Don’t fall. Don’t look down. Don’t fall. Don’t look down.

You know how when you’re afraid of heights and the ground seems to shift every time you look at it. Although at this point I’m not sure if it’s the ground shifting or if it’s just me.

I’m going to kill Aether, I’m going to murder him and then bring him back to life and murder him again! That and my don’t fall mantra are the only things that are running through my mind as I’m scaling down this “tree”; if you can even call it that. For starters this tree is really tall, like ridiculously, unnecessarily tall. Compensating for something?

Our “tree house” isn’t even halfway up the freaking thing and I’m sure it’s at least 150 feet above ground, another noticeable fact is how thick the actual trunk is, its actually too big for me to see around and no way could I wrap my arms around this thing for a hug. It has to be larger than a skyscraper. If it weren’t for the freaky vein/vine things I’d have been done for because there would’ve been no way that I’d try or even could have climbed this thing like it’s a rock wall, having to search for handholds.

I almost feel like an ant…well our world’s version of an ant since the ones here happen to be bigger than me. Except I don’t have the grace that’s synonymous with a creature in it’s natural habitat because this is as far from natural as you could possible get. Not to mention my comfortable place is in front of a computer, on my bed, where bugs, trees, and most importantly, Aether, are not welcome.

The vine I’m clutching for dear life is as thick around as my wrist and a vibrant red that’s so bright it nearly hurts, and aside from that the weirdest thing is the fact that the tree and vine are pulsing as if it has a heartbeat. Almost makes me wonder if there is blood (or this places equivalent) running through its vines…never mind that thought, I’d like to not go there while I’m clinging onto the things.

That thought alone is enough to make me want to let go of the pulsing vine that I’ve practically been digging my nails into for the last fifteen minutes with the desperate hope that I won’t plunge to my death. Just holding the vine is giving me the creeps, I feel like it’s part of a giant and any minute now a hand is going to swoop down and swipe me away as if I’m a bug. It wouldn’t be so weird if it wasn’t warm and soft with almost a fleshy feel instead of, you know, a normal rough bark texture. But I don’t want to fall and if Aether can do it…well….I can to!

To say that I’m not as athletically gifted as Aether is an extreme understatement. Yesterday when Aether was playing George of the Jungle he made it look so easy…the key word to that is LOOK. He was jumping and swinging around as if it wasn’t a big deal. Me, on the other hand, I’m sweating bullets which isn’t helping my grip and my muscles are trembling from exhaustion five minutes into my descent to the ground. I know for a fact that tomorrow will suck…actually I can already picture the mental and physical soreness. The side effects of physical exertion and proximity to Aether. The of him sends me into another fit of rage.

THIS IS ALL HIS FAULT!

And I can’t believe I’m following him again into the unknown; against my better judgment might I add. On earth, I swore to never do that again and to leave him to his own stupid devices but those rules don’t apply here and if I’m going crazy, then so help me, I’m not going to be alone while doing so. So here I am…once again trying to play hero and save Aether, from himself. That boy should be locked away for his own good…and mine.

As I’m mentally raging about Aether a thought hits me so hard I wouldn’t be surprised if it formed a bruise on my temple. HOW THE HECK AM I GOING TO GET BACK UP THE TREE!? It took two freaking hours alone to get the courage to even attempt to climb down the thing and I am so not climbing back up there. There is no way I have the upper body strength to climb back up when I’m struggling just to climb down and the only reason I probably haven’t died is because Aether had a grappling hook, of all things, in his pack and I used the rope to tie myself to the vein I’ve been climbing down. When I find him I’m seriously going to have to have a chat with him about the odd assortment of things his bag, who takes a grappling hook on a school trip? And for that matter, why would someone even own a grappling hook?

I swear ever since that mushroom crazed idiot crash landed in my life it has been a downward spiral like no other. I’m talking a car crashing over a bridge and then exploding and if somehow you managed to get free of all that there’s a couple dozen sharks ready to greet you.

After what feels like days since I left the same semi-sanity of the tree house, at least it feels like that, but it must’ve been only hours, at least enough time for the weird white sun to have brightened in the sky, and the purple to change to red, I hit the ground. And by ‘hit’ I mean literally, I misjudged a step about ten to fifteen feet above the ground and let’s just say that my landing was anything but smooth.

Lying facedown in the “dirt” I marvel at how soft the ground actually is. I guess that’s one advantage this place has over Earth, because I know for a fact that back on Earth I would be all kinds of busted up right now; not to say that it didn’t hurt like heck, just that it didn’t hurt nearly as much as it could have. I should have broken bones and instead I’m lying on a freaking fuzzy beach under the trees. Where are the little birds that are supposed to be flying around my head? That would complete this strange reality.