Trevor entered the eating area. He was wearing a green and blue striped shirt with khaki shorts. He had white socks on his feet, one was not pulled up all the way. As a six year-old he still had difficulty making himself look pristine. He used to fight with his mother and explain to her that he knew how to dress himself. Having her or anyone else help him would have just been "not right."

He had a dead crow in his hand, and its foot (still connected to the body), stuck in his mouth. He was sucking the life out of its crow feet. Nothing tasted better or more comforting than his crow, the dead crow (he kept preserved through magic) went everywhere with Trevor. It reminded him of his mother, and her dark, dark hair. . .

Revor said nothing as he walked into the hall. He took a seat by Zed--he was always doing something cool with his powers, which made Trevor feel more important for being able to sit next to such a psychic. He put the dead crow on the table in front of him. He smiled a toothy grin at Zed, excitedly. Today was a good day. He got to sit next to Zed.