Despite being bold and cocky by day, Ghent was a nervous wreck by night.
	With his mind working overtime, it didn't take long for him to become paranoid. What if a shadowmire followed him? Did the sorceress know where he was? Maybe coming home had been a bad idea. Every thought morphed into several more, each worry had ten others tacked onto it.
	[i]I can't believe I agreed to this.[/i]
	Now close to 3:00, Ghent gave up on the idea of sleeping. Henry, believing himself an expert on getting up early, decided that 'dawn' was around 4:30. If that was the case, only an hour and thirty minutes separated Ghent from leaving the apartment for what may have been the last time.
	Understandably, the realization was troubling. Ghent told his parents goodnight, not goodbye. They had no idea that they would wake up to find their son gone. After all the couple did to raise him, Ghent was leaving them without so much as a note of explanation. It felt cowardly, and it felt wrong.
	Burdened with guilt, Ghent turned on his side, listening to the light, gentle pattern of the rain falling. Pulling an all nighter probably wasn't his greatest idea, but even if he'd wanted to rest, he couldn't. There was too much to think about.

	Additional sounds of the city filtered through the old building with ease. Every time a car sped past, Ghent could have sworn Henry twitched or moved in his sleep. The poor kid wasn't used to the city yet. 
	Thinking back to the escaped shadowmire, Ghent dared to move from the safety of his blankets in order to lock the window. The action wouldn't have been enough to ensure their safety -- the horrible creatures practically appeared from nothing -- but it made him feel better. 
	 Involuntarily, Ghent shivered at the memory of the monsters before chastising himself for such cowardliness. If he couldn't survive a night in his own room, how could he ever hope to tough out Wonderland? 

	Running a hand through his hair, Ghent glanced to the clock for the fifteenth time that night.
 	Time was ticking. Did he tell Henry too much, or not enough? Should he wake him up? Conflicted, Ghent approached the cot, seconds away from waking his cousin before deciding against it. Henry had enough on his plate.
	Failing to suppress a yawn, Ghent crawled back into bed, more tired than he realized. 
	Eventually, sleep won him over, but it didn't last. The sound of a barking dog was enough to startle Ghent awake. Blinking blearily, the world came into view, and so did his room. [i]The sun was rising.[/i]
	Memories of the Wonderlanders flooding back to him, Ghent practically tripped over his own feet as he scrambled out of bed. If he was late, he'd never hear the end of it. Somehow, he got the feeling his comrades didn't tolerate tardiness. 
	Throwing on what was closest -- which happened to be a dark red t-shirt and black jeans, Ghent stepped into his sneakers (there was no time to retie the laces), grabbed his backpack, and slipped out of the room. 
	In the hall, he slowed, listening for any signs of life. To his relief, no one was awake. [i]So far, so good.[/i]
	Moving slowly, he only stopped to fix the frame on the wall . . . 
	and then it fell.
	"Oh, shoot!"
	Ghent clasped a hand over his mouth. How many times had he fixed that photo in the past? Three hundred times? Four? What were the odds of it falling now? Was this a sign? The timing couldn't have been worse. 
	Kneeling, Ghent retrieved the photograph from the floor. The glass only suffered a small crack. 	
	Giving an aggravated sigh, he stood again to hang the picture back up. To his relief, the frame remained on the nail, but it was crooked. Though it pained him to do so, Ghent had to leave without adjusting it. 	
	Hopefully, the racket hadn't been enough to wake the household. 
	Taking care not to make a sound, Ghent crept towards the front door, mildly impressed by his own show of stealth. After he unlocked the door, he pulled it open, hesitating in the doorway. [i]This was it.[/i]
	With one long, solemn look towards the place they'd called home, Ghent turned to leave. Contrary to any doubt Elayra may have had in him, he was on his way to fulfill his promise.

	The weather was colder than Ghent anticipated. The sun hadn't graced the city with any amount of warmth yet, but it wasn't enough for him to dig through his backpack for the hoodie he'd packed. Time was of the essence.
	Breaking into a run, Ghent kept on the sidewalk until he crossed the road so that he might reach the park. 	
	What if they left? Was he too late? What if he'd dreamed the events of yesterday?
	Reaching up, Ghent pressed near his rib cage, finding that the pressure hurt. [i]Definitely not a dream.[/i] He hadn't imagined his fight with Drust.
	By the time Ghent reached the shack, he was out of breath and disheveled in appearance. Sneakers soaked, he started to approach the shelter, doing his best to appear alert in case Drust was staked out again. 
	"Um...hello? Guys? I'm here...as we agreed."