearances slacker, yawned hugely as they trudged through the woods, looks decidedly sleep-deprived and a bit grumpy about it. He’d been up all night trying to get the innocent housewitch Cordelia to decide between scruffy, Scottish werewolf Gideon and clean-shaven, duty-bound Auror Magnus, and had gotten so fed up with her dithering that he’d written half a chapter of the two boys giving up on her and going with each other instead. He’d stormed off to bed sure he’d have to backtrack, but upon the morning, he’d decided he rather liked the twist, and Cordelia could just join in later.

His readers would probably be okay with that.

But if there was something, anything that could kill a romance novelist mood it was, as Gracie had eloquently thought it, eau de roadkill.

Deus’s hazel eyes flittered skywards, devastated that any fondness for the attractiveness of Professor D would forever be linked to this odor as a first impression. Ah well. He would persevere.

His knowledge, generally speaking, was mediocre to below at best; he knew various creature parts, per the Lazy Kelpie’s smuggling activities, but was less familiar, on the whole, with them when they were still alive. He sidled his way over the Zel, tugging the boy’s ear once, lightly, in what was probably a friendly gesture, sliding an arm around Gracie’s waist while Theo recieved a mostly good-natured elbow in the stomach before peering at the…ick, himself.[1] He stepped back, hands locking behind his back as he whistled and rocked back on his heels.
 
“Oh yes,” Deus said solemnly in his lazy drawl, eyes wide and filled to the brim with ever-present impishness and equally ubiquitous edge that kept the gaze from being entirely light-hearted.   “That is unmistakable. Most unmistakable.” He shimmied his way over to the professor, fluttering his eyelashes cheerfully, “The remains of an unwary student, who failed to perform in CoMC class?”

1.	Feel free to have any of them dodge him. He's perennially tactile so it may be ingrained habit to move out of the way lol.

Out of his peripheral, he noticed Gracie Slant—he startled  a bit when he felt her fingers ever-so-briefly touch his arm. Gracie wasn’t the touchy sort, so it was either an accident or…

It was a clue. A hair. Zel raised his eyebrows and looked  up. The hair must’ve fallen from above. He examined it as quickly as he could before she stepped away.  And suddenly there was Deus, grabbing his ear like he was someone’s great dane. Zel blushed and stammered a bit, but no words that could possibly be from any language came out. It was pure gibberish. He settled with mustering up the most peeved look he could give him, before crossing his arms over his chest in a defensive gesture.

At least he elbowed Theo. In no alternate universe would he ever like Theo. That guy deserved more than a violent elbowing. He deserved hair in his food and an obstinate house elf.

Hair and feathers and dead things.  He knelt at the remains. The bones were crushed, and chunks looked like they were torn off. Eaten. Upon further inspection, he noticed tiny little paws and the bits of a fluffy tail. A rabbit.

He poked the paw a bit.  “A rabbit’s foot.”[1] He said clearly. Although they were supposed to be lucky, he doubted that luck helped the bunny in any way.  “Unless we have little cottontails hopping around in Slytherin robes, I doubt this was a student.” Zel said flatly, “Hair from above. Feathers. Raw meat.” Zelig chewed the inside of his cheek, “Could be a griffin, maybe.”  Or at least, he was hoping for a griffin.

1.	I pestered sly with questions about paws >>;;; If this is not okay, please let me know.

Theo granted his housemate a bland (no doubt infuriating) smile, visibly amused. She was so easy to rile up sometimes– not as easily as most of their peers, perhaps, but that just made her case all the more worthwhile. “So you know why, then?” he asked, arching his brows in polite curiosity.

And then, Deus Deres.

Rather abruptly Theo’s face went blank with… something; though he was familiar with this housemate’s antics, he wasn’t comfortably so, and so rarely on a personal level that the elbow caught him by surprise, sudden and winding—unpleasant, in short. And Theo was already quite unforgiving about unwelcome contact with his person to begin with.

“Come now, Slant,” Theo heaved a sigh, as Deus shimmied ridiculously toward the professor. “I know you’re brighter than this-” Which, coming from Theo, was quite a compliment. “-so think. There is blood on the tip– old, like its owner didn’t care for hygiene–”

“So? Maybe it was some unlucky student.”

Really? Theo turned to fully face her, his recalcitrant classmate, and rolled his eyes then. looking like the seventeen-year-old he actually was, for once “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, head cocked in a judgmental tilt. “You felt it–”

“Way to make it sound dirty, Whitman.”

“–didn’t you? And it didn’t feel like a normal strand of human hair, did it not? Because it,” he huddled closer to her, into her personal spot despite that annoyed watch it, Whitman. “Isn’t.” He stepped back, granting her her oh so precious space gladly. Her idiocy was obviously catching. “Think harder, Slant.”

And with a smirk and a salute, Theo spun on his heel and sauntered away, toward the rotten log where the feces lay. Something shiny– silvery?– had caught his eye from there, and he had a rather good idea as to what it was.

The burrow he spotted on his way to the log, cinched it.

“Mooncalf manure,” he declared. Though there was still a week left until the full moon, the color was unmistakable—if dull.

Old droppings, then, that had never been found.

With a visible feeling of contentment, Shona watched the teenagers go off by themselves or with others, getting into the spirit of things. Some went for the boulder, making revolted sounds; others went for the shrubbery, picking out feathers and hairs and holding them up against the fading light. Just about all of them seemed to have retained rudimentary knowledge from their past lessons, she was glad to see—and even if they hadn’t, they didn’t seem afraid to venture a guess, at least. Some of the wildest guesses made her laugh, albeit softly. (It wouldn’t do to upset her students too much, with werewolf hearing.)

Some, though, didn’t appear to share the same opinion. Frowning, Shona went over to the Oberteil, that cheery demeanor sinking beneath arching brows and fading dimples. A cursory glance noted told her it was a text in the girl’s hand, if not a care of magical creatures one.

Internally, Shona sighed. Small steps, she told herself, and brought herself to ask.

Vladlena answered. In her direction, brows rose, unimpressed. But lies were harder to call out on when they had an excuse to fall back on (even if there was something off about the girl’s answer), so Shona let it go. This time. “Read quickly,” Shona told her, deceptively mild, and moved on– towards a cluster of students hanging by the tree.

They were already dispersing by the time she had reached them, but one of them was drawing close to her now—with a look on his face that made hers look back at him strangely. Though amusement was there, too, and it only multiplied twofold at its owner’s cheek. Really cheeky, that one.

“Why?” she looked at Deus, with an innocent lift of her brows. “Someone you knew?” and she offered him a sharp, quick smile before a very tall, pale figure drew her away.

Not on purpose, of course; he was busy kneeling by the unfortunate remains of a former denizen of the Forest. But his observations…

She went to the Hufflepuff, where he knelt. “Nope,” she smiled down at him, eyes crinkling warmly. “Griffins may be part lion, but they’re as thorough as raptors; they pick their food clean. As you can see…” She hunkered down into a crouch. With a gloved hand, she gently prodded the bits about, so Zel could see the entire chunks that had been left behind. “This is a lot of meat wasted—which you can’t afford in the wild, unless it’s an inherent part of what you are. Whatever did this, had done it for the violence.”

Pushing off her knees, Shona rose to her feet. “Good guess, though,” she cracked him another smile, this time one slight but full of approval, and patted his shoulder. “Two points for Hufflepuff. Keep up the good work, Trumble.”

She opened her mouth to say something more, but– “Mooncalf manure,” a Slytherin boy called out, and she looked away, distracted. “Very good,” she grinned at Theo, pleased. “Three points to Slytherin.”

Glancing back at Zel, smiling a little, Shona scanned the clearing for another student to check on… and went.[1]

1.	Feel free to be that student, or proceed however you like regardless of her!

As was becoming the norm Cadance stood in the foggy foreboding clearing with both hands wrapped around her cousin's elbow. In Care of Magical Creatures (especially out of the castle) it was rare not to see her attached to Xavier like this. In the halls she was often escorted by her betrothed, Charlie Whitman, on her way to the common room she could be seen on the arm of her Brother but in classes it was usually her cousin. Cadance often used the excuse to make sure he was okay. Most days he did fine but it was classes like this, in the middle of the Forbidden Forest surrounded by gore that that horrid night would come back to him. His face showed no sign but she could feel him tremble under her gloved hand.

As the rest of the students began to investigate Cadance stayed back pretending to look over the Syllabus the new Professor had given them. Cadance's own porcelain features gave nothing away but there was a look of disgust that had flashed over her eyes when the Professor spoke of office hours. Not only was the woman an uncouth American but she was also a werewolf, Merlin, Hogwarts really was going to the dogs. She'd have to write to Papa Arathorn about this one. Perhaps his spot on the Board of Governors gave him some say in what kind of trash walked through the castle doors.

Cadance took note of the others in the clearing. The white wolf of Hufflepuff seemed to be drawn to the carnage by the tree, which seemed only natural in Cadance's opinion but she was surprised to see a trio of Snakes join him. Gracie always was a little off so there really shouldn't have been any surprise there and the same could be said about Deres (the the flush of crimson that came to her cheeks when Deus snaked his arm around Slant's waist like it was nothing was a little harder for her to hide) and she was sure Theo was only there to rustle feathers. She shuddered to think that in a few short years she'd be related to him, even if just by marriage. Thankfully Charlie was leagues better than Theo was in the attitude department even if she wasn't in love with him.

Whitman soon left the trio and wondered off but not too far that Cadance couldn't catch what he said. She made an disapproving cluck sound with her tongue, "Blood, gore and manure? Oh boy this is fun." She wasn't one for sarcasm usually and her tone suggested anything but. Although it was enough to get a rise out of Xavier which made her smile.

Xavier stood in the foggy clearing with Cadance on his arm, thankful for the silent strength she offered him. She seemed to be the only person these days he could rely on. Bella had tried to come back into his life but withdrew as soon as he seemed to willing to bring her close again. Strellie had been locked up in an insane asylum, if the rumors were to be believed. Even if they weren't true she had still abandoned him and Xavier started sleeping in his bed again, something he hadn't been doing for months now. Unfortunately without that nightly comfort of sleeping next to his best friend, the nightmares had returned.

Xavier decided he didn't like Professor Donovan, purely on the fact that she had dragged him into this horror scene. The fact that she gorgeous, foreign and a werewolf was something he would have to work through some other time. He still wasn't sure how he felt about the beasts. He had been raised to believe they were evil creatures, the only one he had been up against had been a life and death situation that he had managed to walk away from. They were supposed to be mindless creatures that couldn't help their nature but then the Thestral was enough proof that not only had he killed a werewolf, but he had killed a man as well. The nightmares were getting worse.

He swallowed back bile at the smell that was wafting back to him. He was trying to stay as far from the tree the other students seemed to gravitate to but there was no escaping that smell. It may have been eau de roadkill to others but to Tawse it was the smell of death, of his own impending death, the stench that had been on the beast's breath as it bore down on him ready to tear out his throat. If it hadn't been for Strellie . . .

Xavier shook himself, doing what he could not to get trapped in the memory. He turned to Cadance, whose cheeks had flushed with crimson. He furrowed his brow trying to figure out why but was interrupted by her cheery little comment. Despite of himself he chuckled, "Top notch this'un." He looked towards the tree where Trumble and Slant still were, "Ye sure we're nah jus trackin' a wolf on this'un? If it's killin' fer thee funnuffit, not fer survival, it's not an animal."

Peyton was always happy to get out of the castle. It was part of why he liked Care of Magical Creatures so much. He had always done better in classes that were more hands on even if it mean he was more likely to get an A over a P. He was determined to bring his grades back up. He had managed to get a few OWLs under his belt but the way things were going he was going to be the first Ravenclaw in the History of Hogwarts not to get a single NEWT. At least he didn't need good grades to go professional in Quidditch but then he was missing any practice he might have had by dropping his grades. He had lost his Captain position due to his grades failing and a few detentions for poor performance had cost him a chance to play in the latest game. He wanted to play Quidditch but he wasn't allowed unless he had good grades but every time he got his grades up and focused on the game they would slip again. It really was a vicious cycle.

It had been a nice day to get out in the fresh air, Peyton was itching to get out on a broom but this was definitely not fresh air. He pulled his scarf up over his nose to try and block out the stench as he joined Zel and Gracie near the tree, "Poor Thumper." He shook his head looking at the remains of the rabbit. It was kind of weird to see the carnage. Like Professor Donovan had said, most predators would have eaten as much of the corpse as they could for food. He racked his brain trying to think of a beast that killed just for the violence.

He tensed at the sound of the Scottish brogue floating over from the other side of the clearing. He doubted the new Professor would take them to the scene of a werewolf attack like his brother seemed to be suggesting, "Just ignore him, yeah?" He said softly to Zel. He didn't really know the Hufflepuff but knew enough about him to assume Tawse's insensitive comment may have gotten to him.

Peyton stood and took a few steps back looking around the clearing for something else to discover. He wasn't entirely fond of following up on what had caused the amount of carnage that seemed to be covering the whole of the tree. After all Zel and Gracie could figure that out for themselves right?

His eye caught a glisten on a boulder. There was mucus there, that was smelling almost as bad as the bunny carcass. Despite himself he reached a gloved finger out to touch it. It was thicker than he was expecting, harder. Perhaps it was old, more dried out than it normally would have been, "Doesn't seem to be the right shape to be a flesh eating slug trail, then again . . ." He pondered lightly to himself.

Jay was knelt over a collection of downy feathers. He had one in his hand and was turning it to and fro. The softness often suggested a younger animal, though they weren't the only feathers in the clearing. He had his Care of Magical Creatures book out in front of him, flipping through the pages to try and match the feathers up to their possible owner. He wasn't as good at the subject as most others in the class. He had originally taken the class to fill a spot in his schedule but over the past few months he was definitely starting to show improvement. Though, that being said, he found it both mystifying and fascinating that Hogwarts seemed to cycle through so many Professors. He had once heard that teaching at Hogwarts was cursed but he thought that was only reserved for the Defense Against the Dark Arts class (then again Storm was such a hard ass it was perfectly reasonable to suppose he had beaten the curse and passed it off to all the other positions in the castle)

He stopped his page flipping on a description of Hippogriffs. It was possible the feathers belonged to one, that could also account for some of the claw marks on the lower branches, especially if it was a younger, smaller one. He leaned over the text reading what he could in the foggy low light of the clearing. There wasn't much he could find about there diet other than insects, birds and rodents. There wasn't anything about them being violent with their food which would probably rule them out from whatever had gotten the rabbit. Were they suppose to deduce it all down to one animal or were there supposed to have been multiple that had passed through.

He took a moment to regard the other students. It seemed that they definitely were looking for more than one animal. There was no way a Mooncalf was responsible for the lapin carnage, though he found himself agreeing with one of the Green and Silver clad Hogwarts students. If Mooncalf dung could only be produced on the full moon was it that much of a stretch to assume a Loup Garou had been the culprit of all the carnage?

As if to demonstrate that he was not entirely willing to relinquish his original assessment (or, generally, to be a productive member of the class, and anyway Professor Shona hadn't said no) Deus, for his part, merely batted his lashes, and with a whispered spell, sent a pile of twigs floating off to hover behind Theo Whitman's head in a formation that unmistakably resembled a large pair of bunny ears.

Vladlena caught the tone in Professor Donovan's words, but didn't bristle against it, because it was fair enough. If the woman would leave her alone, as she seemed to be willing to do at least temporarily, there was no reason to antagonize her. But to show she did not make her decision lightly, Lena sighed, bidding the professor to wait a moment as she flicked quickly through the pages of her tome and arrived on that of the creature she believed the focus was on. She did not need to examine the clues more closely, the verbal confirmations of students who had were more than enough. In aggregate, everything presented and confirmed, even from this distance, was quite enough for a girl of Lena's training to make an educated identification.[1]

At least for her.

"You are not, after all, asking us to snatch answer from thin air." She murmured pointedly, faint frown on her lips and accent heavy and hardening her g's into smacking k's, stiffening the syllables even more than the coolness of her voice would already do in her native tongue. The statement, though cold, was mild enough, if pointed. Students seemed to be doing just that, after all, and their baffling ineptitude continued to frustrate her. A flash of something heated that may have been annoyance broke through the ice of her unhappy stare, but it cooled again as she overheard Whitman coach a girl a similar robes.

Very well, so there were some, it seemed, who were possessed of basic competence. Others had figured it out, and were taking a similar tack as her--keeping quiet to allow those who (inexplicably) had still failed to pick up the necessary skills to exercise some use of them in (perhaps vain) attempt at expanding them.

They'd been given more than enough clues, had they not?

Grimly, silently, with another small, quiet sigh, she went back to reading.

1.	Cleared with Slllly

Alright, it wasn’t a griffin. That’s okay—it seemed, Zel was going to learn something new today! Part of him felt like he didn’t deserve points for the wrong guess—but in all honesty, it was a good one. Hippogriffs were part horse and part eagle, so perhaps it was one of them? No. They mostly ate insects and birds. Although Theo was able to locate mooncalf dung, Zel doubted that was what they were tracking. Besides, it was old dung—perhaps it attracted a creature? Zel’s thoughts would have gone on and on, if It weren’t for--

“Ye sure we're nah jus trackin' a wolf on this'un? If it's killin' fer thee funnuffit, not fer survival, it's not an animal."

“It’s not a werewolf.” Zel said tightly, turning his head to glance at Xavier. “Full moon’s not til the 30th.” He looked back at the remains of Little Bunny Fuu Fuu. The body was decayed, this wasn't a fresh kill-- still. He didn't want it to be a wolf attack. It also, simply, did not feel right in his deep gut. “Besides, wolves don’t have feathers.” There were plenty of beasts that attacked out of violence or for territorial reasons. There were also diseases that certain creatures could get that caused them to act differently than they naturally would while healthy. When a creature was ill or hurt, it was more likely to be aggressive.

"Just ignore him, yeah?"

Zelig nodded stiffly and stepped back. That was sound advice-- just ignore him. It was classtime, it wasn't appropriate to get sensitive and allow it to cloud his judgement.

"How old would you say this body is?" He asked the nearest classmate.[1]

1.	Could be anyone!