The island was a wreck after the war. All of the grown had been sent to their deaths except one. The Professional. Left behind to tend to the wounded and maintain the equipment, he had managed to escape the wrath of the Jackals. The last grown, left behind with the children of those he had known. The last who knew of their past and could help them prepare for the future. It was too bad that he had come to absolutely despise the children. After the war had ended, there was no time for mourning. The war had been going on for so long, that it was all the survivors had known. The idea of rebuilding was a foreign idea but one necessary to tackle. They wouldn’t survive an encounter with the frost shepherds in the state they currently were in. There was much to do, but it wasn’t impossible. With a lot of time and hard work, things would turn around for the group. Mentally prepared, the Professional turned around, ready to work with the survivors towards a better future, only to be met with a long and hard chorus of ‘I don’t want to’ and ‘why should I’ from the children. It was understandable. He was once their age and felt the same way they did. They were only children, who were brought into a harsh environment since their birth. They grew up without guidance, doing all they could to survive while the grown were out fighting. It was just how they were. When he had a chance, he would have to teach them otherwise, but securing resources for survival would come first. After surveying the wreckage, The Professional discovered three things. First, the island was in a worse state than he had expected. The flora and fauna had been poisoned and rendered almost inedible as a result. The surrounding waters were in a similar state, unusable without processing. The only thing left were the tents. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. It would provide a temporary shelter until they could develop something more substantial. Within the first few weeks, things were moving along pretty well for the one man band. As the children wandered around exploring more of their surroundings, the Professional was hard at work. It was a blur of setting up tents, developing a furnace, and repairing tools as necessary. By the end of it, a tent city had emerged by the coast. The Professional looked back with pride, with a newly finished chainsaw in hand. It had taken a lot of work but things were looking pretty good! Ready for his first night of rest after a hard few weeks, the Professional left his perch to head back to town. As he neared the coast, he heard a sudden crash. Worried, he hastened his pace. As he neared the clearing, the sound of destruction rose in volume. A rush of air blew past him. Dazed, he looked back and saw— The Professional couldn’t believe his eyes. He must’ve been exhausted and had begun to hallucinate. There was a giant Alaskan bull worm making its way into the forest. On top of its head was one of the children. The Professional asked around to try and figure out what happened, but it was to no avail. The children were a mass of screams, cries, and cheers of excitement. The place was a mess. They Luke Degnan Needs a real title! rushed after the Alaskan bull worm like a moth after a flame, attracted by the intrigue it brought. As they scrambled to catch up and watch what would happen to the child on its head, the Professional was left behind. From what he could gather from the various shouts was the same repeated name, “Jared.” He must’ve been the one on top of its head. The whole thing felt surreal. Alaskan bull worms weren’t even native to this location.. He had no clue how the kids had found one. Coming out of his daze, the Professional recalled the size of the bull worm and looked back to see what damages had been done. He turned back and his jaw dropped. Somehow, someway, every tent had remained intact. Except his. A depressing pile of broken poles and burnt tarps replaced his would be place of rest. It was frustrating, but he couldn’t bring himself to hate Jared. After all, it couldn’t have been his fault could it? These thoughts lingered in the back of his mind. Try as he might, his resentment began to build. After all he had done, this was how he was repaid? How could the universe be so cruel to allow this fate upon him? He was quickly met with an answer. The children had returned to the camp, Jared in tow. He was struggling to tame the bull worm, but it seemed to have taken a liking to him. While it wasn’t explicitly listening to what he was trying to tell it to do, it wasn’t trying to throw him off its head anymore as well. The Professional shook his head in disbelief and warned Jared to be careful. Even if he had destroyed his home, Jared was still only a kid. Jared shrugged it off and continued on his own mission with the bull worm. The Professional sighed and sat down in front of his would be home. There was so much to do. It was too much for one person. The kids, bored by their new predicament and not realizing the danger they were in, began to pick fights within each other. The Professional ignored it to take a few moments for himself. After everything, all he wanted was to lay down for a few seconds and close his eyes. He laid his head down on the grass and let sleep take him in. As the darkness slowly lulled him in, he was jolted awake by another crash. If it was the bull worm, he had had enough. It seemed to be under Jared’s control the last time he saw the duo. Or at least, enough that it shouldn’t destroy anything else on purpose. The sound was probably irrelevant. Something that could be dealt with after a quick nap. The Professional turned around once more to shut his eyes. Only to be met with another thud. He slowly opened one eye. And was met with an eye in return. Shocked by the sudden gore, the idea of sleep departed his mind. What had happened? It had been less than a day since the bull worm incident, this was insanity. He made way towards the forest to take cover and figure out what was going on. From what he could pick up, something had come through their community and destroyed everything in its path. It was a familiar scene. One the Professional thought he would never encounter again. The screams and cries of pain from the past were returning, echoing through his mind. It was. Just. Too. Much. The grass was quickly stained with red as the turmoil continued. A child was flung back, impaled by the shard of ice. A shard of ice? The Professional rushed to their side hoping to understand what had taken place. With their last dying breath, the child whispered to him, “That’s a you issue...” and passed peacefully. The Professional looked at them in disbelief. Even in death, they continued to be an aggravating enigma. A blast of ice came from above. Narrowly avoiding his own death, The Professional looked up. The sunlight was blinding, but it was unmistakable. There was an ice dragon circling the island. It didn’t make sense. Ice dragons weren’t known to inhabit tropical climates. Why would it migrate over from the Island of Ice? The Professional looked back at the children. No. Not children, but brats. They must have provoked it in their boredom. It was a ridiculous notion, but there was no other explanation. For a moment. Only for a moment, the Professional considered abandoning the community. The trouble they attracted would only get worse as the seasons passed.