Young Writers Society

James was worried for Mr. Watson. He seemed very troubled. Maybe someone in his family died? Maybe he was scared to be lost? He was scared to be lost too, so he could understand that. Or, well, he should've or would've been scared. He didn't really know why he felt so calm all of a sudden. He looked up when he heard the boy with the bear speak, and he sounded pretty terrified as well.

He didn't really have an explanation for the boy though. He didn't know why or how they got here either, but he wondered if it was anything like his storybooks. Did he suddenly become a part of a big adventure? Were they the chosen ones to do something? Was it that big, or was it simpler?

"I don't know," he answered the boy quietly. "But it'll be alright, I think. Yeah," he looked down at Mr. Watson, gave a pat on his back - like his papa always did for him - and gave him a hug. His arms were a little too short to hug him all the way around, but James figured it was the thought that counted.

"It'll be okay Mr. Watson."

Engel raced over to him and knelt beside him. "It's not a dream. If it is, I must be dead," he says, offering the other kid a hand up. "Please don't hurt yourself. None of us know where this is or why we're here but we're all in the same position as you. My name is Engel, and that's John, and Damascus, and Boris. It'll be alright. Nothing out here is dangerous, really."

"I know where we are. This is Prussia. I was in the woods, at home, and I went too far. I don't know how all of you got here, but I'm sure it's still Prussia." Boris asserted.

"Oh- is that what you call this place? Prussia?" Damascus looked at Boris, testing out the word for confirmation. It was good, at least, that someone knew where they were.

The table across the campground caught his attention, and he walked over to it. There seemed to be a stack of small spears on it, next to brown squares, darker brown squares, and bags of white puffs. He picked up a brown square and smelled it.

The boy stared at Boris, his eyes beginning to well up as horror quickly grew across his face. "P-Prussia?" he repeated. He had gone as pale as a ghost - or the way that the humans thought of them, because the ghosts she had met so far really weren't all that pale. "I've never even heard of Prussia. And why is Damascus smelling the chocolate-"

Schadel cut him off before he could finish.

"Prussia's not a place anymore," Schadel said. Her voice shook, and more tears were beginning to fall down her face. "Blanx said it's gone now. How-" Her hand shot up to cover her mouth, though the action was several words too late. She had accidentally used Blanx's real name - not Alexander, and not Mr. Baines, but Blanx. And while she might have normally been able to brush off the mistake, now she was reduced to even more of a sobbing mess than she had already been.

"That's ridiculous. I was born there, we're here right now." Boris insisted.

He sighed. "I hope Sigmund finds me soon," he muttered out loud, to himself. "These people are crazy."

Damascus tuned out the conversation, enraptured by the fragrant smell of the square. Boris had been consuming the white puff earlier, and they seemed to be categorized on the table with the squares, which meant the the squares were most likely edible. He really wished they were edible. Their smell was enough to make his mouth water.

Eagerly, he stuck out his tongue and touched it to the square. A silky texture greeted it, along with the hint of a sweet, rich taste. Eyelashes fluttering, he took his first bite of chocolate. After that, he quickly consumed that bar and three more.

When he finally came up to breathe, he peeked over at John Watson and Edward, the former of which seemed to be breaking down even more. Quickly scooping up a pile of the bars, he made his way over to the fire again.

"John-Watson, eat these! They will brighten your soul." He murmered reverently, setting a few in the man's lap. "And you too, small-boy. You can also give some to William."

He blinked. "No, Prussia exists...I came from there, too!"

James had released Watson from the hug as the others kept talking - and with everything said he only got more and more confused. But he didn't think it would be helpful to say he'd never heard of the places they were naming. It'd probably just cause more confusion.

So instead he looked at the 'chocolate' that the oddly dressed boy was offering.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I really don't know... it's very marvelous, though." Damascus looked at James, and then realized how suspicious that sounded.

"Oh, it's not poisoned or anything- see? I've tried it already." He pointed to his mouth, which was covered in melted chocolate in spite of his several attempts to wipe it away with the sleeve of the jacket.

Schadel stared down at the chocolate in her lap, then back up at Damascus. He was already talking with another person, but she couldn't help but stare at him. How had he not known what chocolate-

Oh. Right. He wasn't really human, was he? Her gaze dropped back down to the chocolate, and she stifled a sob as she went to take a bite out of it. It made her feel a little better, but not enough to make her fully stop crying.

The boy, meanwhile, had carefully placed the teddy bear on his seat and was almost robotically making his way over to the place where all the food was. He grabbed a graham cracker, broke it in half, and put a small piece of chocolate on it before returning to his spot by the campfire with it in one hand and a marshmallow in the other. He slipped the marshmallow onto the stick closest to him and blankly stared at the fire as he toasted his marshmallow.

James stared at the boy now lacking a teddy bear with wide-eyed curiosity. He'd never seen food like that before.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Edward," the boy miserably said. "Edward Smith."

Damascus eyed the stuffed beast that had been left behind, and made sure that Edward was preoccupied with the squares and puffs at the table before sitting down next to it. Slowly, he reached over and petted the beast's fur, smiling slightly at the fuzzy texture.

"You're very soft, William." He whispered to it.

He turned as he realized food was being offered, and his eyes widened. "C...can I have some?" he ventured.