Aaron:
Ethan:
Thomas was lost. He had been lost for the past four hours. It had been a stupid idea in the first place. Not just the orienteering, but the whole trip in general. How the hell did he get himself stuck in this situation? Stuck in this country? He still could barely speak the language, not like these people had anything interesting to say anyway. Thomas looked at his orienteering map again. He couldn't find the next control, and even if he did, he had no idea where he was in relation to it. He crumpled up the map and threw it, the wind carrying it four feet before it landed. Thomas got up and started walking. If he had set his mind to it he could have easily found his way, but Thomas was childish and stubborn. He was one who would prefer to wander aimlessly rather than problem solve, which made orienteering the worst possible choice for a hobby.
After another hour of walking in circles, Thomas came upon a small clearing. Standing in the middle of the clearing was an old man dressed in a trenchcoat and brimmed hat. Thomas stopped. The area in which the race was taking place was supposedly deserted. And Thomas hadn't seen the man at the start. He called out to the man, and the man slowly turned and began walking towards him. "You know where we are, mate?" Thomas called out agian. The old man did not answer. "You speak English, you bloody old fart?" The man continued to move closer to Thomas, until he was standing next to him, less than a foot apart. "What the hell do you think your-" The old man slapped Thomas across the face. "Du lat Engelsk son av en hyndan!" Thomas fell to the ground. "Stå upp med min land!" Thomas curled up into a ball as the man began to kick him repeatedly. When the kicking finally stopped, Thomas looked up. The man was gone. He could hear someone's voice in the distance, "Thomas! Var er du, du mike lteif?" Thomas got up and walked towards the voice.
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