March 28th
The strangest thing happened today. I was in the middle of talking to the kids about their math homework for the weekend and a feeling of dizziness and longing came over me. None of them seemed to notice anything, aside from me acting strange and it passed quickly enough. I distracted the kids, and the rest of the period went fine...but I overheard Wendy talking about something that sounded similar at lunch.
I didn’t ask her about it, she’s still upset she had to take on some of my recess supervision duty now that the garden club has started up again. It sure sounded the same.
If it happens again I’ll have to make an appointment with the Dr.

March 29th
Saturday today, no school. I went over there anyways to water the seedlings and check the soil. I ended up spending a few hours covering the soil with tarps and setting up this years compost bin.
On my way home I took the long way, through the forest. It was such a lovely day, and I just had to put off going out of the sun - it’s been such a long winter. I was about halfway home when I saw a boy I recognized from the high school, he had a robin in his lap that looked wounded. I asked him if I could help, but he seemed off somehow and wouldn’t let me see.
I wish he’d let me help, the poor thing looked so small and broken.

March 30th
I spent today at home, working on my own garden. Seeing how much there was to do at the school yesterday reminded me of the few things I could start at home. I spent a few hours getting my hands dirty. I think I miss that more than anything else over the winter. No dirt.
Something awful was on the news. A woman in Toronto was beaten to death, and when they showed the crime scene there was a lynx next to her. A lynx! In the middle of Toronto!
The news woman said something about animals flooding into the city, I have no idea what’s been going on, but I saw a lot more birds than are usually around this time of year – even a barn owl in the middle of the day. My mother called and told me a cougar had strolled through her front yard, cocky as can be right at 2pm. Unbelievable. Luckily she’d brought Amos inside, I’m sure the yappy little devil would have gone for the cougar and that’s not a battle he would win.

March 31st
If I though the last few days were strange well this topped everything. I got a call from the school telling me not to bother going in today. It seems that cougar went for a long stroll around town yesterday and they closed the school just in case. It seems Doug had no luck finding him so they decided better safe than sorry. Oh well, the kids could probably use an extra day to do their homework...or play video games, more likely.
I went for another walk today, keeping up with my resolution to move more and nibble less. There was a coyote sleeping in a bush right next to James and Amy’s porch! And a flock of sparrows on the sills of June’s home too; I tried to shoo them off, they were pecking at the window and making a mess of her clean siding, but they wouldn’t scatter. Just skipped off to the next window. Oh well, who knows where June was, hiding in her basement probably.
I’ll thought ‘I’ll have to bring her a casserole one evening this week, she probably won’t leave her house to get groceries if they’re still out there.’ But when I went past on my way home she was sitting on the step and the little birds were perched all over her! In her hair, two on each shoulder, on her knees. I was so shocked I almost ran right into the telephone pole! She waved at me though, said hi and she’d see me later...
My goodness.
And then more awful things on the news. They showed a woman facing down a bull moose, of all things. Right in Calgary. What on Earth is going on here?!

~~~

Millie shrugged to herself as she hung up the phone. Too much to hope for another extra day off, but Doung and the deputies had managed to dart the cat and cart it safely out of town so school was back on. She could practically hear the groans from each house as the phone tree went into action to notify all the parents, and then the silent cheers of the parents as they looked forward to their normal routines – and alone time.

A grin split her lips and she chuckled to herself before settling down at her desk. Today hadn’t been quite as interesting as yesterday – thank goodness – but the news had seemed just as awful this morning until she’d turned it right off and left it that way. No need to hear bad news all day, it wasn’t happening here anyways. Not this town.

She spent a few hours going over her lesson plan, tweaking it a bit to include what she had missed that day, and arranging things so that they would be able to talk about current events first thing. Kids always wanted to talk about the news, especially when some of it seemed to brush their lives. Her kids were just at the age where they started realizing the news was real and effecting people just like them. She hadn’t met many grade 6 kids that weren’t even a little interested, once you found the right topic.

Just as she was about to heat up left overs for her dinner Millee heard a commotion outside and ran to the window. Something was going on three doors down, Judy’s house! Millie grabbed her jacket and slipped on her flats as she ran outside, cell phone in hand. If Judy’s ex-husband had shown up again she wasn’t going to let Judy face that idiot alone. Not after he’d broken her arm the last time.

When she got nearer she could see Judy on the ground on her front walk, holding something in her hands and weeping. Whoever it was that had been yelling was gone, but Mellie saw small feathered bodies – at least 4 – on the ground around Judy.

“What happened!? Are you ok? Judy?” Mellie reached out and touched the nervous woman’s shoulder hesitantly. Judy never liked being touched, not that Mellie blamed her, and she looked so upset she might not even know who it was talking to her.

Judy didn’t jerk away, she merely looked up at Mellie, big green eyes full of tears and sobbed “They killed them. Poison. All the young ones...” She couldn’t say anymore, but her heaving sobs and rolling tears said more to Mellie than words every could.

Mellie’s heart almost broke at the heartwrenching sobs. She knelt down next to Judy and gathered the small bodies in her hands, one was still warm. “Come on Judy, we can bury them under your rose bush.”
Judy didn’t move until Mellie stood, then took the sparrow Judy held in her palms. Judy looked even more upset for a moment, then the words seemed to sink in and she nodded. The rosebush had been a present from Judy’s mother for her wedding. The only good thing she’d gotten out of the wedding in Mellie’s mind.

Since Judy tended her flowers carefully it wasn’t hard for Mellie to locate the garden tools, and it was quick work to dig a small trench-grave for the sparrows. She laid them down, one by one and Judy brushed a kiss from her fingertips on each one.

As Mellie was about to begin scooping dirt over the 5 lifeless birds something rushed by her face, followed closely by something rustling her hair at the nape of her neck. She felt something close to her face again, and was about to cry out when she heard Judy say “No, it’s ok. She’s a friend.”
Mellie looked at Judy and saw she had sparrows on each of her shoulders again, unnaturally silent sparrows, awake after dark.

Now it was Mellie’s eyes that got big and she stared at this quiet, mousey, anxious woman who had wasted away from her nerves in the three years Mellie had lived nearby. A quiet strength was showing itself, and she held out her hand for the last little sparrow male to flit down to and perch on.

Neither woman said anything else, Judy silent in her grief and surrounded by the odd sparrows, Mellie thoroughly confused and not a little anxious of the quick birds surrounding her friend.

It was done in less than five minutes and Mellie tamped the soil down and spread leave back over the little grave. Kneeling in the dirt with her head down as she said a silent prayer for the little souls. When she stood Judy was watching her closely.

“You don’t know what’s happening do you. Did you see the news today?” At Mellie’s slow shake of her head Judy smiled, a quick and unpleasant expression. Tight and full of the strange confidence that seemed to have infused in her over night. “They’re calling people like me wildlings, strangers, fey.” Judy’s smile sharpened even more, “No one helped when they saw Carl beating me through the windows, or heard me crying...and now they feel justified.”

She paused, then gulped back another sob, “And now they sprinkled poison in my bird seed, killing the innocent.” She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, visibly strengthening. “I’m not staying here anymore.”

Mellie rested her hand on Judy’s arm, “Where will you go? Why, Judy?” The other woman’s only answer was to shake her head and smile that tight little smile. Judy looked away then, and squeezed Mellie’s hand before stepping away and going into her house.

It was a few moments before Mellie’s good sense overcame her surprise. Then, she set the spade up against Judy’s step and slowly went back home. If she had felt confused before, well now she had no idea what was going on.

It was late, and the little drama down the street had drained her, so Mellie ate her small dinner then read a bit before trying to sleep. She kept dreaming of downy, feathery bodies. Still and lonely.

After she woke up for the third time she finally managed to sink down into a restful sleep, but only after deciding to look into this whole mess more the next day.

~~
*OOC Note: Alright folks, go ahead and get those intros up. Take your cues from Mellie, no animal buddies yet, but we'll get there soon I hope :) At the beginning of each post please add your character's pic and a permalink to their CS, I think it'll make things simple for anyone replying later one, but I think it's a brilliant Idea. (no credit to me, btw, someone mentioned it in the articles and guides forum and I'm stealing it :D)

Alexander Dorene

Boreas, the north wind, is perhaps the most important of all winds. At Athens this a cold, boisterous wind from the mountains of Thrace. The noise of the gusts is so loud that the Greek sculptor symbolized the tumult by placing a conch shell in the mouth of Boreas. His modern namesake, the Bora of the Adriatic, is the same noisy, blustering, col…….

A sudden crash from outside shattered Alexander’s concentration. He looked around the bookstore, as if expecting see the culprit standing right in front of him, but the store was still empty, just as it had been all day. Alexander looked up at the clock and let out a small sigh, closing time. He closed the book he had just started and stood slowly, stretching his arms back behinds his neck and shifting his head from side to side. Not a single customer. He thought, bitterly.

Usually the store managed to get at least a couple of customers during the day. There were a few regulars that Alexander could count on seeing a couple of times a week at least. But lately… Alexander shook his head and grabbed the book he had been reading, placing it back on the shelf where it belonged. He emptied the cash register and placed the money back in the safe. Really, this should have been the manager’s job, but the manager rarely stepped foot in the bookstore once a week, leaving Alexander to do all of the work.

It’s not like he didn’t like his job, he loved book s and being surrounded by them all day was pleasant enough. Alexander simply hated the fact that the store was going under. The owner was a sweet older lady who loved books. She had been in charge back when Alexander had first started working there, and the bookstore had flourished. But her health was failing her, and she simply couldn’t run the store anymore, so she had placed her grandson in charge.

Alexander’s face soured a little just at the thought of the little brat. It was his fault the business was failing. He couldn’t have cared less about the store. All he cared about was the paycheck he got each week from his grandmother, a paycheck that he squandered on beer and drugs most of the time. Alexander wasn’t even sure that the kid could read. Any suggestion that Alexander had about how to make the bookstore run smoother or attract more customers was shot down almost out of principle. But for someone who didn’t like to listen to Alexander, he sure didn’t mind leaving him to do all of the work. From open until close Alexander ran the bookstore. He cleaned up, ordered new books, ran the cash register, talked to the customers, and locked everything down at the end of the day. It wasn’t exactly hard work, but a little help from time to time would have been great. Still, Alexander never told the owner of her grandson’s short comings, it would have broken her heart. And despite all of his complaints, he loved being surrounded by books all day.

Alexander flipped the open sign on the door around so it read ‘Sorry We’re Closed” and locked the door behind him. As he looked down the street he noticed the cause of the racket that had distracted him from his book. Something or someone had managed to knock over a nearby trashcan and dump its contents all over the sidewalk. Alexander looked around; wondering if the culprit was still here, but there was no one in sight. He lifted the trashcan and shook his head at the garbage that was strewn all across the ground. Probably some kids had knocked it over and not bothered to pick up their mess. With a look of resignation, Alexander bent over and began to shovel the trash back into the can. It wasn’t clean work, but he could just let the garbage fly about the city, some animal would probably end up getting sick by eating a month old churro.

Alexander tilted his head slightly at the sound of some nearby squirrels chattering away at one another. “I hope you know I’m doing this for your sake.” Alexander said, squinting his eyes at the squirrels. The squirrels squeaked some gibberish before running off. Alexander couldn’t help but smile at his own ridiculousness. Talking to squirrels? That was just stupid. Maybe he was lonelier then he thought.

When he was finished with the trash he walked home casually, his hands shoved in his pockets, sense he hadn’t had a chance to wash them yet. Alexander wasn’t always the most observant person, but even he managed to notice that something strange was going on. Everywhere he looked it seemed he saw some animal or another scurrying about. There had always been animals around; the town wasn’t all that far from the mountains, but now Alexander was seeing animals he has never seen in the city before. None came to close, but it was interesting nonetheless. He couldn’t help but wonder if there was anything about this on the news. He never cared much for the news honestly, it was always so doom and gloom that he found it almost hard to watch.

Alexander quickly washed his hands once he got back to the apartment and threw a TV dinner into the microwave. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and let out a sigh of relief as he took a sip. Sometimes there was just nothing better than a nice cold beer after a long day of hoping customers would come into the bookstore. He grabbed his food and sat down on the couch, hoping to catch the evening news. Unfortunately he never quite made it. That’s the problem with only drinking one beer after a long day of work. It always made Alexander abnormally tired. He passed out on the couch just minutes before the evening news came on.

In the industrial section of town, was a substantial building of concrete and steel A bi-level split of a small factory/fab-shop with a two story wood-framed office grafted onto the front. Harewood Industries. Painted in a pale blue a few years ago, some dirt was showing on the surface. Around both sides were large areas fenced in by ten foot tall chain link, with a single coil of razor wire covering the top edge, with large, side-rolling gates built in to allow the passage of delivery vehicles and forklifts. Currently, the gates were open the the mingling flood of men and women coming and going in the 6 AM shift change. Breaths smoked and swirled in the light of the sodium-vapour lighting, casting its cheap, yellow light over the area immediately around the buildings. From the concrete buildings came the rhythmic thumping bass of the punch presses, the distant hiss and crackle of welders fusing metal, and the honk and noise of a loaded forklift shifting a pallet of unfinished parts from one department to another.

A small cluster of people huddled by the corner of the fence and a few bushy trees that marked the division of the property line; a small flicker of yellow flame spawned red embers in the darkness as the group of smokers resumed their conversation. Most of those leaving however, made quick, hurried moves to their vehicles in the gravel parking lot across the narrow street. Two cars were already started by remote operation, one owned by the shift manager, the other owned by a recent employee who had a wealthier spouse. Most of the parking lot was filled with the dim silhouettes of trucks and SUVs, more than a few of them obvious winter beaters. One vehicle stood out, especially however, like a pug-nosed van with a truncated ass that had become a truck bed. By far the oldest vehicle in the lot, and rarest; a 1964 Jeep M677, which looked to be in somewhat rough shape; the surface of the vehicle was a patchwork of peeling pain, swatches of fresher primer, and the random bit of surface rust. It was to this odd vehicle to which three young figures shrouded in a heavy winter clothing strode. The one ahead of the rest, with keys reflecting the lights of shifting headlights wore a black winter coat, with a thick brown hood rising from the sweater he wore beneath it, black stained jeans and heavy steel toe boots crunching on shards of ice and semi-frozen gravel. One behind him wore a toque of the Flames, and a heavy, world war two era wool overcoat. Over his shoulder was slung a small lunch bag, with his work boots tied to the strap. The third split off from them, to get to the passenger side of the old Jeep, wore a thick vest over their hoodie, and carried a small backpack to carry their welding gear.



Tyko unlocked the Jeep and climbed in, letting out a breath that smoked white in the cold air as he plugged the key into the ignition, and turned it to on, without engaging the starter. As he did, the other doors opened, creating a sudden draft of cold air through the cab that then slammed still as the doors were shut. On the flat panel of a dash, he reached for a small black button, labeled in black sharpie on the pale green dash, “Preheat”. He held it down as he whispered his count to twenty before he released it and returned his right hand to the key. A quick twist, just a little further, and the starter engaged loudly behind him. Churning several revolutions to the whispered hiss of “Just...start,” before the engine clattered into life, the small diesel chugging roughly for a moment before it settled into its regular idle.

Finally adjusting himself into the seat, Tyko Vaara drew back his right hand and clasped it in his left as he let the engine warm. “Ahh man, thanks again for the lift Tyko,” came the oddly gravely voice of David Porrier from behind him. He was 19, fresh out of high school, and working downstairs of B building, where the shipping center was. His hair was shaved, but he wore a rather impressively thick black beard that reached nearly five inches to his chest. He was fairly lanky, and tall, with slightly sunken blue eyes. He carried the faint odor of cigarettes, wood dust and cardboard from his work crating the stoves for shipping. “Hope I can get my fuckin' truck back today, fuckin' frost plugs anyways.”

“Beats the hell out of a cracked block Dave.” Came the voice of Kim Parsons, a somewhat squat and bulky 25 year old woman with shoulder length, straight, honey-brown hair. It wasn't so much as she was overweight, but rather her build was just compact and wide. Attractive in her fairness and natural appearance, she wore glasses that seemed to blend in with her, as if she had been born with them, and her green eyes were neither striking, nor dull. She smelled of dirty leather and burning metal, hiding something feminine. Looking over her shoulder to younger man, she smirked. “Course, it's what you get for buying a Ford.”

A soft chuckled escaped Tyko, “Where's your Chevy then Kim?”

David burst out laughing as Kim glared at Tyko, “That had nothing to do with it, and you damn well know it!”

“Right, so that's your....what, fourth head gasket in a year? Christ woman, in the same time, the only thing my F-150 has given me grief with is this one frost plug!”

Closing his eyes for a moment, taking in the smell of the old truck, the oil and steel on his hands, the sweat in his clothing. It had been a busy shift. Busting his ass for eight hours, running several tons of metal through the presses like clockwork. There hadn't been many tool changes since they were on the start of a new order. Several hundred of the large model Brown Bear wood stoves. Slinging 12 gauge sheets of steel that measured five by eight feet from the loading table to the press, then from the press to the shake table, and wrestling with the steel to violently remove the panels was hard, physical labour. And he liked it that way. Course, tomorrow would be different; he had gotten all the main body parts done, morning and afternoon shift would be getting the small parts done, and he knew, just knew, they were going to be leaving the fucking stainless to him. 304 stainless steel was a bitch to run on the presses for a variety of reasons; first it was sticky. The damned stainless had a texture to it that was damn near like velcro to itself, making sliding a 140 pound sheet of metal feel like it was more like 250 pounds. Having to lift them clear of each other, and manhandle them onto the press was a chore in itself. Then there was the fact that stainless was harder and tougher than regular steel, and left residue on the the damned tools which meant broken punches, shattered dies, pulled sheets, and a general nightmare of problems. If you didn't know how to avoid those problems as he did, which involved up-sizing the die by 0.001 or downsizing the punch the same. Technically, he wasn't supposed to, since tolerances were a big deal. Yet the welders never made a fuss, no complaints yet, and it meant he got the damned stainless done on time, far more frequently than the morning or afternoon shifts did, with far less tool breakage, and less material wastage.

Slowly, a deep, tired yawn worked its way out of him, the tilt of his head and the shrug of his shoulders conspiring to cause the hood of his sweater to slump down off his short, unstyled, dark brown hair. The yawn turned into a sore muscle stretch, arching is back and expanding his arms to the limits he could reach in the enclosed cab of the truck, before slouching back into the newer model aftermarket seat intended for a Wrangler. A quick run of his nails in his sideburns to cure a minor itch, and he pulled on the retrofitted seat-belt. With the engine above the temperature of an ice cube, he tugged on the automatic transmission's lever into reverse, and with ginger care, backed out of the parking spot before making his way home.

“So, either of you heard any word 'bout Brandt?” She changed the subject on the two men, raising a concern both were probably aware of, Brandt Wyatt was the usual fourth on their lunch breaks, and hadn't been in to work for the past three days.

Tyko shook his head, and David shrugged, “Tried callin' the bastid last night, but no answer. Wish I knew where'e lived, go and make sure the fool is still alive you know?”

With a nod, the driver checked the intersection they were at before hanging a left on his way to David's home. Kim sighed and suddenly voiced a random, stray thought, “Wonder if he's become one of them?”

Vaara looked at her curiously, “Them? What are you talking about?”

“Really?” Kim suddenly looked concerned, “You haven't heard of people and animals going all loopy?”

Dave joined in, “Yeah, saw it on the news recently, people bein' stalked by animals, everythin' from bears to frogs. It's fuckin' weird is what it is.”

A sudden glance from the woman in the passenger seat, “Not stalked...more like...followed? Joined?”

David offered a shrug, “Yeah, somethin-SHIT!”

Tyko caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and stomped on the brake, the pads clamped down tight on the rotors of the brakes, locking the tall off road orientated wheels on the icy pavement, until Vaara released the brakes, and reapplied, lighter, while sawing on the steering wheel to the left, swerving around the dark, ruddy brown bulk of a solitary moose. The back of the truck kicked out and swung them around just before they came to a stop, facing the edge of the road, with headlights bearing down on the passenger side, Vaara quickly slugged the transmission into reverse, and swung the old jeep out of the way on the smaller car that was plowing down the road with it's wheels locked up from its terrified driver simply standing on the pedal.

The diesel clattered on under the doghouse cover between the driver and passenger seats, while the three inside the cab of the truck gasped air as they hyperventilated from the shock of the crash they just narrowly avoided, twice. Kim and Dave burst out laughing as Tyko excused himself to take a breather outside. As he dropped to the ground and closed the door, he looked around to find the big beast gone, and several meters down the road, a pair of furious red lights stared back at him. With shaking knees, he walked in the direction of the small car, slipping a little on smooth patches of ice, but retaining his balance. The driver looked at him, as he approached and rolled down his window, his eyes wide. “T-t-the hell?!” He was an aging man, the thin hair on the top of his head dusted with silver.

“Moose.” Tyko could only state, “Are you alright?”

“I...I think so...might need a new pair of shorts, but Jesus criminy! Are you guys alright?”

“Yeah, we're all fine. Advice? Don't stand on the brake, sliding tires don't slow you down.” Was all he could really say.

“Y-yeah, will try. Drive safe!” The driver of the small red car gave Tyko a nervous, shaking, agreement and smile before his window slid closed and he started back on his way to wherever he was going, leaving Tyko standing in the middle of the road on a damn cold morning. Shaking his head, Tyko walked back to the Forward Control, his legs steadier and more sure with each step. Climbing back into the cab, the conversation moved to the recent event, as he got the pair to their homes, before arriving home himself, twelve minutes to seven in the morning.

Weekday mornings were routine, a practiced schedule that flowed; get home, check on Mianna, take a few minutes in the washroom, and start getting breakfast ready. Kiite would be in the barn, tending to the horses, and Ellisif would be checking on the chickens in their coop. Soon after he got the bacon started, both of his younger siblings burst in through the back door, stomping snow and dirt from their boots as they quickly discarded their outer layers, Kiite went to his shower, and Ellisif went to get changed into her clothes for school. Kiite had taken over the task of getting Mianna out of bed and into her wheelchair four months ago, and now did it with practiced ease as he showed up just as the bacon and oatmeal were coming off the stove and the microwave was chirping that last years frozen berries were thawed. Ellisif appeared moments later, and the four sat down to breakfast.

As the usual morning barrage of questions of how his night was, or if anything exciting happened at the factory face him down, he smiled. He was proud of his brother and his sister for the simple fact that he could rely on them. It wasn't that he had ever asked them to help take care of the horses, the chickens, nor Mianna, rather they had forced their way into helping out around the home. They were a family bound by sisu, supporting each other, and pushing through barriers in their path and boundaries many would perceive as insurmountable, by necessity and will. They were doing well; a twenty-three year old raising his fifteen year old brother, and his thirteen year old sister, with an invalid mother, and a deceased father. The house, luckily, was already bought and paid for. They had survived the floods the previous year that were the worst anyone had seen, and had sheltered several neighbour's animals in the months following because they had the space, if not the feed, which resulting in finding a boat to retrieve feed with.

Kiite was becoming a man in his own right, shedding the last of his childhood chub as he helped out more around the farm than he ever had in his youth. It was likely that he would eclipse his elder brother's height of 5'11”, being but an inch shy and eight years younger. His hair was a generation off, following their grandfather's sandy brown tones, but his eyes were the same rare shade of bright green as his mother.

Ellisif however, was almost the spitting image of their mother when she was her age; a little shorter than average, with pale blonde hair just starting to darken, bright blue eyes, cheekbones that were faintly showing already, and an athletic, build.

It was shortly after eight when Tyko found himself sitting on the back porch of the modern, rancher style home, his feet on the steps below and a hot mug of coffee resting between his hands, the morning sun was about an hour old, glistening on the snow and frost that coated the small orchard he kept on the ninety-seven acre parcel his parents had bought when they moved here. Around the house was a sturdy windbreak of tall, mature spruce that kept the wind down and much of the snow out of the orchard. Beyond....were fallow fields. He kept a few acres active as feed for the live stock, but the rest he had plans in motion, which had involved picking up pine cones from the spruce, of lodge pole pines, and maples. In time, perhaps a forest of some respect would be at the tail end of the property, right to where it backed onto the Sheep River. Sipping at the coffee, he rested, dreaming of things that could be. He had the feeling that he would be here for the rest of his life. Taking care of Mianna until she passed away, hopeful living to see her grand children. He knew part of the mother he knew was still in her, he could see it in her smiles, her frowns, the twinkle of her eyes when he told her of his plans, the tears she shed the past two years of the anniversary of Unuu's passing. Those were he hardest mornings, waking up and finding her pillow slick from tears. She knew the day, before anyone could even tell her. Like she was a grown, highly intelligent woman, trapped in a body that refused to respond to her.

Finishing the coffee, he sat for a few minutes more, relishing the quiet clucks and noises of the chickens foraging in the fenced orchard. It was peaceful. But he needed to get things done. His class started at ten, and he would get out at three, pick his brother and sister up from the mall behind the school after about forty minutes, give or take with traffic, get home, make food, eat, and then pass out for a few hours before waking up and going to work at ten. It was brutal, it was exhausting, but he had learned to endure it, to push through it. He could rest when his brother and sister had moved out, and were on their own.

"Really?! Jesus Christ! I thought you were seventeen, Faye!"

Her name wasn't 'Faye." But it was close enough to the name she had gotten used to over the past four years. And the woman in the driver's seat was right to be shocked; when you go clean off the junk, after a short time, your face loses the bags and dark circles and you look like you again. But 'Faye' didn't want to be herself again. That would mean she would have to be Polly again. And to be Polly would mean that she would have to lug around the baggage that came with it... and open up all those other bruising names and memories. Words may never hurt me... Bullshit. She would never open that suitcase again. 'Faye' was was close enough to Face and that's all she had now that she was on the run again; she would save face. And her own life.

"Yeah... get that a lot, sister..." she replied with the all-too-familiar sigh, grumble and a head-shake.

It made sense now why the brunette with the leather driving gloves picked her up; how could a nice and sweet bleeding heart ever refuse a doe-eyed pleading stare from a stray? But there was something else. Behind those dark glasses, too dark for a grey day, there was something else. Faye had teased away at the thought, but ever since they crossed the border and into Alberta, she had tucked it away. There were other things to consider right now. Like how lull this bitch further into liking Faye. And like how to dispose of the body and the car and get a new ride when this one was done. But that something else...

"Hey--" the brunette placed a gloved hand upon Faye's shoulder and the petite blonde jumped.

Yes, blonde. Faye wasn't so blonde over the past few years, she was all colours of the rainbow-headed; each month was a different colour. But right now, she was back to her natural hair colour; closer to the hue of Polly's hair. Just like good 'ol Polly... She hated the thought of it, but it was necessary. And so were the piercings in her face. Speaking of which...

She bit down upon the silvery ring of her left labret piercing when she jumped up and slightly out of her seat. Yes, this girl that looked like a pierced-up-Polly did jump up out of surprise, but the reaction was closer to what Faye-- "Facie"-- would do; move forward enough to pull the 9mm from out of her jeans waist band and shove it down the attackers throat. Good thing for the brunette with the expensive dark shades, designer driving gloves and fur-lined coat, that Faye saw the flash of deep cleavage.

"Whoa... slow down there, trigger..." giggled the brunette just a touch to shrilly, as she slowly pulled her hand off Faye's denim covered shoulder, "just wanted to know if you wanted a smoke... you're all tense, Faye...! I thought you were underage first, so I didn't offer before. I smoke so... if you want... It's okay. Here..."

The flash of cleavage again as the Brunette reached into her inner coat pocket and pulled out a pack of smokes, upon which was a logo that she did recognize but not the words, and Faye held her breath. One ratty, knitted glove covered hand was slowly clenching into a fist. The other tightened around the midnight grip of her pistol. You are sooooo busted, bitch...

For an eternity, the only sound in the red-leather interior of the slick sedan was the rumbling engine. Faye could swear it sounded like thunder in her ears right now; whether in a car or on a hog, she always thought engines sounded like thunder whenever she was ready to kill.

The only tell she could get from the woman who did not smile with her teeth was the the slight tremble of her lower lip. Blue eyes bordered on storming grey a moment longer, the warped reflection staring back at Faye in those dark, dark glasses. The brunette held her polite smirk regardless of the turmoil within. One corner of Faye's pink lips pulled up and returned the smirk; the thirty-something brunette knew her passenger saw through her bluff. Poker chips. All in. It was time to call.

The clenched fist inside that ratty, knitted glove opened and grabbed the fancy little box of cancer-sticks.

"Sure," said Faye in a low voice that sounded like it was spoken from a graveyard, "that's my brand..."

"Oh good!" said the brunette with a nervous laugh as she let go of the pack of smokes then flicked back her long curls over a shoulder, "you looked upset for a moment... I was worried that you hated smokers and that--"

"...well, it would be my brand..." Faye interrupted and ran her tongue along the front of her teeth, the bead of her tongue piercing clicking audibly against each tooth. 'A rattlers tail in slow motion," Brassy would say. But he wasn't here right now, was he.. It was just Faye and this woman, "...if it was from Montana. That's French on the pack, isn't it...?"

"Yeah... why...?"

"You said you go to the States often for a conference and that you sneak smokes back. This is Canadian. And unopened."

"So what..?! If they check me, it's a cover-up! Jesus Christ, Faye! What's gotten into you?!"

"You pick up a hitch-hiker and hid her in your trunk and went on across the border, like it's a walk in the park for you, that's what's wrong! That's just crazy!"

"Hey, I didn't hear you complaining! I saved you from the shit you're running from, okay?! You should be thankful--"

"That's what you want? That's it, isn't it? ISN'T IT?! SAY IT!!! SAY IT, BITCH!!!" her grip on the 9mm loosened up. Just enough so that she could undo the safety.

"No! Well, yes... NO! Wait, what's wrong with you?"

"No. No, Elaine. What's wrong with you? No, wait. I'll tell you--quiet! Shut up. I SAID SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!

The protests ended and the lower lip of the brunette began to quiver.

"You say you go to the States for a conference you lecture at. Libraries, right? I was in the trunk. And now I seen the back seat! Where the fuck are your bags? Where the fuck are your notes or computer or shit? You have a shit phone, but look at your car! Look at your clothes! You say you smoke a lot when you're stressed, 'cuz your job is on the line when you host... well don't you notice, sister? Not a single whiff of it. Not on you, not in this car. It's fuckin' mint. No burns from an errant cherry. No tar build up by the window. For fuck's sake, Elaine, your ashtray has change in it! You're too busy for a relationship?! Oh bullshit! Don't think I don't know the signs--"

"W-what are you talking a-about, F-F-Fa--"

"Stop your blubbering or I'll give you something to cry about, bitch!!!"

Elaine, bit her lower lip and tensed up like a statue that looked like a good little girl.

"Yeah... see what I mean? You wear dark glasses. You cover up. Because you have many bruises or nasty marks there, am I right? AM I FUCKIN' RIGHT?! No! 'Cuz those are all habits you keep from the past. But I saw your tits... well, enough of them. I saw the bruises there. Bullshit you're not in a relationship! BULLSHIT!!! Actually... no. No, you're right, Elaine, you're not in a relationship... you're in prison. He's smart enough to hurt you in places no one can see... then he buys you nice things to make you feel special again. Buys your 'love.' Re-affirms confidence. And you eat it up... you fuckin' eat it up, Elaine--"

Screeching tires. Horns blaring. Necks snapping to the side as they are brought to the shoulder.

"G-get... out... F-F--"

"What is he doing to you...? Why are you still with him...?"

"Get the fuck out before I change my mind!!!! FAYE! PLEASE!!!! PLEASE, GO!!!"

"Fuck. Me. You're trolling for him... Fuck. me... how many... how many have you picked up?! FUCK!!! Where is he?! WHERE IS THAT MOTHERFUCKER?! Tell me!"

"Faye... F-Faye... I can't... he'll kill me--"

"And what was he going to do to me, sister?! Shit. SHIT! Okay... okay... I saw you turn off the GPS. And turn on your phone... He's close isn't he? Where are we? Past... LethingBridge, right? Okay.. okay... think, Facie... think... okay? Okay. Listen up, Elaine. We're getting you out of this. This bullshit is going to stop. Right now. Right fuckin' now. You are going to leave him--"

"I can't! Never! I won't! He loves me! He does! I swear! He'll kill me! And you, Faye! I like you... I don't want him to kill you! You actually like me, you said so! You like the same things I do! You didn't laugh when I said I still play with dollies! You said we'd play togeth--"

"Elaine. Stop. Stop and listen to me... I like you. And I can like you more," a gentle ragged-gloved hand tenderly wiped away hot, bitter, salty tears, "I can love you more, okay..? More than him. I will take you with me and then we'll play dollies. Go to the zoo. Cotton candy... you're FAYE-vourite...! Right? You wanted a little girl of your own, you said. You. Found. Her. I'm right here. I'm right fuckin' here. I am, 'mummy...!' Okay? I am..."

Elaine let Polly remove the dark glasses and finally she got a glimpse into another set of blue eyes. Got you...

"Just tell me where he is so I can convince him to take you with me. Just talk. Cross my heart..."

"...and hope to die...?" said a hushed yet hopefully little voice.

"Yup... swear it. Where is he? Will you take me there? 'Mummy, please...?'

"Oooohh... Faye...! You don't have to call me that...!" Elaine bashfully waved a hand at Polly and actually giggled as if she was never practically hysterical a moment ago.

The grumbling of the engine still sounded like thunder to Polly in the silence between them. Then:

"A little bit further. West. Just a bit, I promise. Hey, you promise you're just gonna talk, right? Then we go together? Promise?"

"...and hope to die..." Got you. Elaine allowed Polly-- Faye to reach one hand around her neck, lean up against her and kiss her gently upon the lips. Got you soooo good. From behind Polly's back, the other hand uncrossed raggedy, knitted-gloved fingers.

Let's open that suitcase together then, Elaine...

They were holding hands when the slick red sedan's left blinker flashed then grumbled back onto the road.

Israel looked up and frowned- if he'd known that last night's heavy rain wasn't entirely over, he would've taken the truck. That's part of living isolated from the mass media- you lose the weather forecasts, and when you live in a mostly wooded area, it's tough to predict it on your own.

A sharp pain caused Israel to jerk his left hand off of the wooden railing that lined either side of the slim dirt road, something Iz chose not to walk upon since there were now large spots of mud that dotted the sparsely used lane. Instead, he walked down the small area of damp grass in between the road and the fence. Freeing his hand of the splinter Iz trudged on, a lone, hulking figure in soaked denim overalls and mud covered work boots.

At least, he thought, it's not cold. Still should've thought to bring a jacket, though. Hell, I should've just drove

Thinking back on it, Iz couldn't quite recall exactly why he decided to walk into town instead of drive. Perhaps it had to do with the serenity that these longer walks tended to bring with them; time a man could spend immersed in only his thoughts. Or perhaps it was the views of the forested countryside that just weren't the same when looked upon from the other side of a window.

It took Iz roughly another hour to reach the outskirts of town, and the foggy mist never let up. Iz was just thankful it didn't start pouring again. He was roughly twenty minutes away from where he needed to get to, and he looked forward to getting the errands done quick so he could get back home to mom. She had struggled just to write the list that Iz carried in his chest pocket. It was probably just the dreary weather, but the small town, more of a village, really, looked off today. Iz shrugged the thoughts away and went back to staring at his boots while he walked with his big hands in his pockets.

The original town, if one could even call it that, was just a small hodgepodge of old rotted buildings that used to be centered around a[/indent] mine that has long since collapsed. Some of the apparatus still stands, however, such as the remnants of an old elevator that now act as a sort of "stage" in the center of town, around which the newer brick buildings have been built to try and mask the "ugly" old ones. The town didn't really have a mayor to Iz's knowledge, though there was a man named Groan that most of the citizens seemed to look up to when they needed a voice. Groan was a very rotund and pudgy man, Iz often liked to think the man was made of the dough that Groan's wife uses to make the biscuits that Iz could eat a dozen of. The pudgy premier stood on the stage, fat hands jammed into blazer pockets that were too small for them. Iz noticed that he looked increasingly nervous as he talked to the two other men that stood close to him; Iz didn't recognize either one of them, though judging from their dirty, mottled, and ugly clothing they weren't from around here. One of the two had teeth that were orange as a pumpkin, and the other barely had any teeth at all. Iz noticed the toothless one was holding something, though from Iz's angle it was hidden by Groan's plump figure.

Groan glanced at Israel as he walked by the stage as he crossed the center of town to finally reach his destination- the store that was owned by Mr. Swelter, whom had given Iz his long lost bike so long ago, though Iz would never forget the gesture. He glanced back once more to try and see what the toothless man was holding, but he had shifted in such a way that Iz still couldn't see it.

Mr. Swelter used to be one of the more popular storeowners in the small town, though nowadays Iz noticed that the general store was increasingly becoming something of an antique shop, as the now wrinkled Mr. Swelter began selling old trinkets and knick-knacks that he would dig up from the old abandoned buildings. For the time being, however, he still sold the flour that Israel had come for.

Though today it didn't seem that Mr. Swelter's shop was open- the lights had been shut off, and the door was locked.

But I can see his coat hanging in the corner...

Psst!

Iz jumped at the sudden realization that he was being stared at. From around the corner poked Mr. Swelter's head, but at first Iz could hardy recognize him. What used to be a wrinkled and red-nosed man who prized his grooming rituals now looked wild: his hair was in messy curls down to his shoulders, and he sported a long white beard.

"Mr. Swelter?" Iz called back, much to the apparent dismay of the wily shopkeeper. He brought a finger to his lips while using his other hand to beckon Iz to come closer. After some hesitation, Israel did as requested. When they were behind the store, Mr. Swelter grabbed Iz by the forearms and gave him a hard look:

"Israel, my boy, I can't stay here for long. I knew you'd be comin', it's that time of the week, so I set aside a couple'a bags o' flour over'ere for ya'."

"Mr. Swelter? What's goin' on?"

"Th-they're huntin' me, boy. S'hard to explain." Swelter made another quick glance around the corner-

"They're comin', boy! You didn't see me!"

Mr. Swelter took off across the small field behind his store- into the woods. Just as he was being enveloped by the treeline Iz could feel the eyes on him.

"What're ya' doin' ova' here, boy?"

It was the toothless man that had been talking to Groan; Iz now realized that the thing he had been holding was a shotgun. Iz froze and his mind raced, he slowly reached down and retrieved the two heavy bags of flour that Swelter had set aside just for Iz.

"Shopkeepa' usually leaves flour for the folks who work for him."

"Eh? Ol' Groan says th' shopth been clothed for month."

Iz couldn't move a muscle. The toothless man's trigger finger twitched, but he made no effort to point the weapon at Israel. Ages passed, and Israel had started to sweat when the man scowled and pointed with his chin, "Git. We want that wiccan occult son'bitch."

Israel made no hesitation. He slung the heavy flour bags over either shoulder and almost ran out of town- drenched from the sweat and mist. Groan and the other man that accompanied toothless were nowhere to be seen.

His heart was beating and his head was full of questions, but at least momma'll be happy he got the flour.

Alan Mason

Life was looking sunny. Literally. It was very bright out, which was funny, considering he was usually up with the sun, not using it as his alarm clock. Still, it had been a good sleep, and he didn't have to be anywhere until 1PM rolled around. That, at least, wasn't for another few hours. Quite a few, unless he'd needed the sleep more than he'd thought when he went to bed. Go to bed at 10, wake up at 5, or whenever his mind decided to ooze towards the waking world. It took him far too long to actually wake up, he never had been a morning person when other people were concerned, but set him up on his lonesome and he'd settle right into watching the sunrise. It was a good routine when the rest of his life was never quite so certain. And here he was breaking it on a day when he should have been all over nerves and unable to keep his head to the pillow in case he... Well, in case he slept in. Wouldn't have thought he'd ever manage that, but it seemed life wasn't going to let him forget that surprises always surprised you. Heh.

He'd arranged with his parents to set up a skype call, checked to make sure there was a local library that wouldn't mind him using their space or their internet. It was lucky, sometimes, that he had the benefit of not needing to make noise to have a conversation. Just bring a pair of earbuds and he was set. They'd asked him to limit his time, but that was fair, since he wasn't paying. He did have a membership though, made him feel a little less opportunistic helping himself to their things. Funny how that worked, here he was, a part of the public, wanting to use a public amenity and he felt bad about it. Well, never mind, he'd solved that and now all he had to do was dress himself up and get his ass over there. He had 5 and a half hours to finish that checklist. He figured if he couldn't manage that, he'd put 35 years of practice to waste. Proper use of his time, that was. Snorting at his thoughts, the man finally rose from his cot and stretched out, rubbing at his beard and combing it a moment with his nails. Warm last night, he needed a shower. With a grimace, he collected his things and headed for the bathroom, blessing all his mother's advice about always trying to stay somewhere that had running water, even if it was a stream. She might not have travelled half as much as he had, by now, but she knew what made the difference between a good day and a bad one. Starting out with a shower was always encouraging.

Showered, dressed, hair braided out of his eyes and bag packed properly, Al was out the hostel door and picking up breakfast at Tim's with a cue card. Saved paper if he just kept the one he always used. Hadn't changed his order in years, no reason to think he'd be starting now. So until it got illegible, he'd just keep putting it back in his bag for reuse. There was plenty of talk while he ate his toasted bagel and drank his coffee, double milk and no sugar, seemed the folk who had time to stick around over breakfast had enough words to fill that time easily twice over. This time though, it caught his attention for a few minutes longer than usual. And he found himself listening in on a nearby table’s conversation about rampant wildlife sightings and people getting a little too attached for their own good. Sounded a bit farfetched, in all honesty, but he couldn’t deny that he’d seen a snake just the other day, in the middle of a city. Sure as hell wasn’t where you normally saw them. He didn’t think it had lasted long, not trying to cross roads like it had, and definitely not when it looked like a rattler. Pity, but that’s what happened.

Still, Al finished up and headed for the library earlier than he’d planned, avoiding the unscheduled stops he’d thought to fit in on his way and skipping straight to getting on the internet and looking up the local news. Only, it wasn’t local, it was national, international even. Wild animals forsaking the rural for the urban and plenty paying for that choice. But the second bit was even stranger, and more interesting. The ones that did survive seemed to be making friends of the most unlikely sorts; magic, the media was calling it. This was the sort of stuff you heard about in fairy tales and forgot about after growing up. A moose in Lethebridge. An alligator down in Florida. Black bear, caribou, elk, cougar, hare, red tail… The list wasn’t extensive, but it was long enough. And didn’t seem centralised. There were some names and faces of well-known people. One senator, a talk show host, business owners, employees, homeless. All different sorts, but it was strange, only one or two of the interviews was with the person who’d… bonded with an animal. The rest were second or third hand.

Warnings were being issued, methods and procedures… They were a little vague on that score, though one youtube video of an old man hanging out with a pelican was getting a few views. And another showing a wild cat of some cat protecting a woman was getting even more. Not all of it good publicity. Scrolling through the comments scared him with the amount of vitriol dripping down the screen. Al didn’t know if he was skeptical or disbelieving or just plain shocked, but he finished that bout of research with a far more subdued skype call than he’d been waiting for. They were all happy to see each other, new wrinkles included, though he thought his parents were looking older than he remembered. And they ended the call telling him to be careful. They always did, but there was an added threat now. His mother thought the animals were rabid. Even the ones that he didn’t think could get rabies. Even doubting an onset of sickness, he still wouldn’t want to get bit by any of them, so he assured her he’d look after himself and stay away from any wild beasts he saw.

He would too. Didn’t take a genius to know wild animals weren’t pets, and that even pets could hurt you if you didn’t know them. But if this was making the more violent side of humanity pop out too, he figured maybe it was best to get away from it for a while. Wait for things to settle down. He’d been planning on going out to Toronto, catch up with his folks, spend the summer along the East Coast, but maybe he should just turn right back around and skip out of town. No one would miss him. His parents might worry, but he’d told them not to expect his company. They hadn’t liked that, but it made more sense than travelling just now.

One more week, that was all he had the money for, see if things escalated, it was only just getting into April, he had a few more months of warm weather to live through. If everything settled down and someone figured out what was going on, soon, he’d move forward with his plans. If things didn’t settle… He’d have to figure out what plan B was. Maybe the Parks were hiring, or at least open to room and board volunteers.

((This will probably be the crappies post I've ever written, but meh, writers block... I've been sitting with it for hours and now it's four o'clock in the effin' morning, hooray! I'mma give up and edit in the morning if it sucks too much. :'D)





The radio of the van was the only new, high-quality thing in the entire car, and it currently purred out Turisas (their older, really golden stuff) smoother than a greased soap bar running over ice. Hedwig whistled along with the melodies of the folk metal track, happily tapping her fingers against the steering wheel of the aging Mercedes Bentz. She enjoyed to simply drive, and she actually didn't know how much longer she had until she reached Lethbridge - she was heading there, then beyond, and so it did not specifically matter if she kept track of the miles or not. But she had left Calgary yesterday morning, and hopefully, she'd be in Lethbridge by nightfall at least. It was a small road, a little bit too bumpy and almost completely abandoned by other cars, but she'd make it to the highway soon enough.

Her eyes moved to the side of the road when she spotted movement there. It was a young man, maybe sixteen or seventeen at most, pale-skinned and ginger-haired, waving his hands wildly into the air. His pants were covered in dried mud, there was.. that was a rat on his shoulder. "Vhat the heck.." Hedwig mumbled as she brought the car to a stop and pulled down the window. The teenager grasped the edge of the open window.
"OhmygodI'msorelievedtoseeacarouthere like you wouldn't believe. Got room for a hitchhiker?" he breathed heavily, grasping for air.
"Err... I'm heading to Lethb.."
"Lethbridge works great!" he said, put his palms together, and gave her a pleading look. Beneath his energetic impression he actually looked really tired - there were dark bags beneath his eyes, and he wasn't dressed for the weather at all. His jeans were completely soaked. But what really got Hedwig wondering was his pet rat... she had never seen one so.. still before. Normally they sniffed at absolutely everything. This just kind of peered back at her. Ah, whatever.. "Vhy not. You look like you'll get a frostbite if I leave you out here. Get in." she said and waved him inside.
"YES." her newfound hitchhiker said with a fistbump and climbed into the car. The air outside was chilly, and he leaned his frozen fingers against the warm air of the AC with a relieved grin on his face.
"I've got sandwiches in that little box if you're hungry. But you look like you've got one helluva story here."
"Thanks." he said and reached into the glove compartment. "And... not really. I just crashed my car. Trespassed on private land and accidentally pissed off a bunch of landowners with pitchforks."
"What? Just for getting lost?" Hedwig said and raised an eyebrow. She couldn't help but notice that the boys shoulders stiffened a little. His rat scurried into his hoodie and stayed still there. "... yeah." he said finally. "Pretty much."
"Funny trip.." she said and steered the van back into the driving field. "My name is Hedwig by the way."
The hitchhiker had his mouth full of sandwhich at this point. "Ugh.. Fhomafh."
"Right. So, Thomas... do you know how far we've got 'till the highway?"
"Bfhout an howur.."

---

Thomas had finished his sandwich in a matter of seconds and his rat had enjoyed the little crumbles. During the hours that followed, he fell dead asleep - Hedwig didn't understand how he dared to do it, sleep in a car with a complete stranger - but he was apparently exhausted, and he sunk into his seat not minding the weird angle his neck was ending up in. But his rat... now that was a peculiar animal. His rat didn't sleep. It had leaped up on the dashboard before Hedwig could shoo it away, and just.. stayed there. Still, quiet, looking out through the windshield like nobody's business. For an hour.
"You're a peculiar one, little tiny." Hedwig said to it at one point. "I've seen tame rats before. But you really take the price in fearlessness. I guess there's got to be a breeder somewhere out there who's been vorking dead hard to get kits as calm as you are." She didn't expect it to turn around and stare back. Rats didn't do that. Rats sniffed at things all the time and besides, they had really really shitty eye-sight. Yet she couldn't help but think it actually stared back at her. As if taking eye contact was a natural thing for a rat. Hedwig had to look back at the road though, and the little fancy rat looked away as well. "... aye. Definitely a weird one.." she grunted while her tiny passanger returned to looking through the window.

It didn’t take much searching for Mellie to realize there was more going on than the newspapers were reporting.

Bloggers were speculating about everything from fluoride in the water making people and animals go crazy (Mellie rolled her eyes at that), to climate change, environmental pressure from logging and clear cutting, and even one group that claimed it was some sort of Magic.

Mellie gave up on Google with a sigh. No one seemed to be able to write anything even remotely logical or considered on the strange occurrences of the past few days. The oddest thing was that none of the people who seemed to have befriended an animal was writing anything about it. Normally anyone who had something even mildly news worthy was all over the internet with it, but there was no sign of a first person account. Or even a second hand one, not really; not from anyone who knew a person who had charmed an animal companion.

She looked at the clock and began gathering her things, lunch break was over and she had to be back in class. Not that the children could talk about anything other than the influx of animals in their small town. That morning they couldn’t even focus enough to talk about which movie they would rather watch in class the following day, let alone anything halfway educational.

~~~

After school Mellie went by Judy’s house on her way home but sure enough no one answered even though she rang the bell for a good 5 minutes. With a shrug Mellie went to put the shovel, still leaned up against the house from the night before, into the shed.

As she leaned the implement up against the wall just inside the door a key hanging on a hook caught here eye. She was almost positive it hadn’t been there the night before, but it was possible she’d missed it in the dark. Pocketing the key, Mellie quickly walked the rest of the way home, grabbing the mail from her letterbox by the front door on the way in.

A folded piece of blue paper caught her eye as soon as she began looking through the few letters she had gotten. Unfolding it she saw it was a note from Judy and she read it through quickly, then again from the beginning more slowly.

Mellie;

I’m sorry about last night. The last thing I want is to drag you into my latest mess, but here I go doing it anyways.

I left you a house key in the shed. I probably won’t be back, and I’ve taken everything I want. If you like you can go through the pantry and help yourself, there’s some good meat in the freezer. Shame for it to go to waste but I could only fit so much in my car.

You’ve been a good friend to me, the only friend I’ve had in years really. So I wanted you to know I’ve gone somewhere safe. Somewhere people like me won’t cause problems for anyone else.

If you really need to reach me you can talk to Landen Avingdale. He knows where I’ve gone and can pass a message to me if he needs to.

Thanks, for everything.

Judy

Thinking that the day couldn’t get any more surreal Mellie folded the note back up and slid it into her back pocket where it rested against Judy’s house key. She spent a few minutes wondering how she would track down Landen Avingdale if she needed to contact Judy, then gave it up as a lost cause.

Well, odd day or not, she still needed to eat. She set to fixing herself a small dinner, marked a thick stack of homework she had put off too long, then headed to bed.

It wasn’t early when she slipped under the covers and flicked off her bed-side lamp, but she found herself strangely restless. She didn’t usually have trouble sleeping, but every time she reached that odd plateau between waking and sleeping she had the oddest sensation, like something was pulling at her. Calling from far away, as if a part of her had somehow found itself miles and miles away but was slowly moving towards her.

It was the oddest sensation and Mellie tossed and turned for what felt like hours before exhaustion finally swept her past the tugging deep within her into oblivion.

~~~

The next day passed in the sort of disjointed blur days have when you’re too tired to care or pay attention to anything too closely. The kids couldn’t focus anyways, so she put a movie on in the morning then let them do art and creative writing all afternoon. All of them drew birds, or big cats, or bears, and wrote about mice, moose (or meese in some cases, causing Mellie to make a mental note about a class on plurals in the near future), or macaws.

She simply couldn’t bring herself to care. Aside from her exhaustion the strange tugging sensation had been steadily growing until it was nearly painful for Mellie to so much as breathe.

She took her first deep breath in hours when she let the kids go for the afternoon, then instantly regretted it as the emptiness seemed to swell in her chest along with her lungs. She grimanced in discomfort and sat very still for a moment. If this didn’t stop she would have to walk to the doctor’s office before going home, not an idea she relished at the moment.

The sensations seemed to ease a bit, reducing and constricting just enough for her to get her things together, put on her coat and make it half-way home.

When it hit, though, the brutal force of the emptiness within her made her drop her bag and fall to the ground. She braced there, on her hands and knees in the middle of the path between her home and work, gasping as she tried to breathe around the sudden violently empty and aching hole in her centre.

It hadn’t been this bad before, she tried to sit back on her heels but found she couldn’t she was frozen there staring at the leaf litter and grit inches in front of her face.
She didn’t know how long she was frozen there before she heard it, but suddenly she realized she’d been hearing a soft insistent ‘Whoot-hoo’-ing noise from the brush just to her left. Turning her head slightly she tried to make her eyes focus on the source of the sound, but they simply wouldn’t cooperate. She blinked blearily and tried to suck in air.

Her vision suddenly sharpened as a small form hopped cautiously onto the path in front of her, tentatively. His feathers – she was somehow certain it was a male – were fluffed up, as she had seen anxious or stressed birds do at pet stores and the zoo. He tilted his head this way and that, making a variety of noises from a deep and low ‘churr’ sound, to a fairly high pitched and inquisitive sounding ‘chiirrrrrrp’.

Mellie found the ache in her chest had lifted a bit, enough that she could finally sit back on her heels, and she did so; rubbing at the tender flesh at the base of her palms which had dirt and grit embedded in it from being pressed so firmly to the concrete of the trail.

The little owl’s eyes widened and his pupils expanded and contracted as she moved and readjusted herself until she was slightly less uncomfortable. She watched him just as closely as he shivered his wings out then tucked them back again, a clear sign of uncertainty.

She couldn’t have said how long they sat like that – five or six feet apart and sizing each other up. Suddenly the little owl darted forwards and nibbled her finger, as if in affection. Mellie had less than a half a second to feel surprised and suddenly alarmed before the whole world seemed to shrink down to just the two of them and then violently explode around her in a clash of raucous colors and shifting sensations.

It was gone just as quickly as it had come, and she was once more sitting there in the forest staring at the – equally surprised and stunned – expression of the small male burrowing owl...but everything had changed.

Without knowing quite what had happened, or how it had happened, she knew with a deep certainty that everything had just changed irrevocably. Her life would never be what it had been, but somehow she knew it would be deeper and richer now.

Looking at the pert little gape-grin of the feathered male – who was now blinking and happily nibbling the seam of her jeans – she knew everything about him. His habits and favourite foods (grasshopper, ew), how he had felt about his mate, how many chicks he had successfully raised, and every second of his journey here to find her...HER, specifically. He had flown for days just for her. Specifically for her.

An overwhelming sense of inadequacy and wild joy rushed through her, the guilt and other mess of negative emotions were suddenly swept aside by a decidedly feathery mind, to be replaced with that deep churring noise she had heard before and a solid bird tongue flitting against her hand.

She knew, without words or other complicated human things, that this little owl was hers, and she was very much his.

A small voice inside her couldn’t help but think “What have you gotten yourself into now, Amelie?”

~~~

*NOTE: Well, that's your signal everyone :) Get those bonding posts up! Let get this thing moving.

Alexander never did bother to check the news. It wasn’t that he didn’t care or was too lazy, he simply couldn’t concentrate. The past couple of days had been nothing more than haze. Or at least that was how it felt. How he managed to get through work he really didn’t understand, he was probably just on autopilot. Luckily, the book store never really seemed to get all that busy. A couple of usual’s came in, but that was about it. He had to be getting sick, that was the only explanation that he could come up with.

Hell he knew he was, because at one point he could have sworn that one of his regulars, Mrs. Ruth, eyes had changed colors, and it almost seemed like she was being followed by a herd…flock?....of pigeons. But that was crazy, who ever heard of a person being stocked by a group of pigeons, unless she was giving them too much bred. But it was stranger than that, when Alexander mentioned the birds the sweet old lady got almost, defensive. He saw that she kept glancing out the window, almost like she was making sure that they were still there, or that no one was bothering them. It was odd to say the least, but Alexander was probably just imagining things, yes that had to be it.

Alexander rubbed his temples lightly, letting out a little groan as he did so. He wondered if anyone would care if he just went home early. No one would probably notice, it wasn’t like his manager ever came in, and today had been relatively dead.

“Screw it.” He said out loud, to no one in particular. He was allowed to have a damn sick day every now and then. As he began to cash out the register his urge to leave grew ever greater. He found himself rushing to empty the register and lock it in the safe. Something was calling to him. He couldn’t explain it, he couldn’t comprehend it, but something was pulling on his subconscious. No that was crazy talk, he was just sick, that was all. He just needed to get home, and quickly.

He closed the door and locked it behind him, fumbling slightly with the keys as he did so. The calling was even stronger outside…was that even possible? How could it be, he was just sick after all. But with each step he took towards home the more he knew that this was no sickness. There really WAS something calling to him. He could hear her cry vibrate through his very being. It was both horrifying and incredible at the same time. A sudden longing to run to the force that called to him so strongly erupted inside of him. He wasn’t sure how he knew it was a female that called to him, or where she was, but he did. He ran. He ran faster than he had ever run before, like the wind was pushing him towards the special, astounding presence that had sought him out from miles away.

He could hear her now, a soft ‘whoooo’ that vibrated through the wind and struck him in the chest like a brick. He ran faster. He was so close he could feel her, like a beacon of light, like a promise of companionship, a savior from the monotony and emptiness he had felt for so long. He had always been alone; he had always known it, he had just never really felt it quite as strong as he did at this exact moment. Parents who had been there, but had always cared more about themselves than their son. Friends who had “outgrown” him, or who were only around when they thought he could do something for them. Everyone who he had met and forgotten over the years, they had left a hole inside his chest, one that he had covered up behind an un-interested stare and the books that he sold in order to stay alive. But now he could feel it, he could feel all the pain he had hidden for so long rush to the surface of his consciousness.

Alexander stopped suddenly. He felt like a weight was pushing down on him from every side. He looked around slowly, she was here. He had made it. He looked all around him, but he couldn’t see anything. Where was she? She had to be here, he could feel her. A soft ‘whoo’ caused him to look up slowly towards a large oak that stood right in front of him. She stood out like a diamond surrounded by coals. Soft white and brown feathers, strong, knowing eyes, talons as sharp as daggers but that could be as gentle as silk. That was her, that was the one who called to him so ferociously.

Slowly he lifted his right arm out to her, his body trembling with excitement and fear. Fear that he wasn’t worthy; fear that this was a dream or a trick; fear that she would run from him. Swiftly, the snowy owl pushed herself off of the branch and glided silently towards Alexander’s outstretched arm. With incredible grace and precision her talons lander down on Alexander’s arm and wrapped around it lightly.

It was like an explosion inside of Alexander’s head. He knew her, everything about her. From her birth, to her first clutch of eggs, to now. He knew how incredibly brave and strong she was, how kind and loving she could be, and how she had flown over mountains, tress, and half a continent, just to find him.

The emptiness that he had felt vanished, like it had never been there in the first place. It was replaced with an unfaltering love and devotion that Alexander and the snowy owl felt towards each other. She completed him in a way no one else could have. He knew without a doubt, he would never be alone again.

As their conscious touched he was overwhelmed by a sudden image of the owls feeling. Without words or explanation he knew, he was hers, and to her, he was special. He couldn’t help but smile and laugh as he gently lifted his arm towards himself and touched the beautiful owl’s head with his own. He still didn’t know what this all meant, and quite frankly he didn’t give a damn. He was finally complete.

The room was dark, lit only by the dim glow of the red digital numbers of his clock. The solid wood door was shut against the weather stripping and the sweep bolted to the bottom of the door were used for a new purpose; helping to insulate Tyko's room from the rest of the house, both thermally and acoustically. Only the dull throb of noise could be heard through the walls as his younger siblings played games or watched movies. Arctic cold breezes wafting through the window failed to disturb the young man sleeping, shielded by the comforting weight of heavy blankets. Far off in the house, the distant noise died. Moments later, footsteps padded their way to the door. A click of the latch and the resistance of the weatherstripping popped the door open a crack, spilling warm light into the chilled area. A slim, blonde haired young girl slipped into the room, her feet guiding her past the bass guitar and amp, carefully placed by the wall, a think layer of dust coating them like fond memories.

Reaching the side of her eldest brother's bed, Ellisif looked down at Tyko and sighed, she hated having to wake him earlier than his normal time. She knew he was struggling to cope with an average of four hours of sleep for five days of the week, and waking him an hour early made her feel horrible to steal that time from him. It was good to see her brother resting, rolled over, his back facing her, his head half tucked under the covers, still however, she reached out and gently rocked Tyko's shoulder, "Tyko...it's your work." She paused, seeing if he responded. Nothing. She reached out once more, gripping his shoulder through the multiple layers of cloth and insulation, she shook him until he grunted, "Tyko, work is on the phone." The only acknowledgment was an unintelligible, mono-syllable grunt. Sighing, she shook her head, raising the phone to her ear in her left hand, she laid her right hand on the nearly freezing cold leg of the desk that was placed next to his bed, a slight gasp at the shock of how cold it was escaped her before she spoke, "Just one more second, sorry...it's a bit earlier than he is used to waking up." As she received a comment of apology and acknowledgment, she tucked the phone to her chest, and with her right hand, grabbed a corner of the covers, and flung it back from her brother's torso, then, swiftly laying her chilled right hand into the sensitive spot between his shoulder blades.

Reaction achieved. Tyko recoiled from the sudden shock of the cold chilling his spine, squirming away from it as he gasped chill air, the movement only shifting the cold air over the rest of his skin, he flailed for the blankets, to cover himself as he flipped over to glare at Ellisif, "Can't you wake me normally?!" A deep, muffled growl, but the faint light of the open door behind her reflected the lack of aggression in his eyes. Still, she offered an apologetic smile and extended the phone to him. "I tried...It's work.it's an hour early too..."

A deep rumble of resentment and anguish escaped the huddled covers as an arm snaked out to take the phone, followed by a barely audible, "Thanks..." The black handset disappeared into the covers, as he asked, "Yes?" It came out groggy, and carrying a faint bite of aggravation. The voice on the other end of the line however, gave him good news....in a sense. Tyko grunted softly...a laugh? "Alright...Friday then. Hopefully." A pause, "Yeah, I will. Thank you." A faint chirp of the phone hanging up. The figure of Tyko shifted, propping himself up on an elbow, before offering Ellisif the phone back. "No work tonight, something about a truck driver, a bear, and ripping the power lines off the wall."

Taking the phone in hand, she looked at him puzzled, then smiled, "Well that...that is good. You need the sleep. Her, get back in there, I'll set your alarm for two AM, right?" Tyko nodded, offering her a small smile and a whispery thank you as he slid back into his bed to get his much deserved sleep.

The day had gone fairly normal, doing dishes, setting up the slow cooker for dinner, welcoming Mianna's day nurse before heading out for the drive up to Calgary to attend his mechanics class. Another day of information on the computers and wiring involved in cars, how to test and troubleshoot issues on common vehicles. He had found himself distracted, thinking of the things he still needed to get done on the Jeep, but the class ended soon, even if it felt like it dragged on longer than reason could explain.

After the drive back to Okotoks, Tyko made his way to the small mall behind the high school they went to. He picked them up from the coffee shop where they were busy working on their homework as usual. Conversation picked up, regarding subjects and information learned and the social happenings of the school. The day had been sunny and clear, leaving the way for people to be out walking in t-shirts while there was still a healthy coating of snow and ice on uncleared areas of yards.

An alarm blared out, and Tyko sprung up, sitting in bed, his eyes wide, heart hammering in his chest that pumped like a bellows as he hyper-ventilated, his skin awash in cold sweat. His arm flicked out of covers to snap a button on the electronic noise maker in the darkened room. Silence fell. A moment passed as he tried to figure out what had terrified him...something in a dream that he couldn't remember. Flipping the sheets and blankets from his legs, Tyko rose and slipped out of bed quickly, moving to his window and closing it with gentle firmness. With a toe, he slid the switch for the old ceramic space heater, a faint electric pop, and the fan started spinning, accelerating to force air through the dense heating element grid that slowly started to warm itself. Crossing the room to flick on the switch, the cold florescent tubes flickered a moment before igniting, soft and dim at first, but soon gaining in intensity. Shielding his eyes with his right hand for a moment, Tyko began to massage the sludge from the corners of his eyes before flattening his hand over his brow and sliding his palm up, his thumb and fingers gripping the side of his scalp through his dark hair, giving a simple massage as he forced himself to awareness. It was two in the morning and he had slept in. It was all he could allow himself lest he break his sleep cycle.

Tyko's room was almost in stasis from when he was fifteen; walls plastered in old metal band posters, most crooked in some vain attempt to be unique or something ridiculous that no longer mattered. The old wooden desk he had built in a middle school shop class, a wood veneer covered dresser, a purple bass guitar and cheap amp lingered against the wall near the bed, a book shelf of old paperbacks, a few hard cover reference books on the flora and fauna of the Rocky Mountains, a greasy book of parts numbers for Jeeps, a reference manual for the Cummins B3.3 diesel engine, and a well worn copy of the Kalevala. The only really new furniture of any sort, was the small metal gun cabinet tucked into his closet. It held his two rifles, and single shotgun.

After a quick shower, he walked into the kitchen, grabbing a bowl of cereal, he sat down before the computer for the first time, really, since the weekend. He opened Youtube, and started a video on healing land after someone had clear cut a forest, dealing with saplings and underbrush, selecting the best trees, and some other general things. It made him wish they were further west, near the mountains and had land with a forest already established upon it. It bothered him a little that he would never get to see the forest he hoped he had started on this parcel of land blossom into the dense woodland he wanted to see, but it also felt good in a way, that he was likely the only one to do such. Whether it lasted after he left this world however, was a wrench in his heart that would likely never ease.

He was about to put the bowl in the sink, and close the window when he saw a video in the side bar, “Man in jail after killing Animal Control Officer in Calgary,” he blinked and opened the video, it was a news report from a local station that was rapidly gaining views, what seemed to occur was Animal Control was called in because the black bear was following this man through the city streets. He looked respectable enough in the clips sent in by people with cell phones, the bear seemed peaceful, wasn't bothering anyone until the animal control officers cornered the two. One of the officers shot the bear with a rifle as it had become exceedingly aggressive, and the man himself was threatening the officers. The man appeared to have lost all sense, and drew a pocket knife and lunged. The video stopped there, but the news Anchor claimed that the one officer died of a severe wound to the neck. The second suffered a few minor lacerations before the police arrived and tasered the man to the ground.

It hit him, like a rolling train hammering into his head, the dream; He was alone, in darkness. It wasn't a room, so much as eternal space of empty nothing. No stars, no breeze, no sound, not even his body to touch with, just his consciousness in a well of darkness that had no end. Infinite black. A voice called out to him, small, worried, but persistent. It called his name, but he could not locate it. He had wanted to search, but he could not move, nor was there anything to search. He wanted to call out to it, but there was nothing for him to call with. The loneliness was unbearable, he didn't care who or what it was, so long as it was something. Something to take away this darkness, this empty void. It cried out his name once more, faint and distant. A third time...closer. The fifth time, it sounded....felt like it was in front of his face, but he couldn't see it. He couldn't feel it. He didn't exist to let it know he was there.

A sudden sense of realization or knowing suddenly flooded his point of awareness. It wasn't in front of him, it was in him. It was like a cannon of noise within the void, so loud and powerful, it shook the very nothing in shockwaves that cracked the darkness to reveal something darker. From those cracks came forth a torrent of black. Thick black fluid that flooded infinite darkness with black. Terror.

Tyko blinked, he found himself gasping for breath again. He looked around, his eyes finding nothing but the familiar home he had mostly grown up in. The computer screen was black, it had been a few minutes. He touched the mouse, and the screen responded with glaring white of the Google home page. His eyes glanced at the time, it was shortly after quarter to three. Twenty minutes. He had just fallen asleep, or blacked out for twenty minutes. Quickly rubbing his eyes to make sure they weren't deceiving him, he winced, a chill prickling down his spine at the thought. “The hell?” Softly escaped his lips as he tried to figure out what just happened, but he quickly decided it was best to ignore it and get on with the things that needed doing.

It was a little over an hour later, that Tyko was in the workshop, beyond the wind break of the trees, The old fireplace was stoked with wood and coals, pumping out just enough heat to keep the large area just above freezing. Tyko was out in his work clothes; double tin pants and a heavy denim jacket, both well stained with grease, linseed oil, and metal dust, and a pair of heavy leather gloves as he worked on something a little bit special; he had recently bought and dragged home an old Isuzu truck that had been sitting in a neighbors “dead cars” lot for several years. He had already replaced the engine of the small truck with a slightly larger four cylinder from a later model, replaced the shocks and bushings, and was currently building a simple bed cap for it from aluminum. The special part about it, was that it wasn't for him, but for his brother's sixteenth birthday in a week. So far, he was into the project for less than eight-hundred.

A sudden flash of blue, and the crackle of electricity filled the air with the acrid scent of burning metal as Tyko struck an arc with the welder. He drew the bead for a moment before finishing the short weld to inspect the joint of the small patch panel he was welding in on the passenger side rocker panel where the rust had eaten through. Placing the tip, he flipped the helmet down and struck the arc, on the opposing side of the panel, trying to prevent the hand-hammered piece from warping out of shape. As he raised the helmet, he was struck with the sensation of emptiness, a feeling that he was suddenly....or perhaps had always been incomplete.

The sudden, dizzying loss of emotional control knocked his balance away from him, planting ass to rough, stained and dirty concrete from his previously crouched position. His left arm swung out lazily to try and catch himself from the fall, sweeping away the empty and full rattle-cans of primer, the empty clattering off into the unlit section of the shop, the full smacking to the ground and rolling until it clinked against the wheel of an empty engine stand. His chest felt constricted as he tried to drag air into his lungs, his heart pounding from the fear of loneliness and the utter lack of understanding of what was happening to him. He struggled, fought to control the overwhelming senses. His brow furrowed as he dragged himself forward, back to his knees, waging war with the vertigo and the impossible resistance his body felt. He needed to call for help, he wanted to believe this was some toxic chemical given off by the welding.

He grabbed onto the open door of the little truck, using it to lever himself from the ground. He wanted to believe that it was just a chemical, that it was a passing thing, that it was curable or deadly. But the core of it twisted in his mind, he knew it was neither, it was void. Like something had eviscerated his soul, or a substantial fraction of it. He was nothing but a shell of unseemly thin walls, where the structural supports had just been cut loose. But collapsing was not part of him.

With knees trembling as though he shouldered weight greater than he could carry, he stepped towards the work bench. The phone was just ten feet away. Ten feet was possible. The next step, another; he slammed down to the pavement, breaking his fall with his hands as his knees gave way, buckling under his weight.

Staring at a splot of epoxy, long ground into the pavement, he lost track of time, refusing to yield to the crushing weight of emptiness that want to drag him to the core of the earth. A shadow moved in his peripheral vision. Craning his neck to see, hoping to see Kiite, or Ellisif, he did not expect to find a small, masked-face-bandit emerge from the shadows beneath the old tractor. Her small eyes shone with the light of something he didn't know, but he could feel the weight ease from his heart and body. She moved, fast, darting to something on the ground. He found out what it was after the raccoon threw it, and the object bounced off his head: it was a nut for a bolt. The scavenger squeeked, and then carefully approached him seeing as he appeared to pose no threat. She stopped inches away from his face, stuck her nose close to Tyko's face and gingerly tested his scent before rearing back on her rear feet, and simply pushing her forepaws into his face.

Shock. A pulse of something exploded within, the world vanishing for but a fraction of time before rebounding, brighter, louder, more intense than what was real. It was gone, the world faded back to normal, and he was hunched on the floor with a raccoon blinking furtively at him, with her paws jammed against his nose and cheek. Withdrawing her little paws, she glanced at them, then to him, and made three soft croons before tilting her head at him inquisitively.

It was gone, the hollow void of emptiness and loneliness was gone, replaced by a small little ball of fur who was born just last year. She hadn't had kits yet, she was young, curious, and loved noodles. Noodles with sauce, from a small building up north. Eggs, still warm, and the soft fuzzy fruits with the juicy flesh and hard center were amazing to her.

He couldn't help but smile as he slowly shifted to sit on the floor, crossing his legs as he tried to wrap his head around what had just happened. Staring off into space, he felt something shift and looked down to find the small raccoon climbing into his lap. He couldn't fathom what was going on, but he did know that she was tired, and hungry. She did a quick cleaning of her forepaws before she snuggled in against the inside crook of his left knee, falling asleep near instantly. Tyko sat on the cold floor, trying to process what was going on, and what had just happened.

One time,then again, she spit out gravel and dust as she clutched at her tummy and writhed around on the ground like a worm ripped out from the soil.

She just could not focus. Was that the sun? It was too bright, too real. But try as it might, the sun would never breach grey skies. Try as it might, the sun would never burn away the light misting of rain that fell to earth. But all she could try to focus upon was the blurry image of the twin white stars piercing her over-dilated pupils. Wait. Twin stars?

No, those were not twin stars... that wasn't the sun. Those were lights. White lights from a slick red sedan heading in reverse. Elaine was backing up. Fast.

"Oh gawd... oh gawd, no..." Polly wanted to screech, but her voice was but only barely above a hoarse whisper.

No way she would even be able to scream now; her throat burned all the way to her tummy as it somersaulted again over her other innards. Blue eyes that were even bluer now and sparkling with intermittent sliver lines in her irises widened as the full realization of what was happening broke through her thick skull.

Elaine was going to back right over her and the tires of the shiny chrome wheels spinning underneath the slick red sedan was going to squish her skull just like a grape.

No. Not just Polly... but... there was someone... no, something else with Polly now... something small. Fast. And clever. Clever...?

A fuzzy wet blur dashed towards the spinning rubber death neath the slick red sedan. It was lit up and bolting towards the car as if hypnotized by the twin reverse lights. "Wild Rose Country" said the words neath the letters and numbers of the license plate. They too were red and lit up, glistening with the fine misting that just passed over head. But all Polly could read right now was the word: Wild.

That's what happened. Elaine went wild.

A small thud and the slick red sedan's rear jumped up a bit as it ran something over. Something small. And quite possibly something clever.

Blonde tendrils plastered against her pale forehead and cheeks as Polly found the strength to toss her head up towards the damning grey sky and screamed and screamed and screamed and--

---

--screamed as something landed on the hood of the car.

"What the actual eff was that?!" Polly's knee came up to her chest as her hand reached toward the six inch blade hidden neath her right pant cuff.

"Faye...?!" called Elaine from down the embankment about two metres away from the open door, "what is it? What's wrong?!"

They were driving along and Polly's head started to loll, heavily mascara'd lashes and eyeliner'd lids rising and falling as she started to lose the war versus monotonous scenery and droning of the same news reports about 'freaks and animals' on the radio. Last thing she heard was Elaine saying that she needed to make a 'pit stop.' Apparently she couldn't hold it until the next rest stop; high grass at the shoulder would have to do.

"Elaine? Elaine?! Where are you?!" there was real alarm in her cartoon-character sounding voice, "we gots company, girl!"

The switch blade snapped to life and Polly opened her door and crouched behind it. One ragged-gloved hand lowered, tensed yet still restrained, regardless of the burning urge to unleash a swift and severe slashing but ultimately blind strike. The other reached around her back and grabbed the grip of her 9mm tucked at the back of her jean's waistband.

"W-who's there, Faye,” said Elaine in a harsh whisper as she hurriedly pulled up her panties then pushed down at her skirt, “I don't see... I don't see anyone...”

There was a commotion near the car, several frantic footsteps, even more curses, rustling in the grass from behind her. Then silence.

“Faaaye...? You okay...? What's goin--”

From behind a hand clamped her mouth shut and six inches of glinting steel flashed in front of Elaine's wide and terrified blue eyes.

“Shhhh... it's okay, Elaine,” Polly's voice once again sounded like it came from a graveyard. The coldness of the voice carrying the warm breath into Elaine's ear made the brunette shiver, “I got ya. I got ya... let's just head back to the car. There's some kind of animal out there with us...”

From behind Polly's ragged-gloved hand Elaine began to speak and with a single rough shake, Polly got her to shut up.

“Shhhh...” Faye whispered pleadingly and kissed Elaine's cheek, “quiet, please, 'Lainey, 'kay? We're gonna go to the car now. You start her up and let's go, right?”

Elaine nodded once curtly and Polly let go of her grip and uncovered her mouth.

Hand in hand, the pair slowly made it back up the embankment as the skies darkened. A jagged flash of lightning in the distance lit up their faces and the slick red sedan. Polly stopped dead in her tracks. Thunder rolled over them, shaking the hollows in their chests.

“I think it's in the back seat, 'Lainey...”

“Yeah, saw it... kinda' big...”

“Yeah. I'll take care of it. It's okay, come on...”

They both circled round to the rear wind shield and peered in. Lightning flashed once more. Thunder rolled in and Polly breathed a sigh of relief. It was just her jacket with the sleeves bumping up that made it look like an animal.

Both women had a little chuckle; Faye shrugged and shook her head as she retracted the blade into the hilt while Elaine held a hand to her chest and fanned her blood-drained face. Faye winked then after one last humourous look at each other, each went to their respective open doors of the car.

Lightning flashed and Elaine screamed. Thunder rolled as Faye screamed with her. The skies opened up as the thing on the dashboard stared at them with shiny yet soul-piercingly dark eyes...

...and sniffed at them with a preciously puny twitching nose.

“Awwww... it's just a baby bunny, Faye... it's sooooooo cute...!”

The switchblade snapped back into it full length of gleaming razor-sharp steel life.

“Hey, you! Get off there! Get the hell out, you dumb little fluffy fu--”

“Faye! No! Nonononono! We should really just... hey... Faye, you okay? Hey... come sit down... you don't look so good.... are you okay, sweetie? Come on... sit down. Oh! Ewww! My gosh, Faye! Just wait! I'm coming over there...

I'll just hold back your hair... don't-- Faye! FAYE!!! What's wrong! Stop shaking! Stop please! Oh gosh! GOSH!!!! Faye!!! It's okay... just let it out-- FAYE!!! Are you okay? Are you OKAY?! Wake up! Wake up, sweetie, Wake--”

---

--up till now, Elaine, never showed any aggression towards Faye. But as soon Faye's eyes fluttered open and she saw the colour of Faye's eyes, that all ended.

In her head, the flashes of what seemed like random thoughts blitzed Polly's mind. Chaos pulsating along to the sound of a little heart, rattling away like a machine-gun on speed.

Running, running, the road. Cars. Grass. Foxes. Running. Fear. So much fear. Hiding. Running. Running. Running. Hunting. Not food. No. Clever bunny is cleverly hunting. A two-legger. A two-legger with a nice heart. A two-legger that is running away just like a clever bunny. Found her. Them. Two of them. Jump on big warm red ugly smelling thing. Bounce away. Hide under big warm red ugly smelling thing. Hop up and inside big warm red ugly smelling thing. Stare at them with with shiny yet soul-piercingly dark eyes... sniff at them with precious and puny wiggling nose. See the two-legger with yellow fur... see her eyes... soul. Found her. Clever bunny found her and she is mine. Mine! Oh sick! But now, other is yelling. Loud. Angry now. Shaking mine two-legger with yellow fur! Trying to start hitting clever bunny. Bounce away, flee! Big warm red ugly smelling thing angry now too! Roaring! Away! No! Must stop big warm red ugly smelling thing from running away! Help mine yellow fur! Stop! Go get it! Run! Run! Run! Wait! It is coming back! So clever. No! It chasing me! It chasing me! Big warm red angry ugly smelling thing is going to eat clever bunn--

Polly lay there momentarily, half-sobbing, half-convulsing as the rain began to let up. Her chin finaly raised up and she saw the amber blinking of the tail-lights of the slick red sedan. Red.

Red.

The hue of vengeance flared up from within and consumed her. The retreating storms from high above coloured her eyes now and the sound filled her ears telling her tempting things, tantalizing things about what to do to the figure that just leapt out of the slick car and was frantically peering under neath that slick murderous beast checking to see that figure's handiwork. But no, Polly would not listen. Polly did not want those tempting things, tantalizing things to happen to the owner of the slick murderous beast. No, Polly just wanted it to end quickly.

As she found the strength to run, she found a ragged-gloved hand pulling out the former police standard Montana sidearm from her waistband. Two hollow points for that figure. Right up close and personal so she could see the life slide out and slip away from that figure's eyes. One in the belly. The other in the back of the throat as she crammed it down that figure's throat and blew it's head clean off--

“--f-Faye! I just checked i swear it was just a rock okay okay don't shoot okay it was a rock i didn't mean to i just reversed so that i could go back--”

Polly had her pinned. The brunette's butt was against the pavement, dress soaking up the wet dirt, back pressed against the door frame of the slick red sedan, head pressing back against the matching red leather of the driver's seat. The barrel was stabbing into Elaine's abdomen as she babbled on.

“--i didn't know but i saw at the last second it was coming for me and i knew i just knew that i couldn't leave you behind okay don't shoot faye sweetie please don't shoot i was coming back for you and--”

The chiming in the interior pounded in Polly's head, louder than the thudding of her heart. It was enough to drive her crazy. Then she heard the click of a hammer pulled back and locked in position. All she had to do was squeeze the trigger. Squeeze the trigger. Squeeze the trigger said her heart beats in time to the chiming in the interior pounding in her head.

“--it was a rock faye just a rock i don't know where it is but i came back for you regardless of what we said about the freaks with animals snow white disney demons right remember please don't kill me please--”

The rumbling of the engine though. Oh, but it was thunder in her ears. Thunder meant only one thing.

“--faye look at me look at me i'm sorry okay oh gosh i'm soooooo sorry look at me please i didn't mean to--”

Polly was ready to kill.

The eye of the storm in her ears came. The skipping of a heartbeat in the moment of silence before she was to go and pull the trigger.

“I believe you, Elaine.”

Elaine babbled no more.

---

Strange silver and blue eyes widened and stared into the slick red sedan.

As if painted in drying cement, the brunette turned her head away from Faye and in the direction the blonde was looking.

There it was again; the reason Polly did not squeeze the trigger. The skies closed as the thing on the dashboard stared at them with shiny yet soul-piercingly dark eyes...

...and the sound of thunder vanished from Faye's ears; it was just the rumbling of the big warm red and ugly smelling thing.

“I swear, Faye... I just wanted to go back...” Elaine said gently as she pushed the muzzle of the gun away from her belly and pulled Fay'e's head lower to whisper in her ear, “I swear, I couldn't-- I won't leave you, Faye...”

“Polly...” said the blonde as she locked gaze with the bunny above them. Without breaking gaze, she released the hammer of the gun from it's deadly position and swung her arm back around and re-tucked the gun into her waistband. After clearing her throat, she licked her lips and the lower one began to tremble, “...not 'Faye.' My name is 'Polly...'”

“Hello, Polly...” said Elaine, her eyes beginning to mist up, “...and my name isn't 'Elaine.' It's actually: 'Jamie.'”

“Hi, Jamie...” Polly said and she couldn't hold it in any longer. She crumpled into a kneeling position between Jamie's legs and her tucked her head into the crook between Jamie's neck and shoulder and began to cry, “I... I believe everything you said, Jamie... about coming b-back...”

“Then why are you so sad, Polly...?” Jamie stroked the wet blonde head upon her as she began to weep softly. But unlike Polly, her eyes shed tears of relief and released emotional tension.

Polly's reason was similar but different all the same. For the most part of her life, Polly spat out and believed in only four-letter words; the bad ones. Never in her wildest dreams would she ever find that she could believe in a five letter word; a good one.

“I'm not crying because I”m sad...”

Across the border in Alberta, Canada, on the run from the Law and the lawless, on a highway leading back to Lethbridge, at the side of the road, in the mud and dirt after a storm, embracing a woman a decade her senior after nearly shooting her to death, just outside the open door of the driver side of a slick red sedan, she finally believed in that five letter word.

“I'm crying because... because I'm--”

It took a bunny to bond with her and open her mind and heart to believe in that word.

“--I'm happy.”

A little one pound bunny that thought it was oh-so-clever, more cleverer than any bunny out there leapt off the dashboard and landed on the driver's seat. Promptly she made her way over and nuzzled its tiny bunny head and ears upon Polly's head fondly as if she knew Polly since the day she was born.

For the little brown and grey bunny with a white spot on its right flank knew the five letter word Polly now believed in was not the word: 'happy--'

A slender pale hand from a blonde reached into the pale hand of a brunette and interlocked fingers. The blonde's other hand reached up to the little head that lovingly nuzzled her and began scratching at those little ears to the rhythm of the chiming from the interior of the slick red sedan.

--no, it was 'faith.'

Mr. Swelter had hazel eyes. Some days, when Israel would visit his store to buy milk or flour, they would look a brown as rich as the oak wood floor he stood on. In the spring. however, they'd grow greener as the trees blossomed, and they often stayed that way throughout the summer into autumn, when they'd gradually brown once again.

But today, as the skinny and altogether feral looking Swelter sat strapped to the chair on the makeshift stage in the center of town, Israel noticed his eyes; they were blue.

An ice blue.

Swelter's eyes poured over Israel as he singled the giant figure from the crowd around him; gave a slight smirk as he noticed that they often gave Israel quite a bit of space, like they often would. Israel smiled back, though it was brief. No one seemed to notice, they were busy listening to Groan as he rattled his list of "treasonous acts" committed by Swelter- the highest among them being 'affiliation with the occult', being a 'practitioner of sorcery and witchcraft', and murder.

When Swelter had found Israel the day before, he had been running from two strange men who seemed to be hunting him. As their story went, Swelter had infiltrated their wild game farm and attempted to set free the multitudes of wild boar that were there, though they never explained why he ended up just running off with one single boar. After confronting Israel about Swelter the two game farmers combed the woods to eventually find him- at which point the survivor accused Swelter of murdering his toothless companion by means "magically throwing big rocks" as well as "commanding the boar to gore him". Sure enough, when the "authorities" investigated they had found toothless dead with blunt wounds chunked about his body, and a gruesome looking puncture wounds in his groin, stomach, and neck. Swelter was arrested immediately and sentenced to death, and the boar was shot on sight.

Israel never got to hear Swelter's side of the story, so he looked upon this report with skepticism, but the facts were hard to argue with, aside from the "magically throwing rocks" bit, which was odd, since Swelter was a rather frail man and probably lacked the strength to throw anything heavy enough to be lethal, much less several times. Perhaps Israel had just underestimated the man's strength, and so had the two men who hunted him, thus the fact that he did lift them was enough to be deemed "magic". Israel shook his head and looked down at the muddy ground- yesterday's rain had caused a thick mud in the village center, which is why Israel guessed there wasn't the usual turnout for public executions. At least this one would be "humanitarian", since Swelter had always been a valued member of the establishment, but that really didn't make Israel's heavy heart any lighter. He was used to the feeling though, it was almost the same as when he had first heard news of his father's passing. He had hoped he wouldn't ever have to feel it again.

It was time. The crowd stiffened as Groan presented Swelter's death; a small syringe filled with a yellow-tinted clear liquid. Israel glanced up, but quickly looked down again. He would not watch his friend's public execution- he was only there for Swelter's sake. Groan took a few steps towards the man covered in straps, and the two exchanged final words. It was likely Groan apologizing for how things had turned out. To Israel's surprise, Swelter smiled at his executioner; through the sad and brilliantly blue eyes there was no doubt a feeling of acceptance.

Swelter closed his eyes as the syringe was inserted and the liquid was pumped into his veins; Israel knew that he would not be opening them again. A few small bouts of crying could be heard as the final drops were dispensed.

--

Israel maintained a face of granite on his walk home; like yesterday, he wished he had taken the truck, but he reassured himself that it was too muddy and he definitely didn't feel like having to free a stuck vehicle. Israel's stomach was swimming as much as his head. How did Swelter's wife take all of this? Was the rancher's story truth? Had Swelter really murdered someone over a boar?

That last one lingered. Swelter had never really seemed like an animal guy- in fact, Israel had had a few conversations about how they both dislike cats. Most of the people that lived in town didn't really take to wild game- that's why they lived in town.

Israel's head was swimming so much that he felt he was going to be sick. He paused for a moment and leaned his arms and head along the wooden post by the edge of the muddy road. Why did Swelter have to die?

'Israel'

To wind rustled and Iz's head perked up. It was faint, but it almost sounded like something had said his name.

'Israel'

He was sure of it this time. It was Swelter's voice. It was incredibly faint, but Iz recognized it.

He stood tall and rubbed his eyes and temples. He was hearing things- witnessing death was a traumatizing experience, and Israel wanted to at least keep his sanity. A breeze rustled once more, but no ethereal voices were heard.

Suddenly, Israel's feelings of dread were gone. His churning stomach and mind were calmed so quick that Israel almost fell from the feeling. The breeze continued, and Iz had the strange notion that it was pointing to something. It felt as though something was calling to him, but he wasn't sure what. Israel was now completely sure that his sanity had gone with Swelter. But then he saw it.

At first it was little more than horns poking out from behind a tree- Israel had originally mistaken them for strange branches. But it slowly emerged from a shadowy canopy- a brilliant white against a dark green forest.

At first Israel wondered why a goat would be here, but he was quickly influenced to feel that it didn't matter. The goat had noticed Israel, too, and slowly the two started towards each other until the only thing separating the two was the wooden fencing. Israel slowly reached out and touched a horn-

The ground rushed up to meet him.

--

Israel felt a nudge at his hip. Glancing up and back from a face-full of grass Israel saw the goat and he reached out to pat its furry head.

The goat!

Israel jolted up as the grogginess wavered and he came to the realization of what had happened- he remembered touching the horn and then nothing afterwards. He had blacked out.

But something was amiss. Staring at the goat as it stared back- he almost felt connected to it. It was like the feeling you get when you haven't seen a favorite relative in years; as if it was a reunion of Israel and goat. He came to the realization that he was empathizing with the animal- looking at him, Israel could tell that he had also just lost a dear friend.

Iz shook his head and rubbed his eyes once more before standing up. He wasn't surprised that the goat followed him as he started towards home once more, something gnawed at the back of his mind, preventing him from leaving the goat's side. He wondered if the creature had the same feeling.

When they were finally home, he pat the goat on the head and told him to stay where he was- though the act of talking to animals reassured Israel that he was going insane. Once inside, however, the feelings of remorse and dread flooded him once more, and so quickly did they come that Israel was going to be physically sick. He rushed to the bathroom.

He glanced into the mirror after doing what needed to be done, and what he saw hit him like a rock.

Israel's eyes were a dark shade of brown, not too unlike Swelter's in autumn. But he looked and saw his eyes; there were blue.

An ice blue.

The rest of that day had gone by in a blur. Mellie had made it home, she must have walked but she couldn’t remember a single step of the trip, and when she got there the little owl had been right on her heels awkwardly hopping along. She had spent the evening staring off into space as the world seemed to spin and then gradually reform around her.

As she realized the effects the little owl had brought to her life moments she had let skip by her unnoticed whirled through her mind – a news article about a man and cougar being shot, a piece on the radio about a woman stoned to death, Judy leaving her home because she didn’t feel safe…all of it added up to overwhelm her completely.

She had been certain she wouldn’t sleep, but she woke up to sunbeams warming her skin and puffs of warm breath against her cheek. Her attempt to shift without disturbing the owl was given up right away as a sleepy hoot accompanied her first tentative movements. She sighed and put up a hand to steady him as she sat up stiffly in her chair. It had been a long time since she had collapsed in her chair and not woken until morning.

Despite the changes wrought on her brain the night before Mellie felt surprisingly fresh and calm. She still wasn’t sure what she would do, how she would cope with these differences, but a few hours out in her garden would help her find a new path.

Today was Thursday, but she had left a note for the principal saying she was ill and wouldn’t be coming in, with tomorrow being a bonus day off she had a lovely long weekend stretching before her.

Mellie slipped on her favorite gardening clothes, old ratty jeans and a comfortable top with an old sweater to protect against the chill still hanging around, and stepped into her own backyard oasis. She had spent the past five or so year she had lived her gradually reforming the garden from a boring and plain slab of grass to a maze-like wonderland of bushes, trees, and plants she had picked out herself. She took a moment to simply drink it in with her eyes, let the new growth cheer her up and soothe her spirit.

The little owl chirruped and hooted cheerfully before he hopped into the mess of plant life to scratch around for bugs. Watching him ferret out a grasshopper and a fat earth worm in minutes Mellie allowed herself to relax to his presence too. She could feel him, almost as though her heart and his beat together – his fast little rhythm a companion to her own slower and steadier beat.

With one last sigh she got her working gloves on and set to it; clearing last year’s dead growth, spreading mulch on this garden patch, digging some green compost in other places. At each small patch she spent a few moments just looking and feeling the ground; wondering if the onions and garlic she had planted here were coming up yet, checking on a bush she had planted a bit late and been concerned about, just reconnecting with her space.

When she’d finally accomplished enough that she felt she had made a start she went back to the first bed she had touched – and started. She had begun working in her garlic and onion bed for this year, she was positive the vibrantly green tips hadn’t begun to do more than break the top of the soil, but now each tip was poking through the mulch she had re-spread after checking on them. With a confused expression she went to the little bush she had just checked, it too had about an extra half inch of growth from what it had had less than 10 minutes ago!

Shaking her head Mellie dismissed it, obviously she had been too distracted to garden. Hopefully she hadn’t managed to kill anything in her fog. She couldn’t’ shake the scowl, or the strange drained feeling that suddenly suffused her limbs. She hadn’t done THAT much work, why was she so tired?

She felt a bump against her leg as she reached to open her back door, the little owl with a predator’s scowl on his face. He nudged her with his beak again, and Mellie got the feeling he wanted her to go inside and eat something. Well, surely that was her own stomach telling her and she was projecting it onto the owl…right?

~~~

After a quick lunch Mellie had made up her mind and looked up that Avingdale fellow in the phone book. She sat down at her table, cell phone in hand and owl snuggled contentedly into her lap, and dialed the number.
It rang once.

Twice.

Three times, and then someone answered in a solid male voice,

“Hello?”

~~~
*note* Bah, sorry for any confusing things...I'm recovering from a cold so my brain isn't quite working yet. lol I'll post the NPC reply to my own right away, and then who ever wants to can go next :)

NPC Landen

Time was, the world was a simple place. It wasn't always that what you saw was what you got, or that everyone could claim to know the exact line between right and wrong. And maybe he sounded like any old grandpa fussing over a bit of hardware his kids had given him. They'd said it would make long distance communication easier, but he'd forgotten how to turn the damn thing on just the other day. Still, when he could make it work, the thing was a wonder, and even if the touch screen was sometimes too sensitive, it was easier to see the screen, and he thought he was getting the hang of texting, for free he'd been reassured at least four times, until he'd seen a young girl, maybe seven or so, waggling her thumbs about and writing sentences on the same device in the time it would have taken him to write one word. He'd grown up in the wrong generation, he supposed. The wrong era entirely.

And now it wasn't computers or cellphones, it was animals and magic. He'd have called it all complete poppycock if he could have, except the news channels picked up the story after he already found out about it. His wife, bless her, had brought her pigeons home with her the other day. She'd been in such an euphorically panicked state he'd not been sure what to do about it. She'd been crying and ringing her hands and cooing over her darlings all together and there he'd been, staring at a flock of birds he'd known she liked, but would never have expected she liked them enough to let them into the house. Even now, there were feathers floating about the floor, and he was just waiting for some reaction to the streak of white down the back of her favourite chair. It hadn't come yet. Neither of them had understood really what was going on, but while his first reaction had been to try shooing the birds back outside, he'd eventually gotten used to it. He wasn't sure he wanted to understand the mess, but she was his wife and a few birds didn't change that. At least they knew now that it wasn't an isolated thing, though as things got more heated and violent, he'd been working to convince her to stay home. Tell her church girls she was sick, let him pick up the groceries or do any errands she wanted to run. It chafed, sure, but she was getting fragile.

And then his goddaughter had fallen to the same strange, he didn't want to call it sickness or insanity, but calling it magic sounded almost worse to him. She didn't have anyone to keep her safe the way Ruth-Ann did though, and she'd already learned some neighbours weren't feeling friendly. When she'd called two nights ago, she'd been in tears. So distraught he'd been worried her husband was back. If that had been the case, he'd at least have known how to react, but when she'd gone on about dead birds, he'd had to clamp his teeth over a relieved, "Is that all?"

Well, they'd driven out to see her, and the women had had a happy enough reunion, but when they'd invited her back home, she'd said she wanted to get out of the city. He couldn't blame her, but it had taken a while to figure out where to send her. Finally, he'd given her the keys to their summer cottage and some numbers for the Parks Canada folks he knew who could probably help her more than he could. They knew more about birds than he did...

He was watching the news again, willing something to have changed overnight, and trying to convince his wife that they ought to head out to the cottage themselves a little early when the phone rang. He had to leverage himself out of the chair to reach it. Too bad Ruth-Ann's pigeons couldn't carry it to him or something. But at least he had yet more proof that adding to the number of rings before the answering machine picked up had been a good idea. "Hello?" He hadn't recognised the number, "Who is this? If you're selling something I'm afraid I'm not interested." It was always best to be forward, and he couldn't think of why anyone else would be calling, they didn't get very strangers on the phone.

As soon as she heard his voice Mellie began to feel really silly. What was she doing bothering this old man? Wasting his time. She almost hung up...but in the end - after much too long of a pause - she answered hesitantly.

"Hello? Are you Mr. Avingdale? I'm Mellie. Amelie. I got your name from my neighbor, Judy. Well, she's not my neighbor anymore I suppose...I'm babbling, I know, it's just that this is so odd."

Without giving the poor man a chance to speak she dove right in to explaining her relationship - if you could call it that - to Judy, and what Judy's note had said. Then she paused awkwardly for a minute and just listened, hoping he hadn't hung up on her. She was sure she'd sounded absolutely crazy and there was a good chance he would hang up on her if he hadn't already.

She heard an intake of breathe, and then blurted out "I'm sorry. I just...didn't know what else to do...or who else I could call...."

NPC Landen

He waited. Someone had to be on the other end. Landen was just opening his mouth to say hello? again when a woman began to speak quietly. Perhaps he'd worried her with his dismissal, but she wasn't selling anything. She was calling... He wasn't actually sure why she was calling, but he confirmed his identity and she mentioned Judy and five minutes later he knew far more about her than he might have wished.

Silence fell between them. The awkward sort when no one really knows how to end it. Was it some sort of contagion? A magical disease? Attracted animals to you? Hell, he didn't care anymore, this was getting a little too close to home, he hadn't known Judy had left him as a contact, but since she had... He couldn't very well leave this girl to deal with everything on her own. And maybe Judy would like the company. As Ruth-Ann raised her eyebrows across the room at his hesitation, he took a breath and her apologetic desperation clinched the deal.

"It's all right, Merry. It's a trouble you've found, same as Judy. What are you wanting to do then? We'll just talk this out together and you can take a few deep breaths, I'll try to help asI can."

Mellie took a deep breathe, relief flooding through her.

"It's Mellie. But thank-you. Thank-you so much."

She took a second to collect her thoughts, then replied slowly, "I think I'd better leave town. Judy had some trouble, and I don't like...I've heard some things that make me very nervous." She paused again as she scratched the little owl under his chin. His eyes closed in birdie-bliss and he made a deep sort of churr-ing noise deep in his throat.

"Yes. I need to leave town. Do you know where Judy went? She didn't leave me any information other than your name." Mellie chuckled self deprecatingly, "I had to look you up in the phone book, and I can't even tell you how odd it feels to be telling all this to a stranger."

She quickly cataloged what she would take with her in her mind. She could fit a fair amount in her old beat up station wagon, but she had no idea where she could go and what she would need...a knife of despair flashed thought her at the thought of leaving her garden, but for the little owl currently nibbling her knuckle she knew she would do it. For him and for whatever was happening within herself.

NPC Landen

"Mellie? I'm sorry, I misheard." Whoops. He needed to turn the volume up on this phone. Or maybe she was just talking too fast at the time. He hadn't been prepared for it. Well, nevermind it now, he had to help her figure out what to do, except, it seemed she had things pretty much figured out for herself. So it was good his thoughts matched hers. If this got hairy, you didn't stay to suffer the consequences if you didn't have to.

Clearing his throat to give himself a little longer to think, and to make a shushing gesture towards one of Ruth-Ann's birds, Landen made his final decision and nodded decisively, even though she couldn't see it. "I know where she went. You're Judy's neighbour, you said? Meet me in her back garden in... forty five minutes, I'll stop in with a map and some proper directions. She's staying at our summer cottage, it's a little out of the way." A moment's pause before he said goodbye. "Do you need anything to make a trip to the mountains?"

When he had her agreement and answer, Landen hung up and phoned Judy, explaining the situation to her and Ruth-Ann simultaneously and then trying one more time to tell Ruth-Ann that they should go too, before grabbing his car keys and heading out alone. She liked the city more than he did. Always had...

“Tyko, if you're dead, how the fuck will you care of us?!” Came the guttural roar of Kiite. It was a voice no one had heard the young man use before; raw emotional turmoil of fear, anger, and love. His bright green eyes shone through the wet veil of tears that leaked down his cheeks, sandy brown hair still messy from his slumber. He was seated in the old chair their father used to sit in, a plain, burgundy fabric recliner. He was hunched forward, his his hands clenching and unclenching between his knees, kneading the air in frustration. He was pleading, begging his brother to get out of town for a while upon the revelation that Tyko was now bonded with a Raccoon.

Ellisif stood beside Kiite, still in her house coat, “We will be okay Tyko. We can take care of mutsi for a few days, you know we can.” Her housecoat just clearing her toes, cloaking her slender build. Her face steeled against the emotions she wanted to scream and cry, fore she knew they would do no good for anyone, except make the reality harder.

Seated on the couch, Tyko sat with the raccoon in his lap, his expression a mixture of terror, worry, rage and sadness, slowly being offset by admiration and pride. He glanced to Mianna at his sister's mention of mutsi, and a wrenching pain gripped his heart as his fingers kneaded the soft fur of the Raccoon; his mother's expression was the most composed he had seen of her in years, yet still tears rolled down the slight crevasses of her thin, angular face. She gave a soft moan that came across as morose, but stern. He could only swallow, and nod. A deep breath with his mouth closed, he released it and brought his hands to his face as he sighed. There was no use fighting this, they were right. His brother and sister had spent the past hour showing him video from news agencies and youtube of the violence that was being meted out against those who were paired, or bonded to wild animals. From Miami to Calgary, it seemed as though the vast majority of those who lacked the bond, turned their fear to violence. There were claims of magic, of miracles. Some were calling it witchcraft, a televangelist was calling it an affront to God. “Then let us prepare.”

Calls were made to the highschool, excusing his brother and sister for the day under the pretext of a family emergency. The same was done for Tyko's work and class, but for an extended period. He set it for one week. Hopefully enough until this first wave of terror-borne violence would fade. If this lasted longer, he would have to find a way to extend it, or accept that he may lose his jobs and be forced to sacrifice the money left over from the insurance and settlement that was intended for his brother and sister to go to college or university if they chose. For what was university, if you had no home? The home care nurse for Mianna was canceled for the day, to try and keep the knowledge of Tyko and his raccoon to a minimum.

Dawn arrived, Tyko and Kiite left the house, leaving Ellisif to tend to Mianna's needs until they returned. Their first stop, was the bank, leaving the Raccoon in the truck, Tyko withdrew twelve hundred in cash, and made sure that Kiite's debit card was clear for up to a thousand dollars per day, up from the old limit of three hundred.

Their second stop was the insurance company, where Tyko got coverage on the Isuzu, with his brother as the primary. At the end of the week, Kiite would be able to go in, and get his Probationary license, but for this coming week however, things would be tough for Kiite and Ellisif. The third and final trip ended with the grocery store, in light of the fact that the house would be without a licensed driver for a week. They gathered supplies for Tyko as well, filling the cart substantially before returning home.

The sun was setting as Tyko sat out on the rear porch of the house, lists of things he wanted to get done kept scrolling through his mind as he watched the little raccoon eating a fresh egg he had just given her but a minute ago, still warm from the coop. Worries of not being able to keep the house, of the tasks he wanted to get done come spring and summer, of Kiite and Ellisif's homework, their health, their social lives. This was far from what he wanted or desired. It felt as though this thing, this connection between him and this little scavenger was a sledgehammer, trying to knock him back from all the progress he had made. As if some unseen entity was furious that him, and his, siblings had overcome the tragedy that robbed them of their mother and father, that they had prospered rather than failed. His hands tightened around the cover of the old book, a copy of the Kalevala. Now he had a new worry, this raccoon. She was currently holding the eggshell between her paws, licking out the last remains of its contents, slowly spreading the egg with her pointed muzzle to get into the ends. “Louhi.” It was a soft whisper, but the little Raccoon looked up, blinked at him, and then went back to eating the egg. Her happiness and contentment did somewhat soothe his frayed nerves. The name suited her to a degree, he had the feeling she would demand a Sampo from him, a thing of endless food or wealth.

Eight at night, with a stomach full of kalakeitto, or fish soup, made in as traditional way as Ellisif could; fish stock they had made last year, frozen in mason jars in the old chest freezer, carrots, onions, potatoes and rutabaga, leek and dill, and a couple of thawed trout and mountain white fish. It was one of Tyko's favorite foods, reminding him of his childhood back in Finland, a meal his grandmother made whenever they visited. He had even set aside a small bowl for Louhi after letting it cool down so she could try some as well, she seemed to like it, but eggs and noodles remained on her mind.

Tyko and Kiite were in the shop, the younger brother having been introduced to his future truck, and shown what yet needed to be finished for it to be road worthy. The elder of the pair was sitting, contemplating something that had struck him while using the rafter mounted hoist to lift the bed cap he had built for the Jeep, on to the back of the M677. The bed was already filled with the wooden benches and platforms that sufficed for him to sleep, and the full length drawers waiting to be loaded with gear and supplies. The water tank and heater re-installed and filled, the rest that was needed was food, a rifle, toiletries, and some form of entertainment. The thought that puzzled him though, was where he should go. There were a number of places he'd been and would like to see again, but at the same point....opportunity being opportunity, if it were potentially his last trip, seeing something he hadn't seen before, would be preferable.

Thus he turned to his phone, and the number of a man he'd met last year, who had drafted him and his truck into a rescue operation up in the remote regions of the mountains. They had become loose acquaintances since, but if there was someone who would know a remote place to get out to, it would be Danny Bannan. Quickly he sent the man a text message, “Hey Danny, I know this is short notice, but if you could get back to me, I need to find somewhere to be for a week. I will be solo, suggestions?”

Danny glanced down when his phone vibrated, but didn't pick it up to see who had texted him. His focus was all on getting Brian to take it down a few notches.

"Come on. It won't be that bad." He put his hand on the table, palms up. "He's stayed with me before, and the alternatives..." He let the words hang, knowing his brother was picturing the crazy cow who'd birthed the boy then vanished - and had shown up last summer while Jack was away. She'd been calling and texting Brian for months now, trying to set up a meeting with 'her boy'. Crazy bitch.

From some things she had said Brian had gotten a picture perfect idea of her stance on current events, but it hadn't really bugged him until the day before. Danny sighed, loudly. He knew his brother saw him as flakey and undependable, but this was a bit much. He had dropped everything to drive almost four hours to Lethbridge, left his partner Augusta to watch their territory...and now his brother simply would not listen to reason.

Refocusing his eyes on Brian, Danny began again. "Look. Jack will be safe with me. He can bring his text books - if you can lend me some supplies and the 4x4 you can load him down with whatever else you want." He could feel he was loosing his older brother's focus again as he saw the green eyes that so closely resembled his own sweep to the top of the staircase. "Brian. It isn't safe here, or if it is now it won't be very long. I know where we can go. Augusta is already setting up camp, we have a plan."

Danny knew the boy was sitting just out of sight, listening to every word. He also knew it wasn't Jack he'd have to convince, that kid would jump for a chance to ditch out on the last few months of school and head into the woods with his uncle.

"Hell, you can come. I'd like it better if you stayed here, for a bit though. We can set up an internet connection in good weather, I've got a satellite phone. We wouldn't be completely out of reach. But we've got to go.Maybe not tonight, but tomorrow morning for sure. I'll make a stop at that camping shop in town, another at the grocery store, then straight out to the Park." He could see Brain was coming around, his lips were tense as he considered sending his only child away for who knew how long.

Danny could tell the moment his brother made his decision, but he kept his cool and waited. Allowing Brian a moment to come to terms with it.

"Alright. Alright. You should take him." Brian closed his eyes and a look filled with such pain and terror flickered across his face, then he met Danny's eyes and whispered, "Look after my boy, Danny. I trust you."

Both men took a deep breath, then Brian forced the anxiety from his features and called out, "Jack. Come down here...and bring the little fellow with you."

It took the next few hours for them to sort out the details, but in the end Brian insisted they take not only the 4x4, but also he canoe, and a myriad of food and camping supplies. Some good gardening tools and seeds left over from the small garden he'd planted last year. Good things, useful and easy to move into the back woods camp Danny had in mind.

Finally, Danny had time to check his phone after Jack had been sent up to bed. His brow creased as he replied, hoping the hard working kid he remembered from last summer hadn't gone to bed in the last hour or so.

"What's up? I might be able to set you up somewhere, but I'll be out of town. Don't know when I'll be back, but I'm leaving tomorrow morning, so if you want to get settled I'll need to know by early tomorrow morning."

A novel, as far as texting went, but Danny had never gotten used to the short form everyone used for texting. He just couldn't wrap his brain around a method of communication that didn't include proper punctuation. How did anyone understand inflection without punctuation?!

The bed of the M677 was packed tightly with what was, most likely, more supplies than were needed; large ziplock bags sealed in dry oats, rice, a mixture of thirteen dried beans, bison jerky and venison, all tightly packed into the kitchen section of the right hand drawer. At the front of it, was his old, Coleman 4M white gas stove. He had found it last year at a eclectic pawn/antiques shop for a paltry ten dollars. A bit work with the sandblaster, some sand paper, and a couple of licks of high-temp paint had it looking respectable again, and protected it from rust, while some solvent in the tank cleared out the varnish and residue of long evaporated gas. A quick bit of leather work, cutting seals and washers got the pump working. What was left was a beautiful old camping stove, set apart from its modern contemporaries by it's smoothly rounded stamped steel box, and the cast iron manifold that compared to the lighter, stamped and welded models that came later. The tank was the old bronze-like coloured cylinder, known to be reliable, and extremely resistant to corrosion, which his refurbishing of the pressure vessel proved to be true. Behind it were a pair of 1 gallon white gas tanks, and a small manual siphon pump, each strapped into the plywood drawer with a pair of bungie cords.

Clothing and woods tools packed the left hand drawer; a felling axe and a maul, wedges, and a 5' crosscut bucking saw he had salvaged from a neighbor's abandoned farmhouse that he preferred when heading into woods vs a chainsaw because it didn't make noise, and it was light, needing no gas, or tools to make it run. There was an empty space though, and Tyko was working with what occupied it inside the house, with a pair of rifles in pieces at his cross-legged feet. The smell of Hoppes #9 hanging in the air, as he rand a cleaning patch through the bore of the SKS. A thick pit of uncomfortable fear rested in his belly as he cleaned the rifle, a sensation he had never known before when cleaning his arms; It was the prospect that if things didn't get better, that he may be forced to defend Louhi's life, and his very own, and this was likely the rifle he would use for such a task.

The motion of Louhi's ears perking up alerted him before the phone itself started buzzing against the floor, he looked at her curiously, trying to figure out how she responded to it before he even heard it, but decided not to question something that might leave him awake at night. He pulled the cleaning rod from the barrel, and inspected the cotton patch for debris, but found only the fainted hint of contamination. He settled the rifle down, and the cleaning rod as well, he picked up his phone, unlocked it and read the message.

A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he thought about how to reply. Thoughts raced through his mind, bouncing from whether to trust Danny, or to keep Louhi and his bond secret. If he kept it secret, whatever he wrote might make Danny question him more, to which he would have no answers, leading to possible legal conflicts of interest. But if he told Danny, what if Danny was one of them? The fearful and prejudiced? From what Tyko knew of Danny, it was extremely unlikely, after all, Bannan was a Park Ranger after all. He loved nature. Yet whispering doubts hissed their advice to trust no one in his ears. "Does he know where we live?" He looked up to the soft voice of his sister, she stood, leaning against the back of their late-father's chair in the comfortable living room. She had her lips rolled in, her brows knitted together in her pensive look. The wood in the fireplace let out a harsh crack, followed by a hissing roar as a pocket of gas escaped as a jet of flame.

"No....but it wouldn't be hard to find us, would it?" He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose with his left thumb, index and middle fingers as he thought. "But if I trust no one.."

Ellisif smiled slightly, rocking back and forth on her crossed forearms against the back of the seat, waiting to see the result as Tyko began writing the message, "I'm going to put faith that you" He stopped, and erased it. The line in his head didn't work how he wanted it, he tried again, "Daniel, I fear for the sake of my brother, my sister, and my mother. I've been...bonded. The violence terrifies me, this is why I ask for somewhere remote. Jeep is loaded. I leave tomorrow after taking my bro and sis to school." He swallowed, a cold, gummy saliva that seemed to ooze its way down his throat as he pushed send. He was either doing the right thing, or a very wrong thing. And he wouldn't know either way until it erupted in his face, if it ever did.

It was less than five minutes before his phone buzzed at him again, it seemed the kid was still up. He checked the message and shook his head slowly. Jeezus. More and more of them then. His brother looked up at Danny's hard exhale and their eyes met across the table.

"I've got another one. Looks like we'll have a bit more company at camp." Danny's tone was wry, but not anxious. He knew he could trust Tyko, the kid had worked harder than any two of the other men he'd hired. "A kid I worked with last summer, about nineteen or twenty. He's in the same spot as your boy."

Brian raised his an eyebrow, but he'd decided to trust Danny and couldn't very well change his mind at the first obstacle. "He's ok? No trouble then?"

"Yeah, he's been the breadwinner for his family." Danny replied, "They lost his dad a few years back, and his mom was hurt really bad. Car accident."

Brian winced, then nodded. That sort of pressure when you're young either wrecked you, or strengthened you. It seemed the boy had stepped up. "Alright." There was a long pause as Danny thumbed out a reply "Alright. That's why I'm booking it too. My nephew. You're welcome to come, and I'm sure you've got everything you'll need. It's really far out, so plan for a long stay and a trek out to the camp. If you've got a bike, or 4x4, canoe, fishing poles...we could always use some extras. Give me a call when you've dropped the kids off. I'll probably be at the grocery store by then."

With that Danny stood up and pocketed the phone. It wouldn't be much use out in the bush, that's what the sat. phone was for, so it would stay with his truck when he had to leave it. "Alright. lets get packing."

They spent the next few hours sorting through Brian's supplies and organizing the box of the truck. It'd be a tight fit tomorrow and Danny found himself begin grateful the boy had only bonded a squirrel. Anything bigger would have been a real pain in the ass. He chuckled and shared the though with his brother as they tied a tarp down over the box. Brian mustered a lop sided grin and a half-hearted chuckle, but Danny could tell his heart wasn't in it.

Both men were quiet as they headed to bed, Danny getting as comfortable as possible on the couch. It would be a long day, and he'd need all the rest he could get.

~~~

The next morning goodbyes went quick. Brian snapped a few quick pics of Jack and the squirrel with his phone, hugged his boy, then waved from the driveway as Danny backed out. They'd hardly said two words that weren't necessary. Danny's last words to his brother were the expected "Don't worry. I'll keep him safe." as they each wrapped one arm around the other. Jack, still young enough to need a hug sometimes, was wrapped in his dad's embrace longer than he'd have tolerated on an average day. Danny was glad, he knew his brother had needed that reassurance as much as Jack had.

And now they were filling the last cracks of space in the truck cab and the box with a few last minute supplies. Neither Brian or Danny were strangers to packing up a truck, they'd gone camping together most weekends and almost all summer from the time Brian was old enough to drive alone. They had left a few easy to get to spots where perishables and canned goods could sit nicely, and Jack would have to settle his feet on a big bag of rice, but they'd make it work.

As Danny tucked in the last bag of trail mix into the glove box his phone buzzed again. Must be Tyko, looking to meet up with them.

As he read the text, his eyes widened fractionally at the news of Daniel's nephew. Finishing the text, he drew in a deep breath as he looked back up to his sister, "Apparently his nephew is bonded, or whatever this is. He's heading out tomorrow as well." Ellisif looked up, processing that before shrugging. "Mind grabbing my pair of fishing poles and gear from my closet? I'd forgotten them." With a solemn nod, the thirteen year old rose from the back of the chair and disappeared into the hallway. Tyko sent an affirmation note back to Daniel, then picked the Lee-Enfield from the carpet and rested it in his lap. Swapping cotton patches from the cleaning rod he dripped Hoppes onto the fabric before guiding it to the muzzle of the firearm and pushing it down the bore, and out the chamber. After a couple of sweeps through the bore, the patch came out with barely a trace of residue, which was exactly how it should be, he meticulously cleaned his rifles after every use.

Ellisif returned with his spinning and fly rods in her right hand, and his small tacklebox in her left. Leaning the rods against a chair, she rested the tacklebox on the seat. She stopped to watch him working on his rifles for a moment, before turning away and heading back down the hall, likely to her room. He couldn't blame her, this day was stressful, sudden, enlightening. He slipped the bold of the Enfield into the rifle, and operated it a few times, feeling the smoothness of the action, checking for unusual hitches in its slide, and found nothing. He pulled the bolt from the rifle again, then twisted and put the bolt into the cutout of the foam case, followed by the Enfield itself. Closing the case, he turned his attention to the SKS, reassembling the rifle, checking its action which this example had a slight hitch in the bolt's operation right after it unlocked. Trigger release was long, and with a mushy break, nothing unusual. He replaced the trigger lock, before stowing the carbine in its own hard case.

Louhi lifted her head, watching him for a moment as he moved, but her belly full of eggs, fish, potatoes and other delicious foods conspired to keep her contently sleeping on the couch.

The alarm sounded four hours after he fell asleep. Rising with the noise, he pushed aside the whispers to stay and sleep like he always did. A conscious act of will he repeated daily. The morning was mostly routine, except for the checklist in his mind he kept double and triple checking. Food, tools, spare axle shaft for the front and rear, U-joints, a spare front hub, replacement injector if one decided to shit itself. Sealant, and replacement fluids in brand new sealed containers stashed under the rear bench seat. Rifles, protected and legally stowed in their transport boxes, hung from the inside of the camper-shell roof. The jerry-rigged bike rack mounted in the rear receiver hitch also carried a pair of 5 gallon fuel cans, and a pair of 5 gallon water jugs, for the just in case. His old, dusty mountain bike was wedged in between a pair of one inch square aluminum tubes, the bottom of the tires resting on spacers, while a pair of aluminum tube uprights lashed to the frame of the bike with old inner tubes. The small pontoon fishing raft's frame and deflated tubes were stashed on the rack of the bedcap's roof. Both bikes for Kiite and Ellisif were oiled, brakes dialed in, and ready to ride again, even though the tires needed replacing, but the pair could get those on their way home from school today. He would need to stop by a bike shop before leaving Okotoks, for new tires of his own, to replace the nearly bald, and cracking rubber that currently supported his bike. Perishables were stored, money was stored, food was ready. Bills were set to be paid, a cheque for the nurse was written, the Isuzu had insurance, Kiite was ready for his test, Mianna...

“Tyko?” Kiite's voice jostled him out of the list, he looked around, blinking, somewhat confused for a moment as he realized they were outside, before the M677.

He looked to his brother and shrugged, “Lists....making sure everything is taken care of in my mind, and I think I forgot something.” He blinked, he couldn't remember saying goodbye to his mother. He looked down to the keys in his hand, before looking back to Kiite, “Get it started, Forgot to say goodbye to mutsi.” His brother, wearing blue jeans and a light weight black jacket, grabbed the keys. Weather was fair this morning.

Tyko jogged back to the house and made his way inside the unlocked door. He went to the livingroom, following the sound of “Days of our Lives”, and found his mother there, tears streaming down from watery eyes had left a dampness in her purple blouse where the dripped free of her chin, she looked up to him, extended a wavering arm and released a soft, haunting moan that was agony for him to hear. He stooped to take her embrace, hugging her tightly. “Mutsi,” he whispered softly in her ear, his chin on her shoulder, he spoke in Finnish, doing his best to console and reassure her. He would be back, everything was going to be alright, Kiite was son she could be proud of and depend on, Ellisif was reliable and strong, even at just thirteen. Her moans turned to deep sobbing, her frail body slowly rocking against his, using him for support. She knew full well what was happening. She knew better than his brother, his sister, or even Tyko himself, how bad the violence was. She had seen more of it on the TV, repeatedly aired. She was aware, regardless of what the doctors thought. She was trapped. It hurt him to know this, to see this, and to be unable to do anything to release her from the crippled flesh that was as much of a prison to her as a wall of bars. “I will be back mother. Regardless of what happens, I will protect this family.”

He felt her right arm tug him closer with as much strength and coordination as she could muster, before he broke from her embrace, he kissed her wet cheek, then her forehead, “I love you mom.” He rose and left. Not once meeting her eyes for fear of breaking his resolve. Listening to her moaning sob grow to a low howl was hard enough. As the door close behind him, he paused in the chill air; regret, anger, frustration, powerlessness, grief, and fear washing over him in an overwhelming tide; If this violence didn't stop? What happens? If some spineless wretch finds out about him, and attacks his family since he is unavailable? What happens? If he is found in the woods? What happens? A deep grunt of hatred escaped him, his fists clenched as he turned to hammer his knuckles into the steel-skinned wood door, but he hesitated, Mianna was in there. She would hear. He might break his hand. Yet the need to vent was there. Two steps, and he drove his fist into the teal blue paint of the Dodge Caravan that sat beside his truck. His fist connected with the steel of the hood. He recoiled and struck again, and again, desperately trying to drown the emotional turmoil in focused rage and pain. Release but a fraction of the seething energy he felt within.

A scream, he looked up, the emotional outburst throttled back into its jar, and swallowed like a thorned pill of toxic waste. Ellisif was starting at him from the rear passenger door of the truck, sounds of a stuggle could be heard from within at Kiite pushed Louhi off of him. He ran to the truck, just as Kiite opened the door, the right arm of his jacket shredded and torn, a few scratches on the skin showing through the opened fabric. He looked startled and scared more than anything, he looked to Tyko, “She...she was shaking, snarling when you got outside. I tried to pet her, calm her down...but a moment later, she just lunged at me.” He hesitated, looking to his arm, and back to his brother, “Are you sure she's safe?”

Tyko blinked, and looked past his brother to the small masked face looking out from the door, she seemed...ashamed, and worried, and scared. “I...I think this bond is more than just....her finding me Kiite. I think, on some level we share emotions, and what I just felt, over flowed into her.” He winced, “Fuck!” He stamped the gravel of the driveway, shaking his head as he reached out to Kiite's arm, “I'm sorry, its my fault Kiite, are you hurt?”

“No...not really, just scratches.” But he still let Tyko look it over. When his elder brother released his arm, he headed back to the house, “I'll just get a different jacket quickly.”

Tyko nodded, solemnly before leaning forward against the Jeep, resting his forehead against the cold metal. “Uhm...” Ellisif made a noise to draw his attention, rolling his head, he looked to his little sister, and noticed her eyes were rather wider than normal, and that she was pointing to the ground near the front of the minivan. He rolled his head the other way, and looked to where she pointed, and paused...dumbstruck by what he saw; a faint, barely single stone high, rough ring shaped around the trenches dug into the frozen gravel of where he stood.

Slowly the chill of the air made him aware of the ache and pain in his right hand. He looked to it and winced; the skin of his knuckles was rolled back and bloody, small flecks of teal paint lined the curled, white skin. Two rivulets of blood were snaking their way down his forearm, following gravity. Grumbling, he shook his hand loose, already feeling the inflammation setting in, with the temporary tensioning of the tendons and ligaments. He flexed each finger individually as he could, and each worked with no searing pain, which was a welcome result, not having to go to a doctors for a broken finger or popped knuckle. He looked back to Ellisif, and merely offered a shrug before he took a deep breath and walked to the driver's side as Kiite returned with a slightly warmer blue hoodie. Once inside, he took Louhi in his lap, and apologized to her as well, she gave him a purr of acceptance, before he started the warmed truck into motion.

He stood outside the truck in the school parking lot, opening the last text he had received from Danny, and replied, “Just dropped of my bro and sis. Weird morning. Will need to pick up bike tires on the way out, leaving from Calgary, right? Where do you want to meet?” He hit send, and then climbed back into the truck. It started quickly and settled its rythmic gargling idle as he pulled on his seat belt. Pulling onto the street, he headed for Brown Sugar Bake Shop for a coffee.

"We're leaving from Lethbridge, my brother's place. We need to go up through Okotoks to get to the Park. I'd rather not go through Calgary, we'll just skirt it. We should be in Okotoks around 11am. Hopefully we'll get to the park by 1 or 2pm. Meet us at the Timmies at 11?" Danny sent the text along, hoping that Tyko would have time to get his errands done before they got there so they could move on after a quick pit stop.

Since they were traveling in the middle of the day, on a week day, traffic would be minimal. They might even make it to Okotoks by 10:30 or so. He wasn't going to push it with the speeding, if he was over the limit by too much the cops would pull him over, even if his truck did say "Parks Canada" on the side in big letters. His boss would really not like getting a ticket sent to the office either. They'd take it carefully and aim for 11.

After a quick stop to gas up the truck and grab a few bags of munchies they were off, the radio blaring some pop stuff Jack had picked. Thankfully they had arranged to switch every hour or so, and to listen to the news every hour. Danny couldn't have handled Jack's pick for more than an hour straight, especially with the obnoxious DJ they had in between sets.

Tyko sent an acknowledgment in reply, then checked the time on his phone. Roughly two hours to kill. One hour before any of the bike shops opened in town. Finishing the coffee, he climbed out of the M677, and then opened the rear passenger door. Flipping a few latches allowed him to pivot the dog house (engine cover), up, and out of the way to inspect the Cummins diesel. A yellow handle came free, drawing with it a thin blade of metal, using the napkin that came with the coffee, he wiped the oil free of the dipstick, before plunging it back into the tube to get a clean, accurate measurement. Oil was fine, a little dirty, as it should be, after only three months since the last change.

With the doghouse closed and latched, he climbed back out of the Jeep and crouched, checking the vent lines from the axles, making sure they were connected to prevent any water getting into the gears and spoiling the oil, brake lines for any sign of wear, skid plates were still there. Nothing caught his attention. Which was both a relief and a mild disappointment. Climbing back into the driver's seat, Louhi looked up at him, from the little ball she had curled herself into on the front passenger seat. Small eyes sparkling, her ears perked and attentive, the faint twitch of her nose before she laid her head back down. He got the sense that it was too bright for her, and that she was still a bit tired from her search for him.

He arrived at the Tim Hortons at quarter to eleven, parking the old Jeep carefully in a narrow space. The cab smelled of the rubber wafting from the new bike tires, quality Continentals and a pair of new tubes, just in case sat on the rear seats. The door closed with a rattle after Tyko climbed out, dressed in heavy denim jeans, a durable worsted wool shirt in navy blue, and a heavy canvas jacket. Crossing the parking lot, he made his way into the Timmies, looking for Daniel's face, if he had arrived early or not.

It was rather strange... like the sensation of having another pair of eyes. Or rather, knowing that another pair of eyes was right there watching; for you, with you, for always.

The rumble of the engine lulled her, the woman at her side calmed her, the dark eyes on the dashboard completed her. Polly reached over and interlocked her fingers into Jamie's free hand. A warm quiet had fallen upon the three just then. For all the tortuous times, traumatic experiences and all the bullshit in between, Polly felt it was worth it to finally reach this moment. The rumbling of an engine did not sound like thunder in her ears for once. A smile drifted across her pierced pink lips as Jamie squeezed her smaller hand. If it was not apparent before, the little union between the three earlier had been solidified during this quiet leg of the journey.

Yes, initially Jamie had wanted to leave her behind; there was something intrinsically wrong with becoming some kind of animal-human partner. It was just too... Snow White... too Disney. They had laughed it off, calling the people that bonded with animals: "Disney Demons." It was disgusting; an ideal of being a nurturer so pristine and pure set upon a girl at a young age. But in the same breath, Polly should have felt disgust within herself. She made fun of these types of 'deviants' with the same acerbic tongue with which she had lashed. Ignorant, derogatory remarks would find themselves labelling her because of how she was born. Lesbo. Dyke. Rug-Muncher. 

But here they were. Just the three of them. Things were going along just fine now. A deeper understanding, a profound sense of acceptance; a different kind of bond. 

Even though it was Polly and bunny that had bonded, somehow, someway, Jamie was included, if only for the ride. Maybe it was because of the similar and familiar things they had both experienced; the nastiness they could see hidden (not so well sometimes) in each other. Maybe it was because they were kindred spirits, all three of them on the run, hunted by dangers unknown. 

Maybe it was because bunny accepted the fact that maybe... just maybe Polly was falling in love with Jamie regardless if Polly was in huge denial of said fact.

Adorably dark eyes and twitching nose bore something close to a prodding, teasing accusation at Polly from the dashboard.

"Whatever. You're not thaaat clever..." mumbled Polly with a smirk and a scowl.

"What's that, sweetie?"

"Uhhhh... nothing, Jamie..." Polly gave bunny a half-hearted glare as she readjusted her pose and decidedly away from Jamie's shoulder... just in case prying eyes got the wrong idea about how Polly felt about Jamie. "...But actually... we should dump this stuff before we do up our hair right?"

Jamie nodded and Polly's heavy lidded baby blues watched the sandy, chin-cropped length of Jamie's natural hair waver up and down. The silky wavy brunette locks were no longer present; it was just a wig. Polly reached out and tucked some unruly yet handsome sandy hair behind Jamie's ear. Then quickly she twitched and shuddered... it was as if she could hear the little floppy eared demon giggle in her head.

"Shut up..."

"What? I didn't say nothing...!"

"NO! No, not you, sister... it's just.. it's just--"

"Disney Demons," Jamie giggled.

Polly giggled. Acutally giggled back. And actually it suited her cartoon-character sounding voice. "Yeah... it's weird... It's like we're... we're..."

"...Meant to be...?"

"Yeah... I feel different too, Jamie... I swear I've never felt so.... soooooooo.... um..."

"...You are beautiful..."

So docile and uncertain was the tone and sound of Jamie's voice. But now... now it was utterly clear and adamant. Yes, she had been called beautiful before, but never by a voice so honest. So female. Slowly, she raised her strange silver lined blue eyes to meet the shining and knowing pair of the woman beside her.

Heat flooded her cheeks and lips. Both sets. Jamie smiled encouragingly. Polly let out a sharp breath.

A heartbeat thudded in her ears right before she reached up and pulled Jamies' mouth upon--.

BZZZT!!!-BZZZT!!!-BZZZT!!!!

Both jumped as Jamie's phone jitterbugged in the cupholder between them, letting them know that He was still waiting for the drop off of 'Elaine's' passenger.

The look in Jamie's eyes fled behind the familiar timid blue circlets.

"Aren't you gonna' answer it...?"

"Ummm... ummm... no. Just gonna' let him stew. Like you said, Polly... Sweetie."

The buzzing from the phone died. And he did not call a second time. So much for stewing...

Polly's old instincts kicked in. I almost let my guard down... I'm getting played. Fuck you, I know how it is, Jamie. Baby...

Jamie reached out and put her hand upon Polly's. She did a masterful job of not flinching and a soft smile returned to Polly's pierced lips as she gave bunny a quick glance. The little one pound thing reflected Polly's knowledge in its dark eyes; it was not Jamie's fine leather driving gloved hand that Polly held in both hands now. It was Elaine's.

"Alright. Let's dump our stuff then we go talk with this guy, right?"

Elaine nodded Jaime's sandy chin-length sandy haired head.

"Then we can finally pick up your dollies, right?"

Elaine nodded Jaime's sandy chin-length sandy haired head. But even without bunny helping her sense out the woman in the driver's seat, Polly saw the flash in those baby blues in the rear view mirror. A flash of inner turmoil.

Got you.

"Know why you make me happy, Jamie...? 'Cuz you are the only person, I believe. I can't trust no one else..."

Two darting glances did the blonde catch. The first was at bunny. The second was at the phone.

Still got you.

Polly instantly knew why, the really real reason why the woman beside her bolted in the first place and left Polly at the shoulder in the rain. It was all in the glances. The phone was between them. And so was bunny.

"Bunny trusts you too... it's why she ran after you. Jaime, she trusts you."

At the end of her tight exhale was a sharp laugh. Then she squeezed Polly's hand.

Still got you, 'Elaine....'

Polly squeezed back. Then kissed Jamie's cheek.

And I am not letting you go.

---

It would have to do. Polly hated McDonald's... too many bad memories. Being sick ones, taking smack ones, violent ones, but at least all they had to do was dump their stuff. The slick red sedan rumbled past the drive-thru and both women just casually chatted as a scene was taking place (escalating, would be a better word perhaps) inside and just behind the friendly glass of the restaurant.

They had just rolled around to the rear and found the dumpster; both women then stepped out when the shit hit the fan. The alarming sound of broken glass, the yelling of people in distress, anger and panic, the honking of horns. All they had to do was dump their garbage and go. Part one they did; Jamie lifted up the green dumpster lid and quickly Polly tossed in the dumpster their collection of cast-offs. Part two, however, the 'go' part. Not so much.

Bunny was bolting towards the bedlam like a little clever bunny with a plan.

"You psychotic little furball! Get back here!!!" 

---

If it had been a strange day before, it seemed to be promising nothing ordinary. The small crowd was gathered around the trashcan and an employee who probably should have called in sick. Work ethics... Who needs them? The manager was dragging one man away from the scene while the patrons, one of whom was holding a shake and taking a video simultaneously, such talent(he should have been calling 911), shouted at him. Or maybe they were shouting at the young man behind him. 

And the cat. 

The very large cat standing in a mess of broken glass and no small amount of blood.

Around whose neck he'd wrapped his arms. Needless to say, the fellow looked terrified, and the manager was probably braver than anyone was giving him credit for, considering he'd turned his back on an upset cougar who may or may not have been held back by those scrawny limbs. Voice high and occasionally cracking, Nikhil was doing his best to apologise as  loudly as he could. Repeating a litany of "I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I'm so so sorry!" No one was listening because his eyes were a bright, bright blue, and the cat did not turn on him, despite their proximity. Or the arms holding it back from making sure the attacker learned his lesson. No one touched the human it belonged with, no one.

The manager was nearly overrun by the frantic collision of thoughts evoked by fear. Fear of the beast, and fear of letting it get away with what was happening.

Then, for a reason no one could have expected when they woke up that morning, the shouting and contained pandemonium quieted. The only sounds left were the low rasping threat of a cat with its ears back and its eyes wide, a young man still apologising by rote, and the surprisingly loud, "Holy shit..." of milkshake man. 

A little rabbit had just darted in front of everyone, leapt at the cat and bounced off the man's knees before fleeing again. Right between the frozen feet of the manager.

---

Then there's that moment. That moment when you know that you just aren't you anymore. That moment when your old instincts should have taken over and you should have cut your losses and run. It was bunny's fault for bringing it upon her. It was bunny's responsibility to get her own fuzzy little ass out of this alive.

But no, because this is that moment. The calling from that little psychotic furball was too great right now. And in that moment Polly knew she wasn't just Polly anymore. She was Polly-and-bunny-and-Jamie. And that was okay with her. For now. And if it came down to it: forever.

"Jamie, get in! Get in! I'm driving!! No, no, sister! Don't argue, just get in! You'll understand! You will, girl! Move it!"

Polly would definitely have preferred a stick shift over this strange shifter auto, but whatever, this slick red sedan had some nice giddyup. Necks snapped as Polly hit reverse full throttle and yanked on the e-brakes with just enough of a wheel twist to pull a one eighty. A heartbeat passed, and Jamie, pinned to her seat and fully white-knuckled, closed her eyes and surprisingly managed to keep from screaming... too loudly.

"Jamie...? Jamie-baby... listen... I need you to open the back door on your side okay...? Listen: when I say so you open it. I'mma slam the brakes as soon you do kay? So get ready... but don't do it until I say so, 'kay, Jamie?"

Jamie nodded hastily twice as Polly weaved the slick red sedan between car and pedestrian yet still speaking calmly as if it was a Sunday drive.

"'Kay... it's cool... it's cool. You can do it... Just wait till I say so, 'kay... ready...? Ready?!"

---

The cat was still crooning a low, fizzling anger, though its whiskers had relaxed after the surprise appearance of an animal it could have eaten in one bite. Nikhil didn't know what was going on, but the cat seemed calmer, and the crowd certainly was. It was himself and the manager alone who had the best view to take in the next few moments as he stood up at the cat's prompting. The rest of the McDonald's patrons and employees were just spinning around at the screaming behind them as the sedan closed the distance and leapt at them.

The moment of weightlessness. The spinning of wheels midflight. The roaring of a small block v-8. Then wham. The slick red sedan landed upon the pretty cobblestone bricks just out the front door... then kept cruising on in.

"Jamie Open it NOW!!!"

Thankfully Jamie was very obedient and her timing was impeccable. Polly turned the wheel and hit the brake. The door fully swung open with the inertia and the slick red sedan came to a screeching halt. In the stunned silence all that could be heard was the sound of the grumbling engine. 

From out of nowhere the bunny hopped and promptly waited at the foot of the open rear door. Over a little grey and brown shoulder she stared at the large cat and its companion before hopping into the car then up onto the plush red leather back seat.

The angry crooning had turned into a purr as the predator curled around the human it had found earlier that week and again just today, despite repeated requests that it not continue to find him, and sauntered towards the car, hopping in a little less gracefully than the rabbit, though no one was liable to tell it so. The young man followed in a far more jerky fashion, his eyes glazed over as though he couldn't quite believe what was happening. Maybe he couldn't. A cougar had just jumped into a car after it crashed through the front door....

He squeezed in too, and shut the door.

A smirk pulled up at the corner of Polly's mouth as she saluted them before hitting the slick red sedan in reverse and rumbled backwards out the broken opening. But this time, unlike her entrance, she pulled out at more of a sauntering pace that made for a great accompaniment to a sweeping McMiddleFinger for all customers paying or not. All open mouths and wide eyes remained open and wide for the duration until the slick red sedan was out on the asphalt and turning right onto the main road; hopefully before the local authorities caught wind of this all.

"Holy. Shit. We are soooooo gonna be on YOUTUBE!!!" squealed Polly, bright blue eyes scintillating with silvers as she smacked the steering wheel with the glee of a clever, oh-so-clever bunny.

After the awkward silence she cleared her throat and glanced into the rearview mirror. She should have felt scared out of her wits after seeing such an enormous kitty, but something about how bunny was just sitting there staring at it like it was practically shrugging: "I've seen worse," said the bunny's eyes. That and she could see the colour of the darker skinned fella's eyes.

They were just like hers. Beautiful, just like Jamie said.

"Hey... I'm Polly... and that's Jamie... pleased to meetcha... say hello, Jamie..." said Polly as she began scanning horizon, mirrors and traffic.

"Hello," said Jamie still shaken and wiping sweat from her blood-drained brow. Then with a nervous laugh: "Soooo.... what brings you along...?"  

The fellow pulled off his McDonald's cap and pressed his own shaking fingers against flesh starting to swell around his left eye. His nametag said Nikhil, his mouth couldn't manage introductions though.

"I-I.... I think I'm fired...." Great first impression, down the drain. 

He probably was though, all things considered.