He put down his hood and looked up at the sky. He took out a knife. It had been that of the one who tried stabbing him before he came to this school. He opened the swithblade. He studied it for a moment before he threw it at a fence panel. It embedded itself perfectly in the fading bullseye that some had drew. Jhe sat there. The date that he would have to do the ritual was coming soon. He would have to summon.and try and control a flame. His parents had tryed it but he had came barging down the stairs moaning about his ipod being buggy. They lost concentration and the fire spread. Burning the wooden floors and killing his parents. He managed to barely escape. Later after the fire died down he returned. Inthe middle of the ruined house was only one thing unburnt. A staff, He remembered the time his father said to him. "Son, when I die, I want you to take me staff. This staff has been in the family generations, It is tradition that the inheritant then takes the staff and carves a phrase and a symbol to represent them." He had completed his part of the ritual only today. Nearly a year after the fire. He looked around. He could see that girl, the Cherokee one, Little feather. Where was that lion who followed her usually? He had seen her sometimes around during his time here and she always had that lion with her. He looked back down and stood up. With one hand he did the gestures for a spell. A gust of wind hit the fence with so much force it went flying off campus ground. The gust caused a slight breeze to start.