"Children, how glad I am to see you again. I'm sorry that little incident occurred during our hike... That's why I've always told you how important it is to stay safe, especially in the forest. You never know when a branch, a rock, or something else might fall on your head." He was back. To the delight of the other students — and to the horror of Terkel and Jason, who thought Gunnar wouldn't survive after being hit on the head with a heavy iron crowbar. But here he was, with a bandage on his forehead covering his already partially healed wound, the same possum on his shoulder (though only two students in the class knew it was a different possum), stretching his thin lips into an impossibly sweet, syrupy smile, and writing the day's lesson topic on the board with chalk that squeaked. Gunnar was back. And that meant he wouldn't give up his attempts to avenge all those who mistreat little spiders and harm nature without a shred of conscience. "And despite what happened, I can't leave my students without the opportunity to engage with the natural world. That means we'll be going on another hike soon. But first, we'll focus on cleaning up the trash around the school grounds tomorrow after classes. This way, we'll tidy up the area, and stray animals won't get trapped. If only you knew how often innocent raccoons and hedgehogs get stuck in soda bottles or chip bags." Gunnar said these words in such a touching voice (the damn manipulator) that several girls sighed with admiration, seeing their teacher as the image of a perfect man. But was that really the case?