This is so stupid, Alexandre thought, dead leaves crunching beneath his feet, the smell of dewy bark surrounding him. I guess this is what I get for trying to make friends with a bunch of 18-year-olds.  But Alexandre didn’t want his age to keep him from the full college experience. Despite the dean’s promise that the University of Montrant had many mature students in their undergrad programs, in the first week of being on campus, Alexandre hadn’t met anyone that wasn’t coming straight from high school. So, rather than commit himself to isolation, he decided to join a club. They called themselves a secret society even though they were advertising at the campus club fair. Yet, even the pseudo secrecy sounded fun to Alexandre. There were camping trips, woodland parties, and tours of the “dark underbelly” of campus – whatever that meant. Yet, as he walked further into the forest alone, he was beginning to feel like he made a big mistake. He hadn’t expected to be sent off on some sort of warped vision quest in chase of a legend as part of his initiation. He had spent enough time alone to last him a lifetime. And he had given up believing in magic long ago. Alexandre was in search of the legendary Baba Jaga who lived in the woods. Allegedly, a day’s walk from the school. The campus was full of legends of students who had visited her to get charms to pass exams or a love potion to slip to their crush. Alexandre didn’t believe any of the stories. But, having strapped a borrowed tent and sleeping bag to his pack riding on his broad shoulders, he wasn’t completely opposed to spending a night camping and returning with a tall tale of his own. Just as he thought this, he looked up to see the sun shrinking through the changing leaves of the forest, hiding behind ominous looking rain clouds. Shit. Alexandre thought. Mr Prepared, Mr vigilant protector of his own health, hadn’t thought to bring rain gear.  Subconsciously, Alexandre’s hand began rubbing his chest. The afternoon was already cool, and rain would make for a very unpleasant, and for Alexandre, dangerous overnight stay. He looked down at the ring he wore on his pinky finger, the one his sister had worn since she was thirteen.  She had intended to wear it for the rest of her life. It had been pneumonia that had removed the ring from her finger. Alexandre had gotten it too, after years of caring for her. But, he had a strong immune system, hers, weakened from years of illness could not recover. Still, the doctor had warned Alexandre that his lungs had been permanently damaged, and he needed to be careful. Alexandre was already wondering when it might be suitable to just go back to his dorm room when the path came to a fork. He put down his pack and pulled out his map. The map had a theatrical red X where the witch’s…