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[It's a weird sort of deja vu to go to sleep in one's own bed only to wake up on the ground in the middle of some forest. His first instinct was to assume it was a hugely unfunny joke, and he picked himself up and groped around the closest trees, eyes clenched tightly.]

Very funny, guys! Now give me back my glasses before I end up hurting someone.

[He gropes at two of the nearest trees, trying to gather his sense of direction. He'd memorized every tree around the perimeter of the school for just this occasion. This one is as thick as one of the old oaks, but didn't have any of the telltale carvings he'd notched into the closest trees years ago. That means he's either out farther than he thought or that this isn't a prank at all.]

Whoever's out there, this isn't going to solve anything. [It can't be Mystique again. Mystique is dead.] We can talk about this. You don't have to put everyone into such a dangerous situation.

[There isn't any answer. That means worse things. Had there been an attack? Was he separated from everyone again? There's only one way to find out.]

Look, I don't know if anyone can hear me. But if you can and you're close by, please get back right now!

[He dares to open his eyes, for just a flash of information. A beam shoots out, splintering the tree in front of him and sending chunks of wood blasting out in all directions. Luckily, there hadn't been anyone standing there, though he was almost positive he'd seen a rabbit. And if he'd seen a rabbit, that rabbit wasn't alive anymore. It was a mistake to check at all.]

It's fine, Summers. [He coaches himself now that he assumes he's alone.] You've done this before. Just reach out to Jean and she'll come find you and everything'll work out again. Assuming she's all right. Jean, please be all right.

[When Scott had last been aware, he'd been somewhere near the deserts of Mexico. Where in Mexico, he couldn't be sure, though there'd certainly been enough heat and sand to last a lifetime. It simply made no sense to pass out and wake up in a snowpile, more underdressed than he'd been in the summer sun. It's an understatement to call Scott alarmed. He scrambled to his feet, ears straining for the sound of something other than the whistling wind of a cold breeze. It must have been the fight he'd had with Mystique. He'd obviously lost, and she'd had him shipped to a different corner of the globe instead. Is she planning to keep abandoning him in different places until the elements kill him outright? He doubts he'll last long in sub-zero conditions without even a blanket to insulate him.

No. Scott decides instantly that he isn't in the mood to die today. Nothing good comes from pessimism. He'd found people in the bowels of a foreign country before, and he'll just have to do it again here too. Judging by the temperature, there might at least be some Inuit family that might be willing to share their igloo.]

Hello? [He ventures a greeting cautiously, and dares to crack a single eye open to see if there's some sort of civilization nearby. The small gesture alone sends a bright red beacon ripping through the flurrying snow -- hopefully not into anyone's personal property. There seemed to be some manmade structures just off to the left of the snapshot image he'd gotten. It wasn't enough of a visual to notice the journal lying open at his feet, but he isn't really in much of a reading mood anyway.]

I-is... anyone there? [He tries it again, more assertive now despite the telltale shiver in his tone. If there's at least one house, then there has to be people somewhere. With people come options. Maybe they'll have a phone he can use to call the mansion and get help sent out, or perhaps they'd at least have a first-aid kit and would be nice enough to patch up whatever injury was causing that bone-deep pain in his shoulderblades. If nothing else, hopefully the people here speak English.]

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