Chapter 3

The horses stomped their feet, their whinnies creating white puffs of steam in the brisk morning air.

Kurt shivered and rubbed his arms. 'Hurry up!' he called in the direction of the inn. Puck emerged, pulling the hood of his cloak up over his nearly-bald head.

'Calm down, dude,' he said irritably. 'We've got plenty of time.'

Kurt huffed. 'We're supposed to be at the outskirts of the Forest in half an hour!' Come on!'

Puck shook his head, mounting Mickey. They left the lonely inn at a canter, heading towards the dark green line on the horizon.

After leaving the Academy the previous day, Mr Schue had accompanied them to the edge the village. They had split up into their separate groups, exchanging hugs and good lucks, before setting off in the directions of their respective areas.

Kurt and Puck had ridden throughout the day, stopping briefly for lunch in a small village. It had grown colder the further north they went, and by the time they reached the inn near the edge of the forest, it was dark and freezing. They had rented a single room to save money, argued over who was sleeping on the bed, and eventually decided to splash out and get a twin room instead. Puck had snored, keeping Kurt awake half the night, and had woken him earlier than he needed by falling out of bed. It was perfectly reasonable why they were both in a bad mood.

They rode in silence, cloaks flying out behind them as they sped across the dry land. A small river, bridged by a dodgy-looking stone structure, traced the edge of the Forest. They crossed it and drew to a halt beside the wagon and three cold-looking men waiting for them.

'Hi,' Kurt said as he dismounted. He led Pippin over to the men and held out his hand. They ignored him, and he dropped his arm.

One of the men stepped forward, holding two small pouches. 'These are your next clue,' he grunted. 'One each.' He handed Kurt the blue pouch and gave the black one to Puck. 'There's a compass inside that will always point in the direction of your necklace.'

'Is that it?' asked Puck, pulling out the brass compass.

'Puck, this more than enough.' Kurt gave him a stern look and turned back to the man. 'Thank you.'

The man nodded and climbed back on to the wagon. He raised a hand briefly, then flicked the reigns and started back towards the river.

Kurt and Puck were left alone at the edge of the trees.

'Well,' Puck said, peering down at his compass. 'We'd better get going.' He turned round slowly, following the direction his compass was pointing, until he was facing south. 'I'm this way. You?'

Kurt opened his pouch and took out his compass. It was cool to the touch, sending a slight tingle through his fingers that he always associated with magic.

'North,' he said, facing away from puck. 'Great, even colder.'

They turned back to each other. 'I guess this is goodbye, then?' asked Puck.

Kurt shrugged, glancing down, until he was suddenly pulled into a hug by the other boy. 'Good luck, bro,' he said.

Kurt pulled himself out of Puck's arms, stepping back. 'Ok, whoa there. Bye.' He tapped his fingers to his forehead, gave Puck a small smile, and swung himself up onto Pippin's back. He waved to him, then urged his horse to a canter as he followed the Forest's edge. After a few minutes, he turned round to see Puck galloping away in the opposite direction.

He and Pip were alone – and would be for the next two weeks.

Kurt tugged on Pippin's reigns gently, slowing him. The thin blue needle of his compass was wavering, until suddenly, it swung to the right, pointing into the Forest. He stopped Pippin and peered through the trees.

He couldn't see very far – the trees grew too thick. The trees at the edge of the Forest were more shrubby, the undergrowth thick. Further in, the trunks grew higher and were spaced farther apart, their leaves leaving little gaps which the dull grey daylight fell through.

Kurt moved along the edge until he found a clearing in the undergrowth. Nervously, he twitched Pippin's reigns, and plunged into the forest's darkness.

It was like the line of trees formed a barrier between the inside of the Forest and the outside world. As soon as he was under the trees' cover, everything became deathly silent, broken only by the soft crunch of Pippin's hooves on the leafy ground. From outside it had seemed fairly bright, but once within, the only light was the dull grey glow that managed to seep through the canopy above.

Kurt steered Pippin through the trees, his breath coming short and fast. He wasn't scared. Why would he be scared? This was just a forest. A simple, harmless forest full of squirrels and badgers and deer and wolves…

He jumped suddenly as he heard a sharp crack to his right. Twisting round in the saddle, he peered into the gloom, searching for the source of the noise. Muttering a curse under his breath when he saw nothing, he pressed on, urging Pippin to a fast walk as he followed his compass through the trees.

They followed a faint path in the undergrowth, occasionally ducking under branches or stepping over roots. Soon, Kurt's sense accustomed to the sounds and sights of the woods, and he could pick out the gentle rustling of a scavenging mouse, the chirping of high-up birds, see a curious squirrel watching him from an overhead branch and a silent doe slinking along a little ahead of him.

After he had ridden for a couple of hours, deeper and deeper into the Forest, his stomach began grumbling loudly and he stopped to have lunch. Although he could hunt, trap and scavenge to a fair extent (all students were taught to do so in their compulsory Physical lessons), he needed to start rationing his food now to make it last as long as possible.

He ate some of his bread (which would go stale quickly) and some dried beef, followed by one of the fresh apples he had brought, and washed it down with water. His bottle was nearly empty. He hadn't come across a stream yet, and they only learnt to make water in Genetic during their apprenticeship. This could be problematic, he mused. I should have refilled it at the river outside.

Kurt and Pippin continued riding as the afternoon wore on, the forest briefly brightening when the sun came out above, soon to be followed by the greys and blues of dusk. When it was too dark to see more than twenty feet ahead of him, Kurt decided to stop for the night. He found a smallish clearing fairly quickly and mounted his tent before it got too dark to see. He tied Pippin to a tree, leaving him enough slack to move around the clearing, and built a small fire at the entrance to his tent.

Now that he didn't need to concentrate on following his compass and leading Pippin, he felt the darkness of the Forest and the terror that it brought creep up on him.

Drowsily watching the flames dance, he let his eyelids droop, trying to quell the uneasy feeling about spending the night in the woods. He still remembered that day, almost ten years ago now, when he and his parents had gone out for two weeks' camping in the Forest.

They loaded the large tent into the wagon, bundled up with blankets, food, warm clothes and Burt's prized sword. Kurt sat up front, between his parents, and chattered excitedly as they drove.

They trekked through the forest on foot for several days, following deer trails, Elizabeth using her magic to leave a faint blue line behind them so that they could find their way out. They set up camp in a large clearing under a huge, gnarled oak tree. The day was spent splashing in the stream that ran through the clearing and climbing in the branches of the oak tree. Elizabeth's laughter as her son and husband chased each other around the clearing was contagious, and soon they all ended up in a huge pile, giggling.

Later in the evening, they sat around the fire, Kurt wrapped up tight in his mother's arms, watching the blue and orange flames that she had created dance in the darkness.

'What's it like to have magic, Mom?' Kurt asked.

Elizabeth smiled. 'You'd love it,' she answered. 'You would spend all your time trying to read other people's minds and making toy dragons out of thin air.'

'No, Mommy,' Kurt protested. 'Unicorns.'

'Ok, making unicorns, then. You would make beautiful works of art, which were uniquely yours, because they would be the Colour of your magic.'

'Why is magic Colour special, Mommy?'

'It's special because of all the people in the entire world, only you have that Colour.'

'Your Colour is blue, Mommy!'

'Yes, darling, that's right.'

They settled back down to watch the flames when a loud howl erupted into the night.

Burt glanced anxiously at Elizabeth, his fingers stretching towards the pommel of his sword. Kurt felt her grasp around him tighten as more howls followed, closer.

'Kurt, I want you to stay with your mom, ok?' said Burt. 'She'll protect you.' He drew his sword, the shrill scrape of the metal against the top of the sheath sending shivers down Kurt's spine. Several more howls resounded, swiftly followed by a crashing sound as strong, clawed feet charged through the undergrowth.

Then suddenly, the wolves were upon them.

Kurt woke up with a jerk, fingers fumbling as he scrambled for his knife, finally grasping it and holding it out in front of his face.

The clearing was just as he had left it. Pippin watched him with wary eyes as he chomped the grass in the dull dawn light. Kurt sighed, sheathing his dagger, and dragged himself to his feet. He had yet another long day's ride to endure, so he might as well start as soon as possible.

He ate another apple for breakfast and finished his water. He packed up quickly, not wanting to waste time, and was up on Pip's back before the sun had fully risen.

He seemed to have moved into a different part of the Forest now. The tall, threatening pine trees were slowly being replaced by broadleaves, oaks and maples and aspens. They let more light in, and soon Kurt was riding along a bright green and yellow trail.

After a few hours riding, he finally heard the sound of a river. Grinning in relief, he turned Pippin off the track and towards the source of the noise.

A couple of minutes later, he emerged from the trees and found himself standing on the edge of a large, wide, river.

Kurt dismounted and led Pippin to the water's edge, letting his horse drink his fill. The water looked inviting, he thought as he waited.

Glancing up and down – wait, why was he checking? There was no-one around, he was in the middle of Mothlem Forest, for goodness' sake – he unclasped his cloak and quickly undressed. He waded into the cool water, grimacing at the thought that he hadn't washed in two and a half days.

He swam about a little, ducking his head under to rinse his hair, before getting out and drying himself with his cloak. He pulled his clothes back on, shivering, and wrapped himself up in a blanket before plopping down by the water to eat lunch.

Just as he was about to bite down in his rather unappetising cold pork, cheese and nearly-stale-bread sandwich, he heard a loud crunch behind him.

He spun around, dropping his sandwich, and looked up and down the tree line. There was a slight movement off to his right and he twisted his head towards it, drawing his knife as a blue powerball appeared above his left hand.

Suddenly the thing moved again, and he caught sight of a slight, dappled-brown-and-green figure crouching at the treeline. He stood up, wary, and held out his sword.

'Whatever you are,' he warned, holding his knife out and brandishing his palm, 'I'm armed and a damn good fighter at that. Come any closer and I'll kill you.'

The figure twitched, then moved, and Kurt realised it was a person, and they were standing up.

The person held out their hands above their head, then slowly stepped forward. Kurt tensed.

'I'm not going to hurt you.' They were male.

'I – I don't believe you. Stay back.' Kurt waved his knife at him again.

'Please, trust me. I'm not going to hurt you.' He reached up and dropped his hood. Kurt nearly dropped his jaw.

Because, wow. If that wasn't the hottest – cutest – most beautiful guy Kurt had ever seen.

He was watching Kurt warily with his big, hazel eyes, soft black curls just dusting across the top of his forehead. He had a strong, well-defined jaw, and perfect, oh-so-kissablelips. He was covered from neck to toe in brown and green leather, but from what Kurt could see of his neck and bare forearms, he reckoned he must have a pretty good body too.

Kurt realised he was gaping and promptly shut his mouth. He lowered his knife and hand and saw the other boy visibly relax.

Kurt dropped the invisible barrier he had created between them and stepped forward slowly. He held out his hand cautiously.

A smile appeared at the corner of the boy's eyes as their hands met, and his hands were so warm and slightly rough and it sent a funny chill down Kurt's spine.

'I'm Kurt Hummel,' he managed to splutter, surprised his vocal chords were still working.

'Blaine,' said the other boy warmly, squeezing Kurt's hand firmly. 'Blaine Anderson.'