OHMAGAWD. I'm GONNA CRY for Brazil. 7- 1 ... ;( Finals are Germany and Argentina! Who are you rooting for?  #TeamArgentina

I am in the wilderness as we speak.  Has anyone ever gone camping? 

Trees...so much trees...

Wish more me to not get eaten by bears since that would really suck.

Thank you for over 200K reads! And #2 on Action and #3 on Sci Fi is blessed, honey.  Gosh... here comes the tears...

WARNING: LONG CHAPTER. I REPEAT—LONG CHAPTER. Gather your popcorn and Coke (ew. Pepsi.), all genres and questions will be revealed.

And answers ;) 

4am now. Not edited. I'm so sorry. 

Please vote! :)

Ϯ ϯ Ϯ

I don't know what drug I was on.  Or what crazy voodoo shit those nurses put in my skin, but whatever it did made me impulsive since the next thing I did was something I thought I'd never do.  

I hugged Romane. 

Yep.  I was fucked up. 

His muscles tightened and I knew this was hard to believe but I felt his heart stop.  I buried my head into his shirt, inhaling the scent of pine which I found relaxing.

Creatures of the Earth, I award this as the second most awkward moment of my life.

Because he didn't hug back.

May the awkwardness begin...

Yet I didn't think anything could beat number one.

Awkward: Your phone going off on full volume at a funeral. 

Even more awkward: Your ringtone being 'I Will Survive'.

Some things on the Internet do actually happen... 

The humiliation not shaking off, I released my grip with a low apology. 

"It's fine," he rumbled quietly. 

Digging ways to change the subject once again, I asked, "How come the Snipers are after me?"  

Good save, Jess.  And for the future: Just because you're a tree hugger doesn't mean you have to embrace everything that has a big, thick, long, branch...

Heat whipped across my face and I mentally cursed at the immature voice.  Thankfully Romane didn't notice the battle happening in my head.   

"To be honest, I'm not sure," he replied. 

Surprised he didn't hold the answer, I told myself that made sense.  The man couldn't know everything.  Even though it felt like it. 

"While the answers remain uncertain," he looked towards me, illustrating a serious expression, "I know they will persist on catching you and possibly hurting you.  Therefore you must be ready for their next attack."  He gave me a once over.  "I presume you didn't complete your Dynamo training?" 

I nibbled on the insides of my cheek, breathing a sheepish chuckle.  "Is it that noticeable?" 

"I'm afraid so," he said with an amused smile.  He rested a hand on my arm, a sudden coldness rushing underneath.  "I will train you first thing in the morning.  Be prepared because these weeks will be exhausting and brutal."

"Ode to joy."

+++

It starts with a simple gust of Mother Nature.

The gentle breeze tingles along my smooth arms as I peel my stiff back off of the rough shingles.  My eyes are shut, but curiously wanting to peek open.  The spotlights of the moon frolic down on my caramel skin, sending a surge of relaxation down my spine. 

I sigh in satisfaction. 

The faint scent of early morning dew flourishes with the pure smell of salt water, overwhelming me with a grin.  Eyes finally open, I'm welcomed by the twilight view of the calm ocean.  The waves gradually start to slink away from the crisp sand.  The tide is coming down.  It would be a great time to go for a midnight swim. 

My raven hair frisks with the wind as I stare out into the sparkling water.  It all felt so right.  Perfect.  The moon reflects off of the body of water, like a beautiful painting.  A tiny bit of me wants to stay here forever but I know I have to detach myself from the gorgeous view, and enter back into reality.  My legs feel slightly stiff as I stand up on the slanted roof. 

I take in one last breathe of the comforting aroma, and then exhale out, already missing the lovely smell.

My brown almond eyes glance one last time at the glistening liquid, eagerly wanting to take a dip and seep myself into the water.  I easily jog down the steep slope, trying my best not to slip.  The brightness of the moon and the twinkling stars is the only light I have to guide me down.  The sounds of the waves are like hush voices that curl around me, protecting me from the unknown danger. 

"Wildcat," a voice whispers. 

I pick up speed, my feet silently prancing down. Just before I reach the end of the roof, I bend and jump off.  I feel like I'm flying.  I am flying. 

I'm free. 

Then gravity takes its part and pulls me down, not hesitating to use its natural powers.  I'm about to—

"Wildcat," the wind murmurs. 

Someone shook my arm.  Swatting at the intruder, I rumbled a 'Shut up' and shielded myself with the pillow. 

"Get up.  Training begins."

My hand instantly grasped for the nearest tree branch, the rough bark pricking my fingers.  I grunted as all my weight hanged by a thread.  My eyes darted upwards into the bushy maple tree, the leaves gliding down naturally swaying past me.  One gently landed on my shoulder, tickling my skin. 

I scrambled my way to the tree trunk and hugged the wooden cylinder, like my life depended on it. 

Tree hugger... You really like holding big, hard, long things...

I replied with a hiss of profanity, shutting the conscious out. 

I shuffled my body down, grabbing onto branches for support.  I moved fast, carefully not waking up the family of raccoons that were right above. 

I jumped at a safe angle and the grass was cut to a fine green.  My toes dug into the moist dirt, the cold fertilizer sheathed over my feet.

I shuddered to think this forest-like environment was really a demo on the aircraft, it hard to imagine the size of the plane.

I made my way over to the wooden shed.  Romane said there would be a man's strongest weapon inside.  Slowly opening the door, I peeked my head through and blinked twice.  A pair of cheap work boots laid in front.

"Ha-ha," I drawled. 

Scooping up a note, it read: Keeping your precious little toes warm is essential in the upcoming location. -R

I slipped my bare feet into them, the shape fitting nicely.  I grabbed the leather bag from the hook and slinged it over my shoulder.  I softly closed the doors and jogged through the stoned pathway, leaving the shed. 

I entered the forest, the howl of wild dogs disappearing in and out.  I wasn't familiar with nature's playground and hoped the map Romane gave me a quick peak of was embedded in the back of my head.

The green leaves shielded me, akin to the voices I heard in my dream.  I was hidden here.  My boots crunched across the crimpled leaves, replicating the sound of flames crinkling on fresh wood. 

A whimsical song began, the chant of crickets singing with the wind.  I then sprinted through the herbal camouflage, later finding a familiar sparkling stream. 

The water glistened from the moon ray, making the liquid seem magical.  My hands dipped in, splashing myself in the face.  As I looked up, I exchanged stares with two big beady yellow eyes from the trees. 

I leapt back, my heart skipping a beat.  The creature hooted a hello, and I smiled noting its innocence.  To be honest, I was hoping for some vicious wild animal to encounter—not some round puff ball. 

A gleam sparked between the claws of the animal and I stood up.  Reaching over, I read another note: Let this be the last of my help.  Check the log. Your welcome –R

Glancing around, I rummaged through the log and quickly made work.  Not really worried I was half naked, I stripped off my clothes and dressed into the black tunic and matching gypsy pants.  I took in a whiff, the odour smelling like old sweat with a hint of pine.  I wrinkled my nose and tied my hair into a low ponytail.  I reached back into the log and pulled out two black gloves and a black cloak.

I didn't bother questioning the strange attire, that killing more time.

I sunk both of my fingers into the leather fabric.  I draped the cloak, slipping myself into the cape.  Certain no one could see my face unless they shone a bright light, I was relieved it draped from my ankles, not touching the ground.  Clothing that dragged across the ground was a bitch.  A small pouch of gold hanged off my pants, just enough for my quick journey.

Jesus.  Was this the Game of Thrones or something?  Wouldn't be surprised if there were torches...

I jogged past the stream, deeper into the forest.  It smelled musty like a spring day after its shower, parading the trees with moist air.  My hands were clammy, the humid level rising for perhaps a more summer forecast. 

The dark shadows danced around, appearing more than just shrubs and bushes.  In the distance, I discovered small flames that became my guide.  The torches, I beckoned them as the entrance to the challenge.

Torches.  I knew it.  Should've bet on those suckers. 

I hid my face more, and advanced towards loud shouts and bursts of heavy laughter that erupted from the area. 

I emerged into the strange hangout, keeping my head low.  Hundreds of men walked along the streets, either with bottles of rum or entering rubbish verbal fights.  Most had filthy clothes, some running around with no shirts, others with ripped pants. 

Little pubs and bars sprinkled around, serving alcohol or entertaining their drunk guests.  Some were homeless, pleading for money.  Some were just there to talk and have a beer.  Many mysterious strangers stood out at the side selling illegal drugs and products.  All probably hungry pirates striving for deals and bargains.  No females though, were in plain sight. 

"You really outdid yourself, Romane," I mumbled. 

I slinked along the streets, gathering the disturbing surroundings.  My eyes shot to a pack of men beating up someone in the corner of a pub. 

"Go past the torches.  And do what you think you should do.  Then come back," Romane instructed. 

My face twisted in confusion, staring at him like he'd gone mad.  "Pardon?"

"You'll understand."

"Understand my ass," I snorted.  Perhaps this was an ethical challenge? 

I snuck over, disappearing in and out of the shadows.  I took a quick peek of the action, and discovered the victim was a homeless man.  "Couldn't be more original in character..." I mumbled. 

The thieves start to spit crude language, making me cringe.

I hid behind a bar store and made sure the coast is clear.  I quickly slipped my hand underneath the cloak and into my bra. 

"What the hell is that?" 

Romane held the lingerie to my chest.  "An innovation of female weapons." 

"You're kidding right?"

"Try me."

I pulled out four darts, one for each target.  Imagine selling these at Victoria Secrets.  Hell, this would be a hoot at stag shops.  Right on the headlines: "How to make the night more kinky.  A bra full of darts.  Let there be more than just 'poking' around." 

That conscious voice returned: Your humour sucks.

Mimicking the second ego, I bit off the lids of the darts, and spat them out, leaving the tips exposed.  I hurriedly placed them between each of my fingers on my left hand. 

"Handle them carefully.  Poisonous darts are something that you had to be watchful about.  When the dart is stabbed into its target, a liquid would instantly seep through the victim's vein and paralyze them for more than an hour," Romane explained.   

I causally made my way to the scene of the action, with my head faced forward.  As if I was walking beside them, I flicked my wrist, automatically flicking off the four darts as if they were bugs.  I kept on walking as the targets slumped to the ground, stunned by the attack as the poison seeped into their flesh.  The homeless man scrambled up with blood dripping from his face.  He frantically looked around for his helper but I was already gone.

"There," I breathed in relief.  That test wasn't so hard. 

A childish giggle rushed past me and I watched as a little boy hopped over my feet.  Running to a brick wall, I didn't notice his body scurry up the brick as a message in black spray paint was written.

You're not finished.