"I hate this" I sighed, looking around my sewer den sadly. A blue light and powerful thrum came from my pod as I entered my room. I gently placed my hand on it and took a deep breath.

I walked over to my bed and sat down, untied my boots and placed them in their designated spot underneath my small cot. I took off my long sleeve button down, revealing the brown cami I wore underneath. In large, block print were the numbers "86" tattooed in black ink on my chest. That number changed each time I died, as it counted down how many lives I have left.

I pulled my hair out of it's pony tail and let it fall down my back in bone straight strands.

Unlike most of the population, I had red hair and pale skin that burned in the scorching sun. My eyes were a deep green, so vibrant my parents said they actually out shined my fiery locks. I was convinced they were my mother's eyes, but she always told me that there was no way they were the same. She claimed I had a fierce gleam to mine that hers lacked.

I laid back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling, crossing my hands behind my head.

There were no other sounds in the room but the hum of my pod.

"I hate this" I said again, rolling over and going to sleep.

___________________

"Come on you dirty bastard" I whispered into my fingers. The feathers of my arrow tickled my cheek as I pulled my bow string taut.

Ahead of me, stalking down the hillside side was the mountain lion that had decapitated me. I don't know where, but some place, this monster was getting food. Sometime between my regeneration and now, he had found the cash cow of all food reserves. He was a fat and happy mother trucker now.

I had been stalking him for miles, hoping he would take me back to this pinnacle, but after eight hours of this, I was done. Frustration was pushing me toward killing the stupid beast, but logic told me to be more patient.

I let frustration win.

I took a deep breath and pulled my arm back, readying to loose the arrow, when a sharp growl erupted from behind me.

"Are you freaking kidding me?" I said exasperatedly.

I whipped around and found three wild dogs eyeing me hungrily.

It would take me too long to reload my bow and kill all three... I could kill two, but the third one would probably attack me and I did not want to risk decapitation again. My Glock was sitting on the rock a few feet away, definitely too far to get to.

"Shit" I mumbled. On a split second decision, I loosed the arrow on the first dog, quickly pulling my knife and stabbing the second in the throat. As I removed the knife, the third clamped down on my forearm, shaking it viciously.

"Damn!" I yelled out. I stabbed the dog in the shoulder blade, making it clamp down harder on my arm in pain. I heard my bone snap in two and I clenched my teeth in pain. The dog dragged it's claws down my stomach and leg, shredding the flesh as it went.

I ripped the knife out and began stabbing the animal viciously, but to no avail. I could not get a kill shot to save my life.

Literally.

In a blind siding move, the dog was ripped off me and dragged a few feet away. A scuffle went on that ended with a canine wine and then silence.

The mountain lion stood over the dog, looking powerful and majestic, but I felt no safer in it's presence than I had in the dog's.

It stared at me for a few seconds, almost as if it recognized the fact that it had killed me before. I used my one good arm to hold up my knife in a threatening manner, but the lion walked over to me and batted the knife out of my hand. My head was still a little light from loss of blood, and even though my wounds were healed, my blood had yet to replenish itself.

"Please don't kill me again, my lives are precious" I murmured, staring into the cats golden eyes. I knew it was pointless to ask but I had to try.

The mountain lion leaned down and licked the blood off my leg.

"Oh c'mon, don't lick me. That's not an appetizer" I sighed. I gently placed my hand on it's head and pushed it away, knowing it was going to kill me either way.

It pushed back then rubbed it's head against my hand.

"What the-"

I lifted my other hand up and hesitantly rubbed the side of the feline's face. A faint line from a healed injury interrupted the otherwise smooth fur there.

As if offering me a hand, the cat pushed me, insisting I use it's head to stand up.

I grabbed my gun and bow and began to walk back to my hideout, the mountain lion trailing behind me.

"You're not going to rat me out to Brock the Jerk are you? Because I'm leading you back to my home" I said over my shoulder. The cat just continued it's easy lope behind me.

"Right, I feel like we might be having a few one sided conversations".

When we reached my little cove, the mountain lion hesitantly inspected every nook and cranny, then left quite abruptly.

"Well alrighty then..." I sighed, too tired to care about the fact that I had been escorted home by an animal.

After grabbing some dried rabbit and whiskey, I sat down and began sketching in my drawing book. Soon, a detailed depiction of the mountain lion joined my collections of pictures. With a slight buzz and creeping depression, I fell asleep face down on my desk, sketch book falling open to the most frequently visited page in the book.