A quick look in the mirror tells me I look as ridiculous as I feel.

But I figure I’ll look even more ridiculous if I freeze to death on my second full day in Alaska, so I ignore the feeling. Besides, if I end up getting really warm during my walk, I can take off the fleece layer—or so the online guide suggests, as sweat is the enemy up here. Apparently walking around in wet clothes can lead to hypothermia. So…just like everything else in this state.

Instead of texting her and interrupting one of her tests, I leave Macy a note telling her I’m going to explore the school grounds—I’m not foolish enough to actually wander out past the wall into the wilderness, where there are wolves and bears and God only knows what else.

Then I head out. As I walk down the stairs, I ignore pretty much everyone I come across—which is almost nobody, since most of the school is in class right now. I should probably feel guilty that I’m not, but to be honest, I just feel relieved.

Once I’m on the ground floor, I take the first outside door I can find and then nearly change my mind as the wind and cold all but slap me in the face.

Maybe I should have put on that extra layer after all…

It’s too late now, so I pull my hoodie up over my head and duck my scarf-covered face down into my parka’s high collar. Then I set out across the yard, despite the fact that every instinct I have is screaming at me to go back inside.

But I’ve always heard you’re supposed to start something how you plan to end it, and I am not going to be a prisoner inside the school for the next year. Over my dead freaking body.

I shove my hands in my pockets and begin to walk.

At first, I’m so miserable that all I can think about is the cold and how it feels against my skin, despite the fact that nearly every inch of me is covered in multiple layers.

But the more I walk, the warmer I become, so I up my pace and finally get the chance to start looking around. The sun rose about four hours ago—at nearly ten a.m.—so this is my first daylight look at the wilderness.

I’m struck by how beautiful everything is, even here on the campus grounds. We’re on the side of a mountain, so everything is sloped, which means I’m constantly walking up or down one hill or another—not easy, considering the altitude, but at least I’m breathing a lot easier than I was two days ago.

There aren’t a lot of different plants here right now, but there are a bunch of evergreens lining the various walkways and clustered at different points around campus. They’re a beautiful green against the backdrop of white snow that covers nearly everything out here.

Curious what it feels like—but not ridiculous enough to take off my gloves—I bend down and scoop up a handful of snow, then let it slip through my fingers just to see how it falls. When my hand is empty, I bend down and scoop up some more, then do what Flint said earlier and pat it into a ball.

It’s easier than I thought it would be, and it takes only a few seconds before I’m hurling the snow as hard as I can at the nearest tree on the left side of where the path forks ahead. I watch with satisfaction as it hits the trunk and explodes, before heading toward the path just beyond it.

But as I walk closer to the tree, I realize I’ve never seen anything like its dark, twisted roots. Huge and gray and gnarled together in a chaotic mess that looks like something out of a really bad nightmare, they all but scream for passersby to beware. Add in the broken branches and ripped-up bark off the trunk and the thing looks like it belongs in the middle of a horror movie instead of Katmere’s otherwise pristine campus.

I’m not going to lie. It gives me pause. I know it’s ridiculous to be repulsed by a tree, but the closer I get to it, the worse it looks—and the worse I feel about the trail it’s guarding. Figuring I’ve already pushed my comfort zone enough for one day just being out here, I veer toward the sun-dappled path on the right instead.

Turns out, it’s a good choice, because as soon as I make my way around the first bend, I can see a bunch of buildings. I pause to look at most of them from a safe distance, since class is in session and the last thing I want is to be caught trying to peek in through the windows like some kind of weirdo.

Besides, each cottage—and they do look like cottages—has a sign in front of it that names the building and says what it’s used for.

I pause when I get to one of the larger ones. It’s labeled Chinook: Art, and my heart speeds up a little just looking at it. I’ve been sketching and painting since I understood crayons can do more than color in coloring books—and part of me wants nothing more than to run up the snow-lined path and throw open the door, just to see what kind of art studio they have out here that I can work in.

I settle for pulling out my phone and taking a quick pic of the sign. I’ll google the word “chinook” later. I know it means “wind” in at least one native Alaskan language, but it will be fun to figure out which one.

I kind of want to know what all the words mean, so as I continue walking past the different outlying buildings—some larger than others—I snap a picture of each sign so I can look up the words later. Plus, I figure it’ll help me remember where everything is, since I don’t have a clue what rooms my classes are in yet.

I’m actually a little concerned about having too many classes out here, because what am I supposed to do? Run back to my room and get all these clothes on in between classes? If so, exactly how long are the passing periods here at Katmere? Because the six minutes I got at my old school isn’t exactly going to cut it.

When I reach the end of the scattered row of buildings, I find a stone-lined trail that seems to wind its way around the grounds to the other side of the castle. A weird sense that I should turn around settles across my shoulders—kind of like what I felt at the library last night—and I pause for a second.

But I know when I’m letting my imagination get the better of me—that tree back there really spooked me—so I shake off the feeling and head down the trail.

But the farther I get from the main building, the worse the wind gets, and I pick up my pace to try to stay warm. So much for getting too hot and taking off a layer like that website suggested. Pretty sure the threat of turning into a Grace-flavored Popsicle gets a little more real with every second that passes.

Still, I don’t turn back. At this point, I think I’ve circled more than half the grounds, which means I’m closer to the main castle if I keep going forward instead of heading back the way I came. So I pull my scarf a little more tightly around my face, shove my hands deep into my coat pockets, and keep going.

I head by a few more clumps of trees, a pond that is completely frozen over that I would love to ice skate on if I can manage to balance with all these clothes on, and a couple more small buildings. One is labeled Shila: Shop and the other says Tanana: Dance Studio over the door.