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*Bez Soznaniya Krasa* Mistik Refuge (BurningWillows & Georgie_Leech)

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Joined
Jul 14, 2014
Location
Canada

In a city as large as Toronto, a few deaths a year seem like nothing new. But when they become a string of eight homicides within three weeks, even the different M.O’s aren’t enough to qualm the rising suspicions. Police are becoming increasingly stressed as they hit more and more dead ends. The public are searching for answers, wanting someone to blame, and the bodies keep piling up.

On the other side of the city, the serial killer has already planned his next target: A pretty young blonde leaving her work late at night. He’s stalked her for a few days, getting to know her routine until the fateful moment he strikes her down.

He had checked his list a million times, but it had become a part of his routine. Reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a small leather notebook, he read the names scrawled over the papers; names of his victims, past, present, and future. He returned the notebook to its place, shuffling in the shadows while he waited for her. And as always she came, like clockwork, except this time she didn't make it to the parking lot. This time she got a knife to her chest, the blood oozing as he sliced through an artery. These ones die too quick.

He reached again for the notebook, taking it out and finding her name among the list, crossing it off with her blood on his fingertip. He must leave her there to die, already planning his new victim. The city will bleed under him; the roads will become red with each name crossed off his list. She was only one, and there is many more to go…


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She could smell them. The faintest scent of human on the breeze, so slight that her nose almost missed it. Had she not been paying attention it would have passed her by and she would be caught. Wait, did she catch the scent? No…no she missed it and they caught her. They caught her, caged her, drugged her, and took her.

Now she was waking up, in a cell, the walls whiter than snow, not a speck of dirt on them. The floor underneath her was marble, only a shade darker than the walls. A cell…a cage. There was a wall made of glass in front of her, and behind the glass she could see men and women all staring at her, hands writing furiously in their notebooks. She rushed the glass, hoping her strength would crack it. Instead she hit the glass and fell back, tumbling over her legs. Someone was yelling, then people were suddenly in the room holding her down. No…No! More needles, more drugs, and as she tried to bite and claw her way out of their grasps her body became numb, her mind falling into darkness.

Again she was waking up, but this time a part of her recognized the cage, like she had been there for a while. She wasn’t a wolf anymore either; her tall thin humanoid form was curled on a mattress and as she stretched out she noticed a man dressed as a guard waiting by the door. Tests, that’s what they call him here. The guard would take her to a doctor, and the doctor would perform tests until she was numb and tired and in pain.

This time there was only pain. Agonizing pain, shooting through her whole body. She could see nothing, and hear only the sounds of her sobs as she wished the pain to stop. But it only got stronger, making her heart hammer as every notch of pain that increased sent her closer and closer to oblivion…


Katerina woke up with a start, her breath labored and beads of sweat rolling down her temples. A dream, she thought, trying to calm her nerves, It was just a dream.
 
Dr. Drew A. Mor blinked blearily at the alarm clock flashing its insistence that it was 6:00 AM and it was time for him to get ready for the day. The rising sun, normally an invigorating sight shining through the window, was hidden by an overcast sky this chilly morning. Groaning, he shut off the alarm and groggily got up, putting on his silver glasses.

The cabin Mor slept in was a simple one: his bedroom held only his bed and a few personal items on a lone shelf, including a small picture of a smiling woman and a young child, and his small oak bonsai; a door led to a small kitchenette and living area, where he kept a few books, a simple wooden chair, and a reading lamp. The kitchenette was stocked in turn with a small stove top (which he turned on to boil water for coffee), a small sink, and a small cabinet where he kept a few morning essentials, like his toothbrush, tooth paste, and ground coffee and filters. He didn't need to keep any food on hand; he could eat in the mess hall like everyone else.

After he poured himself a mug of coffee, he pulled his chair out onto the small, east-facing front porch. Built on a small rise, the cabin was ideally situated to let Mor watch the sunrise as he did every morning. Or at least try to, he thought to himself. He was being uncharitable; the mornings were often dreary, but the sky usually cleared up quickly enough.

Sure enough, by the time he was done his coffee the horizon had cleared enough to send golden rays filtering through the clouds. Already perking up, Mor felt a growing sense of pride as he surveyed the sight before him. When he had first purchased the land a scant four months ago, "Shady Acres Campground" had barely deserved the name. The ramshackle main building had been mostly scrapped; only the basement and foundation had been kept, with a new, larger building done in large cedar logs in its place. A mess hall had been constructed not far from it. Gravely campsites had been replaced with a variety of more appealing fixtures; one area held a green house, another a small garden, yet another boasted freshly planted saplings. Pathways of packed dirt connected the various areas, one leading off to the country road in the distance, another leading in the opposite direction, where it met with and followed the meandering course of the river. That particular path quickly became a hiking trail, leading off up the hills and through the covering forest to the waterfall that fed the river. The land was far enough from Toronto that the sprawl couldn't be seen at this distance.

Mor had seen the potential in the area going unused. What had previously been drab and uninspiring was now Mistik Refuge, a haven from city life and a return to a more relaxed lifestyle. Though small in capacity, Mistik promised rejuvenation and restoration to those that stayed.

Or at least, that's the idea. Mor hadn't yet attracted much interest from those he was hoping would stay; so far at least, the only guests had been a self-declared Medium and the current guests, a trio of hippies that were passing through.

Ah, there's no point in being gloomy. The sun is shining, birds are singing, clichés are...cliché-ing. There's still plenty of work I can get done. Mor had a feeling today was going to be a good day.
 
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Katerina Silvka stepped out of her shower, washing the last of her nightmare away. Wrapping her only towel around her she stepped out of the bathroom, crossing the few feet to her bedroom. The room was empty except for a pile of blankets in the far right corner. She ignored them, walking to the closet along the left wall. She pulled out a pair of dark skinnies, a grey tank top with a V neckline, and a pair of black flats.
Her apartment was small. Her room held enough room for a bed and a dresser, if she had any furniture to begin with. Other than the bathroom, there was a small kitchen near the front door, and a living/dining room combo, with a small balcony only accessed by a sliding door. The apartment was still bare, as if no one rented it. Her kitchen held a few leftovers in the fridge, and there were her blankets, but that was about it.

Nina had moved back from Russia after four months. She was born and raised there, but had chased after her cousin to America when he left without telling her. After the incident she fled back to her home country, but everything was different there too. After trying for four months to find some normalcy she had given up and moved to Toronto, Canada where the only friend she had in the world lived. Not that he knew about it. She had had to track him down first, and only two days ago she had found an apartment to move into. Luckily her cousin, Aiden, had some savings that he would no longer be needing, enough to get her by for the first month.

A knock on her front door pulled Nina out of her thoughts and she quickly towel dried her natural platinum blonde hair, racing to the door.

“Katerina,” the man at the door flashed a wide smile, “How are you?”

She flashed a small smile at him, “Derek.”

Her accent was heavy, making her voice sound much deeper than it was.
He smiled back but didn't say more, and Nina took her cue to quickly finish drying her hair and grabbing her small white purse and envelope full of resumes from the kitchen.

“Ready?” he finally asked when she returned.

It took her a few extra seconds to comprehend his words and form her own, "Y-yes. I am ready."

She followed him out, mumbling to herself in Russian while she fumbled with her keys to lock the door. They took the elevator to the underground parking lot where his navy blue car waited.

Derek had been a friend of Aiden’s, and Nina had met him when she first went looking for her cousin. After he hadn’t heard from either of them in months, he started calling Aiden’s house in Russia, where Nina was crashing after moving back. With her decision to move to Toronto, Derek had agreed to come for a few days and help her search for a job.

It was the second day of searching, and Nina was beginning to realize it was was going to take longer than she thought. While she was slowly learning English, and knew enough to get through an interview, her lack of previous employment, and her recent move from Russia continued to hinder her from getting hired. However today Nina was only bringing her resumes as an afterthought. Derek had agreed to drive her to Mistik Refuge, a small facility outside Toronto where Katerina hoped to find Dr. Mor.
 
Mor finished his coffee and went back into his cozy cabin, where he set about readying himself for the day. He rarely took showers while on-site, preferring to use a bit of soap, a wash cloth, and the left over heated water to towel himself down. After washing, he donned his usual summer work garb. Cargo shorts came first, followed by a loose beige t-shirt lettered with Mistik Refuge. Over that went a cargo vest, which was suitable for hiking if the need arose, though he mostly used the many pockets to hold spare pencils and any notes he happened to make away from his desk. Lastly, he tied his shoulder-length blonde hair back in a ponytail. Like always, some hair managed to fall out and cover the tips of his ears.

Before leaving, Mor set about cleaning up after himself; being well organised was a habit he had picked up early in life. He neatly folded the underclothes he had worn during the night, placing them atop the newly made bed. His mug and brass kettle were washed, and the counter wiped down in case he had spilt anything. Finally, he made sure his bonsai was growing properly. Mor used an odd method for taking care of the small plant: rather than pruning, he tied any branches that grew too large back to their source or, in larger cases, slowly bent them back in on themselves. The result was an unusually dense but still recognizably oaken tree top. He never had any trouble tying the tiny knots nor with breaking the thin string he used; Mor would probably be a decent hand with a sewing needle, if he ever took the time to learn.

After one last check to make sure his appearance was in order (A professional but friendly appearance is key to making a good first impression, his gray eyes in the mirror silently reminded him), he left to the mess hall to find breakfast. The smell of fresh bacon and eggs met him before he opened the door to the kitchen, where Aras was busily preparing the food. Deftly managing multiple frying pans and ovens was no trouble at all for this focused chef. His gaze on Mor was rather unnerving when he stepped into the door, especially when he never wavered with his constant adjustments. "The usual, chief?" he asked in his thick Baltic accent.

Mor nodded, and without stopping Aras began tossing food on a plate. Not a minute passed before he could sit down with a slice of French toast covered in a cinnamon applesauce and a scoop of freshly made frozen yogurt, flavoured with pear. Mor Reflected on how fortunate he'd been to find Aras. The talented chef had recently been laid off when mismanagement had ruined the restaurant he'd worked at. He'd become disillusioned with city life, and chose to find work in the country at just the time Mor had been hiring. He'd been a paragon of kitchen efficiency ever since, even if he tended to make far more food than the small number of patrons currently needed. some went into storage for future recipes, but much of the food was boxed up by the chef himself and taken into town weekly. Mor suspected Aras had a large family he didn't talk much about. He didn't begrudge Aras' feeble attempt at edible embezzlement, since Mor's stipend from his last job had been particularly robust and had since been invested wisely, providing a small income.

After eating, he continued on to the main building. The young secretary gave a start as the bell above the door tinkled. "Oh! Uh, good morning sir!" Miss Melissa Jones had a light, breathy voice that combined with a skittish personality to make her seem constantly startled or surprised. She kept decent records, though, and Mor trusted her to handle bookings and outreach. Or had, at any rate. After so long without many guests, he was starting to wonder if she wasn't somehow giving the wrong impression to callers, of which Mistik received several a day. "One of the current guests, um, Sunflower I think it was. Yeah. Um, he finished the landscape he was working on, and wanted to donate it to the art section. I told him that you would take a look at it and, uh, make sure it was a good fit. I hung it with the others, if that's not a problem?"

"Of course not, Miss Jones. Thank you for telling me in advance," he commented wryly. She gave a squeak and quickly buried her nose in a mathematics textbook. Miss Jones was working here over the summer while waiting for college to resume in the fall. The light workload let her spend much of the time studying.

The layout of the lodge was relatively simple. Octagonal in shape with a central supporting pillar, the ground floor was divided into two rooms by windowed walls on either side of the front desk. Each wall had a door, and Mor chose the door on the left. The other room was a large open area that took up the rest of the main floor. Roughly a third of each area had its own theme though. Immediately through the left door was a lounge area, with several comfortable chairs and couches, an assortment of magazines, and a fire place that, though currently empty, could hold a merry blaze during the colder months. Continuing around the pillar led to a pseudo art gallery and studio. A piano stood near the wall on a slightly raised stage. During the day, stools and easels were set up near a large window that afforded a view of the rolling hills and forests. At night, the stool would be cleared away in case anyone felt like presenting any artwork, whether dance or music or paint. An assortment of simple landscapes, still-life's, and more abstract pieces adorned the central pillar wall; Sunflower's landscape was especially simple, but in Mor's opinion the basic watercolour didn't clash enough to merit taking down before the guests eventually left. No sense antagonising him or being judgemental; I'm meant to be a quasi-therapist, after all. Had Mor continued around the pillar, or chosen the other door, he would have come to a basic library, with a couple of comfy arm chairs and reading lamps. A large bookshelf stood solitarily in the middle of the area. Ideally, Mistik would eventually be able to expand its rather rudimentary selection.

On either side of the paintings were staircases that led to the upper floors, where the guests stayed. There were eight rooms on the second floor, and six on the third. On the third floor was a smaller spiral staircase leading to an attic suite, where the current groundskeeper lived on-site.

Mor neither took the stairs nor continued the circuit of the ground floor. Instead, he opened a small panel marked "STAFF ONLY" underneath the left (from the art side) staircase, revealing another set of stairs that led into the basement. The basement was where Mor kept his financial notes, research material, and office. The fluorescent lighting may not have been especially in keeping with the rustic aesthetic of Mistik, but it was cheap and served his needs. In his office, Mor kept a computer where, among other things, he designed new ads and tried to get the local communities more interested in the opportunities Mistik offered. Maybe today I'll make some real inroads into finding volunteers, Mor thought to himself. He nursed a pet project he kept secret from most people, related to his previous job at Belua, which he'd left because of professional disagreements. Time to get to work.
 
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The trip took longer than she expected. They had drove down the highway out of the city, taken an exit onto a single lane road, and then another exit onto an even smaller road. It was midday by the time they reached the third road and Derek slowed so they could read the mailboxes at the start of each turn off that led to another billionaire property. Luckily, even on a road as long as the one they were on, there were only seven turn offs, and out of those there were five that could be seen from the road as small cabins. The other two had longer winding roads, obscuring what lied at the end of each. Derek chose the left one, swearing when they reached the end to find a deserted summer cabin that was overrun with weeds.

They turned back, inching forward along the dirt road until they hit the asphalt again. Derek didn't even ask, he just pulled the car into the last turn off, again slowing to avoid hitting any trees.

After five minutes of driving the small dirt road opened into a wide clearing, and the first thing that caught Nina's eye took her breath away. It was a huge wooden building, made in an octagonal shape, the natural wood blending in with the dense forest around them. Nina saw the sliver of a river behind the building, and far off there was a tiny cabin nestled on a hill.

"Here," she chirped, admiring the encampment, "He's here."
~​
Derek had left ten minutes ago, after waiting twenty minutes as she paced outside of the main doors. He told her he would come back after supper time, giving her another four hours or so to either pick up her courage or hide in the woods. She almost made it up the few steps to the front doors, but in the end it didn't matter. Across the clearing she caught the movement of a small group of people heading towards a trail, a blonde head bobbing at the front, air waving as he explained something trivial.

She got her courage then, running into the building at inhuman speed and stopping at the reception desk.

"Dr. Mor?" she asked, pointing out the window towards the group disappearing into the trees.

"Uh...yes," the girl at the desk looked up from a textbook, confused.

"Watch," she ordered, handing her purse to the smaller girl and giving her a 'do-not-fail-me' look before bounding out the main doors again, the first prickles of her Change coming down her spine.

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Taryn Bomani slapped her alarm clock, willing the piercing whistle to turn off. When it didn't she hit it again, harder, but to no avail. What the... she pulled back the covers and blinked in her sleepy haze, trying to see the alarm clock only a foot from her head. The normal bright red lines that displayed the time in her digital clock had grown dark. Dead. Taryn let out a large sigh, turning her attention to the shrill whistle filling her apartment. Sitting up slowly, her head began to pound and she tried to recollect the events of the night before. Had she been drinking? She found her overly large, neon pink cat slippers and strolled to the door, pushing down the bile filling her throat.

Flinging it open the whistle only grew louder, and Taryn pinpointed it to the kitchen. As she stepped forward the sound abruptly stopped, like it had been turned off.

"Bloody smoke detector," a gruff male voice cursed, freezing Taryn in her tracks.

Shit! Someone is in my house!

There were two options: return to her bedroom and hide, or investigate.
Of course Taryn chose the latter, keeping low and slowly tip-toeing towards the archway into the kitchen. When she was close enough to not be detected she stopped, focused her energy and stepped into the archway. Bustling around in the kitchen was a half naked man, tall and muscular, with tanned skin and acne down his spine. He turned as she came into view, then continued cooking.

He can't see me, Taryn sighed in relief, sneaking back to her bedroom before letting her power go. Being able to become invisible inside of shadows had its perks. When it first started as a teenager it was terrifying; standing in any shadows made her disappear and she never knew how to stop it. After a few years she had learnt to control it, and even manipulate it so she could disappear outside of the shadows. Although it was definitely harder, and if anyone took a closer look they'd realized she was there. Her power allowed Taryn to become a kind of smoky shadow of herself when she focused, therefore outside of shadows it was easier to detect her.

Not that it helped much. Other than sneaking up on people, she had no good use for her single power yet.

Another curse from the kitchen pulled her out of her thoughts and Taryn quickly snatched a pad of paper and pen from on top of her dresser and scribbled a quick note for him. Then she skulked to the ensuite bathroom, stepping into the walk-in shower with it's opal tiles. Leaning against the cold wall she waited for him, listening as he came back into the bedroom and found the note. With another muffled curse he found his clothes, munching on the breakfast he had made. After another few minutes the front door shut loudly, announcing his departure.

"Thank god," she sighed, turning the water on and letting the hot droplets soak her Egyptian skin, the olive coloring darker from too many days in the sun.
 
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Dr. Mor let out a sigh and ran his hands through his hair in frustration. No matter how he looked at it, he just didn't have the data pool to draw any meaningful conclusions. For a moment he thought wistfully of Belua Asylum, of how easy it was to test theories. Say what you will about their methods, they at least got results.

It only lasted a moment; he wanted to help people like those poor patients, not butcher them like some of the others had.

Shaking off his dark thoughts, Mor caught sight of the clock and cursed. He had managed to lose several hours in his work, and now he was late for an appointment. One of his contacts in the Toronto area had come across a possible lead on an unusual loner that might make a good subject, provided it was true and they volunteered, of course.

Frederick Astaire was waiting with a small group of people. Once a week or so, Mor would lead a small tour group on a nature hike. Ostensibly it was to advertise Mistik Refuge, but it also provided a decent way for Mor and Fred to be in contact without leaving a potential trail that someone could follow. The last thing he wanted was to let Belua learn what he was up to and poach his guests.

At this point, the routine had been well established. Mor would lead the group off along the trail, explaining the benefits of natural settings and fresh air on stress relief, showcasing a few of the rarer flowers and birds that lived in the area, and generally selling the area as a good place to stay. They would break for a snack and drink at the waterfall and Cliffside, where Mor would talk with a few of the guests individually, always including Fred.

Also routine was Mor's skepticism that Fred had a genuine lead. From Fred's description, this was yet another lonely old lady who might not have been the prettiest and had a fondness for cats. Kids always told stories about people like that, and he suspected that that's where the rumours of odd occurrences in her neighbourhood came from.

Still, the trip itself was pleasant enough, and the waterfall was beautiful as always. The trail had sloped gently upwards into a natural valley in the hills, until you came to the waterfall itself, where you were abruptly faced by towering cliffs. A hollow of sorts had formed around the waterfall, creating a secluded area that sheltered from the summer heat. Whenever the wind blew through, a quirk of the rock formations caused an almost musical low, whistling sound.

Even if Fred failed to come through again, Mor could at least take the time to enjoy himself. He stood for a while, watching the misty spray of the waterfall and the ephemeral rainbow it sometimes hid at this hour.
 
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Katerina made it past the first tree when she slipped, falling into the dirt. This part hurt: the Change. She crawled forward until she was hidden in the brush, and with shaking fingers she pulled her clothes off, stuffing them beside a tree. The minute she stripped the last of her clothing up her body contorted, and she bit back a scream as her bones began to painfully break and rearrange themselves before healing. She was on her knees and hands, heaving breaths as white hairs grew out of her skin till her entire body became covered in the thick, rough fur. A cold sweat begin to cover her brow as the pain got worse, every break and tear feeling like a dull dagger twisting inside her. She knew the pain wasn't permanent but with every convulsion those thoughts got shoved farther and farther into the recesses of her mind. It was replaced by the internal howl of a wolf.

She wasn't sure how long she was unconscious, but when she woke she was still lying in the spot she had Changed, the ground under her cool and mossy. She stretched her legs, rolling her shoulders as her paws felt a mossy patch. In wolf form her fur looked more white than blonde, and her eyes shone an even brighter gold, lighting up against her pale fur. She got up and pranced around a few steps, soaking in the bliss of the woods. She hadn't been in a forest in weeks, and she felt the long ache to run.

As the thought came to her muscles contracted, ready to push her into a sprint. She released her muscles and shot forward, letting the trees whip past her as she zipped through the underbrush. Her euphoria couldn't be contained and she let out a chirp as she ran, scaring a flock of birds from a nearby tree. She circled back and chased them for a few minutes, then caught the scent of a rabbit and turned to chase that. The rabbit led her back towards the refuge, and as she stepped back into the clearing her thoughts cleared.

Mor. I came to find Dr. Mor.

She tore off, unabashed as she ambled through the freshly mowed grass towards the dirt trail she had seen the group follow. She continued her sprint up and along the trail, pausing here or there to sniff the ground. Her feet carried her effortlessly, pounding on the compressed dirt beneath her, sending the vibrations up through her body. This was who she was: a wolf. She had been born a wolf, and raised a wolf. Her human body was a gift, but if she had to choose she would never give up the wolf in her.

A sudden laugh stopped her short and she dove into the bush, flattening herself so she was concealed. The laugh picked up and died again, and her ears swiveled in its direction, farther along the path. Slowly, keeping to the bush, she crept forward until the babbling and rushing sound of a waterfall caught her attention. Ahead of her the bush ended abruptly, but the group was farther off, chatting near the waterfall.

Do I risk it?

There had to be wolves near Toronto. And if there were, would any of Mor's group care that one was creeping up on them? No...they'd probably whip out there cameras to take photos. She didn't know if the wolves in Canada were as large as the ones in Russia, but being female she was smaller than the average male Eurasian wolf, so she gambled they wouldn't noticed and stepped out.

Right into the view of a tourist. And then the screaming started.
 
A scream shook Mor out of his reverie. What's going on? Was someone injured, is there a threat, or did someone just overreact to a mantis or something?

Moving quickly to the front of the group, he was struck by the size of the white wolf before him. Damn, what's a wolf doing here?! "Everybody remain calm!" Mor knew that in a threatening situation like this, one had to keep a firm hand on people to keep panic from setting in. "Everybody, move slowly away, don't make any sudden movements. Stay behind me, we don't want to spook it anymore than it is."

Mor worriedly scanned the treeline, trying to keep the wolf in view. Wolves are pack hunters; where are the others?
 
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Oh shit... Nina thought, backtracking a few steps. The panic reeked off the people in front of her. One woman looked like she was about to faint, and another was retching off the side of the cliffs near the waterfall. Only one person had their camera out snapping pictures.

Well at least I guess one of them right. Mor hadn't noticed her at first but as he stepped forward his eyes widened and he quickly swept the group up behind him, his eyes glancing from her to the forest.

He doesn't recognise me, Nina realized and shook her head at her stupidity. Of course he wouldn't recognize her wolf form. Suddenly a small stick hit her in the head, snapping her out of her thoughts. One of the group had detached himself by foot or two and she caught his hand dropping to his side. She growled, lips curled back at him for hitting her. Then she caught Mor's gaze and cut her growl off short, sitting back on her hind legs and chirping at him.
 
Dammit, who threw that?! Don't they realise provoking a large angry wolf is a really stupid idea? Mor bit back the urge to shout; loud noises could only make the situation worse.

Mor's thoughts were racing, trying to spot if any other wolves were around, trying to think of a way to diffuse the situation without risking the people behind him, trying to think of what he would do if the wolf charged. Outwardly though, he remained calm.

As Mor scanned the trees, his eyes met the wolf's by chance, and it immediately stopped growling. Abruptly, Mor was struck by the inconsistencies of the situation. Why is the wolf alone? For that matter, what is a white wolf doing in this climate? At this time of year they should be greyish brown. More importantly, why hasn't it made any aggressive moves, especially after being struck like that? If anything, it looks almost expectant...

Unbidden, he thought of the last time he'd seen a white wolf: curled up, shaking in a white cell, distrustful and wounded in both body and spirit. It couldn't be...
 
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She continued sitting on her haunches, even though the dirt bit into her tail, and it was an uncomfortable position. How do dogs sit like this?

The group was quietening now, waiting for her next move. She still felt bitter towards the man who had thrown a stick, but attacking wouldn't help matters. Even if she really wanted to. However she also felt the urge to run away, another wolf instinct she was fighting against while she waited for Mor's memory to catch up. Would it had been smarter to wait at the refuge? Probably...

She chirped again, her voice high, and she swiveled her ears towards them so she seemed non aggressive. She had practiced this many times, in case she bumped into a hiker out in the woods in Russia or on the seldom times she Changed inside the city. She even stuck her tongue out the side of her mouth for the full "effect", letting her tail curl around her body and her shoulders relaxed.
 
Mor couldn't believe his eyes. The wolf seemed to be acting... almost friendly. He was drawn once again to the thought that he knew this wolf.

You have two conflicting sets of data. One suggests this is a dangerous predator, the other that everyone is safe. Find out which is correct; test.

Mor spoke in a clear, calm voice. "We're all going to slowly back away. If we wait in the hollow, we should be safe until she leaves. The tour will be cut short; with a wolf in the area, we will have to come back later. Wait for me to give the all clear, then we'll go back. No one do anything stupid like throwing something else at her."

Now to see how the wolf reacts...
 
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Her ears picked up his words and she struggled hard to understand them. The one downfall to her wolf form was the language barrier. She couldn't speak to them and they're words were mostly lost to her ears unless she concentrated. And even as she did, the only words she was able to comprehend were "come back later..." and "go back".

With a low bark she jumped onto her feet, feeling a sense of satisfaction as the man who hit her screamed like a child. Turning on the spot she danced back into the trees, quickly gaining distance from them. She didn't have time to wait for Mor at the waterfall. She had no idea when Derek would be back. Her best chance would be to change and meet him as he came back to the refuge. She pushed to run faster, her feet barely touching the ground as she flew through the woods.
 
Mor stared in shock; he had tried that just in case, but he didn't honestly think that it could have been her. Why would she be here? I'd have expected her to be as far from people as possible.

He shook his head. He could worry about it later, when he returned later. For now, he had to make sure he got the panicked guests back before they did something else stupid. He took a quick headcount, gave the woman who vomited a towel to clean herself with, then gathered them all up. "The coast is clear now, so we're going to walk back to the lodge. Everyone stay together. If anyone sees the wolf again, don't scream, shout, or throw something at it. Just tell me, and we'll back away until it moves on. Now, let's go."
 
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There wasn't usually a traffic rush during noon on a Friday, but with the long weekend ahead everyone seemed to be hell bent to get out of the office and start their vacations. By the time Taryn got to her work it was late into the afternoon. Not that she cared; she wasn't even scheduled in. But after finding her one-night-stand in her kitchen she felt the impulse to do anything other than moping in her house.

Two rules Taryn. No boyfriends, no alcohol.

The second rule was more flexible –she had a cocktail with a group of coworkers every month- but she never got too drunk. It was too dangerous, with her powers she never knew when she would slip up and expose herself. She barely remembered last night other than agreeing to go dancing at a nearby club with one of her friends from work.

Taryn work was in one of the many skyscrapers in downtown Toronto. She had gotten the job as temp, and after a week was offered a part-time job as a receptionist on the main floor. Part of it was her hard work, but another receptionist, Jessica, said it had to do with looks too. All of the main floor receptionists were fit, pretty, and young.

“Hey Taryn,” one of her other coworkers, Kris waved from behind the Reception Desk.

“Jessica here?” Taryn asked, wanting to keep her visit short before she got warped into working.

“Nope, she never showed up.”

Taryn didn’t need to ask if Jess had called; she knew her friend wouldn’t. She probably got as drunk as Ihad and hasn’t woken up yet.

Waving goodbye, she turned on her heel to leave. Her eyes landed on a newspaper lying half open on a coffee table between two sofas. She paused to read the headline and took a step closer as her eyes scanned the picture underneath. It was a familiar alley way, with yellow police tape cutting it off in the picture.

Ninth Death In A String of Six Weeks
In the past six weeks there has been an influx of homicides, that latest being the 9th body found. The body has yet to be identified, and the cause of death is unknown…young female, blonde hair, green eyes…​

Taryn skimmed the rest, seeing nothing else of value and left the newspaper on the table. Something about the picture felt familiar. Pushing through a large throng of people massing near the side doors, she exited her building and turned left down a side street. Halfway down the street was a small alley, leading to a tiny parking lot hidden amongst the tall buildings surrounding the block. One look down the alley confirmed Taryn’s suspicions. Yellow police tape still cut the alley off, and two police man stood on duty, discouraging any curious passerbys from taking a closer look.

Don’t panic. It could have been anyone, Taryn consoled herself, rushing back towards her small silver car parked outside her work. They had been clubbing all night, there was no way Jessica had been in that alley. But the description matches. Blonde hair…green eyes.
Reaching her car she swung the door open and jumped in, finding her cell phone lost in a sea of papers in her passenger seat. She clicked the power button and her phone came to life. Immediately she noticed the miss call and voicemail. But when she unlocked her phone it opened to the camera app. Instinctively she clicked the Gallery button, and her gut sank as the first picture popped up. It was her in a silver sequin minidress, hugging the same tall brunette she’d seen in her kitchen. The only thing missing in the camera was Jess. A few swipes from her finger and more pictures from the night before popped up, yet not one showed her friend.

Shit. She exited the app and checked the miss call.

“No…” Taryn breathed, her hands shaking as she stared down at the only number she recognized.

With trembling fingers she dialed her voicemail and pressed speaker.

“One new voice message…playing first message: Taryn? Oh my god, Taryn please pick up,” Jess’ voice was weak and hoarse, like she had been coughing too much.

“I’m…I’ve been stabbed. It’s really…” a few coughs, “really bad. There’s so much I wanted to…explain. Taryn? I need you…go to my condo. Everything…lots that you don’t know. Nimble…8…3…1…7…”

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She stepped back into the clearing, human and fully clothed. The Change to human always took longer for her, partially because she wasn't naturally human, and partially because a small part of her fought against leaving her wolf form. But in order to speak to Mor she couldn't remain wolf. Tossing her hair into a messy ponytail and straightening out her clothes she begin her slow walk across the clearing.
~~​
She debated where to meet him. Standing in the middle of the clearing, her hand swiveled left and right, platinum blonde ponytail swinging. She could wait in the Refuge, collect her purse, and hopefully catch him on his way in. But there is people in there, she growled internally, not feeling particularly social with strangers. It wasn't their fault; she just hated their prying questions about her name, her accent, her day...

She rolled her shoulders and looked to her left, towards the forest. If she met him just before the path heading into the trees she'd have no obligation to talk to strangers, unless his group spoke up. Left it is, she settled, striding forward. The path was set on the same side of the clearing as the small cabin, and as Nina got close she caught a faint trail of Mor's scent.

His house, she dubbed, staring at the tiny home.

Continuing forward, she stopped near the entrance into the forest, staring towards the river she could now see clearly. Even from afar her ears picked up the babbling brook, and if she ever got the chance she knew she would get lost in this forest, letting it take her away for a few days. She would have enjoyed the sincerity longer if a raised voice didn't startle her and she looked behind her into the empty forest.
 
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They're close, she smiled, and felt the impulse to meet up with them on the trail. That was the appropriate thing right? Come to them. No... the human part of her brain argued, That's the wolf cub in you too impatient to wait here. Not that she cared to seem human; the more wolf she was, the safer she felt in her pink skin. So she ambered off, prancing down the trail with a glint in her eyes, hoping she wouldn't spook them again.

She had only been jogging for a minute or two when the path curved right and she heard another branch break and someone swear. She slowed her pace a little, trying to act like she hadn't just been jogging and hadn't even broken a sweat.

From around the corner a figure jumped out, jogging suit flashing neon blue as they kept jogging around her and down the path where she came. Standing there blinking, Nina slowly comprehended her idiocy. I assumed he'd still be on the trail. But it was obvious now, as she listened to the stillness around her, that Mor and his group had made it back to the Refuge during her Change. She waited a moment longer, straining her ears to make sure he hadn't come back in the forest to look for her. Content that she was alone Nina turned back, hoping she'd have better luck inside the facility.
 
Mor managed to get the group back without any more fuss. If nothing else, they seemed impressed with Mor's level headedness and knowledge of basic wilderness skills. One woman in particular wondered if he did tours often, especially wondering about the possibility of more private tours. Mor reminded her that she could check the tour schedule online; he seemed somewhat baffled by her crestfallen look.

Still a little shaken, Mor returned to the main lodge. He intended to use one of the empty rooms for a hot shower; he felt he'd earned at least that luxury. First though he had to confirm with the receptionist if he had any appointments left, and if so, he had to cancel them. The potential meeting in the woods later was to great of an opportunity to miss. Could I finally have a found a supernatural person to test my theories on? Not only that, but one that already knows me? It's almost too good to be true.

His receptionist was still at the front desk, nose in a textbook of some sort. Mor cleared his throat. "Miss Jones, could you please check if I have any appointments today? Something has come up that demands my attention."

Miss Jones gave a start. "Oh! Uh, not that I can think of, let me double check." She started clicking through the files on the computer. "Not that I can find, but... um, there was a woman here earlier looking for you. I told her you were leading a tour and, uh, she left her purse here and went looking for you. So I think she'll be by again and--" She was cut off by the bell above the door tinkling.

"Wait, actually, here she is now!" she exclaimed, pointing over Mor's shoulder. Her turned around as the last woman he expected to see walk in the door. Suspicions were one thing, but seeing Nina step through the door way still came as a complete shock. It was definitely her, he could recognise her despite appearing far healthier and more confident than the last time he saw her. Mor felt his mouth drop open; somehow, he couldn't manage to close it again.
 
The last kill had gone wrong. Horribly wrong. Not that she hadn’t died, but somehow the police were there within the hour, like they’d been notified. At first, I worried someone had spotted me...but no witnesses came forward with my description. Still, I need to be careful. If I get caught, it is all over. And there is still so much to do…

I need to pick my next target.



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Katerina walked into the facility, hearing the tiny bell ring off to the side. Her eyes fell to the Reception Desk, and the girl holding her purse. She was pointing at her. A familiar man at the desk turned as the secretary said something and his mouth fell open as his eyes gazed towards her.

Finally, Nina sighed, her shoulders relaxing. If she had to keep hunting him down any longer she would've given up and gone home when Derek appeared. As it is, I have no idea when Derek is arriving.

Standing up a little taller, Nina tried to walk calmly forward, but the puppy in her couldn't help but break into a prance. It had been months since she'd seen a friendly face. Even her pack had left long ago, after realizing she was no longer part of it. For the first time in a long time Nina didn't fell so alone and with a hop to her step she pranced up to Mor, throwing her arms around him in a quick hug before bouncing back. His mouth remained open and she laughed melodiously.
 
"How..." Mor was having a hard time getting over his surprise; very rarely does the answer to a problem waltz in the door and hug you. He tried again.

"What are..." No, still not working. She was clearly amused by his attempts at cobbling together a coherent thought. His mouth opened and closed a few times soundlessly. Eventually, he settled on a simple truth: "It's good to see you again."
 
"And you," she replied with a dazzling smile, her English coming out clean through her heavy accent, "I hope I did not come at bad time."

She stifled a laugh at his loss for words once more. It was obvious her surprise appearance had caught him off guard, as well as her new knowledge of the English language.
 
Mor shook his head. Before she was difficult to understand thanks to a thick Russian accent; she must have been practising. "Not at all, Miss Silvka. It was a surprise seeing you, is all. I'm glad you were able to... get away from your previous hard times."

Mor saw Miss Jones out of the corner of his eye, eagerly watching the scene, as she mouthed the word "Prison?" to herself; a speculative look appeared in her eye.

"I'd assumed you would have returned to your pa- er, family." He cursed his near slip of the tongue. The supernatural wasn't well-known enough to risk someone having a hint as to her identity. Especially if they were still looking for her.
 
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Her voice died off but the voicemail continued a few more seconds, and Taryn could hear her friends labored breathing, as every gulp of air became harder and harder. Even after the voicemail click off Taryn sat there, staring at her phone crying, waiting for something more.

After a while she came to her senses, starting the car and pulling into traffic. She felt so numb that all her movements were on autopilot, and soon enough she found herself in front of Jess's apartment.

Her friend had asked to come here, to find something. She wasn't sure what it was, but it had to be important as all hell if Jess wanted her to know before she...she...

More tears sprang forth and Taryn fought hard to calm herself long enough to see clearly. She had no family here, for last foster family still in Egypt. She had left them for Toronto, partly because she wanted to start anew, partly because she worried she'd hurt them if she stayed. Yet they never phoned, or looked for her. Taryn realized when she moved to Toronto that she hadn't truely been a part of their family. It had been a facade.

And now her only friend was dead, leaving her back at square one. All she had left was a voicemail and an apartment to turn over. With one final shudder she stepped out of her car, swallowing her pain and focusing on her goal.

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She caught the secretary mouthing the word "prison" and her nightmare jumped to the front fo her mind, the blood from her face draining. The images were still vivid, playing like a broken disc, over and over in her mind at the worst of times.

With a strained voice Nina asked for her purse, snatching it from the girl's hands a little roughly and looking to Mor, "Can we talk...privately?"
 
Mor wanted to slap himself. In front of his receptionist was no place for a reunion, and he had probably just dredged up bad memories. "Of course, of course. Where are my manners? Miss Jones, you'll have to excuse me for a moment."

He held the door open for a visibly shaking Nina, gesturing to follow him. Once away from the door. "We've got a few choices for a place to talk. Well, two really, but we can also get you a bite to eat first, help calm you down. You look hungry, and Aras is amazing at preparing quick, delicious food. Afterwards, or right now if you prefer, we could go to the nature trail you found us on earlier..." Mor gestured to the woods, "or my cabin is just a short walk that way," pointing at the small hill.
 
Nina's ears perked at food. She hadn't eat yet and just the thought of food made her stomach growl. She was sure he was just trying to be comforting after his ignorant receptionist made a mess of things. But the offer of food was too tempting to pass down.

"I eat a lot," she warned, and added, "Your cabin after?"
 
"Certainly. Let's go see what Aras has convenient." Mor led the way to the mess hall. The smell of bacon had been replaced with the subtler aroma of fried onions, mushrooms, and grilling steak. As they entered, they could see Aras pouring some sort of alcohol that made the frying pan fire up and sizzle like mad.

The chef glanced back at the pair. "You're early, chief. Dinner will not be ready for a while yet, yeah? Unless you are hungry now? Maybe something for the skinny girl too, yeah? I have extra steak I can cook, be ready quickly." Without waiting to hear their reply, he tossed a large steak onto the grill.

Mor glanced at Nina. "How do you like your steak?"
 
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