Harold grumbled to himself as he made his way through the forest, his eyes flicking from side to side at the sounds of twigs breaking every now and then.  He figured it was probably just deer, or squirrels, or some other forest animal, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being followed, watched.  Stopping for a moment to give his leg a rest, he shifted his duffel bag higher onto his shoulder, reaching down to rub his leg through the brace.  Ever since a car accident years ago, his leg was always in near-constant pain; sometimes just a dull ache, other times he could barely stand.  And if it wasn't for the brace, one he had design and put together himself, he would have been limping along, leaning heavily on a cane, instead of being able to walk almost normally.<br/><br/>The pain dying down thanks to the short rest, he let out a sigh and continued on his way.  "Just what the hell were mom and pop thinking, sending me out here on my own?  Telling me this supposed camp will be good for me, that it'll prepare me for a life in the real world.  I'm already prepared!  I'm eighteen for fuck's sake!"  Noticing a break in the trees up ahead, he started to walk faster, brace jangling noisily as he hurried.  Exiting the treeline, he noticed a large hill up ahead, and beyond it, he could hear the sounds of people walking around, talking, smoke curling up into the air, the smells of food making his stomach gurgle.  "Finally, it's about..freakin'...ti-whoa..."  Pushing himself up to the top of the hill, he stopped and stared in amazement at the scene before him.  This was not the kind of camp he was expecting.  People were milling about, scurrying to cabins situated around the camp.  His eyes widened as he saw what looked like someone with the body of a horse, with the torso and head of a man attached to it.  "Nah, can't be.  Probably just some dude on a horse, and my eyes are playing tricks on me."<br/><br/>Slowly making his way down the hill, he walked into the camp, the noise of his leg brace announcing his presence.  His head moved this way and that, taking everything in, eyes wide in amazement.  He saw people fighting with swords and spears, others wearing what looked like breastplates and helmets.  And he found himself stopping suddenly, his duffel bag falling to the ground as he gaped at what he could now tell was definitely a centaur.  "No..fucking..way.  This can't be real.  Yeah, I must have tripped, and hit my head on a rock, or passed out from hunger or something.  This has to be a dream."