one minute back

<div align=center>It was late in the day, and the trip had taken longer than expected. The winter winds had riled up the ocean and it had thrown the ferry about like a toy ship in a bath tub. The sea didn't bother Jack, though and this place was even more exciting. He lifted the wicker basket he was holding up onto the desk, and dropped his luggage onto the ground next to him. The boy yawned, and stretched his arms above his head, he was weary from the trip, and his arms hurt from having to carry his bags around. He picked up a pen from the desk to fill out the form the woman sat there had given him. She handed him a key with a label that had his dorm number written on it. He wasn't sure how keen he was to share a room with someone else, that prospect worried him just a little. It wasn't that he was shy, it was just... Well.

Jack shook the thought from his head, everything would be fine. He'd try to settle in and make some friends, and if he couldn't make any friends he'd just have to make do with his own company. He smiled amiably at the secretary, and picked up the little wicker basket again. It wobbled, and complained as he lifted it again, gaining an odd look from the lady, though she didn't say anything. He stood there for a moment, trying to work out where to go next. If there was one useful thing about Ridley, it was his impeccable sense of direction. He seldom got lost, and if he did he could always get his way out of things.

The boy whirled round, and collided heavily with another student. He let out a yelp, dropped his things and stumbled backward a few steps, only just holding on to the little basket he was carrying. Another irritated squeak came from it, and Jack looked up at whoever he'd just crashed into. "I'm so sorry!" He frowned, "oh man, are you okay?"</div>

<div align=center>Jack stared, wide-eyed, confused. Had his head just fallen off? He rubbed his eyes and cleared his throat. It's rude to stare, a little voice told him. He glanced down to his feet, pretending not to notice. That was difficult, though, it wasn't often that you crashed into someone so violently that you knocked off his head. He seemed to be alright though, so Jack supposed everything was alright. Another irritated little squeak sounded from the basket he was holding, it wobbled a little and something rattled and clacked inside it. Jack lifted it up a little, carrying it with both arms instead of one. It was starting to get heavy and the constant movement coming from inside wasn't exactly helping him.

The boy he now stared in the face was perhaps one of the most unusual people he'd ever seen. His hair was snowy white, and long. Jack cleared his throat again, a small smile crossing his features when the strange boy introduced himself as Bran. That was a nice name, he thought. Much more exciting than his own. "Ah, it's nice to meet you. My name is Ridley." He held out a hand for Bran to shake. The basket rattled again, this time so violently that Ridley near enough dropped it. "Oh goodness!" He stumbled a little, though didn't drop it. That was the absolute last thing he wanted to happen.

It was too late, though. Apparently whatever was inside that basket wasn't happy about being almost dropped. Something crackled inside it, and a jet of bright orange flame caught the wicker, spreading fast and enveloping the basket too fast for Jack to do anything about it. The flames spread up the basket and lit his sleeve on fire, lighting the fabric up a bright orange, as well as his hand.</div>