If you ever need to hide from wizards, you can’t beat a treehouse.
Its branches are as multi-dimensional as your body, which conceal your own limbs in the upper dimensions as effectively as their 3D branches conceal your body. Just lie down in the treehouse and keep quiet, and you’ve got time to think of how to get out of your current scrape.
My current scrape started with a flash of invisible light. I had been using my mystic sight in class to get added insight into the work, when I saw a flash off to my right. I turned, but saw nothing. I changed back to normal sight and was facing the window, looking at the nearby houses. Nothing special – then I saw smoke rising. OK, a fire. Fire Department would handle it. I didn’t think any more about it until I started home after school. I went by the magic house on the way home – that’s how I thought of it – and saw trucks. Lots of trucks. Fire trucks, ambulances, police cars . . . ad there, standing on the lawn, were a trio of girls in spellhammer uniforms, carrying their big war hammers.
The girls had tried to conjure something, and had blown it big time. I was in big trouble.
My psychic spoor was all over that magic circle – they would be tracking me down in minutes. I kept walking, averted my sight, and thought non-magical thoughts until I was around the corner. Then I bolted. I tried to cover my tracks mystically while running, which just led me to almost run into a tree. I got home, headed for the treehouse, and waited.
I needed to get away for a while, that was sure. I would leave a note for Mom, telling her not to worry, I was going camping. I would pack my knapsack with essentials – clothes, toothpaste, deodorant, . . . tent, sleeping bag. There was a place just outside of town the Scouts use – lots of trees in the next lot. Food – I’d need food. A week or so would let things calm down, then I could come back and explain to Mom what was going on.
I waited until dark, then a couple more hours to make sure, before I snuck in the back door.
Mom was waiting in the hallway, with a guy whose facial hair screamed “wizard”.
The girls had ratted me out from their hospital beds. Bitches.