It was an another hot summers day. It was hot enough for most of the campers to be outside in the cool water of the lake.. most of them anyways.

In the shadow of a tall pine tree, sitting on the cooled rocky beach was a boy of 15, almost 16. The near obnoxious orange of the CHB shirt looked almost out of place on the boy with wiry black hair and pale but freckled skin. In his hair were two, quite hidden purple butterflies that you could only see if you perhaps ran your hands through it, unsettling them. He had one more on his finger and he seemed to be whispering something to it absentmindedly in French...