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Nikolaus Ivanov wrapped his hand about Christopher’s thin arm and ran. Holding one hand up to conceal his eyes, he pulled his protesting friend along with him and left the laughing students behind. The malicious hilarity echoed into the hall, following the two boys as they ran. Christopher attempted to stop, but Nikolaus only tightened his grip and ran faster. They did not stop even when Mr. Owens, the high school counselor, shouted, “Halt!”

Nikolaus but tugged sharply on Christopher's arm and increased the pace.

Mr. Owens tried again. “Hey, Ivanov...” he called, “and you too, Connery... stop right now! Stop, I said!” When they continued to run, he resorted to bellowing loud enough to echo waves of sound off the corridor walls, “Hey! You get back here right this minute!”

Out the front doors and down the steps they ran. Nikolaus was a good runner and he knew it, which was why he was running now. Who there at the school would be able to catch him after all? He could out run them all. It would simplify matters if he could get out of sight and teleport, but he couldn’t do that and get Christopher out of there at the same time without Christopher finding out about him. So instead, he was dragging a slower runner along with him and that could prove to be a problem. Christopher was not fighting him any longer; at least, but could never match his pace, and Nikolaus could already hear stress in his friend’s breathing.

They would all be safe if only Nikolaus could get far enough away. He tried to contain his anger, even though at great risk to himself, until he was at a safer distance; but all his control was not enough to stop the windows from blowing out of the school building behind them. Even so, maybe it had been enough to protect those within. Those fools who didn’t know any better than to tease someone like him and, worse yet, to torment a friend of his.

Once concealed within the woods surrounding the Columbia Falls, Montana high school campus and near where the path branched in the direction of Christopher's house, Nikolaus released the other boy with instructions to: “Go home and stay away from the school, Chris. Don’t go back there today.” Nikolaus turned away to run again.

Sucking in great gulps of air, Christopher said, “Wait! My God, Niko! What was that back there?”

Nikolaus did not pause.

“Nikolaus!”

Ignoring the frustration and something a lot like anger in his friend’s voice, Nikolaus ran on. He didn’t dare take a bus for the harm he might do. He was too hot from the anger boiling around inside him. Besides, he was well able to run the distance to the outskirts of their small town and up the mountain road to his parents’ home.

Outside of town, he scanned the area for anyone nearby. Finding naught but animal life, he increased his speed till he became a blur, his legs churning and shrub limbs tossing in his wake. He knew without looking fallen leaves and road dust swirled up in small whirlwinds behind his heels. He had the gift of wind’s swiftness in his heritage.

Up the winding road he sped, only slowing to enter the shady lane to his home. He sighed in relief as anger leached from him and drained into the ground the moment he set foot on the dirt owned and cared for by his parents. No anger was allowed to survive here.

As the anger that sustained his extra output of energy drained away however, so did the energy. Fatigue washed over him in a breaking wave and he stumbled. Through the mist of weary eyesight, his front porch looked forever away.

Something sea green lifted on a fretful breeze, fluttered, and he knew his mother awaited him on the front steps. Being what she was, she would of course already know about the windows. As he drew near, he searched her face for anger or disappointment, but found nothing but concern.

Tall and slender, pale hair curling to her hips, Giselle Ivanov was a beautiful and magical mother. She was also a witch.

She opened her arms and he walked into them. Even as her arms closed about him, her healing hands sent pulses of energy and flooding warmth in deep to wash away the aftereffects of his exertions-- regulating his heartbeat and restoring the strength of his muscles.

“My poor darling Niko. This has been a difficult day for you.”