☀ S E A S O N 1: Chapter 1

Just like that, it happens.

One morning, you wake up and think to yourself: Holy shit. I've lived here for three weeks.

It's true. After the first week, when CARRIE was missing, and the second week, which most of you spent recuperating from your wounds...

Things really went down the shitter.

"I'm up!" MOUSE shrieks as a blaring alarm tears through the building at 6am. "I'm up! OW!" She hits her head on the ceiling so hard that she walks around with a bandage for the rest of the day.

Privately, many of the parolees are starting to feel like they'd rather take their chances with the centaurs.

CARRIE's leadership style is certainly... different than CHAMP's. Suddenly, there are 6am alarms, cleaning hours where you scrub the entire House down to every last toilet, and mandatory bunk and dorm checks. Curfew is enforced harshly. At 9pm sharp, it's lights out, and if you creep into the hallway even to use the restroom, CARRIE appears behind you like she's doing her best BUNNY impression.

She seems entirely determined to get life at the park back to normal. Only recently, two new parolees arrived on the bus -- CHARLIE and ANGEL. ("Haha!" said CHAMP, "CHARLIE's angels!") They got the normal Pinefallow orientation, the one that the other parolees were robbed of: they were immediately given ambrosia, the treaty was explained to them, and they were given the rest of the day to relax and acclimate.

On the first morning of the third week, after the wake-up alarm, all of the parolees are called down into the living room for a House meeting. You stumble bleary-eyed down the stairs. SNEAKY clings to PAPRIKA's ankle in a dead sleep.

CARRIE and CHAMP are ready, up and at 'em, perfectly dressed and somehow wide awake at this time of the morning. TOBY stands politely behind them, his expression vaguely apologetic. KEN is draped over an armchair, looking perfectly human, since you haven't had your morning ambrosia yet.

"We know that your introduction to Pinefallow wasn't... ideal," CARRIE says. It's strange, how she addresses crowds; it's not very... leaderly. Her spine is ramrod straight and she never seems comfortable. "CHAMP came up to me yesterday to talk about how we could make things easier on you... and I couldn't agree more. We need a semblance of normalcy and order."

CHAMP smiles and gives you all a thumbs up!

CARRIE continues, "That's why chores will be assigned this morning, and responsibilities will begin immediately. Remember that these chores are the entire reason why you were brought here, so don't cut corners. Punishments include confiscation of entertainment, reduction of leisure time, extra chores, less appetizing meals, or time spent at the Manor."

CHAMP's smile has frozen on his face.

"The chore list is posted on the bulletin board in the front hall," CARRIE says. "If you have any questions, CHAMP will be glad to help. Hurry up -- the sun's going to rise soon."

CHAMP rubs his face, and then slowly trails after her, exiting the room.

ROWEN looks at KEN. "What's the Manor?"

KEN snores loudly. The parolees look amongst themselves. MARTHA emerges from beneath the armchair and nips his ankle hard. He yelps.

“Jeez -- alright alright, I’m up. Thanks, MARTHA."

`"QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK."

“I am NOT a slacker! Nobody gets up this early besides roosters."

"KEN," ROWEN repeats. "What's the Manor?"

KEN yawns, rubbing his eyes. "It's that cabin that you guys stopped by in the forest. It's under all the same treaties as the House, so it's perfectly safe from creatures, it's just a real drag. If you really piss 'em off you'll have to spend some time out there, but it's never supposed to be more than 24 hours. Like time out. Problem is that I had sooome... behavioral complaints right before you arrived, and so I was out there when CARRIE got kidnapped, which is why I couldn't get back into the Yard -- I was temporarily taken off the House treaty. And the treaty itself's in the Attic -- that's why on week one I asked some of you to... uh... borrow it. I was hoping to edit myself back in. CHAMP wouldn't do it because he's such a goody-two-shoes; he's 'not supposed to.' Only CARRIE." At the expression on the parolees' faces, he hastens, "But all's well that ends well! Yeah? I mean, she's a swell chick. Like, she's great. If you get to know her. Yeah?"

Someone in the crowd groans.

One by one, the parolees shuffle off toward the entry hall, as if walking to the electric chair. They pass under the rows of ripped-up and half-destroyed portraits, sallying forth to discover their fates.

Between all of the magick and discoveries, you'd half-forgotten that you're actually expected to work here.

You swiftly realize how much labor there is to do at the park. Although animal care and gardening and organizing files can be fun, it's also grueling when you do it for ten hours per day. You go to sleep sweaty and aching, and then the alarm blares at 6am for you to do it all over again.

Over the course of the next days, your nerves begin to fray. Not only is the work hard and the sleep poor -- not to mention the lack of privacy -- but with CARRIE around, many of your small pleasures have been ruined. If she spots you with one of TOBY's contraband cell phones, she snatches it out of your hands; if you're chatting too much on the job, she comes by and shoots you a cold look until you go back to work. It's like living with the world's worst hall monitor. There's been no time whatsoever to sneak off for some investigation or fun -- nor, you note, any sign of dark, cloaked intruders.

Before long, everybody is snapping at each other for the smallest of offenses. Even SNEAKY and MARTHA seem affected by the shifts, tousling over scraps of food like they're starving Dickensian orphans.

Then a moment comes at dinner where PAPRIKA says something snarky, and KODY's head jerks up so quickly, his nostrils flaring so hard, that everyone's afraid he's about to grab another hog and swing. CARRIE stands up and slams her hands down on the table.

"What has gotten into all of you lately?!" she bellows. "Upstairs, everyone! Bed! Now!"

There's a moment of silence, before GRAHAM throws down his cutlery with a clatter. He snatches up three bread rolls, crams one into his mouth, and storms out of the room. Slowly, the parolees gather themselves up and head to their dorms, dinner half-eaten.

TOBY isn't entirely surprised when he heads down the hallway an hour later and hears hushed voices from inside the dorms.

He definitely hears something about CARRIE. CHAMP's thrown in there for fun. Ooh, there's his own name! None of it very flattering. He truly can't blame them.

He glances down the hallway, left and right. It's dark, with dim moonlight filtering in through the hall window. Lights out came early tonight. He can't help but wish that CARRIE could find a better tool for resolving conflict than the iron fist.

Either way, no one seems to be coming now -- not even MARTHA's distinctive plaps. That duck hates him -- probably more than she hates anyone else in the House. Most of his trousers have duck-beak holes nipped out of the arse. Luckily, she's probably curled up in the dog bed CARRIE keeps in her bedroom.

Satisfied that there's no one to catch him in the act, he approaches the first dorm, gently rapping his knuckles on the door.

"Psssst," he whispers. "Rotten criminals. Spare a minute?"