Contessa dragged herself down to the Great Lake, plopping down by the tree, leaning against it. She had dropped her schoolbag down next to the spot. She picked up her parchment and quill, dipping it into her inkwell. She swished it a little but soon got distracted by the lake, watching it. She sighed and stared across the waters. Images of what could be under the water played across her mind. She kept swishing her quill into her inkpot as she daydreamed. Her parchment got a little wrinkled every time she moved but she seemed to not notice.