Second Chance

By S.F. Widlacki

Destiny is a fickle thing. One minute Rory is fighting for her life, and the next her dead best friend is appearing before her eyes. Vixen might not be the only person back from the grave, either.

Unit 3’s mission to find closure comes to an end, inducing delight and heartache on an unbelievable scale. Blood relations in an apocalyptic world can have a powerful influence — an influence that will test the bonds within Unit 3 and ask them what is most important: their safety, or their ties to the Last.

All the while, a plan to reclaim the avian Hybrids’ freedom unfolds, conducted by none other than Vixen’s own unit.

• Language: English
• Publisher: S.F. Widlacki
• Release date: Mar 22, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005471279

S.F. Widlacki

S.F. Widlacki spent years creating whimsical and poetic stories before finally deciding to share a bit of her imagination with the world, in hopes of adding a bit of piquancy to the minds of all you lovely people out there. She has always had a great love for animals, leading to a major in Biology, giving a realistic feel to a fictional sci-fi series. When she’s not out having spur-of-the-moment adventures or watching Psych with her majestic dust-collector of a cat, she’s making an adamant attempt to further her writer’s tendonitis and creating super annoying cliff-hangers.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

I was never one to dawdle, so try to keep up.

I may have just been attacked by a grizzly bear — yet another animal that’d been enhanced through the release of the chemical DODG from the bottom of the ocean — and bleeding out from the huge lacerations in my legs, but I swear I couldn’t feel any of it while looking at her, at that face I would — could — never forget.

Vixen? I spoke again, my voice finding some strength. I blinked. Was this real? Why did something feel so very, very off? 

I was sitting in a thirty-foot-diameter clearing in the middle of the woods somewhere in southern Montana, at the edge of a small creek, its clear waters being continuously tainted with my blood. I wore only a top, most closely resembling an elite fitness bra made of an airy, pebble-colored mesh material, shredded pants made of the same thing, and a gray pack between my wings. That’s right, it wasn’t a typo: WINGS. My lower body was covered in blood, and my curly, breast-length, hickory-colored hair with sun-bleached strawberry-blonde ends had pine needles sticking out of its silky strands. 

Vixen, too, was dressed the same, though without the pine needles and blood. 

I’d flown so far — across the entire country, in fact — all the while holding onto the slim hope that maybe, maybe, I’d find her at the survivor camp I’d yet to lay eyes on. Yet here she was, standing a mere twenty feet away. 

At least, I was pretty sure it was her.

She moved forward, practically forcing her small, bare feet to walk into the clearing, slipping into the moon’s pewter light. Something flicked atop her head, but my vision was a bit too blurry from pain to focus on it correctly. 

Rory? Vixen asked, her voice barely a whisper. 

My breath hitched, my hazel eyes widening. It was her, it had to be. That was her voice. I tried to get up, which only caused me to suck in a breath from the immense stab of pain. 

I eased back down and tried to recover from the damage I’d just done to my thigh, holding some shredded pant material tightly to my wounds in an attempt to stop the bleeding. I healed much faster than normal humans, but I still needed time. 

What happened? Vixen stammered, her shocked, worried eyes falling to my leg. 

I noticed that her eyes were unusually blue, practically glowing. Honestly, I still wasn’t convinced that I wasn’t actually hallucinating all of this, but I didn’t really care. Hallucination or not, I welcomed seeing my best friend. 

Ah, you know. I flicked a few slim artist’s fingers toward the colossal white and gold bear lying limp within the shadows of the tree line, some forty feet away. Nearly getting killed. The usual. I gave a one-shouldered shrug and a breathy laugh, though there wasn’t anything very humorous about it. Everything in this new world wanted to kill us.

Vixen stumbled forward, falling to her knees at my right side. Her trembling hands hovered near me, but she drew them back, ringing them together. 

She seemed incredibly hesitant, fearful even, and I probably would have been too, if my adrenaline wasn’t fading so quickly. I felt drained, and my legs were starting to throb from the gashes where the bear’s claws had torn into my skin. My head felt light from the loss of blood.

Is it really you? Tears welled up in Vixen’s eyes. I thought you were — Her voice broke.

Now I saw it — the thing that felt so off about her. Her eyes were definitely brighter than usual, but she also had ears. Okay, yes, but like, fox ears, where her human ears should have been. And behind her, anxiously curling around her left leg, was a plush red tail, tipped in white. 

My eyes widened, feeling a wave of nausea take hold. Oh god. They’d done it to her, too. She wasn’t human anymore.

Let me help you, she said, tumbling over her own words. Her shaky hands reached around and pulled a gray pack from her back, and I watched with bleary eyes as she unzipped her pack and pulled out some cloth. She ripped off a long strip and reached for my leg.

I leaned forward and held my right hand up to stop her. No, leave it, I said suddenly. 

Vixen jumped and retracted her hands as if she’d touched fire. You’re bleeding! She stared at me argumentatively, clearly at a loss.

I tilted my head to look at her, and my breath seemed to disappear as we stared at each other: her eyes a bright, marbled blue, mine a startling, glowing hazel. Both pairs reflected in the night, as if lights simmered behind them.

The sound of large feathers scraping together got louder in my ears, but it felt distant when looking at Vixen, caught up in the fact that my best friend was still alive, that she was a Hybrid, like me. Soon the sounds fabricated into a person, and Vixen’s red, black-tipped ears, which had been trained on me, now swiveled. 

Michael landed down in the dim clearing, his seventeen-and-a-half-foot feathered wingspan flared out behind him. Michael, with his sharp peregrine falcon wings, muscular form and chiseled features, wild black hair, and determined obsidian eyes, looked like an incredibly handsome angel of death, coming to take me away. 

Vixen sucked in a breath and shifted back, looking as if she wanted to run. 

Michael’s steady gaze melted into worry as his eyes landed on me, my body shaded by the shadows of dusk. I heard his breath catch, and he ran over to me, dropping to my left side. His wide, soft wings curled around me naturally as he helped to support my back. 

What happened? Michael breathed, his fingers floating over the bloodied material I held to my thigh. The ground around us was strewn with red stains, the water hazy.

Vixen shuffled back a bit, looking over the two of us. She didn’t seem to know what to make of it.

Bear, I said, my voice growing increasingly out of it. I pointed off into the trees where the bear lay hidden to anyone without night vision. I wondered if Vixen could see it…

Michael gently lifted the material under my hand away, checking my wound, then sat it back down and applied a pressure of his own overtop my hand. I could feel his heart pounding faster against me, beneath the neat feathers falling over his front.

With Michael there, my body finally gave in, relaxing into his warm, broad chest. We don’t need to work anymore, my body seemed to tell me. 

I tried to shake my head, but my thoughts were getting muddled. Yes, we do, are you crazy!? I thought back at myself. 

I tried to tie her leg off, but she won’t let me, Vixen said, her voice riddled with worry. 

Michael’s eyes flicked over Vixen skeptically, but he turned his attention back on me, lying increasingly limp in his arms. Rory was right not to tie it, Michael informed, his silky deep voice rather solemn. Applying pressure is the best thing to do. She needs stitches though.

Vixen hesitated. How do you know all that? she asked.

It’s not important, Michael said. Help me get her out of the water so we can prop her leg up. 

But — Vixen bit her tongue, and in the next instant forced herself to get up and help this man, who was a stranger to her, move me onto a dry patch of needles. 

Over here, Michael said as they carried me, holding me under my arms while Vixen took up my feet. 

It hurt to be moved, and I felt a tear involuntarily slip down my cheek, but some part of my semi-unconscious brain knew they were trying to help me, so I didn’t move around or fight back. 

I felt a pressure beneath me once more and knew they’d laid me down. By the feel of it, I was against a small mound of dirt and pine needles, my legs elevated by fifteen or twenty degrees. 

Rory? The silhouette of a face appeared above me, and I blinked, but the action felt slow and groggy. Rory, can you hear me? Michael’s steady voice filtered into my ears, which were extremely sensitive under normal circumstances, able to pick up the squeak of a mouse from half a mile away on a silent night, but now felt distorted as I faded out.

Jus’ need som’ sleep, I slurred, not entirely sure I’d even gotten the words out. I wanted to stay awake, but I just couldn’t. 

Their voices sounded warbled above me, and I found myself unable to hold on any longer. It’s fine. You’re safe now, my body coaxed me.

Yeah, okay, I agreed sleepily. I’ll just rest for a bit…

CHAPTER 2

My head felt like cotton, but my legs felt like they were on fire. I blinked awake, feeling groggy and confused. 

Wha’ happened? I tried to sit up, propping myself up on my elbows with some difficulty, my large feathered wings scraping against the ground beneath me. My legs were angled up and my pack had been beneath my head, neither of which I remembered doing on my own. I looked around, willing my eyes to focus.

Thank the heavens, you’re alive! Vixen said, taking a deep breath. 

Vixen had been sitting off to the side against the mound of dirt and needles. She was looking right at me, her soft, rounded face ever familiar, with her gentle light-brown eyebrows over marbled blue eyes that curved down slightly at the corners, her button nose that every guy secretly found adorable, and straight, red-tinted hair that fell to her navel. 

Before I could react, she got to her feet and tackled me in a hug.

I froze with her arms wrapped tightly around me. Right, Vixen’s alive now. Feeling I was in a dream, I absently brought my right arm around to hug her back. She felt…real.

Rory, Michael breathed, jogging up to my left. 

Vixen let me go, and I turned my attention to him, a water canister overflowing with clear liquid in one hand, both hands stained red. He knelt down at my side and set the canister on the ground. 

How do you feel? he asked, his eyes jumping over me with some anxiety. 

My brows knit together slightly, and I reached for his hand closest to me. He let me take it easily, and I blinked at his stained palms, my raptor vision acting up, focusing on the minute details of his hand. What happened? 

He chuckled, and my eyes shifted to his face. "Really? You’re worried about me? A smile flicked across his mouth. This is your blood, Rory."

Huh? I let him go as my gaze fell to my legs, at the five deep lacerations, each at least eight inches long, across my left thigh. My right calf, too, throbbed painfully. Each one appeared to be stitched up with delicate precision. How did…?

Your boyfriend’s a doctor or something, Vixen goaded, her eyes brimming with joy as she took me in. He used some fishing line from your pack and stitched your wounds, and applied some sort of salve. You’ve been out for like an hour.

I shook my head a bit. I know, I said. Wait, boyfriend? I glanced at Michael, but he didn’t seem phased about the phrase in the slightest, so I figured I’d just go along with it.

Michael flicked a couple fingers in Vixen’s direction. While you were out, she was telling me about her unit and her base, he said, his tone making me increasingly curious, and maybe slightly worried. You were right — there’s a base in Canada.

I looked at Vixen, feeling stumped. Vix, I said, you’ve been in Canada this whole time? You — you’re… 

A Hybrid? Like you, apparently? she finished with a breathy laugh, taking a meaningful glance at my wings. She wagged a finger at me. You know, I was wondering why you were so late.

She was referring to me never showing up for lunch nearly a whole year ago, the day I was taken from everything I knew, the day everything changed. I couldn’t help but laugh as I stared at her, barely able to believe my own eyes. 

Why didn’t I see you in that weirdo building then? I asked, getting my thoughts straight. We were in the same area when they were testing people.

Vixen scratched her head of long red-brown hair embarrassingly, avoiding having to look at me. Right. I may have, uh, fainted. I guess they took me directly to the base instead of the building you were at. She gave me a weak laugh.

I couldn’t stop the grin growing on my face. My best friend is actually here! She’s not dead! But if Vixen was here… Why was she here? 

My grin faded as my paranoia took over. If you’re from the Canadian base, what’re you doing in southern Montana? I asked, fearing the answer. 

Vixen’s joy was hindered as well, though she looked mostly curious, not worried. Nothing much, just some random mission we got stuck with, but I’m glad we did now, ‘cause otherwise I wouldn’t have come across you! 

I didn’t respond, only waited for more as she grew increasingly thoughtful. 

"We were tracking Unit 3 not far from here, and someone thought they heard something. Alpha told us to just leave them, but something told me to go. And when I saw you in that clearing, I didn’t really believe it was you at first — how could it have been?? I thought you were dead! I —"

My brows drew together, and I held a hand up to stop her. Wait, Unit 3? You’re tracking Unit 3? 

Anything and everything not good ran through my mind, and I shared a look with Michael, finding the same horrible thoughts evident in his eyes. I felt his nature grow colder toward Vixen and knew this was new information for both of us. 

How many of you are there? I asked, dread settling in my gut like a cold weight.

And why are you tracking Unit 3? Michael added. Who sent you?

Vixen looked between the two of us as if unsure who to answer first. Uhh, yeah. Some avian Hybrid from Iceland brought a message from their chief at their base, and my unit — Unit 8 — got sent out on a mission to track a group of avians. I could see the gears clicking into place, her eyes expanding with realization. Rory…you’re not…Unit 3, are you?

I waved my hands up and down my person. What do you think all this is? 

Vixen looked truly afraid, her tail twitching sporadically. My eyes wandered to it with a small frown, not wanting to imagine everything Vixen had gone through. She’d always been very introverted, and to imagine her getting tossed into a random group of Hybrids… I knew it was basically her worst nightmare. 

I just… It’s hard to get used to, you know? she said, looking dejected.

Yeah, I know, I sighed, feeling remorseful. 

My entire body had been altered, after all. My ligaments, muscles, tendons, bones — all stronger and lighter. My eyes — I had both uncanny raptor vision and night vision. My sense of hearing was off the charts. Feathers ran along my hairline and across my shoulders, clavicles, down my breasts, not to mention every normal hair on my body was actually structured like primal feathers and soft as heck. I had a twenty-foot, fully functioning wingspan for goodness sake, mixed with both a Siberian eagle owl and a golden eagle. 

I shared another hard look with Michael. So, an avian Hybrid from Iceland, huh?

Elena, Michael muttered bitterly. 

Yep. I pushed myself into a full sitting position, beginning to get up. We have to go warn the others, I said, getting my legs under me. My nose crinkled as a jolt of fire was sent through my legs. 

Michael steadied me. Take it easy. Don’t go opening your stitches. Limited amount of fishing line, remember?

I huffed in a semi-humorous laugh. Yes, Doctor Knight, I joked. Knight was his last name, a last name I particularly liked. I let go of his arm and stood on my own two feet, taking a step forward. I’m fine, I said in a lighter tone, attempting to reassure him.

I took a moment to look around and assess my surroundings. My knife was still beside the creek, and I hobbled over to it, trying not to ruin Michael’s stitch job. I managed to ease down and clean the six-inch ebony blade off in the creek water, which was now running clear again, then wipe it off on a cluster of dry pine needles before sliding it back into the nylon drop leg sheath strapped to the side of my right thigh. This knife ended up being my savior when it came down to it. No way could I leave it.

I was about to get up and retrieve my pack, but my eyes landed on the broken white claw sitting abandoned on the bank. Remember how I just said my knife was my savior? Yeah, well, after plunging it into the bear’s neck, the beast had twisted away and left a present for me. That is, his ivory-colored claw had snapped off while still stuck in my leg bone. 

I reached over and picked it up, turning all three inches of it over in my fingers. I closed my fist around it before getting back to my feet, then bent down and swiped my pack off the ground, shoving the claw into it.

It was only the beginning of night, the stars taking their places in the sky, so I had no use for the stone-blue aviator sunglasses stowed in my pack, which had somehow come out of my horrific ordeal unscathed. 

Let’s go. I swung my pack onto my back between my wings, over my scapular feathers, and clipped the straps above my navel. I began hobbling away with purpose, each step torturous, planning to attempt jumping into the air anyway.

Wait, where are you going? Vixen asked, walking after me with her hands splayed in question. 

Michael, walking beside me, shot Vixen a cold glance. To stop your unit from attacking ours, he said, sounding much like someone you didn’t want to mess with. 

My steps slowed, and I turned back to Vixen. I bit my lower lip, mentally smacking myself. Vixen couldn’t fly. Ha, what was I thinking? I guess when you lived in a post-apocalyptic world with only a group of birdkids for company, you tended to forget other people — on the extremely rare off-chance of meeting them — didn’t have wings. 

My mouth parted, but I hesitated as I quickly thought it through. Couldn’t exactly carry her… Michael would never carry her… But we had to go, now. 

You know where your unit is heading, right? We’ll meet up with you there if possible, I decided. 

I… Alright, Vixen agreed unenthusiastically. Might take me a while though. It’s not exactly easy traveling through these mountains, ya know. Lots of rockslides around here.

Her recount of the struggles she’d been facing gave me hope for my group. We might still reach them before her canine unit did. 

It doesn’t matter, I said, I’ll still find you.

I hardened my heart, turning from my best friend and forcing myself forward. It was tremendously hard to leave her for even a little while after everything I’d been through to find her, but I had to help my feathered group, which had grown into so much more — my family. So as painful as it was, I shoved aside the burning in my legs and took a few strides before leaping into the air as I unfurled my wings. I stumbled from the pain, but strong, even strokes lifted me into the air effortlessly, each beat lifting me fifteen feet higher, tossing my hair around pleasantly. 

I heard Vixen audibly gasp from the ground as I flew up through the opening in the forest, the spade-shaped pine trees towering at sixty to eighty meters tall. 

Once free of the forest, I gave my wings a freeing flap, the undersides a creamy buttermilk striped with pale gold, the tops a caramel gold washed over a tan-blonde, mottled with white and black organized flecks, my primaries and secondaries sporting dusky gold stripes that mirrored the pale stripes on the opposite side.

My feathers glinted under the moonlight as I angled my wings and tilted my body, curving over the forest gracefully. I took one last glance at Vixen, standing in the middle of the opening and staring up at me with wide blue eyes. 

Michael was up in the air a moment later and curved over to me, easily catching up with his high-speed wings, his primaries long and well-trimmed, complimenting his sharp features. The topsides of his wings were a breathtaking onyx, each triangular-shaped feather laced in a lighter gray. Each time he brought his wings up, he revealed the barred white underparts typical of a peregrine falcon. 

We avian Hybrids had a handy-dandy internal sense of direction, and the two of us soared purposefully over the valley, up the mountainside to the south.

CHAPTER 3

Michael and I didn’t talk; we only booked it up the mountain, treetops swaying beneath us, a splash of stars above us. The pain in my legs was hazing the edges of my vision, but I pushed onward. 

A cloud of shadows erupted from the forest in front of us, flapping into the sky in a panic. The strong beats of our group’s massive feathers pounded in the air, and I had to swerve away to avoid colliding with them. 

The nine of them seemed to have no intention of stopping, climbing higher and higher, so I flew after them. I glanced down to see Michael flapping in place, his massive wings stirring the air around him. He was inevitably searching for the canine unit Vixen was from, but he would unfortunately not be able to see them without night vision, and he reluctantly followed after us a moment later. 

A mile up, after flying several mountains down the rugged range, they finally slowed and began circling in wide, seventy-foot diameters, looking wide awake. 

Rory! Michael! Where the heck have you two been? Aubrey scolded, her thin eyebrows drawn together in anger. Her soft, round face was framed in breast-length blonde hair that had a gold sheen to it, with small, greenish feathers lining her hairline and caressing other parts of her body, matching the yellow-green color of her wing feathers. We nearly got attacked! If not for Iver —

Iver was hybridized with an owl, the only other one in our group of eleven avian Hybrids besides myself. He must have heard them coming, as those mixed with nocturnal species had greatly enhanced hearing. 

I know, I said. There’s a canine unit from a base in Canada tracking us down.

"Well, they found us," Ronin scoffed, circling past me with his wide slate-gray wings, his feathers dusted in rust, resembling a Cooper’s hawk. His brown-black hair with lighter red-tinted streaks up front looked like a hawk’s plumage and gave him a snappy, sleek-guy edge. He wasn’t one to shy from scuffles, but his skin was flawless, a mix of porcelain and copper, beautifully matching the lighter undersides of his wings. Though, to use the word ‘beautiful’ on Ronin may be a mistake, his red-brown gaze appearing dangerous under a pair of sharp, S-shaped eyebrows. 

June shook her head, causing her shoulder-length, silky, mocha-colored hair to toss over in the wind. Her almond-colored eyes studied the ground below us as if she could find answers there, her fair, porcelain face creased with doubt. "How’d they even know about us? They said long distance communications stopped working half a year ago. There’s no way they’d get a message from Iceland to Canada by foot so quickly."

I shared a bitter look with Michael. 

It was Elena, Michael told the group.

Elena? Clara repeated. Anger flared up past her worry, causing her brown eyes, saturated with a strong orangey-amber, to widen. With her soft, squarish face sporting small eyebrows and half-moon-shaped eyes, and her features gently framed in long, somewhat curvy, carob-colored hair, she usually came across as chastened and modest. It confounded me to see Clara angry about anything. She almost forgot to angle her dusky gray-brown and white Swainson’s hawk wings, dropping out of the circle for a brief moment and having to flap back into place.

It has to be, Anna agreed remorsefully. She pushed her long brown bangs to the side, out of her multicolored eyes, the left a chocolate brown, the right a startling blue, but her hair disregarded her suggestion entirely, immediately flying back over her forehead. The feathers around her hairline and disappearing under her bangs were a soft espresso, melting into her darker, semi-curly, choppy hickory hair that fell just above her shoulders. She gave another flap of her petite, golden-brown and cloud-gray mourning dove wings, a perfect match for her small stature and shy nature. 

Once a traitor, always a traitor, Ronin huffed, not seeming surprised in the slightest. 

Woah, Rory, what happened to your legs? Will interjected, flying some thirty feet above me. 

I glanced up to see Will’s blanched yellow eyes wide and trained on my lower body. His long, angular, incredibly slender wings fell out of sync for a brief moment, his black feathers catching in the moonlight, the tan patches among them appearing like gold nuggets. Black, brown, and muted tan feathers ran along his hairline, seeping into his honey-brown locks and across his body in the same areas it did everyone else: over his shoulders, down his chest, giving his lean, toned figure a sleek appearance. 

A giant bear tried to kill me, I said, sighing internally, as if it was a totally normal thing to say. Been kinda out of it for the past hour.

"A what?" Will asked, mortified. 

For real? Ronin questioned. He eyed me more closely across the distance.

That’s not important right now. I’ll be fine. We need to…get out of… Hey, where’s Emery? I looked up and down the column of wheeling birdkids again, but on none of their backs did I see a non-winged seven-year-old boy tagging along. 

Yeah, about that, Adler said, glancing at me with honest light brown eyes, a silver tone to them that matched the moon above. He scratched the back of his chocolatey brown hair, which had a bit of curl to it. They matched his neat eyebrows and complimented his features, which were nice and sharp and handsome. His skin, exposed all the way down to his waist like it was for all six men in our group, was a lighter shade of natural brown than the others, infiltrated with a warm undertone. Muted brown feathers like the ones on the tops of his steppe eagle wings lined his hairline and other parts of his slender, well-toned body. 

I slanted my gaze in Adler’s direction, feeling suspicious. 

Samuel dropped down to me, coasting on long black wings like a seabird, a patch of iridescent purple over the first half of his left wing. He clenched his square jaw, the wind running its soft fingers through his short blond hair, his deep blue and turquoise eyes looking torn. We were seventy meters up when Iver woke us. We booked it the moment we spotted a bunch of people pointing guns at us further down the mountainside.

So, it turned out to be a good spot that I led them down to, into the tops of a cluster of trees overlooking the rest of the forest, near the ridge of a mountain slope. It gave them enough time to get away unharmed, at least. But Emery… I moved him to a lower branch because he was scared of the height. Did that make it partially my fault? 

I dismissed the thought immediately, knowing there was no way I’d have known a unit was being sent after us. Who would’ve been able to know that??

I didn’t think my thoughts were quite so obviously written on my face, but then Michael dissuaded, You’re injured. Don’t even think about trying to take on a whole unit by yourself.

I narrowed my eyes at him, wishing he’d stop reading my mind all the time. "You know I can’t just leave him. I need to at least go scout it out and try."

Michael’s mouth parted, looking ready to argue with me, but then his brows drew together and he turned to the rest of the group. We need to get somewhere safe. They’re bound to the ground, so we’ll go up to a mountaintop along the valley, downwind. 

Without waiting for responses, Michael curved out of the circling column, letting the wind take him out and away. Michael and I had been placed into leadership positions by the entire group some time ago, before we ever escaped from the base holding us in Iceland. Not wanting to split the decision, I gritted my teeth and glided after him, heading northwest.

* * *

No canine I knew of had eyesight good enough to pick up on something two mountains away. My group flapped down to a rocky peak, and I hated to admit that I was delaying having to land. 

This is gonna hurt. I took in a deep breath and dropped down to the ground, still some seven feet below. Immediately, a fiery pain shot through my legs when I tried to use my shredded muscles, and I had to catch myself with my hands. 

Adler, being closest to me, tried to help me up with a semi-worried expression.

I’m fine. I straightened, tucking my twenty-foot wingspan in behind my back, and brushed my hands against each other, knocking tiny pieces of sediment off my palms. 

Michael glanced over his shoulder at me, briefly scanning my legs. He turned forward as I hobbled over to him, and the two of us looked stoutly over the valley, the rest of the group crowding behind us. 

I focused on the mountainside Unit 8 was apparently climbing. It was hard to see anything clearly through the towering forest, but my incredibly sensitive ears attempted to pick up on what