>>149155730
Continuing this
>"Oh, for the love of all that is holy and Wi-Fi enabled," Grace groaned, shoving her useless phone back into her pocket.
>"You're an idiot, Grace. A colossal, goblin-chasing, wilderness-challenged idiot!" She kicked a loose stone, which barely moved in the thick undergrowth.
>Her big city bravado was deflating faster than a punctured inner tube.
>She tried to retrace her steps, scanning the leaf-strewn ground for the faint imprints of her expensive sneakers.
>A glimmer of hope. There! A barely perceptible depression in the damp earth.
>"See?" she announced to the unhearing forest, a burst of false confidence inflating her chest. "This isn't so hard. Just gotta pay attention."
>Minutes later, the 'glistening hope' turned into a cold, clammy dread.
>She swore she was standing in the exact same spot she'd rested moments ago.
>A gnarled oak with a peculiar knot in its trunk. A cluster of unusually tall ferns. It all felt horrifyingly familiar.
>She spun around, desperately searching for any landmark, any sign that she was making progress.
>Nothing. Just an endless, green-brown maze.
>Her legs screamed in protest. Defeated, Grace slumped onto a moss-covered rock, pulling her knees to her chest.
>How long would it take for Aunt Ellie to even notice she was gone? And even if she did, with no signal, how would she call for help? The grim reality sank in: rescue wasn't coming anytime soon.
>She pictured Aunt Ellie calmly working on her puzzles, oblivious, while Grace slowly withered away, becoming one with the cursed Cowpie soil.
>A wave of profound loneliness washed over her.
>"This is it," she whimpered, hot tears pricking at her eyes. "Lost. In this godforsaken place. With weird, dirty people and no internet. This is my life now."

>>149074381
>Your dragons are gonna be snallygasters.
...ok?
>>149076019
Nice! i like this

Anyways, I made this little prologue about Billie and Grace meeting for the first time

>The ancient, clunky car coughed its last wheeze outside what her aunt optimistically called a "cabin." Grace Danson stared out the window, past the dust-caked glass, at the veritable wall of trees.
>Not the manicured, friendly trees of Central Park, but gnarled, shadowy things that whispered of forgotten things. Cowpie County. The name itself was an insult.
>Her phone, a lifeline barely clutching onto a single bar, felt like a dead weight.
>No Wi-Fi, no cafes, just... dirt. And trees. And the smell of something faintly resembling damp dog and wild mint.
>This was going to be the longest summer of her life.
>Unpacking was a blur of grumbling and tossing designer luggage onto creaking floorboards.
>The cabin was exactly as advertised: rustic. Which, in Grace's dictionary, meant "actively trying to repel human comfort." By noon, the sheer, crushing boredom had set in.
>She'd scrolled through her phone until her thumbs ached, tried to read a book, and even considered doing jumping jacks. Anything.
>"Fine," she muttered, kicking open the protesting screen door. "I'll explore your stupid forest, Cowpie County. See what thrilling adventures a girl can have in the sticks."
>She followed a barely-there path, the air growing thick and humid.
>The silence was unnerving, broken only by chirping insects she couldn't identify. Then, from somewhere just beyond a particularly dense cluster of thorny bushes, she heard it.
>A rapid, rhythmic thwack-thwack-thwack, followed by a series of high-pitched, almost squealing giggles. It sounded… feral. And close.
>Hesitantly, Grace pushed aside a low-hanging branch. Her eyes, accustomed to the artificial glow of screens, struggled to adjust to the dappled light. And then she saw it.