The men kept up a light dialogue in front of her which 177 paid little attention to. Her eyes were taking in the vehicle, studying it, learning it. A car was hardly an ideal place for a violent encounter, though, at the same time, the cramped quarters made her size something of an advantage. She wanted to look inside the briefcase but felt that would not go over well. She had already displayed too much intelligence to play the mute fool. She studied the word “professor”, running a finger over the lettering. A professor hardly seemed the sort to kill for sport- but she had visions of her friend chained in a laboratory somewhere, and that reminded her of her own experience and her hands had started to tremble before she pulled herself out of it with a violent shake.

They were pulling in to a filling station about then. The professor told Derrick he could call whoever he needed to.

“Honestly, I'm okay,” said Derrick. He pointed at Anna. “She's the one that has to be somewhere.” A stricken look of realization crossed his face, and more quietly, he added, “and of course I get my pay docked if she's too late...”

She got out of the vehicle when the other two did, crossing her arms beneath her breasts and studying the professor with a frown as he pumped gasoline. He had a good jawline, the outline of muscles beneath his clothes. She felt her tongue beginning to brush her upper lip before she forcibly stopped the act. Turning, she went into the shop and emerged a minute later with a bag of skittles and two Cokes. Derrick was talking to the professor again.

“...she doesn't have to go very far, but it'll be forever before I can get my car fixed, and if they have to call someone else to take my route I'll be in so much s**t...”

Anna drew near, slurping out of one of her Coke cans. Derrick looked abashed at her. “Hey, listen, I'm so sorry. They're gonna ask you to rate me and if my rating falls below 4.5 I-”

She held a palmful of Skittles out to him. He hesitated before stuffing them into his mouth. “Thanks.”

She shrugged and looked at the professor again. She had a fairly good guess of what Derrick had proposed while she was gone. And she had a fairly good idea of what she would do if she ever got him alone.

So.

All that remained was to see if he'd offer to drive her- and for her to accept, if he did.

Alistair Lane

A week passed.

Anna went back home and resumed her prowling of the city and odd jobs for Jack. Not that there were too many of those. That was okay, though. Her life had recently been completely transformed. The reason for this was called Uber.

It was magnificently simple. You took out your phone, you told them where you were and where you wanted to be, and within minutes, someone with a car appeared and drove you to that place. Utterly wonderful. She could hardly believe she lived in a place with such magic.

She'd never learned to drive, of course, unless you counted carts, having been born in a town that had no cars and run away to somewhere she didn't need them before being sold somewhere she couldn't use them. With Uber she didn't need to. She went to the mall, not to buy anything but simply to stand by and watch the people around her. After a while she had called Uber again to go home.

That was when everything went wrong. The car hit something: there was a pop, a scraping, and a shower of sparks, and her driver pulled over and got out of the vehicle. Anna got out to see. One of the tires was flat.

“F***!” said her driver. “F***! I don't know how to fix this.”

Anna looked at him blankly. She didn't know either (she was pretty sure she'd seen the wheel changed on a cart once, but that wasn't the same).

“F***!” said her driver again. “F*** f*** f***!”

Anna began to believe she would not be learning new English vocabulary from this driver.

“F***, I'm so sorry,” said the driver, looking at Anna. “Look, I'll... figure something out. You're okay, right? Please tell me you're okay.”

Anna nodded.

“I'll call someone,” said the driver. “F***! Can you wait a minute?”

Anna nodded, got back in the car, and went back to browsing Instagram. There were many pretty pictures here and she liked them.

She heard the other car pull up behind them and glanced out the window to see a man- tall, dark, bearded- getting out of another car. She looked, and then she looked again. The man was quite pleasant to look at. She kept looking. She heard his offer to drive them a little onward and her eyes narrowed. Unable to travel... a man and a woman alone on the side of the road... they might be tempting prey. She studied the man again, not seeing any telltale signs of concealed weapons, only strong shoulders and arms beneath his sleeves. His face was warm, friendly. She couldn't get a scent through the overpowering smell of automobiles.

Her driver opened the door. “Hey!” he said. “So this guy says he can drive us up to the next exit- you wanna do that? It'll be easier to call and we aren't as likely to get hit-” A truck zoomed by, far too close, as if to drive home the point.

Anna unbuckled her seatbelt and got out of the car, the shortest of the three. Much shorter than the man. “I'm Derrick,” said her driver, holding out his hand. “This is Anna, she's mute.” Anna nodded once and, after a moment, extended her hand. Her face was expressionless except for a slight narrowing of the eyes as she studied the newcomer.

@ali

A smile covered her face as 177 continued to pet and stroke the creature, and as it seemed to like it. She heard it sniffing her and felt its breath on her neck, yet she wasn't frightened by the creature's size or its proximity. In its eyes she could see curiosity. It knew humans, she now understood, had spent time around them, was used to them. Perhaps had even loved them. She wondered at this creature's story, at this time and powerful and beautiful beast, and how it had come to be here, alone, seeking food at abandoned campsites. She wondered if it would follow her home. She wondered, humorously, if Jack would let her keep it.

While she was still stroking its fur (rich fur, wonderfully soft fur) it pulled away from her and looked once again at the two trees where she had hung her food. She had almost forgotten what had drawn it to her in the first place. It leaped to the top of the rock and she leaped after it, following it down to stand below the sack swaying slightly in the breeze. It looked up at the sack, clearly expectant.

Now she had a problem. Being friendly to an animal was one thing, but feeding it was something entirely different. It was already tame, already used to being fed by humans; if she reinforced its behavior she would only be causing more trouble for campers in the future. A creature this large who came to campsites seeking food was not merely an annoyance; it was dangerous, both for the creature and for any campers who might be nearby. Far better if it was afraid. Yet she was sure it was too late to revive an animal's natural fear of human beings. Hmm. Dangerous. Creatures like this were the sort that were shot by park rangers sooner or later.

Such were the arguments against feeding the creature. Yet at the same time she felt a tug of pity for it. It was clearly out of place in these woods, so clearly used to a more comfortable life. A thought struck her- did it even know how to hunt? Surely in the environment where it must have been raised there would have been little need for the skill. Suppose it didn't. Suppose it couldn't. Suppose that food that couldn't run was its only source of meat, that it went for food prepared by humans because it lacked the skills to hunt something wild. What then?

She studied the creature again, paying careful attention to its physique. It didn't look starved. But how long had it been out here? Its fur was clean, lacking knots and mats despite its length. That was surely not a sign of long wildness. The picture began to fall into place: Some rich owner, desiring a large cat, finding themselves possessed of one too large to care for, releasing it into the wild, leaving a friendly, confused beast to seek food the only place it had ever known how to get it from- from humans.

Yes. That would explain everything. And it put the creature's request in a new light. She couldn't simply agree- that would be instilling in the beast bad habits. Yet, viewed like that, she could not refuse the beast, either. She needed something else- some way of teaching it that it must chase and catch its meat, not steal from humans.

She glanced up at the bag and at the creature again. A potentially very foolish idea was growing in her head. But if she was right about this creature (and she felt that she had to be), then someone had to do it eventually, or else the creature would have to be shot. Everything in her rebelled against that. It was too beautiful of a creature to shoot. Yet it had to be taught that meat came running on four legs, not in campsites. Anything else was too dangerous to campers. And for what she had in mind, there was perhaps no one more qualified.

Stepping in front of the creature she put a finger on its nose. Wait. Turning, she climbed the tree, reeling in the bag. There was meat in it- and something else. The deer's hide, nearly intact. And rope was not a problem.

She was up in the tree for a minute or two. At the end of that time something jumped down out of it. It smelled of venison and wore a deer's hide crudely tied to it. It moved low, almost on all fours, brown hair falling down around its shoulders, fresh meat tied to its torso.

It gave a whistle to get the attention of the creature. Then it rushed off into the woods.

Alistair Lane

As she walked forward, she realized, suddenly and without any warning, how what she was doing might be confusing for the creature. To appear in fire and smoke, to try and scare it, then to follow seconds later with calls and gestures of kindness- the creature might be extremely confused. The realization made her pause, yet a moment later she knew she had to proceed. Had she frightened the beast, she reasoned, it would have run; had she angered it, it would have attacked. It had done neither, and on that basis her curiosity was roused enough that she must see the matter to conclusion.

She moved forward, rounding the rock, and suddenly she was face to face with the creature. Up close, she had time to be awed and startled yet again at the size of the creature. She stared, a feeling of wonder sweeping over her anew. The thing's face was incredibly expressive. She could almost read its uncertainty. It made a noise like a person trying to decide between two options. How to reassure it? She smiled, careful not to show teeth in a way that might be a threat. She held out a hand, back of the palm facing the thing's nose, the way you did with a normal cat. Let it smell you. Let it recognize you are not a threat.

She took a deep breath, catching the scent of the beast herself. A deep smell, a musky and feline but not entirely unpleasant smell. She glanced down at the beast's paws and saw massive, knifelike claws. Deadly claws. It must be used to being the top predator everywhere it went. Yet it didn't seem aggressive. A friendly beast, despite its claws and size. Hardly- the thought crossed her mind- hardly like a wild animal at all. Yes, perhaps that was it. A tamed beast, raised in happiness by some rich owner, now released back into the wild. Used to humans, with none of the innate fear of them wildness placed on a thing. She studied it, the curious expression, the worried posture. Yes. That must be it. Tamed.

Something impelled her forward again, just another inch. A force she barely understood, wonder and awe mingled with curiosity, impelled her to move forward. To know this beast. To touch this beast. She had no voice, no way to speak reassuringly to the thing, no way to hum a relaxing tone. All she could do was relax her shoulders, her arms, adopt a posture that was not a threat, and slowly, ever so slowly inch forward until she could touch its muzzle. In touch there was a reassurance she could not form with words, a way of saying, I'm okay, you're okay on the deepest of levels. If she could touch, she thought, she could tell it she meant no harm if it did not. Could tell it she had only been trying to protect her food supply. Could tell it she wanted to be friends.

Alistair Lane

The woods had been black and green and gray. Black for the rich earth, for the shadows under the trees. Gray for the misty sky she had spent the morning walking under, leaving human habitation behind. Green for the leafy branches she had built her makeshift shelter out of and laid down to go asleep under.

It was really Cory that had inspired her trip. The other girl's tales of native heritage, the way she had cast the natural beauty of this nation as almost spiritual, had struck a chord in 177. Not that she regarded herself as a spiritual person, but she had realized that her view of this nation had been entirely skewed towards the urban: San Francisco, and that trip with Jack to New York. There was a vast, untouched world out there, as lonely as the tundra of her native Russia, and she suddenly found herself longing to visit there.

It was no problem, really. She packed a map and a blanket and a cooking pot and some rope and a large hunting knife and a compass and book of matches and a pistol with two extra clips. She knew how to live off the land and didn't regard the prospect of catching and cooking her own food as daunting. Even the compass was only a precaution; her own senses gave her the same information. Getting out of her Uber at the roadside, she studied the map and stretched out her magnetic senses before picking a path and slowing beginning to pick her way through the trees.

She spent a wonderful afternoon. She made sure to walk silently and after a while the birds and squirrels almost forgot she was there. She sneaked up on a fox at one point, and the two hunters stared at each other in surprise before the fox dashed off into the bushes. She smiled in delight. It had been a beautiful creature. Sunlight filtered through the trees put a green sheen on everything, and that was beautiful too.

As the afternoon rolled on she checked her watch and decided she had found a good enough place to stop for the night. Evergreens near her provided branches for shelter and a bed to lay on; she climbed the trees to pluck the best branches she could find. Some of the branches were wide enough to sleep on, but it would be more comfortable to make her own bed.

Once her campsite was established there was the small matter of finding food. A river ran at the bottom of the hill nearby and she walked downstream until she found deer tracks. Deer would want an area with more ground cover, which meant a place with thinner trees. Climbing one, she located an area and sniffed the air until she thought she detected a telltale scent. She had barely walked halfway there when the doe leaped up from hiding, white tail flashing like a flag. She caught it, of course. Deer were distance runners, and she could sprint faster than any predator. When she caught up her knife and gun stayed in their holsters. What followed was a battle of nail and strength. The outcome was never in doubt, but it was fairly won. In the end she put the creature out of its misery by breaking its neck. She stood over the deer, panting, a feeling of triumph rising in her. The hunting, the fight, the bringing down of prey with your own hands- god, it felt good. She felt alive, prominent, bigger then she had been since she awoke into this strange new world. Unable to resist any longer, she knelt beside the creature and slashed its throat open, drinking greedily. When she was done she emptied her water bottle and filled it as much as she could with blood. Putting the corpse on her shoulders, she began the walk back to her campsite, stopping only to clean herself off in the stream.

As evening fell she skinned and gutted the deer while her fire heated flat rocks to cook on. She cut the meat into thin strips to cook and dry faster and broke open some of the larger bones to pick out the marrow. The offal she buried a distance off, setting a rock on top of the spot. It was quite a lot of food and would keep her going for a few days.

Cooking took some time and it was full dark by the time she was done. Leaving the fire to burn itself out she wrapped the remaining meat and hung it between two trees at the edge of her campsite. After relieving herself, she went to bed, satiated and satisfied.

She wasn't sure what woke her. A huffing, a shuffling sort of noise. 177 lay awake on her bed of evergreens, listening. Yes, it wasn't her imagination. Something was moving outside. Something big. Quietly, very slowly, she pushed herself up and looked out between the boughs of her shelter.

And saw a monster.

She had no words, no name for the creature that stood outside. A thing of fur and tooth, looming and massive, taller than her, heavier than her many times over, sinew and blazing eye and legs that screamed strength, power. Her jaw nearly dropped. Never in her life, not in all of the reading she had done since coming here, had she heard, had she seen, had she even guessed the existence of such a creature. For a moment all she could do was stare, equal parts awe and horror. What power! What majesty, in such an enormous creature, king of all beasts! For a moment she even felt frightened. She, the weapon that feared no man, was suddenly frightened of the prospect of needing to do battle with this creature, wondered, for the first time, if there was a fight that she would lose. What a glorious beast!

She glanced next to her bed, where her gun lay, not yet loaded. She looked back at the creature. No, she thought. No, she could not shoot such a majestic creature. Not unless it was her life or its. It had not come to that yet. She might stay here and watch, and the animal might eventually go away.

Will it, though? she thought. You know the way of such creatures; when they find a scent they may choose to pursue it over days, miles. No doubt it had smelled her food hanging between the trees already. The precaution seemed laughable in the face of the sheer size of the thing. Yet she could not afford to be molested by it night after night. Best to scare it off now, if possible.

The wind shifted and she caught the thing's scent: an earthy, smoky smell, one that hardly smelled of blood, which surprised her. The thought made her realize she had been foolish to slaughter an animal right in her camp; it was no wonder it had attracted predators. Well, something to remember next time. For the time being she needed to see this beast scared off.

She waited a bit more, just for the wonder of it, for the sheer joy of watching something so mighty play at exploration, then, very carefully, quietly, she picked up her bedroll. She had been taught, as every Russian child was, how to deal with bears in her childhood, and it seemed like similar principles would apply. First, make yourself bigger. That seemed laughable, given how small she was, but the blanket thrown over her shoulders would fool an animal. Second, make noise. Seem frightening, intimidating. Realize it doesn't want to fight if it doesn't have to- make it realize you aren't worth the effort. Well. That she could manage.

She was ready. A jump, and she was outside her shelter. Her fingers were in her mouth, and she let out the loudest, sharpest, most piercing whistle that she could manage. The kind of whistle that cut through the night like a razor blade, echoed off distant rocks and back again. She liked it when she got a chance to use that whistle. Unable to speak, most people naturally associated quiet and silence with her. But a whistle, well, it didn't require any vocal chords, and she'd learned to make as much noise as possible with it. An instant later she threw her arms wide, blanket stretched between them, suddenly a much bigger creature to the eyes of a poor beast. And in her right hand she held the gun. Barrel pointed skyward, she fired three shots straight into the air. Smoke, fire, and thunder split the night.

She didn't want to hurt the beauty. But noise and lights to scare the thing off, that was simply good woodcraft.

Alistair Lane

She tool the proffered belt without protest, fastening it above her hips and bouncing a little on one foot to make sure they stayed in place. The shirt was fine, but if she had to fight the pants would get in the way. She found herself planning the best way to discard them if necessary before she stopped herself. No, this place was supposed to be safe. According to Jack, she wouldn't need to do that... at least, not as often as she had before.

Still, it never hurt to be prepared. She walked over to shelf where she'd hidden this room's weapon, took the combat knife from behind the weights, and rolled up her right pants leg to strap it to her calf. She didn't have a gun small enough to easily conceal but she hoped to get one from Jack soon.

She still felt strangely exposed and it took her a moment to realize why. Her head was bare. She didn't know why, but she didn't like the feeling of having her head exposed. It discomforted her in a way she couldn't quite verbalize. Normally she would have simply put on her hat- but apparently Cory was in charge of her dress today.

Hoping to make her guardian for the day happy, she included an offer of weaponry when she typed on her phone and showed it to Cory.



Coryelle Wilde