ATALANTA'S STORY Chapter One written by Katelyn and edited by William Durr. A boy and his mother move to New Mexico for a new start after her husband and his father goes down over Iraq. The "Land of Enchantment" gives him more than he bargained for.I copied and pasted this from word and the paragraphs didn't format with a space between. Any errors are mine not Bill's. This is my first attempt but I would like your comments. Also this story starts slow but the pace does pick up and it is complete.

Atalanta’s Story
Introduction
How can I tell the story of Atalanta in the context of male to female transformation fiction? The idea fascinates me in that Atalanta displays both male and female strengths that I believe lends it well to TS storytelling.
What elements do I want in this story; the hero/heroine is magically changed into a girl in her teens, from Alan to Atalanta at 13 years old with help from her mom who is a doctor. They have just moved to New Mexico from Pennsylvania for a second chance after her husband goes down over Iraq one year earlier. The change took place over three days.
The hero/heroine is changed into a woman/girl in their teens.
Alan is transformed to Atalanta at 13 years old.
His mom is a doctor whose husband is killed in a military exercise one year earlier.
Alan as a boy was effeminate in appearance and manner. After the transformation while his body definitely became more feminine his mannerisms became more masculine.
How did the change occur?
My mom decides to become an on site Dr. for a Spa that also billed itself as a retreat. Judy, the owner who was a college roommate of Liz Reed, had offered her the position.
The change occurs near one of the ‘outposts’ the complex built for a nature experience. Alan and Liz decided to take a break at the ‘outpost’. Sightsee a little then watch the sunset and head home. That was the plan, a plan that got sidetracked and delayed by several hours.

Chapter One

Alan separated from the group and became lost as he stumbled into a blind canyon. Though they both had phones and were in communication, neither she nor he could find the entrance to the canyon. Their guide was just as confused as Liz was. When the connection was lost to either a dead battery or the rocky terrain Liz became frantic and called Judy at the main house. Judy said she would be right out after she contacted the local search and rescue headquarters.

Judy was advised to build a large fire in the hopes that Alan might see it and find them. It was also used as point check for the plane that was readying for a dawn aerial search.

Of course that was called off when he came into camp a little before midnight ... he came in from the west when the direction should have been south. The guide used that trail as sheer cliffs prevented east-west passage and into the narrow valley he had walked down.

Both Liz and Judy noticed Alan seemed different, a difference that was hard to pinpoint ... they both sensed it. For one thing he seemed to have grown an inch taller ... possibly more! Alan had just experienced a growth spurt going from 5’4” to 5’7” in a matter of a couple of months though his frame remained slender almost girlish.

The onset of puberty had changed his voice very little from adolescent but even that little bit of deepening was absent from his voice. His speech pattern, tone, and inflections seemed to have subtly shifted.

Liz had noticed that hugging him his nipples poking out tent poling the front of his t- shirt and he seemed to have extra padding on his hips and butt as well.

Judy drove them back to the complex with Liz riding shotgun and Alan in back curled up asleep.
“Alan seems a little different,” Judy observed carefully adding, “Don’t you think?”

Liz smiled wearily, “You noticed?”

“Just a couple of things that might have been moonlight playing tricks,” Judy offered hopefully.

“Nothing I’d swear to in open court,” Judy began, “But his shirt and pants seemed a little tighter than I remember. His voice seemed to be a touch softer and his cadence more varied. Again though nothing I’d swear to,” Judy replied being careful in her description.

Liz replied softly, “You are not mistaken; he has changed ... or is changing. The real question is how far will this change go and how and why.”

Parked in front of her cottage both women turned to look at the sleeping form in the backseat. His long reddish blonde hair curled around his shoulders framing a decidedly feminine face with his slim nose, soft jaw line and chin accentuated by pouty naturally tinted lips. Framing that beautiful face was thin arched eyebrows and long thick eyelashes hinted at the sparkle surely contained in those widely set eyes. Both women then took in his padded frame and gasped.

“What the hell happened out there,” Liz whispered urgently.

Judy remained quiet for a long time before answering, “I don’t know but what I do know is the changes I spoke earlier as seeing and not being sure I would swear to it is not what we saw back at camp. I think he has changed more in the drive here.”

Liz paused to look intently before answering softly, “There is no way that she can or will be mistaken for a he.”

“I don’t know how complete ... the change is ... but for all appearances she is female now,” agreed Judy.

“I ... we need a plan,” Liz began hesitantly and then more forcefully as the professional in her began to exert control. “I think we should document the process as accurately as possible. I will take a blood sample tonight and prepare it checking for hormone levels, blood gases and fluid levels. Tomorrow I will need to go in the big city and have a cat scan and ultra sound done on her. We need to see if she has developed a female reproductive system yet and if she hasn’t or can’t, see if SRS can be used later on.”

“SRS,” Judy interjected.

“Sexual Reassignment Surgery,” Liz explained, “or SRS is performed on transgendered women to construct a vagina using her penis and sack for her labia and vagina. I’d like to know if she has sufficient depth and width in case this process stops short. As we have already observed she can’t ever go back to being Alan.”

Judy arched an eyebrow at Liz, “SRS seems a little outside of general practice.”

“It is,” Liz agreed, “Alan has always leaned towards the feminine side and the older he got the more it seemed natural for him. I did some research in case the subject came up.”

“I see,” Judy replied thoughtfully, “well if you get blood tonight and then tomorrow in the big city we will have a baseline 12 and 24 hours afterwards ...”

“Good idea,” exclaimed Liz, “I’ll present her as a Jane Doe transgender patient seeking confirmation for her diagnosis and subsequent surgery. Later I will take her to another clinic for another scan and see if she is developing inside.”

“Are you coming back tomorrow,” Judy asked.

“If I can then yeah, I think it will be best if she gets rest and quiet until we know more. But I need to pick up the clinic supplies, the tests run and blood drawn and a small wardrobe for her to wear ... so I don’t know if I have time.”

“I’ll go with you, pick up the supplies while you’re getting the tests done, and go shopping. Speaking of that we can take her measurements once we get her inside and undressed as both another baseline and a reference for her sizes.”

“Judy ... thanks, I really appreciate it,” Liz answered as she opened her door and went over to the driver’s side to help Judy rouse Alan from her stupor. Both women guided him inside and into his bedroom where he mildly protested as they undressed him. There was a brief moment of embarrassment as they removed his briefs and saw his diminished size. Wordlessly they took his measurements and placed him under the covers as he remained in a semi-conscious state probably in shock.

Judy prepared coffee while Liz drew blood and took his BP and pulse determined to take his BP every hour for the next couple of hours after the shock of seeing him naked.

Later as they sat around the table sipping coffee Liz broached the subject both had avoided, “Judy it has been several years since I helped him with his bath but I’m sure he was more developed then. I didn’t know whether to hug him or cry. The mother in me wants to snatch him up and rush him to the ER while the Dr. in me knows that what I’m doing right now is all that the ER will do. I don’t know how much he will be changed or how dangerous it might be.”

“Liz I have reconsidered what we should do after we got him inside. I think it is obvious that you will and it is probably prudent that you continue to take his vitals for the next few hours. Since it is already after 1 a.m., the earliest you can get any sleep is after 4 a.m. I don’t think it will do anybody any good if we wreck on the way or are out of our minds if we get there. I will use your guest room and set my watch for 7 a.m., which gives me a good 5 hrs of sleep. You meanwhile keep check on his vitals and if everything looks good you go to bed.”

“He should be all right for the 3 hours we are both asleep. I’ll get up check his vitals go to my place to freshen up and pack, tell my assistants a condensed version of what we are doing and get me breakfast and bring some back for you and Alan. I’ll again take his vitals and wake you up.”

Judy paused and continued saying, “After you get ready we will wake Alan get her ready to travel and depending on what you have that will fit her we will either stop in town or shop in the big city. If we leave soon after 10am we should be in the big city about 1pm enough time for you to have the tests you want done. I get done what I need to in the meantime and we layover for the night and return tomorrow. You are the doc but I think the worst will be past by then. And if the worst does come the big city has better medical facilities.”

Liz reflected on what Judy had said and replied, “It is not perfect but is as good as we can do under the circumstances. While I don’t like leaving him alone for 3 hrs there is not much help for it and is a good idea for us to get some sleep. I like being in the big city if something serious starts too. Let’s do it.”

Judy got up, went to the guest bedroom, and was soon fast asleep. Liz followed suit 3 hrs later doubting whether sleep would come but it did and she slept soundly. Liz was roused the next morning with Judy gently shaking her, “Wake up sleepy head,” Judy teased.

“How is Alan and what time is it?”

“Alan is fine, she is eating breakfast, and it is about a quarter ‘till nine.” Liz was wide-awake as she threw back the covers revealing she had slept fully clothed and followed Judy into the kitchen.

Alan was indeed sitting and slowly eating with a glass of juice beside her. Liz helped herself to coffee and breakfast sitting down beside Alan. Between bites she asked Alan, “How are you and how are you feeling this morning?”

Alan paused with the juice glass in her hand, “Pretty good considering but I seem to be in a mental fog which maybe why I haven’t really freaked out over growing breasts, hips that feel a mile wide, a little girl’s voice and a face that belongs to a model.”

Liz noticed he had not mentioned his genitals. “Anything else,” she gently inquired.

“Since I woke up naked this morning I guessed you know ...,” he trailed off mainly embarrassed.

“I didn’t bring that up to embarrass you but I do want you understand the severity of the changes. If as I suspect you are changing into a complete woman then those outside changes down there are indicative of internal restructuring which at some point ends with you having complete female genitals. If the process gives you the correct interior plumbing but stops short of a vaginal opening then you could have internal bleeding which will require emergency surgery to save your life.”
Seeing the near panic in her eyes Liz quickly reassured Alan, “That is the worst case which is conjecture at this point but the tests in the big city will help us determine the extent of the changes. To do that without a lot of questions asked or suspicions raised requires your help.”

“I don’t understand,” Alan mumbled.

Liz continued patiently explaining, “I am going to present you as a Jane Doe TS patient transitioning from male to female and these test are documentation for a future SRS. To pull that deception off you will need to dress appropriately... in a woman’s wardrobe.”

Recognition hit Alan and he relied, “I see well, I need both of you to help me then.”

“You got it,” both Judy and Liz chorused with Liz adding, “I need to take your measurements and see if I have anything you can wear, if not we will stop in town for a quick change of clothes otherwise straight into the big city where we will get you a wardrobe. Now stand up while I get your measurements and Judy writes them down, then you go and clean up. Hurry daylight is burning.”

When Alan had left the room Liz asked how much change had occurred since last night.

“Two inches in the waist, three in the hips and two in the chest and she is now nearly a “C” cup which I believe is due mainly to loss of mass in the shoulders. She now measures 32-26-30.

Together they went into Liz’s bedroom where she rummaged in her closet choosing a pair of white Capri’s and top and matching bra and panties with black flats completing the look.

“Will you help her dress while I wash off and pack,” Liz asked handing her a scrunchie for Alan’s hair. Judy nodded as she carried the clothes into Alan’s room where she heard the water running.

“Need any help,” she called out.

“I’ll be out in a minute.

Minutes later Alan appeared with a towel wrapped around her and blushing furiously. Wordlessly Judy handed her the panties that she slid on and settled them in place. Judy noted the almost perfect smooth female presentation and handed over the Capri and the flats. Judy helped her with the bra noticing the c cups were too large and lastly the blouse. “I help you with your hair,” Judy said combing and brushing her hair before tying it back with the scrunchie.”

“Let go see if your mom is ready.” As they walked into the kitchen Liz appeared from the bedroom with her luggage in hand. The three walked out together with Judy getting behind the wheel, Liz in the passenger seat and Alan in the back.

At 9:45 a.m. they pulled onto the state maintained road to town and then the interstate.

Nearing town Judy said, “I will stop at the department store and run in and get her better fitting bra and panties. You two can wait out here if you like; I won’t be but a minute.”

Some 20 minutes later Judy had returned carrying a shopping bag and handing it to Liz who looking into the bag exclaimed, “There is more than bra and panties in here.”

“Guilty, I got a couple of tops and tees and a pair of cute shorts and other Capri pants. Oh and a darling pair of sandals and they were on sale.”

Later on the interstate Liz handed a bra and the sandals to Alan, “Try these on,” she said. Wordlessly Alan began to unbutton her blouse but stopped when Liz squealed, “No don’t take off your blouse change your bra underneath it,” she directed turning around in her seat assisted Alan in making the exchange. She watched critically as he tried on the sandals that did fit and looked better.

As she turned back into her seat, she and Judy exchanged knowing looks. “Alan you have been awfully quiet are you alright?

“I guess so,” Alan responded quietly.

“Well we need to talk, dear,” Liz began, “We should be arriving at the center in a couple of hours. Alan as a name doesn’t fit you now, how does Alana sound for now?”

Alan ran the name over her tongue a couple of times, “It sounds fine and it is pretty close to my original name. I think that is good at least for now but I’d like to think so more before deciding to keep it permanent.”

Liz thought her response indicated an awareness level that was reassuring and decided continued to encourage elicit responses.

“I’d like for you to think back to yesterday to when we got separated, do you remember where we were?”

Alana stilled her breathing calming her mind: they were in an ancient dry riverbed, which offered easier passage through the rough landscape. A twisted juniper clung tenaciously to the far bank, a lone sentinel standing against spring floods, summer droughts, and winter’s bleakness as testament to tenacity and commitment.

“I was behind you by about twenty yards almost across from the old twisted tree when you all disappeared behind a boulder. When I got there, a faint winding trail led up into the cliff face and I could hear your voices coming right in front of me. And I hurried through several turns and came out into a flat grass valley about 50 yards long and about half that wide. There was no sign of the group and no voices either. That is when I called you and every path led to a dead-end.”

Liz quickly replied, “I remember that tree but there was not any boulders. We did drop down into what was undoubtedly an ancient pool that was 6 or 8 feet deep. Our guide pointed out several layers of sediment on the sides accumulated over the centuries. After a couple of minutes I went in search for you.”

At that point Judy piped in, “I know that tree very well and its location. The canyon walls there are at 30 yards away there and vary a bit but they are nowhere near close enough to for anyone to disappear behind. Alana it appears some kind of magic was used to deceive you. The canyon and cliffs are rugged and impenetrable to the west without several days to the south to go around. In other words to get from where you disappeared to where you appeared in hours is impossible except straight through the cliffs.”

Alana continued, “At the back of the valley backed against the cliff sat a stone structure with a waterfall tumbling from the cliffs. Close inspection showed the stone building had a door opening but no door, window openings and no windows, a roof support structure but no roof. The water falling hit a giant boulder some 50’-75’ in the air spraying a mist all around me resulting in a rainbow of colors that filled the air and even seem to coat the grass and the pool. I suddenly got tired and lay down, and when I woke up it was almost dark. I found a cave behind the water and followed it to where I saw you fire.”

“I know that area well and nothing like has ever been seen before to my knowledge. I’ll have some men plant several posts near that place and rope them together. At least if the posts and rope are held onto then no one should wander off.”

“Good idea Judy,” replied Liz.

Liz then turned to her son now her daughter in the back and asked, “I have a question for you ... Alana. Did you ever think about being a woman or if you should have been born female.”

Alana replied barely audible, “My earliest memories are that something was wrong with my body. I don’t know if I ever expressed it to you or not mom.”

“Not that I remember,” Liz confessed. “Any more memories like that,” Liz encouraged her.

“Not for several years and even then it was brought about noticing my physical size was more like a girl’s than boys. And I was teased about it, not much but some. I wouldn’t say it was a serious thought more like a ‘what if’ exercise. It could also be that had I gave it serious thought might have forced me to look at thing I didn’t want to look at.”

They rode the rest of the trip in relative silence and once in the big city Liz had Judy stop at the lab to leave the blood vials and at the last minute decided to have Alana’s urine tested. She was told the results might be ready as early as that evening.

They found the center that Liz had called earlier and Judy went in with them to confirm the appointments. Once confirmed Judy left to pick-up the clinic’s supplies and secure a room for the night.

In the hospital Liz helped Alana undress for the tests donning the standard gown and safely storing her street clothes.
Liz assured her that she was in the next room when the scan was performed reading the images displayed as they became available. She furrowed her brow at the echoes that seemed to hint at possible tumors growing in her belly. The technician pointed this out to Liz and suggested follow-ups with an oncologist.

Liz agreed that it did look early stage but said she had an oncologist that she referred with in Philly. Next were the x-rays and then getting dressed to leave. Liz had called Judy who was waiting for them as they left and took them to their lodgings for the night, a three-room duplex and kitchenette. Judy had also picked up the samples Liz had left earlier at the lab.

Judy had also done a grocery run: snacks, soda, wine, beer, breakfast items, and juice. She had brought their luggage in, stored the groceries, and all that needed their immediate attention was dinner. Sitting around the table, delivery pizza was agreed on and they called a national chain that claimed they would have it in 30 minutes or less.

Any pain or discomfort Liz asked taking Alana’s BP and pulse frowning slightly at what seemed erratic readings.

“No pain but I am a bit bloated,” she confessed.

“Bloated?” Liz asked.

“Yeah, like you eat something that doesn’t digest. I’m not certain I can eat anything. I’ll try a little juice.”

“Dear why do you go and change into your nightgown and I will bring in your juice. It has been a long day.”

“Thanks mom, I believe I will.”

After Alana had left the room Judy leaned closer and whispered, “What gives?”

“The tests from the lab confirm that her biology is normal for a healthy 13 year old girl. That is the good news; the other news is that the scan and ultra sound shows what in a normal evaluation early stage tumor is. I suspect what is showing up is the developing internal female reproductive system.”

At that moment they were interrupted by a knock on the door signaling the pizza arrival. After placing it on the table Liz went into Alana’s bedroom to check on her and found her asleep with about half the juice drunk. She took that moment to again check her BP and pulse which had raised only a couple of points. Nothing to worry about in isolation but if it continued to raise it would be. She knew the body’s early warning system of stress showed quickly in BP readings.

Liz opened a bottle of beer, snatched up a piece of pizza, and began woodenly chewing it. She really didn’t feel much like eating but figured she needed the strength. Neither of the two pieces she ate had much taste.

After each had digested their fill, Judy leaned in again, “You were saying about the scan.”

“I don’t believe those echoes were cancerous but the beginning of interior plumbing. That leaves us with two options neither one good. Under the first one, we keep her here until the pain gets too bad and we have to call ER. Depending on how far along the change is, might dictate a harmful diagnosis. You and I believe that it is likely the ‘tumors’ we see are healthy tissue but there are doctors that refuse to believe nothing that is outside of SOP. These doctors are likely to recommend a treatment that might kill her. If by a miracle we do convince someone of the truth how can we explain it?”

“And what is the second option?” Judy inquired.

“I find an all night medical supply company and buy a portable IV unit and a monitor and stock a hydrating solution, morphine if I can get it for a drip and anti-biotic solution too. Some test kits for particular markers. If we can keep her stabilized 24 hrs then I feel she will be far enough changed that admitting her if necessary will be routine. This second option puts us at considerable more risk than the first option but gives her a better outcome.”

“Define risk,” Judy inquired.

“Doing the second is pushing both medical and legal ethics and should something happens and if the specialized hospital equipment is found it would damn near impossible to explain it away and especially if Alana dies.”

The gravity of the situation sunk in and each woman was quiet for several minutes before Judy spoke, “Liz I trust your judgment and I know you are motivated to find the best solution. I say we go with the second option, reserving the right to call the ER if her signs fall below a certain level regardless how long it has been. Set parameters and thresholds now and pull the plug here once those level are reached and drive her to the ER.”

Liz mused for several seconds and replied, “That will work for me.” She found the phone directory and the businesses that had what she was looking for called and arranged for her to pick up the specialized equipment. Liz also located a hospital pharmacy that sold the rest of what she needed. Before she left Liz checked on Alana again winching that her numbers had risen another two points.

“I will back in 90 minutes if anything changes, call me.”

“I will, Judy said and adding, “She will be all right.” Liz nodded as grabbed her purse and keys and left.
Judy meanwhile carried a chair from the table into Alana’s bedroom and watched her intently. She seemed to be resting well. Judy went into the living room called the front desk to say they were staying at least an extra day. She then called her assistants that she was staying over another day.

The door opened and Liz came in carrying several boxes placing them on the table asking, “How is she?”

“No change.”

Liz nodded, “Can you help me bring in the equipment.” The two women soon had that set up and working while Liz hooked up the triage on the back of her hand ready to accept IV bags if necessary. Both women watched the monitor displaying its numbers across the screen tracking Alana’s vital signs. Liz left the room opened the boxes and placed several containers in the refrigerator while separating others according to their use. She also had a logbook to record observations, treatments and diagnosis explaining to Judy that having a record of the event would work in their favor if things went wrong. Liz had also rented an oxygen generator in case.

The women set down at the table with Judy asking Liz to go over the game plan and what signs to look for from Alana and interpreting the monitor outputs.

“We have a basic ICU here except access to quick tests and ready to treat anything short of a stroke, heart attack, or surgery. The tests we got results from the lab indicate that her electrolytes and hydration levels are low/normal. I want to carefully monitor her input and output of fluids to see how well her kidneys are working. Sometime after midnight I’ll start her on a standard hydration and glucose drip and we keep close track of her BP. If it starts to rise sharply we will know her body is in distress and painkillers added to her treatment and that should ease her BP some. I bought some test kits to track white blood cell count, which will give us an idea if infection has set in or internal bleeding occurs. Her body temperature will also give us a heads up. We don’t have a sterile environment but I bought wipes and wiped clean her immediate environment and from now on whenever we go in her room we use the gloves, mask, and head cap. Her immune system is likely to be compromised and while she probably has immunity to our staph germs. I am certain there are left over bugs from other occupants. It is not perfect but it is pretty good.”

“Wow,” Judy replied, “sounds like you have got our bases covered.”

“Well we do have multiple contingencies covered but our main shortfall is time. We can only cover for a limited time; sometime after noon tomorrow, we will run out of options. Sooner if complications occur. Sometime tomorrow, I’ll call the ER and tell them I have an inter-sex child that remained unknown until puberty and that I am a doctor and bringing her by private car to the ER. That is the worse case scenario that we are prepared for.”

Judy interrupted her train of though, “I think I will pour me a glass of wine, you want one.”

Liz nodded in agreement taking the glass and tasting it absent-mindedly while she continued to verbalize her fears, “Her changes so far have mostly been superficial and are replicated daily by skilled surgeons and usually without complications but almost always painful. However, hers has happened without benefit of science and relatively pain free so far. This second half involves internal medicine and so far as I know has never been tried or accomplished before and I have no way to predict what will happen. What triggered this transformation has to be either magical or supernatural in nature and all we can do here is offer support or supplement that process. I wish there was more we could do.”

“Look,” Judy reasoned, “Just us being here will help her and you will do her more good by not worrying yourself sick.”

Liz and Judy after discussing the probabilities decided they would each hold 5 hr shifts with Judy taking the first shift until 1 a.m. when Liz would watch until 6 a.m.

Before going to bed Liz looked in on Judy and Alana and watched for several minutes to assure her that she was resting and again she indicated to Judy to call her before 1 a.m. if needed.

At 1 a.m., Liz awoke, washed her face, wandered into the kitchen for coffee, and was sipping it when Judy appeared in the door to Alana’s room. After shutting the door Judy poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down by Liz.

“How did you sleep,” observed Judy.

“Better than I thought I would,” Liz admitted and added, “How is she doing?”

“All right so far but I think I will stay up a while longer. I have a gut feeling the next couple of hours will be the turning point. Liz was about to agree when the beeper on the monitor sounded and both women rushed into the makeshift ICU. Judy watched fascinated as Liz turned off the beeper and reset the machine to a higher number. Liz then read the numbers on the monitor and scanned Judy’s notes. Alana began to stir slightly as Liz began adjusting the IV bags and soon all three lines begin to fill.

“Mom I’m thirsty,” Alana croaked through cracked lips.

Liz held a glass of water to her lips while Alana greedily drank water through the straw. “Easy does it with the water. We don’t want you to get choked.”

“Mom I’m scared, you won’t leave me will you,” pleaded Alana.

“No dear I won’t leave and Judy is right here too,” Liz replied indicating where Judy stood at the foot of the bed. “Where do you hurt at dear?” Liz asked.

“The pain is in my stomach and back.”

“I know sweetie and momma will make it all better,” she assured her daughter gently. In minutes, Alana was fast asleep before the monitor again sounded an alarm, which brought Liz to attention, and she quickly silenced it before she turned on the oxygen generator and placing oxygen tubes in her daughter’s nose.

Judy had watched spellbound as Liz had adjusted and administered medicine as needed in response to each alarm. In each case the offending numbers had responded by dropping or rising to their normal levels. An idea was beginning to take shape in her mind.

Alana had accidentally chosen the master bedroom, which had its own TV that Liz turned on leaving the sound low. She wrote on Alana’s charts her notes and then indicated to Judy for them to leave the room.

They refreshed their coffees and when seated Liz remarked, “I am glad I got that stuff yesterday it would have been damn rough without it.”

Judy nodded in agreement replying, “That is what I want to talk to you about as I am pretty keyed up right now and don’t feel much like sleep. I want to run and idea by you while it is fresh in my mind.”

“Before you begin what do you say to a glass of wine instead of coffee?”

“A little might be good,” Judy admitted as Liz poured about 4 ounces each into two glasses. The wine did taste good the warmth that spread outward from their stomach was comforting as well.

Judy said, “Liz I am impressed it is evident you are a damn fine doctor and after what I witnessed tonight calling what we have at the Spa a clinic is a joke. You managed to put together in a few hours more capacity than we did in three years. Our ‘clinic’ is more like a first aid station and we have been fortunate not to have needed more. I knew we ran certain risks here tonight but it dawned on me as I watched you work that I ran greater risks, unknowingly perhaps, at the spa for the last three years.”

Judy paused to take a breath and another sip of wine before resuming, “I have a proposition for you that if you agree and the pieces fall in place will result in more responsibilities and larger pay too.”

Judy had Liz’s attention, “Sounds like you have something up your sleeve and I am interested.”

“I called my assistants yesterday evening and told them we would stay an extra day. I’m going to call them today and tell them our stay has extended by a week. We home school about 50 children, and along with the permanent and temporary staff, I have about 150 people on site on any given day. Add another 150 guests both day guests and weekly ones and we have about 300 total. With that many total people out and about every day we have been very fortunate to avoid any major accidents or incidents. That streak of luck can’t hold forever. My family has lived in this area for a hundred and fifty years and I have a large network of friends and some influence.”

“When we leave here I will buy the equipment in there from you and I want you to arrange for enough necessary supplies and medicine to stock the clinic for 4-6 months.”

“As I said I am impressed by what you were able to acquire under adverse conditions in a few hours. My clinic should have at least that much ability.”

“Once that is done my plan is to apply for a grant and expand even more and for you hire an office assistant and a PA or nurse; whatever you decide you need. What do you think?”

“I like it and you are right the clinic does need upgrading and I am also glad you will buy the equipment that I bought. I really didn’t have that much to spend and it almost wiped out my savings.”

Judy interrupted, “Give me all your receipts and I will write you a check for the full amount and don’t worry about what you used as I consider that cheap for an education.”

“Thank you,” Liz replied. “When do you plan on starting?”

“As soon Alana is out of the woods.”

Judy stood up stretched and said yawning, “I think I’ll get some sleep now. Wake me if you need me.”

Liz nodding replied, “I expect she should be stable for several hours before anything happens.”

Liz was right on the money as the monitor starting beeping warnings about 7 am but required a couple of minor adjustments to return Alana’s vitals to normal. She was about to pull the covers back to inspect how far the process had progressed when she felt Judy standing beside her. “I was just going to do a visual, you want to stay.”

Judy nodded; she was interested partly from curiosity and partly from wondering how much longer it would take. It had only been about 12 hours since they had set up the make shift ICU but her nerves were starting to fray. She hoped it wouldn’t take much longer. Both women winced as Alana’s crotch appeared with a slight indentation starting to appear as well as the vagina lips. The penis had visibly shrunk though it was still recognizable as a penis and the clitoris and hood that it would eventually morph into. They stood silently each lost in their thoughts before Liz finally covered Alana’s lower body and they quietly left the room.

In the other room Judy poured herself a cup of coffee and refilled Liz’s cup and sat down beside Liz, “I take it that happened this morning.”

Liz knew the “that” Judy referred to was Alana’s genitals being morphed. “Yes it had not started when you went to bed and I suspect will be completed in the next 4-5 hours.”

Judy let out a sigh of relief, “That’s good to know, I don’t mind telling you my nerves were starting to frazzle not knowing how long or what to expect or anything ...”

Liz replied, “I know what you mean I was flying blind a lot and second guessing myself and wondering if I had forgotten anything last night. But I think the worst is over and I believe that I can stop the hydration drip now.” Seeing the question in Judy’s eyes, she explained, “As her vagina is formed her urethra tube will move from her penis to her vagina and until it is firmly attached I’d rather her bladder remain empty. An accident like that could set up an infection.”
Judy nodded her understanding and watched Liz get up and walk into Alana’s room.

When Liz returned a few minutes later Judy noticed how tired she looked and idly wondered if she looked that frazzled.
“What?” Liz asked.

“I was just wondering if I look as bad as you look.”

“Worse,” teased Liz sticking out her tongue before turning serious, “Honestly Judy I don’t think I could have done this without your help. At times I just wanted to curl in a ball and cry.”

“Me too and I’m glad I was some help.” Both women remained silent reflecting on what occurred two days ago and the drama that played out last night and again today.

Finally Liz stood, “If you don’t mind I am going to grab a little sleep.”

“Go ahead,” Judy replied, “You look beat.”

“I am,” admitted Liz and added, “I stopped her liquids but left her on the morphine drip until I wake up. I plan to take her off everything but keep her sedated; I really want her to remain still. If you will, please chart her changes at least hourly.”

“Will do, chief,” Judy replied giving a mock salute. Liz grinned at her friend and went into the other bedroom for some sleep.

A little after noon Liz woke from a very heavy sleep, her body protesting mildly at the interruption. For some reason the fog would not lift from her eyes or mind and she lay for several minutes before she silently scolded herself into rising. Walking into the kitchen area towards the communal bathroom, she was mildly surprised not to see Judy. Judy was seated at her customary spot sipping coffee when Liz returned from doing her “business” and splashing her face.

“How is it going?” She asked on the way to the coffee pot.

“I think the change is complete; I was in there cleaning up.”

Liz froze asking quickly, “Is there something wrong?”

“No I don’t think so. There was a little blood, fluid, and tissue loss from the, her penis and urethra being moved. The pad caught it all ... that was a good call by the way...and I put a new one in its place. I cleaned her using that sterile wash.”

“Good thank you Judy,” replied Liz, “I think I’ll go check on her and then get that coffee."

“I think the worst is over,” Liz observed nursing her coffee, “she will probably sleep for a few hours before waking and I’d like to see how her vitals are without painkillers in her system.”

Judy decided she needed a bath and changes of clothes more than sleep as Liz kept vigil over Alana. The bath was a good idea after all declared Liz as she soaked in the tub and Judy took over watching their patient.

When both ladies had changed into clean clothes they were seated at the table idly chatting when Alana woke up.

“Where am I? How long have I been here? What happened? She asked confused her eyes wide and luminous.

“How are you feeling dear?” asked Liz.

“Hungry, thirsty, tired, and sore just about sums it up,” admitted Alana as she tried to rise, “I need to go.”

“Just a minute,” directed Liz as she unhooked Alana from the monitor and they helped her to the bathroom.

“Gee whiz can’t I have any privacy.”

“Better get used to it, young lady ... any pain?”

“A little,” she admitted and Liz nodded her understanding.

Liz and Judy brought Alana up to date after she had been settled back into the bed. It was decided to order dinner and eat in.

Later that night after eating with Alana sleeping soundly from the sedative Liz had given her; Judy and Liz reflected on the previous two days events. Liz asked Judy if she would consent to being Alana’s godmother, which she readily agreed to. The tension that lay heavy last night was gone and both ladies were enjoying the wine and easy conversation. Liz had left Alana hooked to the monitor and the IV hookups in place ... just in case.

That from my first three days as a woman most of it I don’t remember and the reason it was told using my mother’s and Aunt Judy’s recollection and notes.

Atalanta's Story - Chapter 2 Revised. Written by Katelyn and Edited by William Durr.I want to thank Bill for editing and proofreading while admitting any errors left are mine. The setting and character were inspired by a story Julie O wrote; Frseh Start. The first 2 or 3 chapters were too close and I apologize to the readers, Big Closet, and Julie O. I have re written chapters 2-6 to avoid that as much as possible.

I also wanted to apologize for taking so long to get this out but medical issues and frozen water pipes will do that to a schedule. It is mostly edited and ready to go. You may need to read chapter 1 again.

In this chapter Atalanta adjusts to living as a girl. Both mother and daughter struggle with their new relationship and Atalanta is given a brief look at a mystery of her transformation.

Chapter Two
I sat at the dressing table critically examining my makeup skills that had gotten better with practice. I really didn’t need the mascara as my lashes were full but mom thought curling and applying the mascara and liner would develop a skill set I would need as a woman. As in: attention to detail. My brows were finely arched and needed nothing but an occasional plucking. I liked applying eye shadow and achieving different dramatic looks though I always switched to subtle colors whenever I went out saving the nighttime look for mom, Aunt Judy or Lindsey. Lindsey is my best friend and was one of the people who knew what happened to me.

My eyes had changed colors when I went through the change, from blue to grey that at times I observed glowing with a strange light that reminded me of a cat I had at night would when light touched at a particular angle. Those eyes were large, wide set, luminous and expressive directing attention to the center of my face, from my finely formed nose and full pouty lips that begged to be kissed to the soft and rounded jaw line and chin sloping gently to my delicate and sleek throat and neck.

My cheekbones were high with their own natural color that needed no blush but mom wanted me to learn to apply bronzers and contours to create illusions. Overall, I used minimal product but learned the techniques for creating different effects. It was strange but I did feel a sense of pride in those accomplishments.

Satisfied that my makeup was just the right image for the ‘look’ I wanted, I finished dressing in a beige skirt and peach blouse that hung loosely below the skirt’s waistband. Another habit Liz and Judy had drilled into me the last six weeks was makeup on before clothes. At first the habits of style, fashion, makeup, hair, and skincare seemed to make no sense to me even when it was explained that because of ‘the change’ I became a girl in the middle of a huge increase in female hormones; not the gradual increase that gives most girls time to adjust. Then add the sudden switch from male to female bodies and that hormone reversal they felt I needed a fast track to girlhood.

Mom was concerned that after two months I hadn’t had a period yet; she thought it was probably my body still adjusting to the influx of hormones and was too early to worry. I wasn’t so sure though that it was due to hormones.

The changes that had occurred over three days were many but overall the process worked within my body’s frame. I remained almost the same height at 5’9” and weight at 125 pounds. I was born with mom’s bone structure and fine facial features. But even with that boost I didn’t look like my mom did at 13. Her eyes are green while mine are grey with flecks of gold. She has blonde hair while mine is red with bronze highlights and my complexion is warmer.

My new identification papers had arrived and I was now officially Atalanta Rose Reed or Atalanta for short: Female age 13. Why the name Atalanta? To be honest I can’t say for sure, the name just came to me ... out of the blue. I could see it spelled out on a blackboard but I never got the spelling correct. That might be because the name was not familiar to me; it took a look of Google searches and different combination of letters before I found it. Atalanta was a Greek or Crete Goddess and as soon as I read her story, something in me clicked. The name contained Alan and Alana the name mom and Judy gave me at first. The “T” is different enough to honor Atalanta; it did in my mind anyway.
I returned to brushing my hair that tumbled in waves parting across my shoulders and framing my face with its thick healthy mass of curls.

“Atalanta,” I heard my mom call.

“I’ll be right there,” I called back. Today was inspection day; the day mom and Judy reviewed me on my assignment for the week. Once a week Judy, my mom and me would have dinner and afterwards pointed out where I was improving and where I was not.

“Very good,” mom praised, “Your sense of style and fashion has improved drastically.”

“Hum ... mm,” Judy replied thoughtfully, “Not really much of a challenge with your complexion for the casual outing. Maybe we should next have her put together a hot evening look.” Seeing my disappointment Judy grinned widely, “I’m just teasing you, you look great. Here give me a big hug.”

As we hugged I whispered, “I love you Aunt Judy.”

“I love you too.”

Mom interrupted us, “Time to get to this week’s lesson and we are changing course a little bit into a more serious subject.”

I immediately sat sensing that mom had a serious issue to discuss and she wasted no time, “Atalanta you have had ten weeks to adjust being a girl, what can you tell are the differences between life as Alan and life as Atalanta?”

“Mum ... mm,” I said replaying discoveries in this body and remembering my Alan experiences. “Besides the obvious: a period or in my case not, makeup, clothes, accessories, hair and skin care, my skin is a lot more sensitive ... more sensitive to touch, feel, to cold or heat or even to wind. Oh ... that reminds me if I could go back as Alan I’d apologize to every woman I ever met for some thoughts I had ... back then.”

“Go on dear,” mom prompted me, “I am curious.”

“Well,” I declared, “I can’t get use to these ...,” cupping my breasts … “these boobs.”

“Boobs,” interrupted Judy laughing, “Can’t you think of another name?”

“Puppies, hooters, tits, the girls, bazookas ...”

“Whoa, girl, that’s enough.”

“... Breasts, it is hard to use my arms without them rubbing against my breasts and since they are so sensitive I am always aware of them. To help compensate for that and their weight I notice I’m holding my shoulders and arms back farther which is pushing my breasts out and up even more. That makes it seem like I am putting them on display and want people to see them then get upset when people, boys mostly talk to them and not me. But I am not presenting them or putting them on display.”

“Atalanta,” Judy mockingly scolded me.

“Okay maybe a little,” I confessed blushing.

“That is a natural instinct for the female population,” interjected mom, “it signals the world that you have a healthy body capable of producing enough milk for a baby to live. The same goes for hips ... wide hips is a signal that you can deliver a healthy baby.”

“That is something else I noticed,” I began referring to my hips which really had minimal development, “When I was just getting use to this body I first thought women’s shoes were made differently. That is the soles were ... like they were miniature rockers that forced me to walk using a rolling motion, you know like ocean waves. If I don’t each step seems like I am stomping around. I even went so far as comparing the soles and there is not any difference that I can see.”

“That is interesting,” an amused Judy replied, “I thought I had heard every description under the sun of a catwalk but using rocking chairs and ocean waves to describe it is new ... and very poetic.”

“Anything else,” mom prompted me.

“I think that about covers it,” I confessed softly silently wondering if I missed something important.

“Well,” she began interrupting my musing, “What you have learned so far is attention to detail and self awareness. Both are needed for the next phase ... the three S’s ... Sexual, Situational, and Strength awareness.”

Seeing my confusion she gently patted my hand and continued, “It will become clearer in a few minutes. I assume you have masturbated.”

I mumbled something that might pass for a yes with my cheeks flaming but she relentless resumed, “I am not trying to embarrass you but masturbating is a natural part of discovery as a boy or as a girl. Have you tried it yet as a girl?”

“Mom,” I cried shocked and horrified that she was bringing it up and even suggesting I do it as Atalanta. I had thought about it and several times massaging my breasts had felt tiny shock waves race through my body. Shame or guilt had stopped me from going farther as at those times I felt like an alien in this body invading this young girl’s privacy. The truth was I still wasn’t entirely comfortable with this body or my old one both on the verge of puberty.

“Atalanta you need to understand that going through puberty is tough on girls from birth with your body changing and the influx of hormones when you start your menses. It will be doubly tough on you not having that expectation all your life and I’m trying to make you aware of all that you are and will face.”

She reached into her purse and produced a small box that contained a bone white cylinder that fit snugly in her palm and a soft flexible pink tip. I jumped when she turned it on.

“This is a personal massager and it’s very good for sore and tired muscles,” mom continued in her professional tone and demonstrated it on her neck and shoulders. “Umm,” she softly sighed before handing it to me. I handled it very tentatively in very nervous fingers.

“Try it on your arm; the tip is soft, flexible, and washable.”

I did and it was surprisingly soothing but I quickly shut it off. Mom pushed the box over to me and I hastily boxed it up.

Unabashed mom continued, “It is very good for relieving pent up tension.”

I nodded numbly hoping we could move on to the next item on mom’s agenda. In the next breath I regretted that thought.
Mom pushed a white disk across the table to me. It had a dial and the days of the week printed on the face.
The implications were clear and uncomfortable.

“Mom, I don’t need that.”

“I know you don’t dear but I do want you to understand the realities of what menstruation means to you. It is a threshold from girlhood into womanhood and crossing that bridge brings with it a ton of new responsibilities.”

I didn’t understand what she was talking about and it must have shown on my face.

“Sweetie, I know this is a lot to take in and I hate to push you too much but you need to know and prepare for it.”

“Prepare for what?” I pressed.

She replied still engaged in a neutral tone, “Female and male arousal are two different animals. In males it is concentrated in one place and in one part.”

Okay that I understand.

“Female arousal is still intense there but it spreads to more of your body, moving up your body to your breasts, neck, shoulders, face, and lips and down into your legs. If you are not careful that reaction; at first can overwhelm your mind and the results of that action can have lasting effects.”

“Effects, what effects,” I asked.

“Unwanted pregnancy, STDs, and a bad reputation are some on the top of my head. Do you have any questions?”

I laughed dryly, “Never in my wildest dreams did I think when this summer started that we would have this discussion or that I would be concerned about getting pregnant.”

Mom shaking her head replied, “Neither did I and that is why I am pushing you so hard because this wasn’t part of your learning experience. Girls grow up absorbing tidbits here and there until it becomes second nature. You don’t have that luxury.”

I nodded while looking at that disk asked, “What do I do with this?”

“Nothing,” mom replied reclaiming the disk, “I used it as prop for now; later we can talk about it.”

Okay I thought this mother daughter relationship involves a lot more than mother son thing did.

“Any questions so far?” Liz continued when I shook my head. “Then tell us what you have learned so far.”

I shook my head at what was fast becoming a lecture but replied determined to make the most of it. “Well,” I began hesitantly, “Female arousal is so different from the male arousal that you want me to build up to it so I don’t get overwhelmed and do something stupid like get pregnant.”

She smiled wistfully at my choice of words and tone, “That about sums it up but you will find that it really is a pleasant experience.”

Mom cleared her throat and took a sip of tea before continuing, “Next up is situational awareness. The attention to detail that you have acquired in your appearance naturally translates into this area and is as vital as sexual awareness; it really can’t be separated.”

Liz nodded at Judy who began, “Places, people, events, things, your emotions and so much more plays a part of situational awareness. Places that hold more potential for danger are unlit, private or less traveled places. Dirty, abandoned, and neglected places also are places you need to avoid. People can be grouped into the same categories ... sort of, appearance and hygiene are important. But so is a sense of humor, how they treat other people, family and friends. Unlike places, people are not that cut and dried and you have to trust your intuition.”

“Events are things like, is alcohol being served? Women have a lower alcohol tolerance due to our higher fat percentage and alcohol usually involves money. Things are like weapons, animals, machinery that sort of thing. Emotions are mostly your emotions. As women, emotions are our fuel and sometimes make us do some things we regret. A breakup, yours, or a close friend, an accident, death of someone close, job loss, any of those things can leave you vulnerable. Obviously, the more negatives a situation holds the more you should avoid it.”

Being aware of your surroundings, attention to detail, keeping your head up with a confident attitude, developing a feel of people and places will in most cases get you out of tough situations unhurt.”

Shaking my head I asked, “I do not understand how this is different from what I learned as Alan. Those are the sort of things and places I’d naturally stay away from anyway so I don’t understand how it is different now.”

“Believe me it is,” Judy replied quickly, “For one thing you will receive lots more attention, offers, and flattery now that you are a beautiful desirable young lady. Our nature as women makes us less aggressive, more willing to please other people, and with the added attention and opportunities makes you more likely to accept invitations. The results are a lot different too. I don’t think as Alan you would worry about sexual assault as Atalanta you need to. Since smaller amounts of alcohol affect you faster, harder, and longer it is easier to spike your drink. That is why you need to keep in mind about not leaving unfinished sodas unguarded while you are gone to the restroom or dancing. Take it with you, finish it, or have someone you trust watching it. Those, like several things that fall into situational awareness categories are not hard and fast rules that always apply.”

Mom piped in, “Speaking of which I think you should seriously consider dating,” she held up her hands, “No,” at my initial negative response, “hear me out. I don’t want you getting into a serious relationship with a guy, not now, but I do think you need the experience. After all,” she smiled, “I just want you to have fun in a safe environment.”

I stopped my initial retort and after a few deep breaths replied, “My initial reaction was not no, but hell no! However, I do think you are right if I can be upfront with the guy that is neither serious nor long term. I also want your approval of the date and the guy and I’d really love if Lindsey and I can double date. OMG I can’t believe I even said that.” I moaned holding my head in my hands sobbing softly. Pulling me to my feet, Judy and Mom engaged me in a group hug with our tears flowing freely.

Somebody handed me a tissue and I carefully dried my eyes.

Still sniffling I weakly said, ‘Mom I know it wasn’t your intention and probably is for the best but you have ripped my heart and soul out. There is nothing left of Alan, he is dead,” I cried sadly.

Mom hugged me tightly and cried fiercely, “No baby he is not dead. It may seem like it now, but as long you live he does too.”

Nodding I replied, “I will have to take your word for it, right now it doesn’t feel that way.”

Suddenly I reached a decision, “I know you have more left to go but you will have to excuse me if I go to bed. I have had a belly full.”

My mind froze at the prospect of dating and its images. In my pain and confusion, I wanted to lash out; to her hurt back in spades. But I didn’t. First because it wouldn’t be right, I’d be inflicting intentional pain for accidental pain. Secondly because some basic core decisions are individual ones, ones that no one but you can make and live with its results. Of course, I held my tongue and said nothing.

Mom continued, “Atalanta we may have covered too much tonight, in more detail than needed, and maybe too negatively and harshly but we needed to get a point across; that point is different rules apply to you now.”

She sighed brushing her hair back saying, “The last thing we wanted to cover is strength awareness. I’m sure you noticed that while your height and weight are the same that weight is distributed differently ... now.”

A rueful smile played across my face as I looked down at my breasts and my hands traced my hips, “I noticed.”

“... You have less muscle mass and less strength. Physically you are not a match against a man but you have certain advantages a man doesn’t have. The number one rule is safely running or getting away from an attacker ... anyway you can. You can use force multipliers, mace or pepper spray, fingernails, eye gouging, a knee to the groin, even car keys or even your purse if it has a metal buckle to hurt him while you escape. You can use his desire for you, and most of the time it will be a sexual assault, against him. Flirting with him or showing him some cleavage; any distraction that gives you an edge to escape is acceptable if not desirable.”

“Because of our size and our vulnerability during pregnancy and when our children are young we band together with other women for safety. We cooperate; men compete. We negotiate; men state. Women create; men contend. We receive; men direct. Your best advantages are the female mind and your girlfriends. That is why all this instruction is so important; to develop that female mind to go with the female body to give you all the advantages being female offers.”

Mom paused to sip her drink exchanging looks with Judy asked me, “Does that make sense?”

I slowly nodded as I reviewed our conversation to date and replied softly, “Yeah it is starting to come together. Do you mind if I summarize what I think I have learned?”

Judy and mom nodded with Judy asking, “Atalanta you are already thinking like a woman. I bet you didn’t catch what you just did, did you?”

I shook my head confused. “You asked for permission or negotiated to summarize. That is a feminine response. Congratulations!”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“Please continue.”

“Well Judy you sort of summarized my summary by noting my question. If the big idea behind this training is developing automatic feminine instincts then my question and you’re pointing it out underscores that understanding. Doesn’t it?”

“Yes it does,” both women shouted gleefully.

“Good. Is it safe to assume you will want me to start implementing some of these strategies?”

Heads nodded in agreement.

“This one is the simplest,” I said indicating the box and gingerly picking it up, “but I’ll have to wait until I get stressed out to try it. The pills are for future reference.”

“As far as going on a date, I would rather see how that develops first. And Lindsey is already my best friend. But there is one part that disturbs me and that is the part about self-defense. It makes us out as victims or almost helpless. In fact, it makes my blood boil to even consider that because as Alan I was pretty laid-back, passive, and tolerant.”

“Dear it might be because now it is a possibility that it could happen to you, but as Alan it was very unlikely.”

I shook my head, “No that is part of it though, but it is more than that. It is just a feeling ... something just out of the blue, a feeling of strength, resolve, and anger at ... injustice.”

The meeting broke up soon after leaving everyone a lot to ponder especially me as I got undressed for bed in my flannel shirt and giving both mom and Judy a good night hug and peck on the cheek.

“Don’t you think you are being a little harsh with Atalanta? We are throwing an awful lot her way,” Judy whispered to Liz when they were alone.

“I don’t know maybe I am loading her down with too much information too soon,” Liz responded biting her lower lip.

“We are swimming in unchartered waters,” Judy conceded.

“That we are,” Liz agreed, “I don’t believe magic changelings was ever in our text books in college. But if Atalanta had grown up as a little girl some of what we have discussed she would have absorbed from girlfriends and her world organically. But my sexual health talks with her would have taken place anyway but over many months and not just a few weeks.”

“I agree with you she needs this information but at some point she will tire of the accelerated rate of learning that we are pushing at her and possibly resent us. I’d like for these Thursday dinners continue to be looked forward to,” Judy countered.

“I know,” Liz returned as an involuntary shiver sending its icy fingers up her spine, “I don’t want that either. I admit that I’ve been taking advantage of what I consider a small window of opportunity to influence her and to push the envelope. But I don’t want to push her away while I’m doing it.”

“Liz I know you have her best interests at heart; we both do but aren’t we pushing her too quickly into a date?”

“It’s not a real date,” Liz protested.

“It is to her,” Judy countered.

“She will naturally make friends with girls and learn all about girlfriend rules. I was concerned that she might bring a lot of baggage with her left over from growing up male.”

“What kind of baggage?”

“I assume Alan grew up viewing males as competitors and not as romantic interests and I was concerned that she would continue to hold those views; particularly after warning her about males and pregnancy.”

“Liz you may be right but you may also be wrong about that.”

“I know,” Liz conceded, “but I think she needs the experience and it’s a one off event. But I do feel that we should back off and use Thursdays for bonding and just talk about what comes up naturally.”

“I know it has been hard on you; you did lose a son,” Judy sympathized.

“I know and Alan lost a part of who he was but we both gained something in return. I guess in retrospect I was pushing both of us hard because down deep I didn’t want to confront who, the why, and the how of the transformation or the implications that those questions gives rise to. Nor the reality that event left us with.”

“Liz I feel you need to mourn the loss of your son.”

“Oh my god,” Liz exclaimed, “I’ve been dealing with Atalanta almost exactly as how I dealt with Alan.”

“And that was probably the best thing to do for both of you but now it’s time to be mother and daughter.”

“You’re right,” Liz replied walking Judy to the front door where they hugged and exchanged good nights.

“We talked about the “P” word,” I was telling Lindsey the next afternoon of the conversation from the night before with Liz and Judy. We were in her bedroom doing each other’s toenails with the same bright red enamel nail polish.

Giggling Lindsey exclaimed, “Would that be ‘Penis, Peter, Period, or Pussy.”

“No,” I snorted, “that would be “Pregnancy and Pills.”

Lindsey and her family knew about my transformation from male to female. “Wow,” Lindsey responded, “What brought that on?”

I giggled, “She wanted me to understand what my new role means now.”

“So does that mean you like boys?” She asked and added, “And have you picked out a nice cute one ... yet.”

I stuck my tongue out at her teasing; I had told her that I wasn’t even sure I liked boys that way. “No,” I replied and rolling my eyes, “She does want me to try dating though just to get the social experience.”

“Cool,” she replied, “We can double date.”

“Oh joy.”

“You girls about done,” Hannah asked from the doorway.

“In a minute ... mom,” Lindsey replied indicating our toenails.

Girls! She said that naturally, including me. But was I? That thought made me wonder; was being a girl a matter of looking and acting like a girl. Or was it ...

“What?” I asked.

“I said are you all right? You got a weird look in your eyes and zoned out,” Lindsey was saying.

I couldn’t really tell Lindsey what I was thinking at least not all of it. “It just struck me odd that I am a girl now when your mom said ‘you girls.”

“Well duh,” She replied playfully punching my arm, “you are dry,” indicating our artwork.

“So are you.”

“I gotta go. I am helping mom in the kitchen.” Hannah was the spa’s chef and Lindsey had her mom’s culinary talent.

“Me too,” I replied carefully stepping into my sandals, “I have a few minutes to spare and I believe I’ll have a look around.”

I wandered aimless not sure what I was seeking until I found myself outside the complex’s sightseeing services where the vehicles and animals were kept. I knew then what I needed to do and went inside the barn to find Ready, the filly I had been given. Ray, one of several attendants helped me saddle the horse and again showing me safely how. I felt confident that I could achieve that task but doing it seemed to make him happy.

After I had settled on her back he handed me a canteen of water and asked, “You got your phone?”

I shook my head and sheepishly replied, “It’s on the charger.”

He got one from the stand that held several of the shop’s walkie-talkie type phones. “Just-in-case; it’s something the owner implemented after one of the guests had some type of accident out there. It’s equipped with GPS tracking.”

I could feel my color rising at his words, “Thank you,” I replied taking the items and securing them to the saddle and in my pocket.

I clucked to my horse, “Let’s go, Ready.”

The filly seemed to know too where to go and without direction from me headed northwest before turning south and following a dim trail that lead across gullies and over rises in the landscape. Soon we stopped on a hill overlooking the trail that one version of me had went down and another version had emerged from.

As I stared down into the trail that led to fish bowl shaped enclosure I became aware of sights and sounds greatly magnified and processed through more than my five senses. Every rock, tree, and formation seemed hued at precise right angles and cut from massive and heavy minerals and wood. The sense was similar to the few times I had run a fever and hallucinated.

Ready snorted and pranced sideways, “Easy-easy does it girl,” I responded softly and I dismounted. I held her reins as I looked again at the panorama spread at my feet.

I stepped forward pulling a very reluctant filly down the bank and into the ancient wash. I edged forward ten feet-then twenty feet-thirty feet-until I stood beside the ancient twisted juniper that had marked where two and a half months earlier I had stood and taken an unknown trail. Every fiber in my being was screaming déjà vu.

Nevertheless, I remained still my curiosity running rampant. As I did I became aware of an ancient lodge or hogan and then the rhythmic beat of drums and the swaying chants which rose and fell in time with the drums.

I was at war with myself as my analytical brain was arguing with my mind that this wasn’t real and loosing because I was in my mind and not my brain. Alongside the chanting, the drums, and the structure, I began to sense a presence emerging. I got the sense it was several such presences and that as they gathered materials and moved about my mindscape that I was watching a ceremony.

I stood rooted to that spot for what seemed ages as I absorbed and observed this real/not real world opening up to me.

Finally the natural landscape became focused again as bit by bit the fantasy world receded leaving the number five imprinted on the blackboard of my mind.

Wordlessly I turned around leading the horse up and out of the depression we were in and headed for home.

I do hope you enjoyed this chapter and I welcome your comments and I will answer any questions I can. Thanks. Katelyn

Atalanta's Story - Chapter 3 By Katelyn. Edited by William Durr. I thank Bill for all his help and any errors are mine.

Atalanta has reoccurring dreams and she develops a plan for self defense. But will her mom agree. Her weekly lessons with mom and Judy continue.

Chapter Three

A week had passed since I had visited the trail where my change had occurred and each night I had these weird dreams. The first night I ran wildly until I came to a mountain peak; there I gathered corn. The next night’s dream was similar except I ran in a different direction to a different peak and gathered corn but of a different color. The third and fourth nights followed a similar vein; with a different mountain and different colored corn. In the first dream I gathered white, the second night yellow, the third was purple, and the fourth a mixed color. On the fifth night the dream recycled.

Last night it had been purple corn that I found tonight it would be the mixed variety if the sequence remained true.

The odd thing was apart from the repetitious dreams nightly and the mental workout I woke up energized. I also woke early to an overwhelming desire to run.

This morning as usual I was up early where I wandered outside and eventually ended up at the additional construction Judy had started for the new clinic and cottages. South of the construction zone was a smaller hastily constructed parking lot for the workers with a mixture of vans, truck and travel trailers, and a mobile home that housed both the office and body of the foreman.

His name was Manuel Black and he was about 30 years old, a few inches shorter than I was, and a slim yet solid body. I knew his name and by sight, but that was all. I was surprised when he walked from behind a corner in the barn where I was stretching and warming up.

The truth was before my trip to the canyon that didn't did not exist and Mom and Judy’s talk about strengths differences between the sexes I had already noticed a difference too. However that had changed some after I began running and I welcomed that increase in my energy and strength levels. That increase in energy and confidence was a welcome change from the uncertainty, weakness, and fear I dealt with in the aftermath of a spontaneous sex change.

No, I didn’t think I was turning into wonder woman or the hulk, but with mutants being in the news I did wonder how far the changes would go. So I thought that testing my limits and working out was a good idea. Besides I needed to run.

“Working out,” his voice was surprisingly soft and pleasant. He moved lithely with ill-concealed ease into the open.

I stood up and easily found myself balanced in a defensive posture. Where had that come from?

I nodded.

“Yeah I’ve been noticing you several mornings, running.”

“I thought I noticed someone out there,” I replied wondering where this was going.

“I run too,” he replied, “and I thought you might like company.”

“Why,” I asked studying his response and body language.

He held up his hands palms out, “Whoa,” he cried, “I don’t mean you any harm. It is just that this early and the rough terrain make it easy to misstep in the dark. I’d feel better if someone was there and go for help if I fall and break something,” he added smiling.

I smiled at his self-depreciating humor with my instincts telling me he could be trusted. “Deal,” I smiled, “and may it never rain on either of our parades.”

He grinned and we began to run across the flat terrain that quickly dotted with boulders. We climbed increasingly steeper slopes clinging to rocky outcroppings like mountain sheep. A large and hazardous boulder reared up about 50 yards away and almost that much higher on the landscape.

I loved running with the wind whipping in my face and the lighter than air feeling that accompanied it. As Alan, I wasn’t athletically inclined and the love and skill at running was a pleasant surprise. Despite what mom said about girls being weaker, I didn’t feel that weakness. I did agree most girls were not as strong as males but I wasn’t most girls.

The sun was just peeking over the rim of the basin sending tendrils of purple rays across the silent countryside. A coyote barked in the distance and overhead a hawk circled lazily. On a ledge high above the canyon a cougar stretched languidly, watched the pair of runners.

“You have been running long?”

“Just started,” I declared. We were resting on the giant rock that stood out like a sentinel.

“What’s your end game?” He must have seen the surprise cross my face and explained. “Are you training for an event or just running for the hell of it. To test yourself or get in shape.”

“No. Not an event.” I replied empathically. “Yeah, it is probably more of for the hell of it. I never ran until we got here.”

“In that case you are a natural. How long you been out here?”

“After school was let out, we’ve been here just a few months. Mom wanted a change of scenery after dad was killed in a crash.”

“I’m sorry if I brought up bad memories.”

“No problem, you didn’t know. And it was always a possibility being an Army Brat.” The quiver belied the brittle tone.

“Still, I’m sorry about your dad. I just retired from the Navy, the Seals. So I kind of understand. What does your mom do here at The Resort?”

“She’s the doctor. She and dad met in the service.”

“Umm-okay, I guess I have your mom to thank for the work.”

“Some I guess, but its Aunt Judy’s money.”

“What was your dad’s MOS.”

“He was attached to the Army intelligence unit.”

A shadow flickered momentarily, “My name is Manny Black and my job here is to oversee the work gets done and keep these rough necks in line.”

“Atalanta-Atalanta Reed,” I replied adding, “It’s time to be heading back.”

Wow, I felt like I was flying as we ran, leaping from rock to rock. My feet barely touched the earth as we tore off down the mountainside in a mad sprint. I loved the exhilaration and freedom that these cross country runs provided with the added thrill of dodging unexpected obstacles often improvising in mid-air. I kept the lead on Mr. Black all the way back to the barn where I jumped, whirling in the air and fist pumped the sky.

“Whew that was fun!” I shouted and sticking out my tongue, “Nah-nah I beat you back.”

Grinning he answered, “I didn’t know we were racing.”

“I won, so we were racing.” I smirked.

His smile vanished, “You could’ve been hurt or broke your neck or an arm or leg, back there.”

I considered his statement carefully. Mom was being … well a mom and overprotective and she, no doubt would agree with Manny.

“It is hard to explain. I’ve changed a lot since we moved here.” Boy or girl was that an understatement! “I know I looked reckless out there but I can really see well in the dark and I can change my body position in the air to land where I want. It also feels like I’m lighter too when I run.”

“That maybe true or it may not be. I have learned from my training over the years some tips and shortcuts that will help you to fine tune what it is you are doing. Are you willing to find out?”

“I guess so. Sure. Oh that reminds me. Mom wanted me to find some self-defense training. Can you teach me some … stuff?”

He studied me for such a long time that I thought he was refusing or not answering.

“I can and I can’t. That is I can teach you a system but not a few moves. Those you can learn from anybody. What I teach requires a commitment from you but when we are finished you will be one bad ass babe.” He replied grinning.

Immediately an image formed from the Matrix movie along with several fantasy images of leather duster coat babes. Okay maybe not but I did like the idea of not being vulnerable.

“I’d like that but my mom is being a little overprotective and you’d have to meet her and Judy first. You know pass inspection. How is Thursday evening for dinner?”

He agreed.

The days until Thursday both dragged and flew by. The days seemed longer as I wrestled with arguments to convince mom for the need for self defense lessons. They flew by because with each successive night of dreams brought a sense of anticipation and dread that I was missing something important before they ended.

I was admittedly excited and nervous as I bounced from grilling to the oven checking dinner preparations. Mom and Judy were due any moment as was Manny. I had invited him to our weekly lessons before I had checked with mom but thank goodness she had seen the wisdom in meeting with Manny. After all, it was her and Judy’s idea for the self-defense lessons. We still ran each morning and yes, I told her about my early morning run just leaving out the dangerous terrain and the dreams.

The kitchen was laden with aromas of the apple pie baking and the veggie casserole cooling and the chicken was almost ready to take off the grill. I was setting the table when I heard the front door open.

“Honey that smells good,” my mom declared with a peck on the cheek. Judy followed her into the kitchen dropping her purse beside her chair. I poured each woman a coffee and water for me.

Manny arrived a few minutes later with a knock on the door and after greeting him at the door I introduced him to mom and Judy who already knew him, “Mom, Judy this is Manny Black who agreed to teach me to kick butt and save the world … from e.v.i.l.”

“You’re full of it.”

After greetings we all sat and began eating.

“Mrs. Reed let me offer my condolences for your loss. I haven’t lost a spouse or a father but I lost many good friends over the years, so I understand some of your pain,” Manny declared after we finished eating.

“That was a superb dinner Atalanta,” he added.

“Mr. Black,” mom began, “I’d like to hear a little about you, and what you will be teaching Atalanta. How much of her time will it take and your impression of us,” using her hands indicating her and me.

“The service was good for me; I grew up on the streets of LA and got lucky. At 14, I hooked with a guy that learned jeet kune do from the master himself, Bruce Lee. I trained with him until I turned 17 and then joined the Navy and finally the Seals where I’ve spent the last 14 years in hotspots all over the world.I needed a break from it and left earlier this year to see if I am fit for civilian duty.”

Manny paused, looking over the rim of his coffee, absently blowing the liquid. It was a habit learned from many discreet meetings and conversations around the globe and in varied settings: From well-lighted mansions to darkened rat holes.

“I get the impression from Atalanta that the environment here has been good for her and she has changed a lot in the process.”

Seeing the brief looks and unspoken communication that passed among his audience, he added. “Is there something I should know?”

Again he felt an unknown ripple pass among his spectators before mom spoke, “Let’s just say Atalanta’s friends in Philly wouldn’t recognize her, now. Atalanta will probably fill you in later, but not now.”

“Okay,” he conceded, “timing is important and we’ll let that sleeping dog lie until it is time. You asked for my impression and that was one. She,” he continued fingering me, “told me she just had taken up running and wasn’t much of an athlete until she came to these mountains. From what I’ve seen running with her that is hard to believe, but I don’t think she’s lying. I conclude then, that she has hit a growth spurt or something.”

Again he saw their lips curl in a smirk and wondered what secret they shared.

“I’ll tell you what I told her, I won’t teach her isolated moves but a CQC system designed to inflict maximum damage. Bruce Lee took the best parts of the martial arts to form jeet kune do. I intend to take the best of jeet kune do and Seal training to form a new style. It won’t be indiscriminate damage but rather its applying force to quickly end a physical confrontation with one or multiple attackers. She’ll be able to quickly size up a situation, how dangerous it is and to apply proper countermeasures. She’ll learn and test the limits of her body and gain confidence but it will take time and discipline.”

“I’m not sure I like the idea of my daughter being taught how to maim or kill,” Mom replied.

“Mrs. Reed, I thought surely having served and being a Dr. you would understand what can and does happen every day somewhere. Was I wrong?”

“No, you’re not wrong. I do understand, I just hadn’t thought where it could lead when I suggested she learn self-defense.”

“I see in her some of what I suspect my mentor saw in me when he agreed to take me under his wing. She will learn self-defense but in the overall context of what she might face. I can tell you this much, she’ll learn discipline and control first and may even cuss me good and proper before she ever learns the bad stuff. But it’s your call.”

“Satisfy my curiosity Mr. Black, but why would you spend your time and energy, again?”

“I detect an unspoken question Mrs. Reed and let me assure you that Atalanta is young enough to be my daughter. She is as safe with me as she would be with either of you. You’re a trained Doctor and you are as competent in your field as I am in mine and I’ve had 17 years using it. In this matter you’ll have to trust me as much as I’d have to trust you with a medical situation.”

“Everybody ready for some pie and ice cream,” I asked hoping to diffuse the situation as I rose to remove the pie from the warmer and the ice cream from the freezer. Smooth easy conversation begin to flow once again as we indulged in dessert and small talk.

“Ladies I appreciate the dinner and the company but I better be going now.” Manny spoke as he pushed his chair back from the table, and added, “Mrs. Reed you think on it and let me know. Judy, Atalanta,” Manny acknowledged us as he walked from the kitchen; I followed him to the front door.

“Thanks Manny,” I said, placing a hand on his sleeve, “Mom is being a little over protective. She’ll come around.”

“Yeah sure, you take care, kid.”

“… I don’t know.” Judy and mom were huddled at the table their conversation ceased with my return.

Sitting down across from them, “I-we have been through a lot of changes in the last few months. I owe both of you my life and you each took a terrible chance to give me a chance at a normal life. And I appreciate that more than I can tell.”

“But,” Mom prompted smiling.

“But,” I replied, “It gets more difficult and scary from here on. Up until now the lessons have kept us both busy and that was probably a good thing. Except for the date thing and I have to arrange that, the other items from last week are all individual accomplishments. Unless,” I teased, “you are going to show me how to use that,” I traced with my fingers the electronic device I was given last week.

“Atalanta, you are scandalous.”

“Yes, I am, aren’t I,” giggling, “but you did bring up a good point about self defense and awareness which I think Manny’s system can teach me.”

“I’m sure he can and it will. Just give me a few days to get use to the idea. Okay?”

“Sure momma,” I replied, “I think I will get ready for bed.”

I got up from the table and started from the room stopped and turned back around.

“You forget something, Atalanta?”

“Yes I guess I did, but I don’t know how or where to start.”

“The beginning is a good place.”

“Once upon a time …”

“Not that far back,” mom scolded.

“Oh-okay, I’ve been having these dreams.”

“Dreams or nightmares,” Judy queried.

“No, they’re not nightmares but I’m wondering what they might mean.”

“Sometimes,” Judy added, “dreams are symbols or gibberish but sometimes they are trying to give you a message. How often do they occur?”

I hesitated slightly before answering because doing so would verbalize my internal fears and make it impossible to ignore.
“Last night was the twelfth night in a row.”

“What,” both women exclaimed.

I then told them about the dream’s content.

“Let see if I got this right,” mom began, “For twelve nights you have had basically the same dream except the direction and location and color of the corn.”
“Except that I’ve cycled through each three times.”

“Have you tried any internet searches?”

“Yes but I haven’t had any luck,” I replied.

“I think we all should try an internet search individually using dreams, running woman, this location, landmarks, and anything connected with this area. We may overlap but one person might follow a search another person would dismiss.”

“This started like on a Friday night two weeks ago.”

“That’s right,” I agreed.

“You do anything out of the ordinary that day,” Mom’s gaze narrowed.

“No, I …,” I automatically began and then remembered and it must have shown on my face.

“Atalanta,” I knew that tone but usually it was as ‘Alan’ and I always had some explaining to do afterwards. While I wasn’t banned from that place it was understood.

Grimacing I replied, “That Friday I did take Ready out for a ride.” That sentence fell flat on its face.

“And, where did you go?”

“I sort of wandered around a bit and Ready eventually led me to the canyon that doesn’t exist.” Okay so shoot me I’m a coward.

“It’s all Ready’s fault is it,” Mom accused smiling.

Maybe I wasn’t in trouble.

“No momma,” I replied, “I think it was a joint effort; Ready took me there but I led us down into the basin.”

“Then what happened,” Judy prompted me.

“I sort of had a vision,” I answered suddenly uncomfortable.

“Tell us about it dear,” mom commanded me sweetly; her voice soft and even.

Uh-oh, I was in trouble.

“There’s not much really to tell,” I protested. “I felt similar to when I was small and had a fever where everything wasn’t in proportion. And I either saw or felt some type of ceremony with drums and chants.”

“And you didn’t think this vision and the dreams are related.”

“I don’t see how,” I insisted, “The dreams are about running and the vision seemed to be more about a village or home. They’re related by simply occurring together but correlation doesn’t mean causation.” I figured that was my ace in the hole because she had preached that in our economic classes.

“I think we should still do the searches and I’ll make a few calls and see what we find,” Judy interjected.

“That makes sense,” mom agreed, “and we go from there. But you young lady,” she pointed at me, “no more secrets.”

I nodded, “Okay, but I think I’ll go to bed now.”

Alone in my bedroom I undressed and donned my nightshirt that I favored over the more frilly designs that my mother wanted me to wear. However, I habitually performed my nighttime ritual of cleansing and moisturizing and brushing my hair and tying it in place. Finished I went out to wish mom and Judy goodnight.

“Still wearing that ratty old thing I see.”

“Momma I like it.”

Atalanta's Story- Chapter 4. My thanks again go to William Durr for his help, encouragement, and editing. Any errors are mine though. As a reminder this is a Whateley Academy Fanfiction.

This is a shorter chapter. Atalanta dresses up and goes to a barbecue where she dances and learns a valuable lesson and gains more insight into her change.

Chapter Four

The Resort had a warm weather tradition of Saturday night cookouts/barbecues to both greet new attendees and leave a lasting impression on those whose week was expiring.

The menu consisted of western cuisine and lots of it. Lindsey usually helped her mother prepare the food. The truth was most of the females were involved in food preparation to a degree. The men were tasked with setting up the supports, from deploying the huge tent if the weather was rainy to tables and chairs. While alcohol was served, it was closely monitored and dispensed. The end result was team-building as most of the employees helped and even some clients lent a hand.

“So you got one picked out,” Lindsey asked me for what felt like the hundredth time as we were busy cutting and preparing the veggies for cooking.

I sighed putting down the knife and turning to her replied, exasperated, “Lindsey I don’t know if I can do this. It-seems so contrived and artificial. I’m supposed to pick out a boy I like and maneuver him into asking me on a date.”

“C’mon Atalanta you’re over thinking this. It’s simple; girls do it all the time. It’s part of our womanly charms or feminine mystique.”

“Intellectually I understand what you are saying but emotionally it’s a black hole.” Seeing her look of consternation I quickly added, “Remember before I changed and you looked at me as a potential boyfriend.” She nodded, “And afterwards …,” I prompted.

“I don’t look at girls that way,” she confessed.

“But, why,” I asked? “I’m more or less the same person inside, despite the best efforts from those that shall remain anonymous.”

“Hey,” she replied too quickly, “We’re only trying to help.”

“I know, but answer the question, please.”

“Okay while you maybe the same person it is packaged different.”

“Exactly,” I cried snapping my fingers, “the package has changed, but my instincts are to view guys as potential rivals not lovers.”

“I see,” she replied examining her hands, “that does present a problem, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” I agreed, “intellectually I understand but emotionally I’m a basket case.”

“You just need a push and I’m just the girl to help you out.”

“Lindsey Daphne Rose,” I cried mocking her mom’s tone, “don’t you dare.”

We both gave into a giggling fit. God I mentally slapped myself at the typical schoolgirl behavior. But it did feel good to laugh and maybe if I approached this attraction thing like a game it might take my mind off the dreams.

Last night was the fourteenth night for the recurring dreams. I knew they held significance but I didn’t feel they were a warning; but they seemed more like a road map.

“Girl, give it up, what’s his name. What does he look like? Is he cute?” Lindsey interrupted my musings.

I was blushing furiously and whispered shyly, “He’s a new guy; I think his dad is part of the construction crew. I think he’s about my height, dark hair, and blue eyes. Is he cute? Yes.” Oh God did I just say a boy was cute! “His name is Jack-Jack Link.”

“Like the commercial; ‘Messin’ with Sasquatch?’” She teased laughing.

“No,” I pouted and rolling my eyes.

“Here’s what we’ll do,” she confided in my ear, “I’ll get my George to chit- chat with him and bring over to our table and introduce him. How’s that,” she squealed already in matchmaker mode.

“I guess it’ll do,” I conceded glumly.

Lindsey stopped what she was doing and looking up at me her smile replaced by a frown, “Look I know this is tough for you but men and women have different life views. For us girls it is about relationships and people and boys are people. Also as girls we have to be more circumspect in our relationships. As a boy you were expected to ask the girl out; as a girl you expect to be asked out. As the asked you need to use hints to show him you’re interested and unless he’s a dick if you are not interested you gently turn him down. You should know how easily deflated a boy’s ego is.”

Yeah I knew.

I also knew that mom was concerned that in undergoing a spontaneous sex change and at puberty that I might withdraw into a shell. While I knew her motivation it didn’t mean I was comfortable in that role.

“I’ll be back in a minute. You wait right here.” Then she was gone leaving me to wonder just what the hell she was up to. I kept on slicing, dicing, and peeling the carrots, tomatoes, onions, potatoes, and garlic.

Soon I saw Lindsey as she traipsed the aisle to where I was ensconced with a big wide smile on her face and her eyes dancing like firelights in the dark. I had a bad feeling.

“Okay all set,” she declared once she got in earshot of me.

“What’s all set?”

“You’ll see,” Lindsey declared mysteriously, “oh,” she added, “your mom is looking for you.”

“Thanks,” I replied dryly.

“Mom-m,” I whined, eying the clothing she had placed on my bed. My normal everyday attire was replaced with ultra feminine garments. It wasn’t they showed a lot of skin they were just so damn thin. The peach shorts required wearing a thong and the flimsy bra provided just enough material to conceal my nipples beneath the white frilly top. In place of my normal trainers was a pair of gold strappy open toed sandals.

“Mom,” I cried again wrapping my robe tighter.

“Yes, dear,” mom replied sweetly from the doorway.

I knew that tone having heard numerous times over 14 plus years. “Mom, are you advertising me for sale or something? There is not enough clothing to cover a strong breeze to say nothing about if a summer rain comes up. I might as well be naked.”

“Now Atalanta dear don’t exaggerate. Those clothes are lightweight and airy but they cover everything up by layering and misdirection. Dressing the female form is an art and this is just another lesson in subtlety.”

“Okay, mom I give; what are you up to?”

“Me,” she exclaimed, “whatever do you mean,” she returned eyes wide and mouth open, mocking.

“You saw Lindsey, what have you two cooked up?”

“Us, why nothing dear,” she replied with the same wide-eyed look frozen in place.

“Does this have anything to do with me telling Lindsey about Jack?”

“Jack, I don’t believe I know a Jack,” Liz replied sweetly, feigning ignorance. “Who is he, dear?”

“He is just a boy. Mom what have you and Lindsey cooked up?” I asked feeling dreading the implications.

“Me,” she inquired. “Okay, you got me,” she laughed. “Joking aside, I want you to experience the attention a beautiful young woman attracts from a male admirer.”

“But mom,” I pleaded, “isn’t this a bit much?”

“It is, but just a little. This will be like your coming out party,” a big wide smile lighting up her face as her eyes twinkled in excitement.

I could dredge up no more protests especially in light of my mother’s delight.

“And don’t you worry any,” she continued patting my hand, “Judy and me will be there and Lindsey and some more of the girls will watch out for you. Now, did you shave?”

“Yes mother I did.”

“Now we need to get ready.” I eyed the attire again and carefully pulled on the underwear and settling the thong on my hips then my breasts into the bra. Looking at myself in the full-length mirror I frowned at the hint of color between my hips and at the gentle swell on my chest. My nipples were concealed by a splash of color strategically placed on the sheer bandeau. The shorts and top soon followed and I went over to the vanity to complete the transformation.

“Mom, how do I look?” I asked posed hands on my hips one brightly painted foot place before the other. The dazzling luster on my toes and fingers matched my lips and hair that in a fit of rebellion I fashioned my hair into braided pigtails. I had precisely applied mascara and outlined my gray eyes by appropriate colored lids.

“Turn around for me.” I twirled easily even considering the awkwardness of the sandals.

“Well?”

“You’re beautiful,” she replied, “and I even approve of the pigtails. It contrasts well with your sophisticated look; an innocent schoolgirl charm that will leave them guessing.”

“Them?”

“Yes them … boys!”

Just then a knock announced Lindsey’s arrival and a temporary reprieve from her teasing only to be double-teamed in the end. I threw up my hands, literally and cried ‘uncle.’

“Come on Lindsey lets go,” I complained, “Jeez you girls are worse than guys.”

“You’re not mad are you?” Lindsey asked as we walked to where the table and picnic area had been set up.

“No, I don’t mind some teasing.” We walked the rest of way in thought greeting those clients, workers or their kids we met along the way.

Judy had decided that, what had started as irregular get-to-gathers on Saturday evenings would be now a formal warm weather activity. She had commissioned the construction crew to build the picnic area as well as the new clinic buildings. A covered open-air structure contained several tables and benches, and at one corner bathrooms, and along the same wall a small enclosed kitchen area. It contained a dorm size cooler, several warming trays, condiments, spices, and silverware. It was a temporary storage space. Fanning out in a semi circular pattern was more tables, these concrete, both covered and uncovered. Scattered about was several small cooking pits and behind the constructed wall and the kitchenette was a giant barbecue and smoker.

North was the big house and in between the new clinic was going up. West lay the mud baths and mineral springs and south the barns and various bike, hiking, and horse trails. Eastward was the various cottages and the road that lead off the state route.

Lindsey steered me over to a table near the kitchen area before pulling me to a stop. George was seated with his back to us and the person next to him must be Jack. They weren’t aware of us as they were facing away and from their body language were engaged in animated discussion. I hung back as she walked up and tapped George on the shoulder. He turned and snaked an arm around her waist pulling her close.

“Atalanta,” she began, “You’ve met George and this is his friend Jack.”

“Hi … Atalanta,” Jack greeted me as he stood, smiling. He was a few inches shorter than I was, heavier and up close was probably close to 16; too old for me to date. Jack was dressed in denim shorts and pullover with sneakers.

“Hi Jack,” I responded softly through lowered lids. Even as I was responding I recognized the typical coy female behavior and in recognition: blushed.

“Ah-h, how cute,” I could so kill Lindsey.

I glared at her even as the crimson spread. “Lind-se-ey!” I whispered through clenched teeth.

We sat at the table, Lindsey and me in the middle with Jack on my left and George at the other side of Lindsey.

“Nice weather for a cookout,” I noted while Lindsey rolled her eyes. Okay so shoot me for that line.

And so it began, the time honored tradition of male/female interaction. I found to my surprise that conversation was easier as a girl. All I really had to do was ask Jack questions, about himself, his dad or their travels and he talked. I just needed to listen as he rambled on and the thought, My God and they talk about females talking, came unbidden. I giggled at that thought which happened as he was telling a funny story.

Then he asked me about myself and I gave him a basic overview leaving out that three months ago I was a boy too.

“I’ll bet you were a cheerleader,” Jack asked as I finished, “You’re pretty enough.”

Gag! Still the obvious flattery felt nice.

“Yeah,” Lindsey chimed, “how come you weren’t a cheerleader,” her eyes dancing.

I gave her the “look” the one that could kill, “I was a military brat and we moved often and as the new girl,” I smiled sweetly at Lindsey, “I was often catching up on schoolwork.”

The evening progressed nicely into darkness; the boys got our food and after eating the food Lindsey and I checked out the ladies room.

After we returned to our table our conversation was interrupted by Judy’s voice coming from the loudspeaker. “Can I have your attention?”

Judy had a sound system installed and she was on a makeshift dais, “Thank you,” she smiled at her audience after they quieted.

“What is a good barbecue without music afterwards,” she asked to a chorus of agreement.

“I hope we can get live music later but recorded music will have to do for now.”

Seconds later music began to flow from the speakers and Jack asked me to dance and I accepted. For someone with no experience dancing either leading or following, dancing wasn’t as difficult as I anticipated.

I was awash in a sea of emotions though as Jack led me out for the first slow dance. After a few awkward moments to start we both settled down and I found it was pleasant to be held in masculine arms. Time seemed to stop as we moved across the floor as one. When the music stopped my head was nestled on his shoulder. Jack reluctantly released me and I stepped back while Jack gripped my hand and led me over to our seats. I was still in a daze, wrapped in the warm afterglow of … everything.

The warm clear night sky dotted with millions of stars, the comforting smells of food and drink. The murmurs of conversation floated on the night breeze. Somewhere in the night a coyote yapped and a wolf’s mournful wail lifted in response. These sensations helped to bring me out of the daze and by the time we sat I was aware of how much I had changed. Or how much sex determines our worldview.

The view and expectations from this side of the yard was certainly different than the ones I grew up with.

“Huh?” I asked Lindsey.

“Girl you need to snap out of it. You are floating on air, what did he do to you?”

“Jack? No … nothing. It is just so new and such a rush.”

Our dates, yes I was thinking of Jack as my date, had excused themselves and Lindsey and I were waiting and talking.

“I want to see if mom needs anything. I’ll be right back.”

“Want me to come with you?”

“No you just hold our seats and wait here for the guys to come back.”

“Okay,” I replied with a smile, a mile wide on my face.

Just moments later another slow song began and immediately I felt a tap on my shoulder and a smooth voice, “Care to dance, Princess?”

“I’d love t …,” I began but my suitor was not Jack nor was he another boy my age. This guy was in his late teens or early twenties and he latched onto my hand pulling me on the dance floor. Before I had time to think, his arms were around me pulling me close and moving me across the floor in stilted jerky movements, which I helped to facilitate.

Over his shoulder I saw faces and expressions frozen in time. My dance partner who held me tight against his body resisted my efforts to twist free also seemed to freeze in motion, his face twisted and mouth opened in an oily smile. It was in this slow motion frame-by-frame time that his feet seemed exaggerated and frozen while whatever time distortion left me unaffected. Furious I brought my heel down hard on his instep and in the same motion drove my knee into his groin.
In an instant the time warp disappeared as he fell groaning to the dance floor and at once there was a flurry of activity and bodies as people swarmed around me.

“Oh baby, are you all right?” Mom was asking me wrapping me in her arms and squeezing tightly.

“Mom, please,” I whined, “I’m fine.” Maybe I was in shock but my focus was still centered on the time thing.

Mom led me to a table where we sat down her arm still around my shoulder followed closely by Lindsey and our dates. A few minutes after Judy sat down with us.

“Huh?” I asked to a question.

Manny Black was talking to Judy, “He was a guy we hired this week and no we don’t have any information on him. He was just a guy.”

That broke through the fog that seemed to be draped over me, just a guy. Just a guy! Suddenly I reached a decision.
“Manny can I talk to you … privately?” I asked and quietly whispered, “Mom I’ll tell you later.” We got some curious looks as we walked off a few steps.

“When do we start?”

“Start, start what?”

“The training we talked about, assuming the offer is still good.”

“Yeah it’s still good, but I am concerned this is a knee jerk reaction to what happened tonight and … there is still your mom.”

“Leave mom to me,” I declared more confidently than I felt, “and I won’t deny this is a reaction to tonight but I assure you I am committed to see it through, thanks to something you said.”

“That’s good to hear but satisfy my curiosity, “What did I say?”

“When you described him as, just a guy,” I answered.

“I don’t understand.”

“Think of it this way,” I replied, “instead of just a guy, use just any guy.”

“Hmm,” he responded thoughtfully a hand caressing his chin, “I understand. We can start Monday as long as your mom tells me it’s okay.”

“Deal,” I exclaimed, “and thanks.”

He nodded and walked off as mom, Judy, and Lindsey walked over. “What was that about?” Judy asked.

“Just a continuation from Thursday,” I returned shrugging.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter and thanks for reading. The next chapter should be ready early next week.

Atalanta's Story- Chapter 5 Again this is edited by William Durr and any errors left are mine.

This chapter is shorter than any of the others. A transition period from male to female. From childhood to the journey into adulthood. It takes place the same night as the barbecue does.

Chapter Five

“Wow,” Lindsey chortled, “you kicked some serious butt. Did your dad teach you that?”

“No, he didn’t,” mom replied, “but I’d like to know the answer to that myself.”

“Honestly it was like his foot had a big bulls eye on it and my knee seemed to move on its own.”

“Honey are you wanting to go home,” my mom asked.

“I don’t think so. I’m not going to let that creep ruin tonight,” I retorted slipping my arm through Jack’s.

“Okay, but you stay close by and you and Lindsey stay together and don’t wander off without telling me.”

“I won’t.”

“Here you’ll need this; it’s starting to get chilly,” my mom said handing me a wrap for my shoulders. The thin materials offered little protection against the evening breeze that had just sprung up.

She whispered in my ear as she placed the mantle around my upper body, “you be careful.”

Aloud she added, “I want you girls back in an hour. Okay?”

“Sure mom,” I replied automatically, “We’re just going to see Ready.”

“I’m sure you will,” she drawled smiling smugly at me.

Before I could reply Lindsey jabbed me in my ribs causing me a fit of giggles. “Girls behave yourselves,” mom admonished us.

I shot a Lindsey a brief withering look.

“You boys have a watch,” mom asked the boys, her gaze narrowing as she focused on our escorts who up to now had been forgotten.

They fidgeted, “Yes ma’am, they chorused each holding up an arm with a watch securely fastened to it.

Mom leaned in and whispered, “I love you,” as she pecked me on the cheek.

“I love you, too mom.”

Jack and I trailed behind Lindsey and her date as we wound our way to the stables. George had an arm draped around Lindsey pulling her into his frame. I shivered slightly as Jack’s hand found mine and our fingers interlocked.
I instantly stiffened as I processed this new information. Alan had over the years on many occasions made contact with other boys. This sensation though carried a different message with it.

I must have transmitted my nervousness, “Is there something wrong, Atalanta?”

“I was just thinking of that creep.”

“You don’t have to worry about him as long as I’m here. I’ll protect you,” he boasted intertwining his arm with mine.
I was equal parts repulsed, attracted, and amused by his declaration.

“Thank you,” I smiled as he straightened to his full height and squared his shoulders. I inwardly giggled at the display of male ego as I decided to relax.

George opened the door that led inside to the stables and flipped a switch that lit a row of lights down the center of the structure. The horses snorted and stomped as the lighting startled them. A few pranced rising and pawing the air in protest.

Quickly I moved around my companions into the corridor between the stalls and going to each animal whispered comforting words. I walked up to George after they had quieted and hands on my hips declared, “George you need to let them know you’re here before you turn the lights on. Horses are easily spooked.”

He seemed to be equally surprised by the horses and my scene, “I didn’t think,” he admitted.

“No problem, just remember it okay.”

He nodded. Lindsey gave me an odd look as she led him away at the far end of path by his arm.

“How did you know what do to with the horses to calm them down.”

I stopped in mid reply; how did I know? I realized like earlier that night I didn’t know. I just acted.

“It just seemed like the thing to do,” I returned walking over to a still excited Ready and rubbing her head, “I have spoiled you haven’t I girl. You just want a lump of sugar. You big faker,” I affectionately spoke softly to Ready tossing her head and neighing seemed to agree.

“I’ll be right back. I walked towards the tack room with Jack following behind me. I didn’t bother with the light switch and brushed into Jack as I turned to leave almost tripping. His arms wrapped around me catching me our faces inches apart.
Time seemed to stop as I looked into his eyes. I instinctively moistened and parted my lips as his face drew closer. I closed my eyes as his mouth found mine and we softly kissed; sending shivers and goose bumps down my spine and out my arm. He soaked all the air from my lungs. I forgot how to breathe. Growing lightheaded I parted my lips to draw air in and instead found his tongue snaking in. Instinctively I parried with a counter thrust.

He pressed his mouth on mine harder and more demanding sending shock waves down my body and threatening to unhinge my knees. I gripped his shoulders and my body molded to his. In that moment I forgot about the barn, Lindsey and George, Ready, the dance; everything but me and he faded into the background. He pressed against my thigh.

“Knock-knock,” Lindsey called out softly from the door frame interrupting our lovemaking.

My cheeks flamed as I stepped out of his embrace, “thanks I might have fallen if you hadn’t caught me.”

“Any time,” he intoned smiling.

Ass hole!

I gave Lindsey a brief glance and silently breathed thanks. She nodded as I brushed past carrying the lump of sugar and feeling embarrassed. Swiftly I strode over to Ready and fed her the lump of sugar while burying my head in her mane and whispering in her ear. Tossing her head she seemed to agree with me.

Or else she wanted more sugar.

After a few minutes of awkward silence Lindsey walked over to me and breathed into my ear, “It’s alright Atalanta, we all make mistakes.”

I leaned into her, “I felt him.”

“How was it,” she quipped.

“Oh god you clod,” and we broke out in a giggling fit with the boys looking on bewildered. But it broke the ice and the four of us began talking among ourselves.

On the walk back I and Lindsey walked together in front whispering between us. As we did I imagined the guys admiring the women’s movement. From that assumption sprung the feeling that my hips were gyrating uncontrollably. Sneaking a peek at Lindsey; her gait seemed normal so I moved closer to her matching her movement.

“What are you doing?”

I quickly explained.

“No you’re all right,” she declared, “but let’s give them something to think on tonight anyway.” Rolling my eyes, I stuck my tongue out at her and nodded.

We each wrapped an arm around the other and nodding began a pretentious catwalk strut but after just a few steps we burst into laughter.

“What are you girls up to?”

“Oh, nothing,” we replied mysteriously.

“Sure,” they countered hurrying to catch up with us. We walked the rest of the way back, shoulder-to-shoulder and chatting amicably.

We stopped at the cookout structure where I hugged Lindsey and whispered, “Thanks,” in her ear.

I turned to Jack, “thank you Jack for escorting me tonight. I had a lovely evening,” I said leaning in and giving him a swift peck on the cheek.

“It was my pleasure,” he declared, “and I’ll be glad to walk you home,” he added hopefully.

“Thank you, but I got to find momma.” He had a sad expression as he turned and left.

I felt a little guilty but I did need to find mom. She would have a fit if I didn’t. After the scene in the barn I wasn’t sure I need to be alone with Jack anyway.

“Did you have fun tonight, dear?” Mom asked me as we were leaving to go home.
I nodded, "me and Lindsey---".

"---I thought your date was with Jack," she teased.

Later while walking home with my mom she asked, “He kissed you, didn’t he?”

I nodded and whispered, “Yes.”

“How did it make you feel?”

The memory was still fresh on my mind and I still tasted his lips and mine still tingled.

After the ruckus on the dance floor the four of us had walked up to the barn and under the stars and a full moon that was huge and hung low in the night sky with the stars forming a twinkling backdrop. There was enough of a chill, away from the fire, that Jack’s arms around me felt warm and comfortable.

The kiss wasn’t unexpected.

The results were.

Almost immediately blood rushed to my lips and from there spread out and down sending tongues of warmth that settled in my lower body. My mouth also felt like it was connected to my ears and my legs. I thought my knees would buckle and the roaring in my head seemed wash away any rationale sense I had. I could still feel the glow.

“Tingly all over and afterwards sort of’ empty, you know.”

“Sweetie I know exactly. Listen,” she stopped us and facing me, “I understand and this is exactly why I wanted you to experience this part of girlhood so that it could be a learning moment.”

We began walking as she explained, “Even for girls from birth when puberty sets in the flood of hormones causes many young girls to make unwise decisions. That empty feeling was your body acknowledging sex and now you know why I brought up all that I did. I want you to have a good start in life and some boy getting you pregnant is not what I want for you at your age.”

“Gross,” I cried as unbidden images raced through my mind. “It’s not what I want either.”

“Good now you understand the consequences and what we as females have to be conscious of. And I suggest you keep that in mind.”

“Okay mom, you’ve made your point,” I returned and suddenly thinking of my earlier talk with Manny added, “Another thing mom is what happened earlier with that creep and Manny’s offer of training that I’d like to take.”

“Atalanta I’m not comfortable with that idea yet.”

“Mom I’m not comfortable with the necessity or for that matter our talk tonight or several of our talks at that. But something that Manny said about that guy tonight sealed it for me.”

“What did he say?”

“That he was just some guy as in he could be any guy that I meet. If it is prudent to be careful with sex it seems to me to be equally cautious about self defense.”

“Believe me I understand about defending one’s self,” Liz replied unlocking their front door, “but I still am not sure if he is just some guy, either,” she argued.

“Mom,” I replied after we were inside and seated at the kitchen table, “I think we both know that he’s not just some guy. There is one more thing though that maybe you haven’t thought about.”

“Oh?” She asked arching her eyebrows, “and what would that be ?”

“Yes. From what everyone said they were surprised that I was able to do what I did. No one was more surprised than I was. The odd thing though was everything seemed to slow down except for me.”

I rose from the table and retrieved a container of juice from the refrigerator and poured us each a glass.

“Mom, have you thought why or for what reason I was changed or who did it?”

“I gave up trying to.”

“I think I gained more than what’s obvious. I’m faster, quicker and some stronger now. Don’t you think that training will help me from hurting someone accidentally?”

“Stronger?”

“Yeah it seems to kick in when I’m running or at least that’s when I started to notice it. And the dreams are what gave me the inclination to run.”

“Correlation doesn’t equal causation,” mom warned.

“I guess, but it feels related in here,” I replied indicating my heart area.

“Paying attention to your body’s signals is a good habit to develop.”

I nodded in agreement.

“I think it is time we were both in bed and we can’t do anything tonight,” mom replied shooing me off to bed.

I hope you enjoy reading Atalanta's Story. I'll answer any questions that don't give away too much. In fact if any of you are well-versed in mythology I'd like to pick your brain. Thanks again for reading.

Atalanta's Story - Chapter 6 This chapter involved a lot of rework and back and forth with William Durr. My grammar skills are not the best so any errors that I left are mine. This is also longer than most of the chapters and the hardest to get right.

A lot happens in this chapter, some discoveries, some mysteries and Atalanta has her first date. She starts to grow up and assert herself a little bit.

Chapter Six

As I lay in bed later that night, I thought about what mom said about training with Manny and what she implied my body wanted to do with Jack. I pushed that to the back of my mind.

Since my change several months earlier I was kept busy and had not given any thought to the why’s or who’s. After finding I was more athletic gifted as a girl and tonight’s show of time-lapse motion I seriously had to think it wasn’t an accident. This meant that someone or something is targeting me.

As I started to drift off to sleep an image of Jack crept into my mind and brought with it the feelings of his kissing me.

Liz was also reviewing the day’s events and she admitted that the why or who of Alan’s transformation to Atalanta had not occurred to her before. A frown crossed her face as she recalled Atalanta’s desire to learn self-defense. A soft hum and moan from the room next to hers brought a smirk to her face as she rolled over and slid deeper under covers.

Early Monday morning as Manny and I were stretching I inquired, “Manny, did Mom talk to you?”

He nodded and wordlessly handed me two pairs of small cuffs whose size belied their weight.

“These are one pound wrist and ankle weights.”

I snapped each into place and experimentally shook my hands and feet.

“Okay, I’m ready,” I declared after careful examination of the circlets.

At each early morning session he brought me weighted cuffs and exchanged them each morning for others with different sizes and weights. He often gave me un-equal weights to help improve the balance for each arm or leg.

After the first week, we began with separate forms, katas as they were called, and once I showed competency in each he chained them until we joined the forms into a free-flowing choreography of movement. Interspersed were lessons using my eyes to hear, and my ears to see. After several months of training, I could see blindfolded or hear with earplugs on.

The dreams continued through that first week covering the four directions in consecutive nights and then repeating and always with me bringing the supply of corn to the same place. Every night the dream ended at that place. Each direction always leads to the same destination until by now I knew the landmarks and at least two of the locations.

From my research, by Friday afternoon of that first week I felt sure the craggy snow-capped peaks rising sharply from the floor of a valley had to be Mount Blanca and the San Luis Valley that I arrived at on each fifth night. The isolated domed peak could only be Navajo Mountain.

After discovering these mountains were sacred to the Navajo, I deduced the other locations in my dreams were also sacred locations.

The following Monday I had established to my satisfaction the other locations in my dreams as San Francisco Peaks and Mount Taylor. Moreover, I believed it likely to be Huerfano Mesa, the destination where I placed the supply of corn at the end of each dream.

I didn’t have a lot of time to reflect what meaning it held as this week Monday, Manny increased our running and conditioning regimen to include more katas as they related to what we were already doing. We spent an extra hour each day learning the individual forms. Manny called it building muscle memory and he said I’d get to the point where I could use it without thinking.

Thursday morning as we were warming up I said, “Manny I need this afternoon off. Tonight’s dinner is the four month anniversary and it’s kind of special.”

“What is the fourth month an anniversary of?”

I replied smoothly after a moment’s panic, “It has been four months since our move out here.”

“That’s all right,” he replied, “I have to leave in the morning for business for a couple of days anyway. That will give you time for your big date on Saturday too,” he teased.

“Oh joy,” I snorted.

“What’s the matter, I thought you were looking forward to it?”

“Mom thinks I should be less a tomboy and more like a lady and this is part of her way to balance out my self-defense training.”

“Instead of beating them up buttering them up,” he chuckled.

I punched him on the shoulder, “something like that.”

“Oh!”

“You big faker,” I declared.
“Yeah,” he agreed, “but you are going to make one fine lady Atalanta, you are already a beautiful girl. Learn to play the game. I can teach you this part but your mom will be the one to teach you the other part.”

“Ready,” he announced.

My horse snorted in the background at hearing his name. Turning around I pointed at the barn’s interior and whispered, “What’s that?”

I sprinted past him as he turned to where I had pointed, “Gotcha.”

That Thursday dinner started as every other did, with mom and Judy coming through the door just before dark and talking shop. The stove timer started beeping as they came into the kitchen.

“Dinner will be ready in about 20 minutes,” I declared removing the covered dish from the oven letting it simmer.

“Smells good honey,” mom replied giving me cheek peck, “anything I can do to help?”

“You can set the table.”

Ten minutes later I removed the bread placing it and the roasted chicken beside the salad on the table, “Dig in,” I announced setting at the table.

We did.

After eating, cleaning up and putting leftovers away we gathered around the table, “Excited about your date Saturday?” Judy prompted.

“Nervous is more like it,” I replied remaining neutral.

What followed was 15 minutes of advice; advice on what clothes to wear, dating etiquette, and then mom and Judy began retelling dates from hell. I zoned out.

Until.

“Wasn’t funny then,” mom noted, “but looking back it was those experiences that made me appreciate your dad all the more.”

I had never given it much thought; I assumed I would grow up find a girl settle down and raise a family. It was just something that happened.

Now as a girl and growing up female, it seemed I acquired a different set of priorities. We girls seemed to have a battle plan with strategies and a point system in place. What was worse is that it made sense to me. At least I could see how from this side of the fence it made sense to test your man. As the physically weaker partner and the one who for nine months was vulnerable having basic guidelines seemed wise.

As a male, babies seemed a distant and hazy concept but now I knew that when my period started that possibility would be a real and constant companion for the next three decades.

“You still have the dreams?”

I nodded, “Tonight will be 28 nights straight; four cycles repeated seven times.”

“Any ideas?”

I told them what I suspected about the locations and my research on the Navajo people.

“So you think your dreams have something to do with the Changing Woman lore of the Navajo?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I do. Changing Woman gave birth to the first Navajo people and the Navajo still have fertility rites today that rely heavily on that lore. The numbers four and five deem to hold significance and I have in my dreams run in the four directions seven times. Seven times four is 28 and 28 is the number of days and times of moon cycles and another cycle.”

Judy and mom smiled weakly at that forecast.

“My dreams seemed to be a modified version of a maidens’ passage into womanhood because in the Navajo tradition the young girl runs in each direction once and culminates on the fifth night with a tribal ceremony.”

“I take it that you haven’t dreamt the ceremony then?”

I shook my head, “I don’t believe I will either. I feel it here,” I replied cupping my stomach area, “that tonight is the last night for these particular dreams.”

“And then,” mom prompted.

I raise my shoulders palms up, “Wait and see, I suppose.”

She sighed audibly, “That’s not very encouraging.”

“Well mom,” I quipped, “this doesn’t even meet the level of unusual after spontaneously changing sexes.”

Nervous laughter greeted my proclamation. We talked a little while longer before I announced that my bed was calling me.

Sitting in front of my dresser, I started my nightly ritual after undressing and removing my bra and donning my old “ratty” flannel nightshirt. I stopped brushing my hair and reflected on the girl in the mirror. She had a contented smile in place seemingly soothed by the mundane task of brushing her hair. I grunted-yes a real Neanderthal grunt, a backlash at femininities relentless push. I then giggled at the cognizant dissonance that image produced.

Rising I padded down the hall to the kitchen to say goodnight.

“Atalanta,” my mom began as I kissed her cheek, “why are you wearing that ratty old thing?”

“It is comfortable.” The oversized shirt was a hand-me-down from my dad when I was Alan and wearing it gave me comfort at night and acted as a bridge between two worlds.

As the red numerals flashed 5:00 AM on Friday morning, I immediately woke from a sound sleep and after necessary morning rituals; I dressed in my habitual running clothes and then left our cottage for the stables to stretch and warm-up before my five-mile mad dash cross-country race.

This morning I chose the rather level mesa back of the ranch as it was relatively free of obstacles and shorter than our usual foray into the steep rocky inclines to the valley rim. I wasn’t interested in the view or the challenge that route offered today.

Slowing to a comfortable jog at the stable I began to walk, cooling down, on the path from the stables to our house feeling on edge and out-of-synch with my internal clock. Something kept picking at the corners of my mind.

Mom was probably just now coming awake as it was only 6 AM. I shortened my stride coming into view of the cottage.

“Honey what are you going to do today with all this extra time on your hands?” I had just walked into the kitchen after showering off the dust, grime, and sweat from my morning run.

“I think I’ll go riding, Ready needs to stretch her legs,” I answered taking a bite of breakfast.

“Like that,” mom accused.

I was dressed in boots, jeans, a tee, and twirling a baseball hat in my free hand with my hair tied back and minimal make-up applied.

“Mom,” I whined, “these are comfortable riding clothes and I’ll change once I get back.” It was true as a girl sweat and grime just plain made me feel bad. The perspiration seemed to coat my skin. I theorized that the small amount of hair I had as Alan helped to wick away the moisture.

“Atalanta, I swear you’re turning into a tomboy.” It was all so natural now the ebb and flow of conversation between us; it was as if we were always mother and daughter.

Liz momentarily froze as her words and actions sunk in and a few butterflies fluttered in her stomach. She felt a small amount of guilt rise with those butterflies; realizing that that she felt closer to Atalanta than she had with Alan.
She also realized that if she had the power to change Atalanta back into Alan she probably wouldn’t but if she could avoid it happening at all that she probably would. That realization brought home that humans were clearly adaptable.

“Honey,” she quizzed tentatively, “if you could would you change back?”

I bit my tongue cutting off the snazzy retort I had prepared instantly sensing a change in dynamics.

“To be honest mom I haven’t given it much thought at least not lately. I wouldn’t have deliberately chosen this path but it might be for the best,” I replied, sighing at this confession.

“How so?”

“I’m sure Alan would have found his … passion or his talent … skills, however you label it but losing Dad left me drifting. Being Atalanta though has challenged me enough that I haven’t had time to dwell on the … accident,” I replied biting my lower lip.

Liz in that moment realized that in helping Atalanta cope and directing the ranch’s clinic expansion she had healed from her husband’s death. She also realized they hadn’t properly mourned his passing.

Mother and daughter embraced silently crying, mourning the loss of the man in their lives.

“Great,” I moaned my eyes shining and sporting a smile a mile wide, “now I have to redo my makeup.”

A weight that we had labored under had lifted. We giggled nervously and then hysterically ending with a series of hiccups. I quickly retired to my room and redid my face.

“Don’t forget your cell phone and jacket,” mom reminded me as I returned to the kitchen.

“Got it covered,” I replied shrugging into the jacket and pulling the phone from a pocket.

“Honey I want you to know I loved when you were here,” she said patting her tummy, “when you were born, when we moved here, yesterday, today, and all the tomorrows.”

I knew, not an intelligent or mental knowing but a deeper emotional connection.

“I know and mom … I love you too.”

I felt like I was walking on air and literally skipped to the stables. Humming, I saddled Ready, checking the cinch to see that it was tight, and slinging a couple of canteens of water from the horn. I slipped a pair of binoculars and several power bars into the saddlebags and patted my pocket for the phone.

Satisfied, I led Ready outside and swung on to the saddle.

“Ready to stretch your legs,” I clucked to the filly as we cantered into the high desert.

The sun, over my left shoulder was warming, chasing the nighttime cold away. Still humming a familiar tune that I couldn’t place, I let Ready have her head as to direction and gait.

A couple of hours later I pulled back on the reins staring down at arroyo that Ready had unerringly headed for.

“I should have known,” I muttered and then slapping the horse’s neck, “girl what do you know that I don’t?”

Ready whinnied a “duh” in reply.

“We could do with a break,” I muttered, dismounting and leading my horse over to a stand of pines that offered shade and a meager foliage for her to munch on. After eating a power bar and washing it down with water from the canteen, I filled my hat with water and letting Ready drink her fill.

From the sun’s position, it was about 10 A.M., and if we left now I just had time to get back to the ranch by 12. I gradually became aware of a smell that seemed familiar yet remained elusive. The scent jogged memory centers that too remained just out of reach. But awakened memories brought with it sights and sounds.

My feet moved, taking me over to the trail that led down into the depression where the rope guide had been built to keep anyone else from wandering off. My vision blurred momentarily and my ears began buzzing; I stumbled down the incline.

On my hands and knees, I looked up and shaking my head to clear my vision and to fend off the bees that buzzed in my ears, I was dimly aware of Ready whinnying. The sun was warm on my back.

In the distance, an earthen dome-shaped hogan formed from the mist followed shortly by women of all ages in buckskins. They were busy by the fire and accompanied by soft drumbeats and chanting, recitals or prayers … a celebration or a … ceremony.

I watched a young girl … a young girl about my age emerge from the structure and go over to the fire. Her back was to me and I couldn’t see what she was doing at the fire or her face. I did see her break off and hand pieces of bread to those around the fire. I could tell she was tall, dark, and red-haired but she did look familiar.

She turned and went back inside the hogan after handing everyone a piece of the bread with her entourage following.

Rooted in place, I watched the hogan entrance intently for any activity. As I did, I became aware that the buzzing in my ears had lessened and the mist had become heavier, slowing absorbing the Hogan into its embrace. Over time, I became aware of the sun beating down and Ready stomping nervously behind me.

Climbing slowly to my feet and looking around I shook my head at the bleak landscape devoid of hogans, fire, or people.

“Weird,” I mumbled climbing back up the bank walking over to where Ready was pacing.

“Easy girl,” I spoke softly, scratching her behind her ears. Retrieving the canteen, I gave each of us a drink of water from it. Looking at the sun, I called mom to let her know I would be running late.

After tightening the cinch, I swung up on to the saddle and pointed Ready toward home while I contemplated what had happened that morning, and what it meant.

“Mom,” I called out in the apparently empty clinic, “I’m bac-k-k.” I heard a noise … a door closing in the back and the steady click-click on the tile and in seconds mom appeared in the hallway.

“How was your trip dear,” she asked.

I hesitated before answering, “Today was nice,” I smiled, “it felt good to do just what I wanted to. Thank you,” I added hugging my mom.

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself today,” she replied stepping back and asked, “but what happened.”

“Huh,” I replied bewildered.

“Atalanta you have dirt on your knees and elbows; what have you been into?”

Countering I replied, “Mom, I’m a tomboy you said so yourself. But I guess I better go and clean up.”

"Wear something nice,dear," she replied sweetly.

“I know mom,” I replied exasperated as I left for our house knowing mom’s “something nice” was code for skirts and dresses.

Saturday morning came too quickly but the day was bright and sunny. After breakfast mom put her foot down; I wasn’t allowed to run or see Ready. No, I had to be mindful of the needs and time involved when a girl has a date. I’m sure mom emphasized that to make a suitable impression.

Needless to say, I was grumpy and breakfast was not as tasty as normal. I chalked it up to nerves. I grumbled when mom told me to take a long hot bath but once I slid into the hot scented and soapy waters, I didn’t want to leave. The heat seemed to soak into my body releasing tension I didn’t know existed.

“Atalanta you’ve been in the bath long enough. You don’t want to look like a prune.”

“In a minute,” I called back.

“Atalanta!”

“I’m coming,” I called reaching for a towel and rising from the water. I slowly dried myself taking a perverse pleasure in the deliberate action.

We spent the next two hours getting me ready; partly due because it took a while to convince mom I would freeze wearing the thin dress she had selected. She teased that is what boys were for until she saw I was serious and relented. I wanted wool or heavy flannel to bundle up in. We comprised with knee-high socks and a mid-thigh length skirt and blouse. I didn’t like the way my breasts stood out when I tucked my blouse into the skirt. And the wide belt around my waist emphasized the flaring of my hips and breasts.

She braided my hair into a modified Dutch look with the braid hanging down my right shoulder. Make-up followed by several discreet spritz of perfume on various places on my body and I was pronounced ready.

Lindsey’s mom was going to drive us into town and mom was picking us up in town afterwards. They were going to pick Jack and me up here. Jack was supposed to arrive early for inspection as it were.

Mom, camera in hand snapped pictures of me as I came into the living room. Sitting demurely on the sofa I whined, “Mom isn’t this a bit much?”

“Maybe,” she conceded, “but a girl wants to make a good first impression.”

“Okay,” I frowned. A knock at the door signaled Jack’s arrival interrupting what reply mom had formed.

“I’ll get the door and you stay right there.” Mom came in sight followed by Jack. He was dressed in slacks, a solid shirt, and shoes. He looked good but a pang of envy shot through me; it had probably taken less than 30 minutes for him to get ready for our date.

So not fair I groused to myself as he came over and sat down beside me.

“You’re beautiful,” he gushed and despite myself, my cheeks reddened.

“Thank you and you look handsome.” Mom had to take more pictures and some with us hand holding. At that moment, we heard Hannah’s car drive up.

“You kids have a good time,” she said as we rose from the sofa to leave with my hand clasped in his.

“And don’t forget …”

“I won’t,” I replied patting my purse where my cell phone was stashed as we walked across the threshold.

With an inward sigh of relief, I saw that George had claimed a backseat and I’d be setting up front and reclaiming my hand.

I’m not going into detail about that afternoon except to say it was enjoyable. The boys sprung for some food at a local diner of burger and fries and then off to the movies where we watched a thriller type movie. I have to admit to certain times in the movie where Jack’s bodily presence was welcomed.

I did kiss him, or he kissed me, or we kissed each other. It might have been all three but I’m not telling.

It would have been better had I not been on edge or get comfortable with heat setting in the theatre. After the movie, we went to a dairy place for ice cream and waited on my mom to arrive.

Monday I arose earlier to draw another bath and linger before I met with Manny for my self-defense training sessions. I hadn’t slept well waking often to find a more comfortable spot to lie on. The irony was that I slept like a baby when I was having those dreams but since they had stopped it seemed so had restful sleep.

I grunted in reply to Manny’s question about the weekend only half-listening. The other half was on my aches and pains.

“What,” I asked.

“Atalanta what happened? I go away for two days and you fall to pieces.”

That got my undivided attention. What had happened? Saturday and Sunday I chalked up to nerves but not last night or today. Time to man or was it woman up.

“Sorry Manny, I didn’t get much sleep last night. Can we start again?”

He nodded and he went over again explaining the use and theory behind katas. Despite myself, I found it interesting, and dutifully followed his instructions with the rest of our time being fruitful.

The rest of the day was a repeat of Sunday; I had to consciously remind myself to focus on the task at hand. Fits of daydreaming were followed by bouts of forced concentration. I felt off and out of sorts that mom commented about and at my lack of appetite at supper.

“Atalanta, are you coming down with something?”

“I don’t know,” I replied picking at my food.

Mom got up and retrieved a thermometer placing it in my mouth.

“You do have a slight fever,” she declared frowning, “I prescribe rest and aspirin,” she added handing me the pill.

“You’re the doctor,” I quipped rising from the table walking to my bedroom to undress for bed.

In the wee hours of Tuesday a scream split open the seams of night stillness and reverberated against the cottage walls.
The scream shattered Liz’s dream state and she sprung out of her bed and down the hall before she was fully conscious. She rushed into Atalanta’s room to find her daughter sitting up in bed sobbing. Looking wildly around the room, Liz spotted the dark stains on the sheets and gently released a pent-up breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

Immediately she sat beside Atalanta on the bed pulling her into her arms offering soothing alms. “Su-sh baby it will be all right, I’m here.”

While she was comforting Atalanta, she was mentally kicking herself for not recognizing the signs earlier.

I had with support, coped well with a spontaneous sex change. In fact, other than sitting down to pee and more emphasis on appearance the male and female divide didn’t seem that wide. I hadn’t gone through puberty as a male so I had lost very little. My voice hadn’t broke and the effects of testosterone had not changed my facial and bone structures.

Instead, estrogen became the template of change that widened that divide into a chasm that I couldn’t ignore. The leaking fluids hammered home the differences in sexes and forced me to abandon any thought of the change being reversible. There was no escape!

“I’m sorry mom,” I sniffled, “I knew this was coming but …”

“It is all right sweetie. The first time is hardest.”

Mom took me into the bathroom and showed me how to take care of my needs. As I did, I was secretly glad that I had done some exploring with the little massager. Mom changed the sheets while I changed into clean clothes that included the nightgown mom harped about that I wear.

“That looks good on you,” mom noted pointing to the gown. And added yet another nail, I thought.

“I guess, but I still want my shirt,” I replied pouting.

“How about I make us some hot chocolate?”

I had not even gave the thought of anything to drink but chocolate was all I could think of now.

“Yes, yes,” I answered salivating at the thought.

“You wait right here while I make it,” mom commanded.

“Okay,” I meekly acquiesced.

She returned in a few minutes carrying two cups handing me one while she sipped from hers. We sat side by side on the bed in companionable silence, forging a shared bond between mother and daughter eons old.

I hugged her neck after we finished whispering, “I love you mom.”

“I love you too … daughter.”

We both wore goofy smiles.

“I’m giving you the next two days off. Don’t worry I’ll let Manny know that you’ve got a minor bug and that I’m keeping you at home.”

“Thanks, mom,” I replied burrowing under the covering and dropping off to sleep.

“Feeling better kiddo,” Manny asked me Thursday morning.

“I do,” I answered anxious to get started. I still felt compromised but felt I needed to resume normal activities.

"Glad to hear it. I thought you were coming down with something Monday.”

We began with same introduction as on Monday with him explaining the theory behind katas, to that, he added CQC (close quarter combat) skills using wooden props to defend or attack while learning where on the human body the 358 pressure points were located. I learned which pressure point was painful, which pressure point was lethal, and how much force to use for each one. He often demonstrated their effectiveness on me.

Mom wasn’t thrilled when I came home sweaty and dirty with the occasional torn clothing or skinned knee or bruised arm. I kept her placated by keeping my female training squared away.

If that didn’t seem to work, I pointed that Manny was keeping me too busy to mourn for Jack or go “boy crazy.” Mom didn’t buy that line as she knew I had told Jack I was too young to date and he was too old for me. But she tactfully skirted that issue.

Mom chose to home school me as did many of the parents. She reasoned and I agreed that it would help me to become acclimated to my new role in society. I was always a quick learner, even more so now, and already in advanced classes at my old school. I tested out of many subjects, so for much of my school day, I spent on second year curriculum subjects.

I judiciously applied myself to my schoolwork and to Mom’s and Manny’s training.

Despite appearances the two types of training meshed seamlessly. Mom’s subtle makeup tricks, different hairstyles and clothing options opened my eyes to using camouflage. Manny training in fine-tuning my senses paid dividends on balance and deportment. Mom’s warnings about doped drinks echoed Manny’s on subterfuge.

I dedicated myself to pleasing the two most important people in my life and inwardly giggled when both told me I was a “natural.”

At the fifth week, Manny began teaching me to use weapons: improvised, primitive, and modern weaponry. We begin first with diagrams and the parts of each and the theory on its design, which fit nicely with some of my science projects. I learned to use swords, knives, and spears as well as semi auto rifles, pistols, and bolt and lever-action rifles and that I had to learn to field strip and make minor repairs to them.

Manny built a gun range well out in the country where we wouldn’t be seen or disturbed. He rightfully concluded we needed privacy.

Within several months, I was proficient and comfortable with using all of them and we spent many a weekend shooting.

Manny surprised me with his graduation present of a necklace and pendant that was really nice and pretty. Mom though wouldn’t have been happy had she known that it contained a 2” fixed blade. Probably less so had she known my hairpins could double as deadly stilettos or my piano wire bracelets.

“Manny,” I teased, pointing at his regulation haircut, “I know you can’t use these things, how do you know about them?”

He grinned replying, “Situational awareness kiddo in case I meet a lady as crazy as I am. And I just did.”

The high-pitched growl of the ATV shattered the cold brittle dawn air as sound traveled easily in the frigid high desert air; the driver bundled and hunched against the freezing temperature. Alongside was a lone figure that effortlessly kept pace despite the rough and rocky terrain.

Manny was still impressed that a 13-year-old girl who had no history of outdoor activity or any training at defense could so easily assimilate its subtleties and nuances so quickly. Atalanta in three months had become proficient in and well on her way to mastering any of the weapons he introduced her to: assassin and improvised tools, melee and blunt weapons, blades, bows, and modern guns. More disconcerting though was her rapid immersion in the mindset and he worried.

She was a natural and in his experience, a natural was a natural for a reason. His sense was that once awakened, a natural by accident or design was thrust into situations to use those skills. He never expected to train one so young on a path whose members were limited in number and longevity. Worse was that she was a girl! He felt responsible and guilt.

He wished he could back out but doing so would be leaving her vulnerable, half-trained. No, he had to see it through, just as she did now; they were on the same path and linked in that.

They were a couple of miles from the ranch and already he could feel the cold creeping in despite the parka and fur-lined hood and boots. She, on the other hand was dressed in a windbreaker, light gloves and boots. A ski mask was her only concession to the wintry conditions. She seemed comfortable as her pink glowing skin testified.

He stopped at the ridgeline and looked into the channel, hewn from the mountain range. The small valley roughly 100 by 700 yards, brush choked and boulder strewn lay 200 yards below them and pointing north to south. He had hauled and erected plywood props to simulate urban scenarios. Humanoid targets were placed at 100-yard intervals and at 20-yard intervals inside the 100-yard mark.

Manny enjoyed the hours each week they spent honing skills in the solitude of the wilderness; tempered by the knowledge of the road he had unknowingly set her on.

“Race you to the bottom; the last one down collects the brass,” he heard her call and laughter on the wind. Instead, he watched her form floating from ledge to ledge in a mad rush to the bottom. He visibly winced.

I knew Manny thought I was reckless rushing headlong but I couldn’t help push his button and tease.

“Hey old man what took you so long,” I asked looking up from the bench after he cut the engine off.

“You going to break your fool neck one of these days,” he replied growling and handing me my gear strapped to the quad.

“What’s the plan for today,” I asked storing our kits.

“Hostage and rescue and then we’ll finish with the bow.

“Cool,” I answered finding my pistol and buckling it in place. Manny had made and installed spring assisted targets, some were separate, and other had several images on a single structure. The goal was disabling the bad guys while not hitting any friendlies.

After 90 minutes and several hostage rescue scenarios, we stopped for review and debriefing.

“Admit it Manny, that was perfect,” I griped after the third time he had me recount the same scenario.

“It was good,” he admitted, “but not perfect.”

“Humph, you just don’t want to admit a girl can kick your marine buddies’ asses.”

A quick frown crossed his face before he replied grinning, “Get your bow.”

I felt a moment of vertigo leaning over stringing the bow and the shooting stand was replaced by a rocky hillside seen from a height of several feet. I again felt the sensation of slow motion as I took in every detail and began moving towards an outcropping of rocks that was drawing me to it.

I heard the bleating before I saw the day old lamb shivering on wobbly legs, crying for its mother. Poor Baby! Another smell demanded my attention. On my left and directly facing his prey was a large mountain cat, poised ready to launch. In one motion, I notched and let fly a razor-sharp arrow that struck the cat in his shoulder just inches into his jump.
I notched a second arrow; a heavy broad head this time, that struck the cat in the front shoulders with force enough to move his course a few inches. It helped, too that the ledge that cat was on was slightly lower than the one the lamb was perched on. The big cat screamed as the arrow hit causing the lamb to flinch.

A third hunting arrow followed the first two striking in quick succession, the third hitting him a few inches just before his landing belly down scattering rock and debris, stopping scant inches from his intended victim.

“Damn, Atalanta I didn’t know you could shoot like that,” Manny shouted as he ran up to me.

“Like what?”

“Hitting a big cat three times in the air is what. Have you been practicing when I wasn’t looking?”

I shook my head, “Surprised me too,” I replied as we walked over to the where the cat and lamb was. The latter was still frozen in place and shivering, bawling on the morning air.

Manny raised his gun, “Poor thing I might as well put him out of his misery. He’ll freeze to death without his mother in minutes.”

“No!” I shouted marching over to where the lion and the lamb were and dropping to my knees; I pulled my boot knife making a quick incision under the neck. Five minutes later the lamb was wrapped tightly in the mountain cat’s warm hide.

We walked back to the ATV where I climbed into the passenger seat and waited while Manny gathered and secured our equipment. He produced a thermal insulator and wrapped it around the both of us.

“Where to?”

“Isn’t there a sheep camp a few miles in that direction?” I asked pointing south of our site. “They will be better able to care for this little baby lamb.”

Nodding he started the engine and released the clutch.

Several miles and 30 minutes later, we found the camp in a blind coulee that opened to the south with the campsite itself butted against the cliff. Though there wasn’t much vegetation in winter, what little survived did so in the protected lees and sheltered draws. There wasn’t much in the way of grass but there was enough. The camp showed signs of having been in place for a time.

The quad’s roar startled the sheep and the human inhabitants who quickly gathered.

One weather-beaten man in his 50’s or 60’s stepped forward smiling, his white teeth in sharp contrast with his sun darkened skin.

“Welcome to our camp, get down and stretch your legs. How can we help you? We have coffee or something to eat?”

“No thanks we’re fine, but …” the lamb interrupted Manny’s explanation with loud bleating, prompting the old man to cross to my side and lift the blanket.

“Ah, I see,” and then his eyes widened at the sight of the lion hide, “You got the lion too I see.”

“Had to,” I replied, “It was the lion or the baby sheep.”

He called for a shepherd to come and take the lamb.

“See if that new mother will claim this one?”

“Come with me,” he motioned for me and Manny to follow him to his tent, explain that they had a sheep that lost her baby just yesterday that would claim our lamb as her own.

Once inside he crossed over to a large trunk, pulled from it a strong box, and pulled some cash from it, carefully counting it and offering it to Manny.

“What is this?”

“Bounty,” the old man responded, “$300 for lions, $100 each for coyotes and foxes.”

“Give it to Atalanta, she killed and skinned it.” He stuffed the bills into my hands despite my protests.

“Take it child, you’ve earned it. It is worth every penny as these predators make it hard to increase our herd and profits. You skinned it too?”

“Surprised me too,” Manny admitted, “I was starting to teach her about using the bow and she just took off running.

The next thing I know she killed it.”

“You killed this lion with … a bow!”

I nodded sheepishly.

“Not only that,” Manny continued grinning widely, “she hit it three times while the lion was in the air.”

I gave him the look, the one that says shut up that seemed to jog his memory.

“Now that I think back on it how did you knew there was a lion or where it was at,” Manny asked turning to me and returning the look.

“I didn’t know; at least not at first and then I smelled him.”

The old sheepherder turned his eyes to me and quietly looked at me and then looked off in the distance and spoke in soft monotones as if reading a script.

“Around our campfires at night, when we hear the coyotes song or the cry of the panther we tell tales of she who rides the wind. Like a ghost appearing and disappearing at will, she protects the flock from all predators. In the old tales handed down from father to son from the old country, she uses lance, spear, or bow; though I suppose you can use modern weapons as well. Tell me child how long have you been practicing with the bow?”

Looking over at Manny, I swallowed hard, “I just started.”

“I was just teaching her the basics,” he confirmed.

“Ah, okay here,” he said handling me a 2 way radio, “take this radio.”

“Why?”

“I’ll use the radio to keep in touch … if we run into another lion and … if you just happen to be in that area.”

He had left a lot unsaid but I took the radio anyway. We said our goodbyes and we left for the ranch on the quad with me in the passenger seat. I had a lot to think on. The ride was in silence until Manny stopped on the crest that led down to the ranch buildings.

“Atalanta I need to warn you about what happened this morning. You are a 13-year-old girl, and people can and will take advantage of you if you are not diligent. That includes me. No, just listen,” he raised his hands when I started to interrupt, “Let me finish.”

“I hadn’t brought it up before because until this morning my training you was in the abstract, what-if scenarios that you are unlikely to need because of where you live as an example. I’ve told you that you are A Natural and you are. You pick up this remarkably quick for someone who has not been exposed to it before. But you have a skill that one in a hundred doesn’t have: The ability to transfer those skills to life situations as you demonstrated with the lion this morning.”

“Now here is the sticky part; people like that old shepherd will ask you to do things because you can. And you are likely to accept because you can. You are also more likely to intervene on behalf of the weak, the defenseless, and the young. You are not likely to be in a combat zone so you’ll need to learn to use the right tactics.”

I sat in stunned silence digesting his words. Finally I asked, “Are you telling me I can kill people … that I’m a killer or potential killer.”

“Yes and no. Atalanta what you have to understand is people with our kind of skills are very rare and in demand. And the universe seems to conspire to bring to us events that need us. Like the old shepherd, private security firms, government agencies, bounty hunters, mercenaries and freelance. I didn’t know any of this when I started but you have the advantage of my experience to lean on. The trick is not to lose who you are in some cause.”

“So what do you suggest I do; quit the training?”

“No, you need more training, not less. But I highly recommend you not respond directly to any messages from that old shepherd. I do suggest you carry a weapon though if you do run across another lion. I don’t believe you need the responsibility of a bounty hunter now. And believe me he will play on your sympathies if you do. Remember that it is you that is in charge.”

“Okay,” I responded digging out the radio and handing it to him, “why don’t you hold this for me, at least for a while.”

“Good idea,” Manny replied stowing the radio in his gear. “Let’s go home.”

The winter passed quickly without incident. Manny and I focused on both armed and unarmed combat as well as tactics and tracking. I spent much of my time outdoors: tracking and stalking predators, taking two more lion in the meantime. Manny redeemed them for me with the old man.

Mom, Judy, and Lindsey helped me develop my feminine skills and style and my girl lessons continued each Thursday night. I think the biggest takeaway was the bonding that took place among us: mom and me, and mom and Judy, and among the three of us. Lindsey and I continued to grow closer as BFF.

This was the hardest chapter to write but I hope you enjoy it. If you have any questions or comments I'll be glad to answer what I can.

Thanks

Atalanta's Story - Chapter 7 My thanks goes to William Durr for his all around help. I'm a grammar klutz. This is one of the shortest chapters and sets up the next chapter. Chapter 8 is a long chapter with lots of action but I'm not sure how long it will take me as my BIL passed yesterday morning so plans are on hold for a few days.

This Chapter includes Christmas giving and spring rites.

Chapter Seven
December opened with a snowstorm and for much of the month we were snowbound. Being homeschooled I kept up my schoolwork and studies with lessons from mom and other staff members.

Christmas was nice and cozy and I spent much of it baking and cooking, filling our little cottage with warm smells. Bells tinkled and candle light glowed softly throughout the house.

Manny who remained behind as part of the winter skeleton crew helped me cut down the tree and carry it in, and then I decorated it with garland, tinsel, and lights.

On Christmas, we exchanged presents. My immediate circle included mom, Judy, Lindsey, and her mother. Lindsey and I swapped presents. Hannah’s gift was her fruitcakes; made in the dark of night and behind locked doors. At least that was Lindsey’s story.

Much like Hanna’s fruitcakes, I wrapped a fantastic selection of southwestern style jewelry that I found in town. For mom in addition to the jewelry, I spent extra time and money on a gown, robe, and slippers.

Manny was naturally part of our inner circle too. He interacted regularly with both Judy and mom on the clinic and with mom and me. I bought him a hand tooled leather belt with a secret compartment in the buckle. And he gave me a pair of ornate bracers to protect my arms from the bowstring. Like everything else we did, those bracers served a secondary purpose.

In addition, mom got me a lot of clothes, shoes, make up, skin care potions and lotions. Mom, I believed wanted to experience buying for a daughter and just let her inner shopper loose. In spite of seemingly adjusting to female fashions, I was more comfortable in clothes that breathed and offered protection. Sometimes they fit current fashion trends but often they didn’t and left mom scratching her head in frustration. Since I was in the process of both developing my fashion style and what that term meant I was of little help in helping mom, help me.

I could just kill Lindsey; as a gag gift she got me a set of “barely-there-underwear” that she said I could use with my electronic friend. Payback is a bitch.

Manny remained on-site as part of the skeleton crew to provide security for the equipment left until needed in the spring. He spent the down time sourcing the supplies needed to finish out the construction.

As part of the upgrades primarily for the clinic and as added benefits for clients and staff Judy hired Manny to install a small computer network connect via satellite link. That ability to connect in real-time to area doctors, clinics, and hospitals to exchange diagnoses was paramount to receive matching funds for the clinic to be designated as a regional center.

Due to his Special Force experiences and schooling, he was able to set up a fast, secure, and redundant network that was connected via landline and satellite. For Judy internet service wasn’t a direct moneymaker but it was offset by enhanced amenities and the yearly stipend for the clinic.

Mom got me the latest laptop so that I could surf in style while keeping my schoolwork updated. Judy bought mom a new laptop for the clinic that was secure to meet HIPPA rules.

As the winter months marched on, Manny’s job as network administrator, clinic supervisor, and the head of his self-defense school of one, namely me; we saw more and more of him. Actually, mom was seeing more and more of him as I was already seeing him every day.

“Mom, this clinic thing must be really … really complicated.”

It was early April and the dry desert air heated quickly into the 80’s from lows that often dropped into the 20’s at night. We were walking over to the clinic building that Manny wanted mom’s input on. Soon there would be a full crew on site.

“Oh,” she replied, “Why do you say that, dear?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I hinted slyly, “ it just seems that a lot of corrections seem to pop up that takes both of you putting your heads together to solve. I’m beginning to think of you two as Frick and Frack,” I teased.

“Young lady,” she replied stopping and facing me, her hands on her hips, “What are you saying?”

“I’m not saying anything, Mom,” I replied calmer than I felt. The Young Lady tone felt exactly like the Young Man speech I had received numerous times in the past. “It is just Manny is a nice guy and …”

“And what,” she demanded sternly.

I gulped. It was time to bring out the heavy artillery. “Well you know I just got to thinking …”

“Thinking what? Yes, go on.”

Remembering the electronic device she had given me, I mumbled, “I was thinking that you have needs and that Manny is a nice guy.”

“So you thought I needed a man,” she finished for me gently wrapping her arms around me. “No baby, don’t cry,” she added sensing my response. “Hush it is all right.”

“I just wanted you to know that I’m fine if you know …”

“Go on a date with Manny,” she finished for me.

I nodded, my cheeks flaming.

“I never thought I’d be getting dating advice from my … daughter.”

“Mom,” I replied grinning feeling I was on safer ground, “I never thought I’d be giving dating advice as your daughter either.”

“Honey has it been that hard?”

“It sure has been different though; I never thought last year this time I would have celebrated my fourteenth birthday at the hairdressers and shopping.”

“Yes, but almost every Mother wants a daughter to do things with.”

My birthday was next week and mom had booked us for a full day spa treatment including a hairdresser appointment and clothes shopping. Dinner afterwards.

I sighed thinking of how simpler it was being Alan, “I do miss being Alan.”

Hooking her arm in mine we continued walking, “What do you miss most and what do you like most?” she queried.

“Umm, not bleeding; sharing and caring,” I quipped squeezing Mom’s arm, “Like having this little talk,” I replied giggling.

“And a philosopher too,” she replied all smiles.

Yeah, that!

We didn’t know it at the time but my life was about to take a dramatic turn two weeks later. Mom did dip her toes in the proverbial dating waters sort of. She asked Manny if he would like to go into the Big City with her to help with supplies and fixtures for the clinic.

He accepted.

I hope you enjoy this little short chapter. The next chapter is long and complicated and told from four viewpoints. With my situation I'm not sure when it will be ready it shouldn't be longer than a week. I'm working on the next book (at Whateley)( its 70 odd pages now) and with Bill's help polishing up this one. Jumping back and forth.

I'm glad that most of you seem to be enjoying this tale and if you have questions or comments I'll answer any I can.

Thanks

Katelyn

Atalanta's Story - Chapter 8. My thanks again for William Durr for all his help. This Chapter is long, probably a little too long, but there was no help for that. This chapter has some adventure in it. This chapter includes a pic of Atalanta as I see her.

Spring brings with it new life, change, and confusion. An opportunity for predators to feed on the young.

Atalanta's Story-Chapter 8

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What happened next may have resulted from not properly vetting new hires in the spring confusion of new hires; both construction hires and hires for seasonal staff.

That Friday dawned to beautiful clear skies that promised a warm spring day with a cheering breeze. Judy was on hand to see her Doctor and construction foreman off.

I was there to see my mom and my mentor off. They were staying overnight, in separate rooms, after securing supplies going to dinner and a movie.

“Have fun,” I said wrapping my arms around her neck and whispering, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Young Lady you be good while we’re gone and mind Judy.”

“Yes, Mom … you too,” I replied giggling.

I walked to the passenger side, “Take care of my mom,” I said leaning into his window as they were leaving.

I stared long and hard at the dust trail they left behind, “It’s hard sending them off into the world isn’t it,” Judy quipped, jabbing me in a rib with her finger.

“I guess,” I replied absentminded wondering what if anything I had set in motion.

“I’m responsible for you until your mother gets back from the Big City. You stay close today; no, don’t give me the ‘who me’ innocent look. I know you spend a big part of the day out in the hills. You understand me?”

“Yes mom.”

“And I want you to check in with me before dark.”

“Yes mom.”

“Atalanta it will be all right, Manny is a good guy.”

“I know.”

I wandered off, at loose ends with both mom and Manny gone. It was almost a year since my change and during all that time I had my days planned. At first, it was a crash course in all things feminine and immersed in girl culture for several months after the changeling event.

After the backyard barbecue incident on the dance floor, I had traded exclusive feminine soaking for the more virile approach to self-defense training from Manny. The result was that between both for the last ten months I had no time for self-reflection.

Liz, her stomach in knots, stared out the windshield at the road ahead. Her knuckles were white from gripping the wheel. She was second-guessing her decision to leave Atalanta at home. Okay what she was nervous about was asking Manny to go with her. His presence loomed large in her mind.

It had seemed like a lark when Atalanta had first suggested asking Manny to go with her to the Big City using a flimsy reason for an excuse. Reality had struck her hard that morning when he had shown up. Until this morning she had never seen Manny as anything more than Atalanta’s teacher. Certainly a man but her senses were screaming male and she felt trapped, trapped by the SUV’s interior but more from her own mental construct.

She felt his gaze on her.

“Nice weather.”

“Yes, it is.”

She pulled on to the two-lane blacktop leading to town and directly into the rising sun.

“Here,” he said handing her a pair of sunglasses, “this will help with the glare.”

Liz took it silently.

“Thanks.”

He leaned back against the door facing her, an amused smile lighting his eyes with impish delight.
“Relax and just think of me as your flunky if that helps you. We both have been locked down since last fall and I can use a change of scenery as I’m sure you can too.”

“You are right. This is the first time I’ve left Atalanta alone since we moved out here.”

“That girl can take care of herself. Look I know you are worried about her but half the boys guys in my old unit would have a hard time keeping up with her and they’re some of the best in the world. She’ll be fine,” he assured her.

“Maybe so,” She replied rueful her lips thinned in a tight smile, “but she and I both have had a hard year and half, with her losing her daddy and then moving out here. Making that change was my idea and I have to live with the results.”

“The results, Atalanta told me she wasn’t much of an athlete in Philly but I find that hard to believe. She’s the most natural gifted athlete that I’ve had the pleasure of training.”

“No, not those results other results.”

Liz got him talking about himself and changing the subject. He had grown up in the projects in LA and was heading for the courts and prison when one day he happened on a dojo run by a protégé of Bruce Lee. For a 14-year-old boy, martial arts were the means to stay out of gangs and trouble and a way out of the ghetto. At 18, he had joined the military and had spent the next 16 years in the Navy only separating from the service less than a year ago.

“I’ve spent 20 years training and wanted to try something else before I get too old,” he answered to her query of why he had left the military.

Shrugging he continued, “Then I met and started training your daughter.”

“You never got married?”

“Nope, no time and never in one place long enough.”

“No girls in uniform from one of the bases,” she smiled.

“Not really, our unit was secret stuff and I didn’t want to put a girl through that.”

Liz relaxed as they drove and soon they were on the outskirts of the Big City and her first stop.

This spring saw an influx of new hires, for the summer staff at the ranch and for the construction crew. It wasn’t surprising that I met new people as I wandered about.

The twins stood out animated and talkative, playing dress up as a doctor and nurse looking for patients. They were about seven years old, blonde and their cherubic faces masked if they were identical twins and their names, Julian and Julie didn’t help.

“Hi,” I greeted them, “my name is Atalanta, and my mom is the doctor here. Are you her helpers?”

Julie responded with her finger tapping her lips, “I’ll have to interview her first.”

“I’d introduce you,” I assured her promised, “but she’s not here right now.”

“O-kay, do you have a fever, a fever is bad. Can I check your temp-a-ture?”

I knelt and Julie pressed her hand to my forehead, “You don’t have a fe-ver, fe-ver is bad, mommy had a fe-ver before she went away to heaven.”

I gathered each child in an arm and whispered, “I’m so sorry babies. Where’s your daddy?”

Julian pointed to where a group of men was sorting machinery and supplies, “There.”

The men were too tightly bunched for me to pick an individual out but based on the children’s ages I ruled out several. Taking a hand of each child, I marched us over to the group.

The men continued to talk ignoring us.

“Excuse me.”

“These little dickens haven’t gotten into something have they,” said a man in his late 20’s striding over. He was gigantic and dark. Four or five inches over six feet and as wide as a door. Black hair almost blue and sun-darkened skin suggested the children got their fair looks from their mother. However, he had a huge smile as greeted us.

“You’re the children’s father?”

“Yes, and you are …?”

“Atalanta Reed, my mother’s the doctor here. And you are ...?”

“Julian Redmont and I see you’ve met my children. They didn’t get into something did they?”

“No, nothing like that, but it is not safe to leave children unsupervised. With the new construction going on, the hires for the new season, and strangers coming and going,” I explained.

“I’m just getting myself sorted out. I meant to ask Mr. Black about that but it plumb slipped my mind. My wife usually looks after them …” his voice trailed off.

“I’m sorry for your loss; she must have been very beautiful. Fever,” I asked.

He nodded.

I added, “Manny’s not here today. We have a voluntary daycare here, it’s over there,” I replied pointing to an area off the main house that doubled as our schoolhouse.
“If you don’t mind I can take and introduce the children to Mrs. Fairburn and let her know you’ll pick them up … by five.”

He nodded, “Thank you.”

After dropping the children off, I again wandered at loose ends finding myself at the barn. Shadows were just beginning to form inside the hallways as I stopped at the stall where Ready my favorite mount was housed. I scratched her ears while rubbing her muzzle absentmindedly staring into the ether.

At first, I didn’t see the two shadows but something warned me to slide into the stall beside Ready. I felt Ready’s shoulder muscles tense as two men drew closer and I gently soothed her while they glided noiselessly by the stall.

Outside it was still light but in here, it was just enough murkiness to cloud their features, although I knew they were men and wore dark clothing. Something felt off. It might have been the whispers or their furtive movements or something else.

I watched from the shadows as they went into the tack room where extra supplies were kept. Supplies that included those needed for extended camping as well as the saddles and gear. Minutes later, they walked back leading a gentle mustang saddled, with one of the men carrying a backpack and duffel bag.

Ready snorted which I felt like doing.

When I was certain they had cleared the barn, I began to follow the men after going into the tack room for supplies, getting my weapons stash, and then saddling Ready.

I had no clear idea of what I was doing nor why. I just knew I needed to act as an irresistible force was pulling me in its tow. Leading Ready outside I looked to the stars as if for inspiration and cursed myself for this foolish adventure.
Judy would be furious and I refused to think what mom would say. Still I swung on to the back of Ready with my face and lips taught. I idly watched what seemed to be a flurry of activity at the ranch house as a number of people scurried to and fro with lights bobbing and flashing at the shadows.

An innate force pointed me south.

It had been a pleasant day, even enjoyable once the ice had been broken. Liz had gotten all the supplies she had come for with a few extra stops in between for Manny’s wants. His stops were in small unmarked shops where he and the proprietor engaged in small whispered talk. She didn’t see what he purchased.

Later they were seated in a nice upscale restaurant near their motel with the waitress having just taken their order.

“I have enjoyed myself, today. Thank you.”

“Me too, just what the doctor ordered,.” Manny smiled.

The waitress returned pouring her a glass of wine and him a mug of beer. She felt content as she remembered other times of dinner with wine and beer. What was it with men and beer?

“MummMmmm,” she sighed around the wineglass, “I hadn’t realized how much I missed dinner out.”

He said nothing over his beer, his lips lightly coated with the foam.

She smiled at the image.

“So, what are your plans after you’re done at the ranch.”

He shrugged his shoulder slightly, “I’m not sure as I have a few years to decide if I want back in the service. I may take a few more gigs from Mr. Franklin (Manny worked for Franklin construction). I could open my own training school or a security service. To be honest I’m at loose ends with really no set direction at the moment.”

Seeing her frown, he added, “The Navy did all my thinking and it takes some time to get used to doing my own.”

Their food arrived at that moment leaving her comment unsaid. The food was delicious and they silently pitched into it.
Afterwards when the table was cleared and as each was partaking of their favorite liquids Manny asked, “Liz what do you see yourself doing? I mean are you retiring here … not that you are anywhere old enough to … or is this just a way station?”

“Judy’s an old friend; we met in college. I then went into the service to get my other four years paid for and met my future husband there. After I had Atalanta, I got out but Frank was career Army. We moved around a lot so I guess a lot depends on Atalanta and how well she copes out here.”

“I’m confused, that’s several times you’ve referred to a mysterious illness that she has and somehow you give the impression that you’re the cause. From what I’ve seen she’s as healthy as a horse, strong as an ox, and pretty as a picture.”

Liz hid her confusion coughing into her napkin.

“What in the world gave you that impression?”

Manny noticed she answered with a question. Both she and Atalanta were hiding something.

It could wait for another time. He changed the subject.

“You want to see a movie?”

“Why don’t you see what’s playing,” Liz suggested, “while I go freshen up.”

He rose as she did and followed her to retrieve a paper.

Later as they were standing in line outside a theatre a sudden knot in Liz’s stomach caused her to wince. Her pulse and heart quickened.

She stepped out of line to where the din of conversation lessened, “Something is not right. I need to call Judy.”

Manny frowned at the lengthening shadows wordlessly following her to a secluded place.

Retrieving her phone, she dialed Judy’s number that was sent to voice mail. “Judy, this is Liz call me!”
She tried Atalanta’s cell with the same results.

“What’s wrong?” Manny asked.

“I got a bad feeling like I have been punched in the gut and no answer from Judy or Atalanta.”

“I’ll try my guys,” Manny offered.
Manny received a reply on his second try, “What’s wrong?” he asked hearing shouting in the background. After listening, he mouthed to Liz “children missing,” “have you seen the girl … yeah that one. No? Okay, anything else.”

“Let me talk to him.”

He handed her the phone, “You know my daughter … yeah … okay … be sure and call us when you do.”

She handed the phone back, “Like she said call me the minute you know anything, no matter what time. Got it!”

Liz retrieved her keys, “What do we do now?”

Snatching her keys, he led her to the SUV and opened the passenger door, “For now we wait at the motel.”

“Okay,” she responded as he shut the door and she watched him cross in front to the left side of the vehicle, unlock and open the door, buckle himself in behind the wheel, and start the engine.

Her office door opened to admit Lindsey and Judy looked up from her ledgers with raised eyebrows.

“We have a problem.”

Judy closed the register, “Oh?,” she responded expecting a problem in the kitchen.

“Two children are missing.”

That was unexpected.

“Whose children and how long have they been missing,” Judy responded as she rose from behind her desk walking to the door.
“… and has the sheriff been notified?”

“Not yet, the kids are Julian and Julie Redmont, seven-year old twins. Their father is a widower and was just hired last evening on the construction crew. He went to pick them up from the daycare and they weren’t there. That was about an hour ago.”

“I assume we have people out looking for them.”

“Yes it is kind of haphazard though.”

Judy sighed under her breath and made a note to herself to form a security presence that would spearhead for search and rescue. I should have looked into it sooner after Alan got separated from his mother last spring she realized.

“Lindsey, find a bull horn or whatever we have that’ll serve that purpose and have everyone gathered by the playground in ten minutes. We need an organized search or we will just be running overtop of each other,” she directed as they strode down the hall towards the play area.

The children’s father was not hard to pick out; he stood a head taller than those surrounding him. He leaned forward in to the group with a set jaw and his eyes wide flashing fear.

“Mr. Redmont, I’m Judy Fairmont and I’m the owner here. We’ll find your children.”

He stopped pacing.

“Do your children play games like hide and seek? Could they be hiding?”

“Sure, they play games but they know to come when I call.”

“Do you have a recent picture?”

He nodded and reached into his back pocket and handed over a picture to her. Two beautiful angelic faces stared back at her causing her heart to catch. Seeing an aide, Judy sent her to her office to make enough copies of the photograph for everyone to have.

“When was the last time you saw your children Mr. Redmont?”

“Right after lunch about 1 or 2 o’clock I guess. I was with some of the guys sorting out stuff when this young girl-Atalanta-I think her name was, I don’t remember her last name, but I do recall that her momma is the doc here …-”

“… That would be Atalanta Reed, go on.”

“… Anyway she said there is a daycare here and she offered to take them over there.”

Turning to face the growing crowd, Judy called out, “Has anyone seen Atalanta?”

No one had.

She had promised Liz that Atalanta would be fine while she went to the Big City and had a little fun.

“Either of you seen Atalanta since 2 p.m.,” Judy asked both her aide and Lindsey. Neither girl had.

Banging on a metal drum for attention, Judy called out, “We have an emergency, two missing seven-year olds. Copies of their pictures are being passed around. We may also have another one missing, has anyone seen Atalanta?”

It was determined that she was last seen going towards the stables and after investigation her horse Ready and a mustang were missing along with extra supplies from the storage room. While not certain several people recalled seeing at least one stranger loitering about.

Judy put in a call to the sheriff. It would be midnight before a formal search was initiated.

She then noticed the call from Liz.

Oh. Shit!

Manny had ordered coffee from room service and they were seated in her room waiting for someone to call. Liz was seated on the chair at the desk where the phone was located; he was seated across the room at a round table supporting a lamp.

Manny had seen and experienced intuition or gut feelings in the field; most mission survivors had. But this was a first for him where the danger was not immediate and the place remote; there must be some truth to mothers’ intuition he decided.

“Why hasn’t Judy called me back?” Liz whined into the empty air.

At that moment the opening beat of the Ride of the Valkyries filled the room but suddenly stopped when Manny answered his cell phone, “Yes, what is going on out there?” he asked his foreman.

After a brief exchange, he hung up and explained to Liz what he had learned from the call.

“So basically nobody knows anything,” she summarized with a feverish laugh.

“Not true,” he countered, “two children are missing, presumably kidnapped. We can assume it wasn’t for ransom. Their father is a transient worker and makes good money but not enough to justify federal intervention. We know the sheriff has been notified and that the kidnappers have 5 or 6 hours head start. Atalanta may or may not be missing even if her horse is missing. We also know in the early hours there is a lot of confusion and misinformation …”

“… God,” Liz cried throwing up her hands, “that’s just what I said; we know nothing. I can’t stay here,; I’m going home. Tonight. Now! Are you coming?”

“… We also know why Judy hasn’t called you back.”

Packing her suitcase Liz paused, “I don’t care.”

“Look,” he replied calmly as he walked over to where she was folding her clothes and gently encouraging her to sit on the bed. “I’ve been through these types of scenarios before and first things first. You are right about not having enough information though and I have resources for that. Now while I’m making some calls I want you to call the front desk to see if they have any state road and topographical maps or see if they will send out for such a map. Can you do that?”

Liz nodded thankful for something to do and direction.

Manny made his calls while he carried her luggage to his room and packed his things. Together they rode the elevator to the lobby, checked out, and secured the maps.

Liz’s phone rang as she was fastening her seatbelt and Manny was turning the ignition on the vehicle.

“Judy, what in hell is going on?”

Manny with his eyes on the road asked when the call ended, “Anything new?”

“Some people think they saw one or two strangers but they are not sure with the recent hiring. They definitely had horses though; the people were sure about that. Since there are no new horses stabled and instead two mounts are missing, Atalanta’s horse Ready and a gentle little mustang, they are going on the assumption the children have been kidnapped. Atalanta may be out searching for the children on horseback or she may have been kidnapped too. She seems to have disappeared about the time the children did.”

Manny had his own ideas about Atalanta being kidnapped; he debated whether to tell her but decided in the end she needed to know.

“Liz-Liz, listen to me. Atalanta has not been kidnapped. You can be sure of that; I am.”

“How-how can you be so sure?”

“I trained her, I know what she is capable of and believe me if they had made the mistake of trying to take her, the perpetrators would be either in jail or the hospital.”

“She is not one of your-a- boys and she can’t do what she used to could; I mean a girl is not as strong as a boy. Those men could overpower her.”

Manny wondered at the strange reference but decided to file it with the other slips he had noticed.

“Liz, I don’t care if she used to be Genghis Khan. I’ve trained, and trained with hundreds of Seals in the last 16 years and Atalanta can whip most of them including Genghis Khan. She’ll be fine.”

Liz wasn’t so easily convinced, “But these men are thugs and used to violence.”

“And Atalanta isn’t?”

“Yes.”

“Trust me. She will respond as she has been trained. And she has been trained well,” he spoke with pride.

At that moment the Valkyrie Ride began playing, “What have you got?” He then received two more calls in quick succession. They were now at the midway point between the Big City and home. Manny pulled into the next rest stop.
There he quickly gathered the maps and beckoned Liz to follow him to the visitor center where he spread the maps on the table.

“Why don’t you get five bottles of water and candy bars while I mark out our route?”

Liz muttering under her breath complied and quickly returned her arms full. “What now oh master.”

He grinned at her sarcasm, “You need to use the bathroom?” She did she realized.

He stuffed the bounty into duffel bag that he always carried and when she returned said, “I called in some favors and we got a hit, here,” he pointed to a marked area on the map, “that maybe them and this is our route,” he continued pointing to a road he had highlighted.

She saw that the turnoff was not far ahead, “You think that the kidnappers are there and that Atalanta is somewhere close by.”

“I do.”

“Why don’t we call the sheriff and what if you are wrong?”

He knew he wasn’t, “Why don’t you call Judy and see if anything new has come up. If there is not anything new, tell her where we are and what we plan to do. We’ll cover more ground this way. While you’re doing that I’m going to the little boy’s room.”

“Okay.”

He returned with two coffees, handing her one as she ended her call, “Well?”

“You were right and Judy is overwhelmed. She has called the sheriff but it’ll be midnight before they can get organized on their end.”

He nodded, “That is what they count on; a couple of hours head start and then several more hours of confusion.”

“What did you do with the water and candy, and why did we need it?”

“The kids will probably be hungry,” he replied patting his his duffel bag.

“Oh.”

“How long until we get there,” she asked when they were back in the vehicle.

“About two hours,” he replied starting the engine and pulling out on to the interstate.

I silently cursed, forgetting both a light and my jacket. The dry high desert air lost heat quickly when the sun set. I leaned low on the animal’s back to cut the air around me and leech what heat I could from the horse.

It was too dark to track, even if I knew who or why I was tracking. I had just a feeling that those men were up to no good and quickly surmised that they headed in a southwest direction. I knew they had stolen a horse and supplies; I was determined to find out what else they were planning.

I didn’t like thieves.

I wasn’t far behind them and was careful to not become careless by hurrying as I assumed they would make camp sometime during the night. I should call Judy and let her know where I was. I’d catch hell if I didn’t.

That was when I discovered my third mistake; my cell phone didn’t have a signal, the battery was low and inadvertently the ringer was turned off. I swallowed hard at the missed calls from mom, Judy, Lindsey, and Manny.

Using the phone’s light I was puzzled that the first calls had been made a little before six p.m., well before I should have been missed. There had to be an extraordinary reason to call that early, then remembering the flurry of activity that I saw leaving the stables.

Not wishing to face what I was sure emotional pleas from the girls, I decided to listen to Manny’s message instead, “Atalanta you need to call your mother when you can she is worried about you. I’m not, I’ve got confidence in you kiddo. Two children were kidnapped from the playground today by two strangers on horseback. Unless I miss my guess, you are trailing them. I have an idea where they are heading and if my guess is right, your mother and I will probably meet up with you on your way back. Be careful.”

Damn and double damn.

I turned the power off to the cell phone opting to save the battery for when I got a signal to call out on. I now knew why I had so many calls and what the men in the stable were up to. I doubted they were after ransom as that left human trafficking or pedophiles as likely reasons. It was even more urgent that I catch up to them tonight.

The moon when it rose bathed the landscape in an eerily other world glow casting shadows into gulches and ravines. Weird shadows rose from rocks and trees; seemingly altering their shapes at will mocking me.

Nonetheless, I followed an innate guidance that led me into a blind box canyon that hid their fire until I stumbled almost on it.

I sent a silent prayer upwards that their horses were picketed at the back of the canyon where they didn’t pick up the scent of Ready or that her hooves hadn’t struck a rocky surface. I backed her up carefully to keep her from giving us away.

I halted Ready and tied her to a bush far enough away to keep her quiet, sensing there was no four-legged predators close. I then ghosted through the trees, bushes, and between the rocks until I was close enough to feel some heat from the fire.

From my vantage I saw the kids were in a sleeping bag, resting near where the horses were. One man was asleep between the kids and the fire. The other man was by the fire, standing guard. Or pretending to, he was bound to be night blind from the firelight.

I weighed my options.

I could simply pick them off, first the guard and then the sleeper. I discarded that idea quickly. That would be murder and I wasn’t a murderess. Murphy’s law was a bastard and the sleeper was near enough to use the children as hostages. I felt that in hand-to-hand I could quickly subdue them, but it held the same drawback as in the first option. I needed a plan that brought both them close together.

A sense of urgency struck me as a risky plan began to form. My mind made up, I silently glided back to where Ready was hitched. There I checked my phone for a signal. It was weak but I did have a signal and looking at the stars I realized I was close to the border. My stomach was doing back flops and my scalp and shoulders was tingling.

I dialed, “Manny,” I whispered to the scratchy hello.

“Yes, this Atalanta.”

“Yeah, Manny, the battery is weak. Just listen. I’ve found the kidnappers camp. I’m worried about the kids and reinforcements arriving. I have a plan.”

Silence greeted me and I was afraid I might have been disconnected, “Atalanta do you know your location?”

“Negative, but I’m close to the border.”

“Kiddo you can do this, remember what I taught you. Your mother and I will be there shortly. Be careful.”

“I will,” I said into a failed phone. I was glad the cavalry wasn’t far behind.

Shrugging, I began removing and hiding my guns and meager supplies under some bushes. I opted to carry the dead phone, reasoning it might offer both support that I was lost and a distraction. Determined I swung up on to the saddle to put my plan into motion.

“That was Atalanta, wasn’t it? Why didn’t you let me talk to her? Why did she call you and not me? I’m her mother. Is she all right and where is she?”

“You finished,” he asked quickly glancing at her.

“Yes, until I have more questions or some answers.”

“Yes that was Atalanta and her phone just died or I’m sure she would have asked for you. She called me because she knew I have been through these things before but she sounded fine and no, she doesn’t know exactly where she is. Except that it is close to the border. South and west of our location I think.”

“Are you sure?”

How can anyone be sure of anything? He ignored the queasiness passing it off as pre battle jitters, “As sure as if it was me there.”

“I wish it was you.”

Me too, “call Judy and give her these coordinates,” and he rattled of a set of numbers from his phone, “let her know what is happening and have somebody in the sheriff’s office guard the southwest border.”

As Liz dialed she cried, “Can’t you go any faster?”

“Not safely,” he answered, nevertheless pushing the accelerator harder.

“Hello, the camp. I am lost and cold,” I cried out in my best little girl voice stopping at the edge of the fire's light.

“Who are you?”

“I am lost and cold,” I repeated, “can’t I come and warm by the fire,” I whined. I sensed rather than heard movement from the camp.

“Yeah,” came back the reply, “but come in slow and easy and your hands in plain sight.”

“Okay, thanks mister.”

As I urged Ready forward a strong light blinded me momentarily and in that instant a pair of strong hands pulled me out of the saddle and I hit the ground hard on my side.

“What did you do that for mister?” I wailed sprawled out on the ground breathing hard.

Ignoring my question, he reached down to pull me to my feet. I resisted, instead going limp.

“Brat,” he spat. “Monty, get over here and let’s show this kid she needs to learn a hard lesson.”

“Sure,” he swaggered over, a nasty grin spread over his face, “it will be a pleasure.” A fleeting sense of fear was quickly replaced by anger that settled into an eerie calm as I grabbed his swinging booted foot and twisted, sending him into his partner. In the confusion, his pistol fell to the ground as he tumbled forward. I snatched it up with one hand and with my other hand made into a fist; I buried it into his crotch.

I regained my feet before the second man reacted moving in behind him as he fought to regain his balance. Catching his flailing hand and using his leverage I applied force to his wrist bending it back and forced him to the ground.
I picked up the second gun from where it fell and with a gun in each hand I stepped back,“On your feet,” I snarled.

“Fuck you,.”he sneered.

“Not now, not ever, and not even in your dreams,” I replied coolly.

“Make me.,” Monty blustered.

“Not a demanding job,” I returned contemptuous, “but I don’t have time to mess around with you boys. Either you do as I say when I say or I shoot you both in the knees and leave you out here. I’m sure your partners will patch you up.”

I saw their surprise, “We don’t have any partners,” Monty he of the swinging boot denied weakly. Before either reacted, I brought the gun barrel down on his collarbone hard.

“Oh-h,” he screamed going to one knee, “you broke it.”

“You rather it was your head. Now, saddle up the horses and be quick about it.” I watched eagle-eyed and wired, ready to spring at a second’s notice of trouble. The sense of urgency heightened.

“What did you use to drug them with,” I asked indicating the occupants in the motionless sleeping bag.

“A mild sedative, they should be coming to before long.” I had suspected as much.

Keeping the kidnappers in sight, I moved into the bushes and picked up 50 feet of nylon rope that I cached earlier.
Stepping back into the light of the fire, I removed the wicked tanto designed knife from its hidden location and cut the rope into the desired lengths. I saw their recognition of defeat. Tossing a section to Monty I indicated him to tie his partners hands in front, “And make it secure,” I warned.

After inspecting the knot, I indicated him on to the saddle. Tie his hands to the pommel.” Monty grumbled but complied. Throwing him another section, “Loop it around his boot,” I commanded and then after passing the rope under the horse had him tie it to his other boot.

“I’ll break my neck if I fall off,” the mounted man complained.

“Then don’t fall off.”

I had Monty use another length of rope to tie the horses together by their pommels. Another piece of roped was looped around his good hand and tied it on the off cinch buckle.

Some stray sound warned me. The two would-be bad guys hadn’t heard so I had a few minutes to prepare. I hid Ready behind a tree and noiselessly slipped up on my prisoners, “When your friends get here call them in and be damn careful about it. I’ll be watching.”

Seeing their goggle-eyed expression, I knew I had them convinced I had superpowers. Maybe I did.

I slipped deeper into the trees about thirty feet in front of the camp and waited. Less than five minutes later, the creak of saddle leather and muffled sounds of hoofs reached us. From where I was located, I could see clearly the look of surprise on my prisoners’ faces. With a wave of my guns, I indicated a warning.

“Hello, the camp.”

“Is that you Sarge?”

Sarge? Military? It didn’t matter. Focus!

“Who else would be out tonight?”

“Come on in then. We’ve already broke camp.”

“Getting cold feet,” the cold voice demanded as he and two other riders, in single fashion rode into the light thrown by the fire.

“You’re covered, anybody so much as twitches is dead before they hit the ground,” I drawled stepping from the shadows. “Lose the hardware quick but be slow about it.”

Sarge knew what I meant; I could see it in his eyes.

“Do as she says; we’ll have our chance later,” Sarge snarled. I heard three distinct thuds, one that landed suspiciously close to my feet.

I kept my focus.

I moved closer to Sarge, “One at a time, step down from the saddle and be deliberate about it starting with you,” I ordered pointing to the last member. One at a time, they complied.

“You let a slip of a girl get the drop on you,” Sarge snarled at ‘swinging boot’ pointing towards the pistols in my hands.

“It was easy,” I laughed, moving even as I spoke, and the point of my boot meeting his hamstring high up. Going down to one knee, he bit back a groan.

“You know why I did that?”

Sarge nodded, “Yeah it’ll tighten up my hamstring if I don’t keep moving. It seems we all underestimated you.”

“You did but I didn’t.” Removing my knife, I repeated the process I began with Monty and in five minutes the three men were hogtied to their saddles with the injured men, Sarge, walking on the point and Monty at drag of the procession.
The children were too groggy to ride unassisted so they rode on my horse in front of me where I could keep them safe. I sent Manny a text from a confiscated phone that the children were all right and I had prisoners and included the GPS coordinates.

Unwilling to leave my weapons and supplies I veered off and finding my cache I reached down from horseback to gather up my gear, tossing their weapons in favor of those I was familiar with and had holsters for.

I then quickly caught up the column with only Sarge being the wiser.

“Who taught you kid,” he asked with grudging admiration.

“You’ll meet him.”

The beep alerted Manny to an incoming text. He slowed while reading the message noting the coordinates. Grinning broadly, he handed the phone to Liz, “Here read it. Atalanta and the children are fine and she’s coming in with prisoners.”

“Thank you God for bringing my baby safe to me,” she breathed smiling her face wholly radiating.

“I need to hear her voice.”

“Don’t,” he warned sharply, and more gently continued, “You might distract her at a wrong moment. We are no more than ten minutes away from their location. Call Judy and forward her the coordinates. Tell her to have a helicopter dispatched. The kids might need more medical attention than we can provide out here.”

Programming the coordinates into the vehicle’s guidance system, Manny drove, his attention divided among the road, Atalanta, and Liz’s conversation with Judy. He almost missed the turnoff; what looked like an overgrown wagon trail that led them farther into the canyons and sharply etched gullies.

After ten minutes and only a couple of miles, the SUV’s headlights revealed a procession that Manny had not seen except in Hollywood. Plodding across the barren desert floor, he saw seven horses, four with riders; five tightly bunched, then a single rider with what looked like smaller forms in front and a single pony. He nodded with satisfaction at the two walkers on point and drag.

He stopped to marvel.

“Why are we stopping?”

“To appreciate second chances, and what your daughter has accomplished this night. Do you know why those kids were kidnapped?”

Liz shook her head not thinking that far ahead.

“They were going to be sold into sex slavery; used up or dead by the time they were teenagers. I know you believe in second chances or else you would not have sold out and moved here.”

Liz shivered at that realization. “You are right, I do.”

“Atalanta just gave those kids a second chance at a happy and fulfilled life and I want to take a moment and appreciate that gift. Who knows, those kids might be one reason you moved here. I’ve seen stranger things happen.”

The red numerals, suspended read 3:31 a.m. as Judy looked across the desk at Sheriff Beckham, “Any news Sheriff?”

Judy was tired, bone tired and blurry eyed weary. Running a profitable business needed someone to stay alert and anticipate. Her first concern was for the twins and her friend Liz and Atalanta but she did anticipate bad publicity might adversely affect her summer business. Many of her staff was like family and she didn’t want to have to lay off people.

The waiting was wearing on her frayed nerves as was the effects of the caffeine, but she needed the bracing coffee gave her.

She knew the first 24 hours was crucial in executing a safe return of missing children and so far they were not any closer than when the Sheriff was called. The 24 hours was quickly expiring.

The sheriff and his deputies spent two hours verifying the same data and interviewing the same people and came to the same conclusion as she had: Namely, two strangers on horseback had kidnapped the twins and possibly Atalanta. They had stolen a horse and supplies and left in who knew which direction. The crime could have happened between 3 and 5 p.m. In 12 hours the perpetrators could be almost anywhere in a 50-60 mile radius.

Nobody had a clear description of the strangers and if they passed the children off to another group then in all likelihood they would remain anonymous. At that point neither recovery of the children nor prosecution was likely. The criminals didn’t have a large population to hide in but the land could act effectively as a shield.

Bloodhounds had been brought in to track the children but so far they had not been able to hit consistently. The dog handlers surmised the wind was blowing the scent away from the dogs and possibly the theory that they were on horseback also masked their smell. The dogs and handlers were proceeding southwest on that theory. Until daylight, all they could do was wait and position assets.

Beckham shook his head, “I’m sorry Judy.”

Her phone rang, “Excuse me Sheriff. Yes. Liz, where are you. Yes. Just a moment.”

Finding a pencil, she quickly wrote a series of numbers and repeated them. “Got it. Thank God and yeah, I’ll tell him, he’s sitting across from me. And I want to talk to her too. Bye.”

“Good news sheriff that was Liz. She got a text from her daughter with her coordinates and that the children was safe and that she has captured the kidnappers. She said to bring a helicopter that the children might need medical attention.” She handed the note to the sheriff who immediately called and put a chopper in the air using the coordinates.

They were both smiling after he hung up the phone, “This is one story I have to hear.”

“Me too, it is hard to believe a 14-year-old girl could not only find the kids but get the drop on the two bad guys.”

I felt their presence before the headlights illuminated us. It might be a mother/daughter thing or heightened senses but I knew help had arrived before their lights came into view or heard the engine noise.

I had no desire to halt the caravan or hurry to the vehicle that held mom and Manny. At that moment, my focus was on the twins bundled in my arms and keeping the men occupied by moving. I didn’t dare think any farther than the next step of the horse-each foot of ground gained was a small victory.

The SUV stopped a hundred yards short of us and I felt a sense of pride that Manny was essentially letting me deliver the bad guys. I straightened in the saddle and kicked my horse to close the gap.

“Hurry up guys; we have a train to catch.” Bellyaching and moaning reached me on the wind and I smiled.

As we got closer, I saw two figures in front by the grill where the larger figure was encouraging the smaller silhouette to wait. I hoped she’d wait.

She did until we were about twenty yards away and I kicked my horse ahead to meet her and Manny.

“Manny will you take charge of these ‘outlaws’ while I get these little ones out of the cold.”

“With pleasure … soldier.”

I smiled back at him.

“Mom can you help me get them inside, they have been drugged. I’ll tell you all about it later. Okay?”

Together we managed to carry the twins into the safety of the truck where I resisted Mom’s efforts to stay inside.

From her viewpoint at the front of the SUV, it was hard not to run out to meet them but Liz saw that her daughter was fine. And she did feel a sense of pride swelling up as they drew closer, as Manny had predicted she would. He had also said that Atalanta would want to formally hand the prisoners off. She did feel some sense of the accomplishment what Atalanta had managed tonight.

As they drew closer, the headlights revealed five trussed up fugitives meekly complying with her daughter’s orders.
She heard Atalanta ask Manny to take charge of the outlaws and then ask her to help get the children out of the cold. Without being rude, Atalanta insisted on going back outside and tonight she had a commanding presence that Liz found hard to resist. Torn between two separate maternal instincts she followed Atalanta to where Manny was exchanging talk with one of the men.

“Sarge I’m not surprised to find you mixed up in shady deals; but this is low even for you.”

“Hawk, you train her?”

Manny nodded.

“Well this little hellion jumped me and my boys for no reason.”

“Took advantage of your generous nature did she?”

Sarge glowered silently, grimacing while shaking his leg.

“Charlie horse?” Manny inquired innocently.

“You taught her that little trick, and you know damn well it’s knotting up.”

“I do,” he laughed.

Liz clearly confused asked, “What trick?”

Manny answered, “A little known effect is enough force on a hamstring will cause it to tighten and knot up unless kept warm. The best way to keep it warm is exercise. Walking is good exercise.”

“Worked like a charm, while he was telling me what a bad man he was I kicked his rear.”

"-She created three groups each with conflicting concerns, Sarge at point wanted to keep his leg warm, Monty in the rear was protecting his shoulder and all the three riders wanted was neither to spook their horses. Beautiful," Manny beamed at Atalanta.

While she was mulling at the change in Atalanta, Liz heard a roar from overhead as the chopper arrived and landed stirring up dust devils. Minutes later the landscape was lighted as several sheriff vehicles descended.

The sky was just turning salmon when they got back into the truck following the sheriff dept vehicles out which included two-horse trailers. One set of investigators were assigned to backtrack to the camp and collect evidence.
Atalanta refused transport to the hospital opting to ride back with her mom and Manny. Shortly she was curled up in the back, asleep.

“What happened to my daughter tonight?”

“She grew up some.”

“You had a hand in this,” Liz accused.

“Some,” he admitted, “but it’s not all my doing. Something happened to her right after you all moved here. What the change was, it helped. I’m good at what I do, but that girl is one-in-a-million, make that one-in-ten-million.”

Liz remained silent as she debated how much to reveal. In the end, she decided on a partial telling, “You’re right something did happen but I can’t tell you what right now. When she wakes I’ll discuss it with her but I don’t think she will mind you knowing.”

Two days later, we had all gathered in Judy’s conference room. Mom, Manny, and I were seated together at one table alongside Judy and a Mr. Shark who was Judy’s lawyer. Julian Redmont and the twins completed the seated arrangements at our table. The experience had done nothing to curb the twin’s propensity to meet strangers.

The second table was occupied with the law enforcement contingent, Sheriff Beckham, the deputy that was here that night, and the lead investigator from the Sheriff’s office. Also present were three prosecutors, one each from the county, state, and federal district, two members from the FBI’s Internet Crime Task Force, a Captain in the State Police, and a court stenographer.

At the third table, I learned was the chopper pilot, a dog handler, the two drivers that hauled the horses back, two doctors that examined the children and the suspects.
Sheriff Beckham cleared his throat, “First this is like an informal judicial hearing and I’m the acting magistrate ; we’re here to determine facts and the exact charges filed. Doctors, why don’t we start with your reports and observations?”

Kim Cruz who had examined the children and me began, “The children had traces of narcotics left in their system when I saw them at 7 a.m. They were in fair condition, dehydrated, hungry, tired, and dirty. I kept them overnight for observation, but I believe overall they are in good health and spirits leaving minimal impact,” she finished smiling at the children who were engrossed in self-entertainment.

“I saw Atalanta Reed later the same day and she seemed none the worse after riding all night, rescuing the children and capturing the criminals.”

“Alleged criminals,” the words came from a man who had entered the room unnoticed.

“This is a private meaning and who are you?” The sheriff’s voice rang clear.

“Justin Case, defense attorney and I am the adversarial part of our justice system, to balance the scales of justice.”

Sheriff Beckham scowled and growled, “Sit down and shut up. I’m running this meeting; any follow-up questions will wait until we’ve completed the walkthrough.”

Case nodding, found an empty chair and moved it to our table. Papers rustled briefly as he opened his briefcase. I tensed, boring holes through him, if looks could kill.

Manny whispered words broke through the red haze, “Remember girl you kick tail.”

I then relaxed even smiling sweetly at the lawyer.

“Where did this take place?” Beckham was asking Dr Cruz.

“At the Pine Bluff Medical Center.”

“And how long have you been employed at that Center?”

“Five years.”

“Okay, thanks that is all for now.” Beckham turned to the other Doctor.

“Your name and where you are employed, how long and the conditions of said alleged criminals.”

“Dr. Horace Minnifield, I have been employed 10 years with the county clinic at Rockdale. Three people outside of minor bumps and bruises were fine. Two people were treated for more serious injuries but nothing that won’t completely heal given time.”

“What was the nature of these injuries doctor?”

“One has a broken collarbone and the other a distressed or pulled hamstring.”

“What in your expert opinion caused these injuries?”

“The broken collarbone was caused by a hard object of some kind-a club …”

“… And the second one?”

“The hamstring is harder to diagnose but bruising at the back of the leg indicates blunt force trauma.”

“Where was this bruising located, Dr.?”

“Immediately under his cheek.”

“That would be the butt cheek, wouldn’t it doctor.”

“Yes, that is correct.”

“In other words, he had his rear end kicked.” That remark brought out smiles and one frown.

“That, in essence is correct what happened.”

The Sheriff proceeded to continue the interview and set up a timeline of events. The twins only knew two men had said they were to take them to their father.

Finally it was time for me tell my story to fill in the blanks.

“Atalanta, start wherever you want and tell your part in it.”

I started by telling that since I was at loose ends I had went to the stables to visit with Ready and how I hid in Ready’s stall and watched as the two men stole the horse and supplies. Then I waited, following them at a distance. I also told how I forgot to include a jacket or flashlight and didn’t think of using my cell phone until hours later when the battery was dying and no tower signal.

I told of my thought processes after almost accidentally riding into their camp and the capture of the alleged kidnappers.

The sheriff was interested in why I chose to return Manny’s call and not the others chiefly my mother’s calls.

“Sheriff to be honest I made some assumptions. I assumed the calls from Judy, mom, and Lindsey was because I forgot to check in. If I called them, understandably they would have a lot of questions that I was afraid my battery wouldn’t last that long. I wasn’t due to check with Manny so I figured his call was different. I chose the odd man.”

“To be fair he was the only man.”

“I’m also interested in why you took the actions you did after finding the camp.”

“After getting my heart out of my throat, I sneaked back into camp close enough to feel warmth from the fire. My first thought was an ambush but I discarded that for two reasons: The first being that shooting them from ambush would be murder and the second is that them being separated there was a chance of one getting to the children and holding them hostage. I felt my best chance was drawing them in together.”

“Thank you Atalanta, that is all from me. Anybody else have any?”

“I have one or two if I may,” Mr. Case spoke for the first time since his announcement at the door.

“Make it short and to the point, Mr. Case,” the sheriff growled in reply.

“Miss Reed you are what 14? Most 14 year olds recall and wits are not matured as well as yours seems to have. Frankly, Miss Reed I find your story hard to believe and it is your word against at least three of the men as what their intention were. I’d like to see a demonstration of your physical prowess before I consider your story true.”

“Quite frankly Mr. Lawyer, I don’t care what you believe, but I do understand when it comes to twelve all it takes is one to get these scumbags off. I have a counter offer subject to agreement.”

Mr. Case look of disdain was replaced by concern at my challenge.

“And Miss Reed what is your proposal,” he replied smoothly half-bowing.

“I think for a game to be interesting both sides should have some skin in the game. I don’t see what it’s costing you if you lose.”

“What is your proposal?”

“That’s up to the prosecutor.”

I was quickly corralled by the Sheriff and other LEOs as well my friends, family, and Manny as I outlined my plan.

“What were you thinking,” mom asked me evenly, followed by a chorus of agreement.

“Well let me ask you a question. Can a good lawyer cast doubt on my story by casting doubt on how I captured those crooks?”

The state’s attorney answered, “The answer is yes, he could, and it might mean anything from acquittal to a hung jury. At least for the last three it might, though we did find evidence in their vehicle that supports human trafficking.”

I explained my plan, and after pros and cons, I had enough support to offer Case the deal.

The Sheriff acted as our spokesman, “Mr Case you have doubts that Atalanta can do what she says she can do?”

“Yes I have my doubts about that and about what she was doing out there in the first place. I simply don’t believe she can overpower five men without help. If she is exaggerating those details the rest of her story is open to debate.”

“You look like you are in good shape and can take care of yourself.” Justin Case was in his early thirties and fit, he worked out three days a week and boxed some in college.

He smiled, “I stay in shape.”

“Here’s the deal,” the sheriff returned the lawyers smile, “Atalanta has offered to box you in an exhibition match. You win the charges are reduced to trespass and theft. You lose you plead your clients guilty of first degree kidnapping and human trafficking charges.”

The Sheriff's words hung sharpened by the sudden silence.

Case licked his lips, his eyes darting wildly about the room, “I’m sorry,” he replied quickly, “but I cannot place my clients lives in that type of jeporady.”

“I thought so,” the sheriff responded bluntly.

The DA indicated that first-degree charges of kidnapping with aggravating circumstances were being served that afternoon on the five men.

Manny and I exchanged concerned looks as we left the room in mass with him occupying mom and Judy while I drifted back. We filed down the hallway that forced walking two-by-two’s until Manny was at my shoulder.

“You thinking, what I think your thinking?”

I nodded, slowing my steps.

I sensed or felt the intent as I cleared the building. All the room’s occupants were milling about outside as we had straggled out, the last of the group. I was dead last while Manny shepherded the women out of harm’s way.

He came at me hard and fast from my left side which I side stepped and ducked under a wild right, countering the punch and adding to his momentum by a kick to his right side. His forward twisting movement placed me directly at his rear where my booted foot made contact with his rear. He sprawled hitting the dirt with a loud thud. He was agile and fast for a big man, twisting as he fell to land partially on one shoulder and quickly in one continuous motion, rising to his feet.

Anticipating his move, I followed still at his rear and another well-placed kick sent him to the dirt for the second time.

“Stay down mister,” I warned, “Or I’ll have to hurt you.”

Growling, from flat on his back he sprung to his feet, executing a perfect kip-up kipped up facing me.
That I did not expect. But I caught the back of his wrist in my right hand as he threw a right hook towards my jaw, and stepping into his body, I used my left hand as leverage to force his arm back and him to the ground. As we fell, I heard the pop of his shoulder dislocating it from its socket.

Using his arm as leverage I kept up the pressure and controlling his body, “Are we through,” I hissed through clenched teeth, “or do I have to really hurt you.”

“I’m done.”

“Good,” I declared untangling from his body and getting to my feet.

A dislocated shoulder is painful and was clear on his face when he straightened up to his full height.
Holding his right arm tight to his body with his left hand he apologized, “I deserved this.”

“Yes you do, Want me to pop it back in place.” I responded surprise at offering. Was that was me speaking?

“Sure, I appreciate it.”

“Let me,” Manny offered stepping forward. I nodded appreciatively as he popped it into place. The man experimented by rotating his shoulder slowly at first. Satisfied he stepped forward offering me his hand, “No hard feelings?”

“None that I won’t get over,” I declared taking his hand.

I had one loose end to wrap up.

I stalked over to where the lawyer, Justin Case, was watching and getting in his face I drawled, “You didn’t have the guts to take an aboveboard deal but you instead hire someone to ambush me. I ought to kick your tail right now.”

“Get off my property and don’t ever think about coming back. That goes for both of you. Sheriff I want a restraining order for him that keeps him from my property and me.”

Mom spoke then, “I want one too for me and my daughter.”

The sheriff his eyes leaping fire grimly stated, “I’ll even bring the papers out for you to sign. Hell, forget that, I’ll sign them myself. Now, both of you git!”

Looking around at the faces that surrounded me I saw both fear and respect reflected.

Later as we walked towards our cottage mom asked Manny, “You knew?”

“No,” he replied, “I suspected something based on experience but Atalanta knew. Mrs. Reed as I told you, she is special.”

“You knew,” she asked me.

I shrugged, “Yeah, I knew.”

“How?”

“I don’t know how I knew. I could have read it in his face or felt it in his aura or a little birdie could have told me. All that I do know is that, that knowing is as much a part of me as breathing is and we mostly don’t think about breathing. If the how you are asking is to describe a process then I can’t anymore than I can describe mechanics of respiration.”

Days turned into weeks and weeks into months and spring into summer. The kidnapping never made any but the local papers and had no effect on bookings for the spa and dude ranch. Mr. Redmont and the twins stayed through the summer.

Something I should have pointed out earlier this story is copyrighted and I reserve all rights. I don't want it altered or reproduced somewhere without having control. That said I'm not hard to get along with. Also I took liberties with the sheriff's court as I don't believe you'll find many jurisdictions where this would occur.

I do appreciate you reading and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. And I'll answer any questions or comments that I can.

Thanks

Katelyn

Atalanta's Story Chapter 9. I apologize for taking longer than normal to get this chapter done. I have been feeling lazy this past week and found myself day dreaming alot. My thanks go out to William Durr who has really helped me stay on track.

This chapter occurs the summer immediately after the kidnapping in the desert of the last chapter.The end of summer brings on the beginnings of harvest.

Chapter Nine

The excitement of early April faded with time, and the fates of the men waiting trial grew distant. Manny spent more time at our house, more as a friend I think. He continued to train me adding more of his experiences to my routines.
Late summer saw the finish of the clinic and other improvements that Judy had implemented. That was both good and bad.

Mom had a state-of-the-art medical facility on a small scale. Some of the cost was paid by state funds and some from company grants. The monies did come with strings attached that necessitated hiring a physician assistant, a receptionist, and bookkeeper.

Manny’s crew had also added more lodging and a mini dorm to the campus. The stables had been enlarged with additional capacity to hold more horses and Judy had commissioned a larger garage to house the Ranch’s vehicles. Judy updated the facilities for the main draw, the mud baths. Following Manny’s recommendations, she had more outside lighting installed and permanent sheltered locations for the barbecue.

In late July, Manny had dismissed all but a skeleton crew and all that remained was tying up loose ends and landscaping duties that he could have delegated. His announcement came mid-week at our “hen parties” as he called them. Mom and Judy insisted on a get-together each Thursday with me to review what progress I made or plans I had finished.
The knock came as we were sitting at the table to review the week.

“Manny,” I shouted delightedly, “come on in. We are in the kitchen.”

“Kiddo,” he grinned at me, “I need to talk with you three ladies a moment.”

I led the way into the kitchen.

“Mom, Judy, look what the cat drug in.”

“Sit down, you want some coffee?”

“Coffee is fine or a beer is better if you have it.”

I handed Manny a beer.

He wasted little time,“I think the time has come for me to leave. A year is as long as I’ve been at one place in a very long time; the construction is finished and the last few weeks I’ve been doing make-work projects, so much that my boss is threatening to find another project leader. And I’m getting itchy feet to boot.”

Damn hormones, I thought as tears leaked from my eyes and rolled down my cheeks.

“Don’t cry, Kiddo. I’m going to miss you too, but this is not goodbye forever.”

“Manny, the foreman job is still open. I do need someone with multiple skills such as you have to run the physical operations here. But I don’t really have to fill it until next spring.”

That was news to me that Judy had offered Manny a job.

“Judy, I really appreciate that and it is a very generous offer, but I left the military when I did to allow me time enough to re-up if I find civilian life is not for me. I won’t know that unless I try different things and in different places.”

“When are you leaving?”

“Liz, I’ll probably be leaving either Monday or Tuesday of next week. I knew you all would be here tonight so I wanted to tell you together and to ask you ladies to dinner Saturday night.”

“Sure, I know me and Atalanta can make it, what about you Judy. Are you free?”

“Gee, I wish I could but I do have something to do that day.”

Maybe it was time to spill the beans. I didn’t realize I had spoken out loud until I saw the surprised looks from mom and Judy.

“Are you sure sweetheart,” my mom asked.

“No, but I think it is time for Manny to know, anyway.”

“I’m all ears,” he declared grinning. He did have big ears.

“I’m sure you have caught the odd references and occasional slips in the last year,” my mom began the explanation at my nod, “and you’ve probably wondered at our Thursday meetings with Atalanta or that she seems uncomfortable with some things a girl her age should have mastered.”

Manny’s eyes lit up as his memories brought to the surface some of the odd references, “Yeah I remember and I remember you said it was up to Atalanta to reveal it.”

“We moved out here for a second chance. Mom wanted and needed a change after daddy passed away and as for me, I was just drifting like a leaf in the wind with no direction. Manny you remember I told you I wasn’t a good athlete before moving here. I don’t think you believed me.”

“It’s not that I didn’t believe you; it was that I don’t believe you knew how good an athlete you really were.”

We girls looked at each other all smiles.

“That is it, that’s the look I’ve seen before,” Manny declared, “like the cat that swallowed the canary.”

“It’ll make sense when you know the whole story, but believe me back in Philly she was a whole different person and she wasn’t a very good athlete,” Liz replied, still with an enigmatic smile.

“You all are just drawing this out, you’re just teasing me,” he accused.

“That is a woman’s prerogative,” I interjected with my own enigmatic smile.

“You’re well on your way, young lady but you are not a woman yet,” Manny returned smirking.

“I can tell you,” Liz replied laughing, “she is a lot farther along now than she was back in Philly.”

“A lot more,” I drawled.

“Okay ladies, quit teasing the poor man.”

“The truth is that when I left Philadelphia I had a son named Alan,” Liz replied bluntly.

“Okay. So something happened to Alan?”

Clearly, he had not connected the dots yet.

“Something definitely happened all right. Alan is now my daughter Atalanta.”

Silence filled the room after the spoken declaration. None of the females present had any traces of guile written in their faces. The humming of the refrigerator paused to hear the reply.

Manny’s time spent in the military was in black ops missions and as the leader of his unit he was privy to classified information, training, and schools. He also had close relations within the DOD and DARPA and had seen many raw field reports generated before they were sanitized and released to the press. He knew there was a growing concern about the mutant population inside some military circles and three letter agencies.

The government through discreet and not so discreet methods was cataloging and tracking mutants. The military, taking advantage of mutant interest highlighted their MMID system and its advantages to military families.

He was also aware that mutations left some common markers behind chief among them body changes. The latest mutant theory held that those changes occurred through an internal BIT or body image template. What that theory didn’t explain was why one mutation result GSD or gross structural deformity and others resulted in Exemplars or the beautiful people. Neither was there an explanation for why there were so many male to female changelings.

“I’ve heard of that happening but I’ve had no direct experience with it. I do know the DOD has contingencies guidelines in place. How did it happen?”

“We don’t know; none of us do. I got separated from mom while we were sightseeing on our first day here. I found a canyon, followed it to an old stone structure beside a waterfall, and went to sleep. It was dark when I woke up but somehow I found my way out to within a few hundred yards of where Judy had set up camp for a rescue party. Mom and Judy will have to fill you in on the rest as I was in and out of consciousness over the next two or three days.”

“My family settled and has owned land here for a hundred years and where Atalanta or Alan then, disappeared at and where the rescue party had camped is impossible to get to coming from the direction he came from.” Judy continued. “In other words it is impossible to get from where he/she disappeared at, to where he/she reappeared at.”

Liz added, “Judy and I both noticed subtle changes in him as soon as we got him in the car, changes that accelerated through the night. Daylight saw Judy and me taking him to the Big City where using my medical credentials we set up an ICU in a motel room near the medical center. He made it through but with the changes you see.”

“And that indirectly leads to building the new clinic here and to you,” Judy added. “I saw what Liz was able to accomplish in one night in a motel room and realized calling what we had at that time, a clinic was laughable. That night also drove home two points, first is that we were lucky that nobody needed anything other than first-aid and that Liz is a world class doctor and her talents would be wasted in a first-aid station.”

Manny, his hands clasped and forefingers steepled, measured his words, “That explains how I came to be here. And it helps clear up some odd statements from each of you over the last year. It also explains why,” he confronted me, “you absorbed what I taught so quickly while denying your obvious athletic background.”

He paused looking at his clasped hands before speaking evenly, “You all may have already discussed it but is Atalanta a mutant?”

A mutant? Of course I had heard of mutations. But what did he mean by mutant and was I a mutant? Apparently someone had asked that question.

“I’m surprised you haven’t heard the term before,” Manny began. “Mutants have been around since at least WWII and maybe before, depending on whom you believe. Various laws, agencies, organizations, and movements have sprung up around mutant theory and most have their root in the 60’s and in part stemmed from Hitler’s occultist beliefs.”

Manny paused to drink from his beer before continuing, “Some organizations are neutral, others are beneficial, and a few like the MCO and the Goodkinds are predatory.”

“The MCO,” I asked.

“Mutant Commission Office a semi official quasi government office with a history of “losing” mutants in their custody. The Goodkinds are rumored to have conducted unauthorized and illegal experiments. They are also linked with Humanity First and Knights of Purity and both have dubious records in their dealings with mutants.”

“Why haven’t we heard of any of this until now?” Judy interrupted frowning.

“The government, agencies and all these organizations are good at misdirection and cover-ups for one thing. It is also in their best interests to keep a lid on where superheroes and villains originate. They concoct wild BS stories about UFO’s with little green Martians, the grays, Bigfoot, Yeti, and alien abductions resulting in human hybrids.”

“You mean there aren’t UFO’s and little green men,” I interrupted pouting.

“I didn’t say that kiddo,” Manny replied grinning, “what better way to hide a tree than in a forest. The government is very good at psychological manipulation and they have friends in the press and academia. Suggestions planted here, a word whispered there, and before long witnesses are reluctant to tell what they saw. The general population becomes conditioned to believe that all UFO stories are sensationalism even when they’re not. The press goes along with it because hype sells papers.”

“I’m confused,” I replied, my brows furrowing, “are UFO’s real or not.”

“Kiddo you haven’t been listening. People generally see what they want to see and unless you have personal experience with UFO’s and mutants, these types of stories fall below your radar.”

“But Liz, he added, “I’m surprised being in the military that you wouldn’t have had some kind of exposure.”

“Not that I remember,” Liz confessed and explained, “But after I had Alan-Atalanta we moved off base. Frank kept his service life separate from our family life.”

“But all that you need to remember is that mutant children of military parents can and should register with the DOD to get their MMID card.”

“MMID card,” Liz asked.

“Military Mutant Identification card, the military MID card exempts you or any mutant dependent child from any other registration requirements and shields you from most all attempts to restrict your freedoms. This is one case where the military takes care of its own.”

“You really think Atalanta is a mutant?”

“I can’t say for sure but when the mutant gene is activated it usually results in body changes and one of the more common changes is male to female. Other markers are Exemplar attributes that usually comes from body image template or BIT and can and often does result in different eye and hair color.

“Then I’m three for three.”

“Make that four for four.”

“Four for four,” I echoed.

"A fourth marker is gaining a talent or skill that you didn’t have which helps explain your progress in the last year. I’m a good teacher but not that good.”

Mom narrowed her gaze, “What do you suggest I do … and what talents?”

“Tracking for one thing and how quickly she learned forms, katas, and theory. What I’d suggest is to do your own research and come to your own decision. But,” Manny opened his wallet and handed us each a laminated card, “My Company’s number is on there as well as my private number, my CO and the name and number of a friend, should you ever need it. Call my old CO if you need any military assistance and mention Hawk.”

Manny left soon after but not until plans were confirmed for Saturday. Soon after Manny leaving, mom followed Judy outside leaving me alone to wonder what future Mutants have. Or what my future held if I was a mutant.

“Well that was a surprise,” mom said after coming back into the kitchen and sitting down.

“What, the dinner invitation or him leaving,” I asked in mock surprise.

“If you put it that way,” she smiled, “Manny was full of surprises this evening. But I was talking about the whole mutant thing. How do you feel about it dear?”

“How-do-I-feel-about-it? The whole sex change thing was odd to start and now finding that I might be a mutant which might be the cause of the whole sex change hasn’t made it any less odd. I was happy enough being a guy and I’m not unhappy as a girl, but I did feel a little creeped out by it when I thought on it so I didn’t think on it much. Besides, I was not given any time for reflection. But now I-we have to think on it.”

“In a way I wish he had kept his suspicions to himself or had told me privately.”

“Well I don’t,” I stated emphatically and continued explaining, “The question in the back of my mind all along has been; Why me? Who did I piss off? People don’t just spontaneously change their sex. I got a partial answer tonight. My mutation or being a mutant is the root cause of that change.”

“What is done is done, “Liz stated.

“What are you going to do, mama?”

“I’ll do like Manny suggested; do my research and then we’ll decide on our next step.”

“I will as well, just in case we decide to not do anything soon it will be helpful for me to know which traits they look for. The big one, the sex change, you have explained away as me being intersex.”

Mom had my birth certificate changed after moving to New Mexico to female citing intersex as the reason. She had done that before we ever heard of mutants except in the wild rants of late night TV show hosts.

“I think it is time to get ready for bed,” mom responded, “you have a big day tomorrow.”

Tomorrow wasn’t any different from any other Friday but I nodded anyway getting to my feet. Mom was tired of talking about the whole mutant thing. Walking over to where she sat I gave her a big hug before retiring to my boudoir (a name I would have never used in the old days) for my nightly ritual of cleansing, moisturizing, and 100 brush strokes.

I paused looking at the girl in the vanity with the hairbrush in hand and remembering a time when a quick trip to the bathroom was sufficient to be ready to slide under the covers. While the time taken wasn’t excessive it was the extra steps that required thought and as a result I was usually more deliberate and thoughtful now. Turning off the lights, I did marvel at the soft, cool, and silken sheets that I slept under contrasted sharply with the flannel nightshirt that I chose.

Friday passed uneventful except that Manny gave me a written guide to follow as he continued to drill into my head the importance of practice, practice, practice. Exasperated, I exclaimed, “Manny, relax will you? I promise to be a good girl and practice every day, just as if you were here standing over me with a whip in hand; threatening me.”

Manny grinned as he stopped to run his fingers through his hair, “Sorry for being so pushy today but I feel bad about leaving you just after finding out that you are most likely a mutant.”

“Why don’t you just stay then,” I interjected.

“I’d like to,” he admitted, “but Mr. Franklin has delayed the start of the LA project because of me. For me to bail on him now and this close to the deadline without a project manager wouldn’t be fair or right.”

Pouting I stuck out my tongue at him.

“Excited about tomorrow,” he queried.

“I guess so,” I answered softly.

“Cheer up,” he declared, “You don’t get rid of me that easily. I’ll be around looking in on you kiddo. This gig in LA will be over at Christmas and I’ll see you then.”

“And mom, too?”

“Both of you,” he agreed.

“But Saturday just brings Tuesday that much closer.”

Tuesday came quick and dawned bright and clear. Not a cloud on the horizon and the overnight chill rapidly dissipating, the sun peered over the mountains; it’s purple tendrils quickly absorbing the night air.

Manny was standing outside the driver’s door, letting the engine warm while he looked at the campus that he had helped shape. He had already said goodbye to Judy. He leaned into mom and gave her a kiss on the cheek whispering in her ear before turning to me.

“Kiddo, I really am going to miss you.”

“Then don’t go Manny,” I cried.

“I made a promise to myself when I left the military. What kind of person would I be if I break my promises?”

“You’d be an all right kind of person as long as you didn’t break any to me.”

“That, I can promise.”

“Good,” I stated, “then make me a promise.”

“What do you want me to promise?”

“No, first you have to trust me and then the promise.”

He looked at me intently, probing. An understanding and respect passed between us.

“Okay we are bros under the skin. Well sort of bros. You’ve earned it. I promise,” he replied grinning broadly.

“Now,” I mocked my eyes dancing, “what heinous crimes do I need from my slave. Bw-aha-aha.”

“I’ll crush you like a bug,” he replied digging his fingers into a certain place on my ribs.

“I give-I give,” I giggled squirming away. “Seriously though, promise me you’ll come by and let us know what you decide.”

“That I can do,” he declared holding up his first two fingers together in a mini-salute.

“Not good enough,” I declared stepping forward offering a curled last finger, “Pinky swear.”

“Pinky swear,” he echoed hooking his little finger in mine. I quickly responded by hugging him with a hearty thump to his back.

He reacted, dropping to a knee amidst a round of rough coughing, “Uncle-uncle.”

“Get up you big faker.”

Complying, he answered, “Joking aside, I’ve got your back; you need me you call me and I’ll drop what I’m doing to be there. The same goes for you two ladies. You’re like my family now,” his eyes seemed to linger on my mom.

Was she blushing?

My mind traveled back to Saturday and the trip into the Big City and seeing the sites with two of the most important people in my life. We really did have a good time for different reasons.
The dinner was at an upscale restaurant and the food and drink was delicious. My juice was cold and refreshing and judging from the empty wine bottle, the wine must have been as well. Afterwards we saw an action/kung-fu flick that I spent much of critiquing Hollywood’s version of combat. Not out loud though.

In the theater I watched amused as at first their hands touched, and later holding hands before his arm wrapped around her shoulders which she leaned into. I was unknowingly sulking and mom pointed it out to me in the bathroom.

After the movie we went back to the hotel where they left me in my and mom’s room to go dancing.

“Clubbing,” I teased pouting.

Sometime during that night I dreamed I was awoken by a shadowy figure slipping in from the adjoining room. Was it a dream?

“We’ll remember,” mom promised Manny as he opened the door on his truck to get in the driver’s seat, “and you remember you are always welcome.”

“I’ll remember,” Manny promised closing the driver door,” and as he put the truck into gear added, “that is good to know,” We stood there watching it disappear slowly into the morning sun.

“Nice guy,” Judy noted.

“More than that,” I offered.
“Much more,” Mom hooked her arm around my waist, “We’ve got things to do.”

Judy nodded and turned to her house while mom dragged me behind her to the clinic. She wanted my company.
I leaned into her and whispered teasing, “What did Manny say to you?”

I do hope you enjoy this chapter. I realize it is taking some time to get to Whateley.I hope to post a chapter each week, about mid-week but I lagged behind on this installment. I'm writing the second book while I am posting chapters here and it is this second book that is causing my day dreaming. Because I dream the chapters and then write it out without an outline or character list and I need to do this far enough in advance to reconcile any errors. That is one area where Bill has really helped me.

As usual I'll answer any comments or questions you have and thank you for reading.

Katie

Atalanta's Story Chapter 10. This chapter has been difficult, it is longer than I wanted but it can't be helped. I want to thank Bill for all his help with his suggestions, comments, and corrections. This is my 2nd attempt to post this chapter after four (now) hours adding in an extra line after each paragraph this morning.

In the chapter our heroine finds that she doesn't like public schools (what teenager does), faces danger but does not escape unscathed and in the process her mutant identity is revealed.

Chapter Ten

The lurching starts and stops, the groaning, protesting gears combined to make both conversation and riding difficult. I was into my second month riding the school bus twice a day, to the local high school and back home. Two hours a day, an hour each way was wasted on the bus ride to and from school. Another hour was spent walking the mile to the state road where we waited for the bus each morning and walking home each evening.

Many of the lessons and classes were boring, repetitious, and tedious. Taken with the extra travel time the hours wasted each day added up to more than the previous year’s home school day had. The decision to attend the public school was looking worse each day and particularly so in light of decreased time I spent running each morning.

None of us attending high school from the spa was happy with the arrangements. We agreed to protest en mass today, we being Lindsey, Lindsey’s boyfriend George, and me.

Mom thought I needed last year to get used to being a girl but she thought I needed this year for the social experience of mixing with other teens in a structured environment. My interests though ran in different circles.

“Mom,” I called as I entered the front door, “I’m home.”

“I’m in the kitchen dear.”

I placed my book bag, another annoyance, on the table, “Mom we need to talk …”

Later, after venting and still seated at the kitchen table mom summed up my feelings accurately, “You don’t like school, it is boring, and you don’t learn enough. That about cover it?”

I nodded, “Yeah that sums it up pretty well.”

“Honey those are feelings all school age children have.”

“I know mom but I guess last year spoiled me and the two hour ride doesn’t help my mood any.”

“Atalanta we have to be careful until I know where we stand on the mutant thing.”

“Mom I think you are over reacting to the whole mutant liability issue. As a doctor you have stated that I was born with traits of both sexes and that the onset of puberty caused me to develop as female.”

“That is true but the paperwork was rushed through and I’d like to double check it first before we draw attention to you.”

“Attention,” I replied confused, “what attention?”

“Some jurisdictions,” mom replied, “are suspicious of homeschoolers.”

“Suspicious! Why?”

“I blame it somewhat on the 24 hour news cycle, the war on terror, or the war on drugs, or any other war on anything you care to name. People and actions get defined and labeled and anyone that falls outside certain guidelines, like homeschooling, is looked at with skepticism.”

Mom was being paranoid about the whole mutant thing I decided.

“I know mom, but with the three of us withdrawing there is not anything that points to me or us directly.”

“That’s true,” mom conceded laughing, “But they may think Judy is starting a cult out here. But I’ll talk with the other mothers though I believe you will have to wait until after the Christmas break before we can move on it.”

“I thought as much but the homeschool application need to be submitted a month before then.” I cautioned.

The next hour passed with not much being settled or any deadlines established. I reached the conclusion that I needed to ask at school for that application or that deadline might come and go forgotten. Mom was reluctant to shine any type of spotlight on us.

“I’m going up to make friends with Ready, by now she has probably forgotten me,” I pointed out pouting.

“Don’t be long dear, you know I worry if you’re out after dark.”

“I know, mom. I won’t be.”

That was another pet peeve of mine and a strike again girlhood; people treated me like I was a piece of china and might break. Alan hadn’t had free reign to do as he pleased but he did have more choices it seemed to me. Maybe it was just that time of the month and my hormones were acting up.

Carrying my backpack to my room, I exchanged my jacket for a hardier version and left, calling out goodbye as I did.
Contrary to the spiel I fed mom, Ready greeted me excitedly, “You can’t fool me you faker,” I told the mare, “It is the treat you remember, not me.”

Tossing her head she agreed as I fed her a lump anyway and filled her feedbox and water trough. Finishing I slipped away to a secluded portion of the addition where I checked the supply cache. It was as I or rather we had left it.
I felt better knowing it was intact.

Closing the door to the kitchen complex I saw that Lindsey was in a corner busy with preparations for the evening meal.
“Hi Lindsey.”

“Hi, yourself,” she replied not looking up intent on her food arrangement.

“You talk with your mom,” I asked.

She stopped, turning on her heel, “A little but I didn’t have a chance to say much. Not enough time to really dig into it. And that is another gripe; the time we waste going to and fro is time I can better spend here.”

Lindsey’s desire was to be a world-class chef and follow in her mom’s footsteps. Schoolwork as designed by the state was cutting into that time. I felt the same way about my training schedule. George, I think was happy to be where Lindsey was.

“I talked with mom but I think it will take more talking but I’ve got to go; she will have a fit if I’m late.”

Another two weeks had passed without a commitment from any of the parental units. Somehow, I was going to have a light a fire under mom.

It was now early November and the chilly nights had turned into cold ones with the chill lasting throughout the day. The thickening and darkening clouds banking against the mountain ridges called out a long forgotten warning. A sudden blast of wind caused chills to run my spine.

I shivered.

Suddenly wary I rushed up the porch steps with the stray thought it wasn’t very lady like or dignified.
Who cared?

Opening the door I called, “Mom I’m home.” No answer. That wasn’t odd in itself. Mom kept all hours at the clinic but the house felt empty. The house felt off. I felt off and didn’t know why. I carried my backpack and tossed it on my bed.

Warning bells rang. Loud!

Throwing caution aside I ran from room to room and finding nobody or nothing disturbed.

“Calm down,” I scolded myself, “Mom is probably over at the clinic.”

Picking up the phone I dialed the clinic’s number and receiving no answer. Next I tried Judy’s number.
“Hello.”

“Judy, have you seen my mom?”

“Hello Atalanta and how was school today.”

“Same as always bo-ring,” I snapped and repeated, “Have you seen mom.”

“Are you home?” God what was it with twenty questions today.

I answered impatiently, “Yes, I’m at home. Have you seen my mom?”

“She’s probably at the clinic,” Judy offered.

Pausing I began deep breathing to calm my jangled nerves and impatience.
“I tried calling but no one answered.”

“Relax dear, she was probably in the back and couldn’t get to it in time.”

“You’re no doubt right but Aunt Judy can you please answer one simple question for me.”

“I’d be happy to.”

You haven’t so far I growled silently.

“When was the last time you saw Liz Reed, my mother.”

“It was after lunch sometime. I think her assistant called her with an emergency of some kind.”

“Thanks Aunt Judy,” I replied hanging up the phone cutting off any reply from her.

Finding the clinic locked and dark I fished out a set of duplicate keys and let myself in. I stood in the center of the darkened lobby willing myself to learn anything of value from my surroundings.

Slowly I moved, eyes unblinking, arms down, trance like down the hall to the supply room where I again used my keys to open that door. Unwilling to break the tenuous connection I left the light off, surveying the room and its contents. The refrigerator drew my attention and held it.

Looking inside the medicines seemed to be in their normal places on the shelves. Yet I couldn’t shake the feeling that I shouldn’t trust what saw at face value.

Dig deeper!

Looking blankly at the refrigerator’s lined interior I suddenly remembered Mom’s log. I retrieved it from a drawer and praying that I’d find an answer opened it. Again I just stared blankly at its contents hoping for inspiration to strike once more.

Then I remembered Mom’s warning. Emboldened I switched on the lights and quickly found the inventory document and using it and her logbook began to write down the discrepancies that I found. My innate sense of direction once again proved its worth as it led me to look for a particular pattern. Finding that pattern sent a chill down my spine.

Striding down the hall I opened Mom’s office and rifled through her files until I found Margaret Hanson’s phone number. She was Mom’s gopher assistant and I quickly dialed her number and asking her to call the clinic when she didn’t answer.

I then dialed Judy’s number and when she answered, “Judy this is Atalanta and I need to see you in Mom’s office. Now!” And I hung up before she could question my authority.

I didn’t think the wait would be long and it wasn’t. She didn’t storm in but it was close.

“Mom is in serious trouble. I think she has been kidnapped to treat a gunshot,” I stated flatly before she could scold me.

Judy’s mouth hung opened in surprise, her crafted rebuke at my insolence forgotten.

“What makes you think that?”

“This does,” I replied tersely handing her the paper I had written the list on.

“That is a list of meds and supplies missing from inventory and not on her logbook,” I continued answering her unspoken query.

“Margaret Hanson doesn’t answer her phone either. Didn’t you say she called with an emergency earlier?”

“Yes she did. Have you tried her cell phone?”

“Whose phone, Mom’s or Margaret’s?”

“Your mom’s.”

“I didn’t think to,” I replied sheepishly.

Judy pulled out her phone and was dialing when I shouted, “No, don’t call her. Not yet. Let’s consider it for a minute first.”

Judy frowned but ended the call, “What’s on your mind?”

“Okay,” I began slowly buying time as I sorted out my ramblings, “If-mom-has-been-kidnapped-then they might not know she has a phone. A call might alert them but what about a text instead.”

“Great idea, you do that and I’ll call the sheriff.”

I texted, Liz U all right? Missed U. Call me. A&J. Crossing my fingers I pressed send.

Judy was speaking, “The sheriff is sending a car over to Margaret Hanson’s place to look around. He will authorize a triangulation on her cell phone provided it is on. But he can’t without evidence issue a missing person report until 24 hours has passed or conduct a search for Liz.”

Another idea forced itself into my consciousness, “Judy can you call the sheriff back and ask if there has been any robberies, shootings, knifings, jailbreaks reported today or last night in the area.”

“Sure, but why?”

“Based on the missing supplies I’m guessing the emergency is trauma from either a gunshot or a knife wound. Apparently they can’t go to a hospital so that leaves crime as the cause of the injury and it might just show up in the LE database.”

“Okay lock up and we’ll walk over to your house to check it again and I’ll call on the way over.”

Judy’s phone rang as she was about to call: it was the sheriff calling back. Listening to the one-sided conversation I gleaned enough to speculate that Margaret Hansen was not at home.

We hurried to the cottage and once inside did another search that turned up nothing.

“Her car is here and she’s not here or at the clinic and has left no messages for either of us,” Judy mused aloud.
We were seated in the kitchen at the table waiting for the sheriff to call back. I was staring at the ceiling fingers laced behind my neck.

“Your hunch seems to be proving out but what made you think she had been kidnapped.”

“I can’t say if anything triggered it. I just knew the moment I walked into the house something was wrong. I just followed that knowing wherever it led. That’s it in a nutshell. No logical reason at all.”

At that moment the phone rang but it was the landline. I noted the number and that it was a mobile number. Quickly I reached for the phone lifting the receiver off its cradle, “Hello.”

“Mom,” I cried, “is that you?”

“It’s me baby, hush and listen. I have to be quick. I’m treating an emergency patient tonight and I can’t leave until in the morning. You go and stay with Judy tonight and I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow. Judy will look after you and you be a good girl for her okay and remember baby I love you.”

“I love you too mom,” I returned as the phone went dead.

“Mom,” I cried into the useless device.

“Was that Liz?”

I nodded numbly replaying the conversation. Was it my imagination or had she stressed the word can’t? The last sentence had felt too final. I felt the chills again.

“It was mom but something wasn’t right.”

“Another feeling of yours?”

“Yes but I have some facts this time to back it up. She called from a mobile number but it’s not hers. She couldn’t or wouldn’t tell me who she was treating or where. And she told me to be a good girl for you.”

Judy sensed my turmoil and rose to hug me tightly, “It will be all right, I promise. Too bad you didn’t get the number.”

Squirming out from her arms I grinned, “Who says I didn’t,” I replied retrieving pen and paper writing down the number. “I seemed to have developed a photographic memory and I also left the phone off the hook too if that helps to trace it any.”

The sheriff took that moment to call Judy back. Listening again to another one-sided conversation I learned that the tower signal showed that Liz was traveling north. The time was 2:16 and a little over 4 hours ago.

Only one event fit our profile, a jailbreak or rather a road-gang breakout. Five men had overpowered the guards rescuing one prisoner with one rescuer being shot in the attempt. But that was two counties to the east and they were last seen heading south where law enforcement was focusing their efforts with obligatory notices going out to the surrounding counties. The least likely direction was this far west and north.

Judy relayed to the sheriff that Liz had called and the number she used.

“Can I talk to him,” I asked.

Judy handed me the phone, “Sheriff Beckham this is Atalanta Reed, how soon can you have a location for the last call?”

“About ten minutes and we should know something. Atalanta there is not much more we can do until the 24 hours are up and strictly speaking the last call should start the time all over. But I’m not going to do that. Tonight I’ll inform the sheriffs and police north of here to be on the lookout for possible escapees and that they might have two women hostages. By tomorrow morning if you haven’t heard anything I’ll issue a full-blown alert. But if they are going north they are heading into a full blown snowstorm.”

“Thanks sheriff.”

A few minutes later the sheriff called back that the last signal was also north and seemed to be online to Colorado or Utah but that its location was out of his jurisdiction. He had informed that county’s sheriff of the possible convicts and hostages but wasn’t hopeful as he had no vehicle description or a confirmed sighting.

I stared glumly at the four kitchen walls.

“He’s doing all he can.”

I bit back the quick retort. “Thanks Judy but we both know he is half-ass in it.” I knew I was being unfair to the sheriff but my instincts were screaming at me. I had to do something.

“You need something to eat,” Judy replied shifting the subject.

“I do need to eat something but not right now. What I need now is some peace and quiet and time to think and then food.”

“Okay I need to take care of a few things and eat dinner too but you’d better be over there at the house no later than nine o`clock.”

“I’ll be there then.”

“Oh, and I want your promise that you won’t do anything foolish.”

“I promise that I won’t do anything foolish but you’ll be the first to know if I do,” I replied grinning and mentally crossing my fingers.

She seemed to buy it, “Remember nine o`clock and honey your mom will be fine.”

After she left I retrieved the road map from our car and printed out several types of maps from the computer and after that placing my phone on charge. By nine, I had laid out heavier clothes and boots on my bed and rummaged what supplies I needed from the pantry and closets.

Sitting at the kitchen table, I drew vectors to their last known positions and plotted intercepting vectors across the country. The state road they were likely taking outlined an inverted “C”, all I need do was connect the ends. A hundred road miles was reduced by half by traveling as the crow flies doing this. From doing Google searches, I learned and marked landmarks, mines, and shacks along the way. The TV weather reports helped me determine snowfall amounts and road conditions in the direction I felt they were going.

When nine o’clock chimed in the kitchen I left walking to the main house with those variables continuing to swirl about as they were being processed, distilled, and sorted. The night air seemed unnaturally still and quiet as the temperature continued to drop.

Halfway across the yard on hearing a call I looked about finally seeing a great owl perched on the eaves. As I looked up at him, he turned his head and looked directly at me and in that brief moment some knowledge passed between us. The owl took wing and flew off into the clouds leaving silence in its wake.

Climbing the steps to the porch my boots clop clopping on the wooden planking I opened the door that led to the kitchen area and not the dining room to began heating leftovers. In a few minutes I was joined by Lindsey and her mother at the table.

“Judy told us what happened. Is there anything we can do?”

“Not really,” I replied, “Except to pray.”

Feigning hunger, I kept one eye on my plate and the other on the room while I slyly made mental notes. Judy came as I was doing so carrying a cup of chocolate with her.

“Here,” she said holding the cup out, “Every girl likes chocolate and this is what the doctor ordered for a cold night like this.” Some words stood out in my mind even if they hadn’t in the speaking and rang a warning bell. Similar to the uneasiness I had received arriving home earlier I decided something felt off. But for mom’s sake I couldn’t let on.
Taking the cup from her I set it on the kitchen counter, “Thanks Aunt Judy. I guess it is the nervousness but I need to go first.”

“Drink it before it gets cold.”

“I won’t be but a minute,” I assured her.

Making sure my footsteps sounded just as if I was going to the bathroom I slipped back and hid just outside the door to eavesdrop, “… just a mild sedative it will help her sleep. Make sure she drinks it okay.”

My hunch was right I thought as I quietly slipped away and returning minutes later. Judy had already left, leaving Lindsey and her mom to see that I drank the chocolate. I picked up the cup smiling at them over the top of the cup, brought it to my lips, and drinking from it. Satisfied that I wasn’t suspicious and or not thirsty the older woman left the room, leaving Lindsey and me alone. After making sure Hannah wasn’t returning I bent over the sink and spat out a wad of chocolate soaked tissue into the drain.

“What is that?”

“A wad of toilet paper,” I declared before asking. “Have you got any more cocoa?” When she just stood looking at me I asked again, “Please Lindsey get me some cocoa.”

As she was bringing me the cocoa, I rinsed out the cup in the sink and after heating water made another cup of chocolate. Filling the cup I held it out between us and lifted the cup draining it in two large gulps.

“Now you can tell your mom you saw me drink the whole cup.”

“I get you,” she giggled with me, “but why. You are not going to do something crazy are you?”

I parried her question, “I don’t like being drugged for one thing and besides I want to be awake and alert at first light when the sheriff calls.”

“Cool.”

We hugged and I quietly left the kitchen.

Back at home I quickly slipped out the back and hurried to the stables where I saddled and fed Ready and a packhorse. While they were eating I gathered camping supplies from the tack room and then opened the secret weapons cache Manny had built into the addition.

I led the horses, tied them out of sight in the bushes behind my house, and slipped inside where I began to systematically turn off the lights.

I settled in the darkened house to wait. As I did I reviewed the plan and actions I was going to take that night. Judy was going to be pissed at me I knew that. That couldn’t be helped. I again went over my preparations and assumptions looking for any holes that I could fill.

I had enough food packed to last two people three days and the same amount of grain for the horses. On the packhorse I had filled a five gallon bladder with water though I was sure, if the weather people were right, I could melt enough snow to last. I had stashed several large tarps and ropes as well on that horse and a comprehensive medical kit. I had also filled a duffel bag with an extra change of clothing for mom and me and the other toiletries we might need. The extra horse was probably loaded with 150 pounds of gear while I had filled Ready’s saddlebags with similar but smaller amounts.

From the shadows I kept watch on the darkened yard from behind the curtains on my bedroom window when a few minutes past 11, a dark figure floated across from the main house. Sighing, I quickly slipped away from the window and under the covers pretending to be asleep when the shadowy figure moments later walked into the house and down the hall before then looking into my bedroom. Seemingly satisfied that I was sleeping, the intruder turned around and walked down the hall and back to the main house.

I lay quietly under the covers until I was assured she wouldn’t return tonight. I hastily dressed in the leather duster and boots Manny had bought for me as a going away gift. The girl in the mirror was sufficiently badass to look at home in a grim reaper movie or the matrix. I smiled at the thought and whispered, “You go girl.”

Leaving by the back door and after I had gathered the extra gear from the house I needed, I walked to where I had left the horses tied. I secured the extra pack to the little mustang and untying their reins walked the horses a safe distance before mounting. Seated on Ready’s back I saw the owl perched on a high limb in front of me. Once again we locked gazes before he flew off the perch and to the north. I followed at a slower pace.

The snow began falling lightly a flake or two and then flurries first but by daylight the air was heavy with large flakes and quickly accumulating on the cold ground. My map showed that I was nearing where mom had called last evening.
Throughout the night I followed the owl catching glimpses but at daylight he seemed to have disappeared. Stopping and searching out the area I located an overhang large enough to shelter the horses and myself.

Using a tarp I quickly erected a make shift shelter for the animals and me and built a fire. Melting snow, I fed and watered my horses and then ate a hot breakfast. Pulling out a sheaf of papers and several maps and with the help of my compass I made mental notes of the most likely places to hole up and comparing them to my present location.
Once finished and leaned against the rocky bank I dug out my cell phone.

“Hello,” the sleepy voice at the other end of the call answered.

“Judy this is Atalanta.”

“Atalanta, what time is it?”

“A little after seven.”

“I didn’t think you’d be up so early.”

“Why not, I haven’t been to bed yet,” I replied cheerfully.

The rustling at the other end told me Judy was now wide-awake.

“Where are you? You promised me not to do anything foolish.”

“Technically, I told you I’d call you first and I have. I’m about 30-35 miles north in the mountains and I intend to find mom. You can let the sheriff know where I am and what I’m doing. I’ll leave my phone on and check in about every four hours but don’t call me.”

“Atalanta is there nothing I can say to make you change your mind?”

Shaking my head, “Nothing, besides its too late now,” I admitted.

“Relax Aunt Judy. I’ll be fine. Right now I’m under an overhang having a hot chocolate after a hot breakfast. The horses are warm and comfortable and I’ll be ready to travel when my guide shows up.”

“Guide, what are you blabbering about?”

“A spirit guide, an owl.”

Judy understood what a spirit guide was from her Native America heritage and its meaning. “Okay,” she sighed, but be careful.”

“I will,” I replied hanging up having spied my owl on a rock 30 yards away.

“Give me a couple of minutes,” I called out. He seemed to understand tilting his head in my direction.

By mid afternoon, we were struggling in two feet of snow with Ready bucking mightily through it gaining a few feet at a time. If the snow wasn’t dry and fluffy or had it melted and then froze or blown into snowdrifts then I was stranded in the wilderness. And it was only a matter of time before one or more scenarios happened.

My owl was still showing up teasing me before flying off into the snow. Just before noon he had turned northwest and then due east and then north again.

I was utterly and completely lost. Funny I didn’t feel any panic. Maybe it was the seemingly unbroken sea of white that blanketed everything wrapping myself in its warmth. Lulled into a sense of peace; maybe I should just rest.

The owl’s screech together with Ready tossing her head jarred me back to reality. Shaking my head and dismounting, I leaned against the horse and mumbled, “What have I let myself in for?” Looking up and taking the reins I began plodding through the snow, taking one step then two steps forward. Time dragged as much as I did into the waning hours of daylight. My owl continued its taunts.

This part of New Mexico or was it Colorado or even Utah was crisscrossed with gulley, ditches and depressions that held winter snows and formed runoffs for the spring melting to accumulate and provide avenues for summer storms to flow through. Strange monuments and weird carvings often resulted from the water’s force. Ahead was just such a place where the snow and rushing water had carved an enclave from the rocks resulting in a large overhang that had carried away the earth beneath and offered shelter from the storm. That action had also deposited a fair amount of debris including fuel for a fire along the banks as well.

Working quickly I soon had a makeshift shelter set up for the animals and myself. Nearby, I collected a large amount of seasoned and rotting firewood and soon a good hot fire. It was cozy there with the ground bare and the snow reflecting the heat inside. The weather cooperated blowing the smoke back along my trail and out of my shelter. While supper was cooking I fed and watered the horses. Even Harvard flew in and found a perch to light on. Yes I named the owl Harvard. I figured the school Harvard was smart like my owl.

Harvard flew from his perch to land on the woodpile and began scratching and clawing at the pieces. The horses watched contentedly and I watched both between spoonfuls of stew and sipping hot coffee and leaving Harvard to his foraging.
Now what? I wondered aloud after eating and scrubbing my cooking utensils with harvested snow.

Harvard screeched loudly as if to answer and flew out into the falling snow that had slowed considerably with darkness falling.

Should I follow?

In a few minutes he was back, calling out impatiently.

“You want me to follow you?”

Harvard cocked his head as if to say, “Are you crazy? I can’t talk.”

“What about sign language then?” That bird looked me squarely in my eyes and nodded.

“Okay,” I grumbled, “Give a minute and keep your shirt on.” I giggled at the inane reference and rose wrapping my long coat tighter, and decided the horses would remain in place until I returned. Banking the fire and securing my rifle, I walked into the cold night following a bird.

After an hour and two hundred yards of trudging through waist deep snow where Harvard was barely visible at times in the haze, I stumbled on to another break in the landscape, a break that Harvard had already claimed and was pensively studying me with his large golden eyes.

“Is this it?” I asked.

Harvard screeched in reply.

I was on a rise at the head of a small valley and using my binoculars examined the panorama in front of me. Sweeping the valley laid out before me I almost missed it. Tucked into the corner nearest me and half hidden by boulders was a house.

Concentrating, I swept the area again finally seeing several lights that twinkled out of the darkness at me. Sweeping the area again I saw the outlines of several buildings that flanked the homestead. One I was sure was a barn with a connecting shed with what I was sure was a tractor or truck parked in its opening. Adjusting the binoculars I inspected the area for the third time, finally seeing the ash of chimney smoke against the white blanket of snow. The humidity quickly pushed the plume of smoke down hovering just above the rooftop. Parked in front of the house were several more vehicles.

This wasn’t an abandoned homestead or mine but a real working ranch with people inside. The question though was, was there crooks inside too? And by extension was my mom there? I had to know and needed a closer look.

First I needed a plan and a germ of an idea formed that I began to refine until I was satisfied that it could still be used even if something unexpected happened. But I needed Judy’s help.

Excited I dug out my phone giving a fist pump when I saw I had a signal.

“Judy,” I asked when the call was picked up, “This is Atalanta. I’ve found them.”

“Atalanta, where are you and you found who? Your mom?”

“I don’t know exactly where I am at but I guess it is western Colorado about 100 to 120 miles by the road, 40 to 50 miles, or half that as the crow flies from where you are at. I am watching an isolated working ranch that’s snowed in. There are people inside and no evidence that anyone has been outside today.”

“If you don’t know where you are at how did you come up with those numbers?”

“Guesswork,” I answered, “They traveled by the state road and you know how crooked it is. You travel two miles on it to go one mile and I have ridden Ready more than 40 or 50 miles in 12 hours before.” I knew the miles were as accurate as we had been absent from the ranch for closer to 18 hours. I allowed for slower progress through the deeper snow that day and that we had stopped twice.

“Okay but you haven’t talked with anyone or seen who is inside.”

“No I haven’t.”

“Then how can you be sure you have the right place or people.”

“The same way I knew how to find those kidnappers. I just know.”

“Okay let’s say you’re right. What are you planning to do?”

“I’ve got a plan forming but I need your help.”

“What can I do from here?”

“Call the sheriff and let him know I’ve called and to triangulate my position. That should help narrow it down to western Colorado or even Utah and my description of this place should narrow that even farther. I take it the crooks have not been caught.”

“I’ve been so worried about you and Liz, not about those criminals but the sheriff hasn’t told me anything about them. I do know he’d like to take you out behind the woodshed and tan your hide. I wouldn’t mind a piece of that action myself.”

A pang of guilt stabbed me.

“I’m sorry Judy but I didn’t have a choice.”

“Tell the sheriff," I continued, "to contact Colorado authorities and tell them I’ll leave my phone on to find us.”

“You stay right where you are and be safe.”

“Don’t worry Judy. I am safe where I am at out of the snow and bundled up tight against the cold and I’ve got a fire going to boot. If I had only thought to bring marshmallows and a cute guy I’d be tempted to turn my cell off.”

The laugh from Judy reassured me the white lie was worth it.

Leaning against the rock I considered what to do next. The horses would be fine where they were at until daylight and I doubted they’d stray from shelter. The fire should burn and smolder providing both heat and protection from the elements and any predators. The slackening snow necessitated that the next phase be executed quickly.

My mind made up, I pushed away from the rock and approached the house from the north, the opposite direction I had traveled from. Using the buildings and terrain as cover I safely sneaked up to the house. From there I circled the perimeter being extra careful looking in at the doors and windows.

The windows on what I assumed were the bedrooms were closed and darkened leaving me to guess who and how many people they held.

Thank god kitchen window curtains weren’t really designed with privacy in mind because using some caution I sneaked up to the kitchen window to look inside and see three females. One was Margaret, mom’s erstwhile assistant, while the other two were unmistakably mother and daughter. Seeing Margaret confirmed for me that I had located the fugitives.
Sliding quietly under the kitchen window sill I carefully approached the next eyelet and closer to the front of the house. The curtains were drawn but I was able to peer inside between the drapery folds. Seated on a couch in a far corner of the living room sat the father and his son and the younger daughter who was about eight years old. Three hard-bitten men silently kept watch from their vantage; one seated in a straight back chair facing the father and his two children. A second man seated cattycornered, beside the front door in an upholstered chair, while a third was seated between the threshold of the kitchen and living room. From there he watched both kitchen and the front room.

Crouching with my back to the outside wall, I expelled a pent-up breath and considered what I knew and what I guessed. Three men had helped three men escape from a road crew and one had been shot in the escape. That was six men and then somehow they had convinced Margaret to trick mom into helping their escape, so that was eight people that had shown here yesterday afternoon.

Based on the dimensions and the house layout, what I could see from the kitchen and front room windows, there were three bedrooms and a bath which meant that most likely the family that lived here consisted of three children and their parents.

Eight people on the run and the five that lived here for a total of thirteen, nine was accounted for that left three men, one that was wounded and my mom missing.

Two thugs were undoubtedly sleeping in two of the bedrooms while the wounded man was in the third bedroom and mom was with that man caring for his medical needs.

One of the bedrooms opened off the kitchen and I assumed was probably the master bedroom. The second bedroom if the window locations were any indications was larger than the third and likely held two beds and for the girls with the other smaller room being the boy’s. It was impossible to say who was in which room but my intuition was telling me though that mom and her patient was in the room with two beds.

My innate sixth sense decided that the girl’s room was the middle and I moved as quietly as possible to see inside past the drawn curtains. I was able to tell a nightlight was on which help support my theory that it was the girl’s room.

Standing to one side, I used my knife to test the window. I held my breath as I felt it move. Scant seconds later the curtains parted with my mom’s face looking out. I almost screamed partly in relief mostly in surprise. She didn’t see me as I was in the dark and tight against the wall.

Now the problem was how to let her know I was here and not freak her out doing it. Watching the curtains fall into place an idea surfaced. Quickly moving before I changed my mind, I used my knife blade to slowly work the window higher.

When I was satisfied with its height I then listened closely with all my senses tuning into the rhythms of the room. Only then did I begin whispering her name, Liz … Liz … Liz in time with that cadence.

After what seemed an eternity the whooshing sounds of shoes on carpet reached my ears. Mom was coming to investigate either the draft or the whispers. Shielding my face with my hat I waited. I heard her mumble something about the window.

Screwing up my courage I whispered louder, “Liz.” In the stillness it sounded like I was beating a bass drum. I heard the curtains rustle as they opened, followed by a sharp intake of breath.

“Liz,” I repeated with my face still in the shadows. The window opened higher.

“Who are you and what are you doing here and why?”

“Before I tell you, you have to promise me that you will not freak out.”

“Why would I freak out?”

“Promise first.”

“I promise.”

“Remember you promised,” I replied more calmly than I felt tipping my hat back with both the white of the snow and the subdued inside lighting bathing my face in relief.

Mom to her credit stifled her scream but she hissed through clinched teeth, “Atalanta, what are you doing here, and why aren’t you in bed?”

Her maternal instincts were on high alert.

“Mom,” I whined channeling my inner child, “You didn’t think I was going to let you go gallivanting around the country without me, did you?”

“What are you doing out there?”

Sighing I took a firmer tone, “Hush and listen to me. Okay?”

When she had hushed I added, “I’ve alerted the local authorities and they have fixed our location with my cell phone and they will be here shortly. I’m going to stand guard outside in the meantime.”

“Aren’t you cold?”

“No, this coat is really warm and I’ve got horses for company and Harvard.”

“Harvard. And just who is Harvard?”

“Mom Harvard is not somebody, he is my pet owl.”

“Since when do you have an owl?”

“Since last evening when he showed up as I was leaving and I followed him here. And mom, I’m camped about three hundred yards away in a natural depression. It’s a natural shelter; scooped out by the weather, it has a roof and protection from the snow. It’s nice and warm and cozy in there especially with the horses in there. I’ve got a fire that I started with all the driftwood that’s lying around I’ve done eat a hot supper. I just wanted make sure you was all right and let you know help is on its way.”

“I suppose, but I still don’t like it.”

“Here,” I said handing her an extra cell phone, “my number is programmed in and it is on silent mode. If I need to get in touch I’ll call. Okay?”

Just then my phone buzzed, “I got to go,” I added holding up my phone as I slipped away to answer. I was probably going to hear about getting the last word in when this was over.

“Hello,” I whispered.

“Is this Atalanta Reed?”

“Yes it is.”

“This is Sheriff Fife. We are having some difficulty pinpointing your exact location. The snow is causing the tower signals to echo and bounce about. The closest we can place you is probably within 5 miles. In the dark and in this snow we may stumble around you or into you and we don’t want that if we can help it. Do you have any more information about your location?”

“Sheriff, I’m not from here and I have traveled almost 24 hours in a blinding snowstorm. So I have no idea where I am at and I haven’t seen any landmarks at all and for all I know I could be standing on one right now and not know it.”

“I’m sorry but unless you have something else for us to go on we are going to hunker down for the night and wait until daylight.”

A germ of an idea formed, “Sheriff, if I can supply you the name of the people that live here would that help?”

“Hell yes, can you do that?”

“I think so let me check and I’ll call you back in a few minutes.”

Thirty minutes later after again circling the house and recording the car license plates I dialed Sheriff Fife back and asked, “You got a pen and paper handy.”

“Shoot.”

I rattled off a series of letters and numbers, “That is the license plate numbers of every vehicle here.”

“I’ll run these numbers and call you back.”

I retraced my steps to where I had first spotted the homestead, on a rise at the head of the valley. The place offered protection from the wind and snow where I could observe the house. The drawback was that building a fire here might give away my position and it was smaller than the place where my horses were picketed. My cell phone buzzed again it was the sheriff calling back.

The Beans was a family of five and with that name they now had a layout of the land and where we were located. What they did not have was a floor plan of the house. I told him I could supply that information. After I described my present position and where my main camp was we agreed to meet there in about two hours and plan out the next step. That camp was about three hundred yards away from the house and we felt confident that we wouldn’t give away our location.

The sheriff informed me the numbers of one plate belonged to a family in my county who had not reported it as stolen but Sheriff Fife was calling my sheriff to verify. That could prove to be the vehicle the miscreants had used to drive here.

Retracing my path proved easier than breaking the trail had been and I soon had a lively fire going and hot coffee on when the posse arrived. They brought their own supplies and horses and we soon had my little camp expanded enough to house a dozen men, horses and supplies.

We had all hunkered down around the fire while the sheriff made the introductions. I did get a few strange looks from some of the men.

“I don’t know how you found this shelter, or for that matter I don’t know what in hell kept you from getting lost to start with in this snowstorm. But come to think about it I don’t know how you tracked your mama here either,” the sheriff grumbled and added, “but I’m glad you found these buzzards.”

“I could tell you sheriff how but I’m not sure that will be any easier to believe.”

“We got a few minutes, try me.”

After I finished my tale the sheriff was shaking his head and I was getting a few open mouth expressions especially after I told them about Harvard.

“Where’s this bird at now,” an anonymous voice accused.

I shrugged, “I don’t know, I haven’t seen him since I located the house.”

“Let me get this straight, this owl conveniently shows up as you are leaving, guides you here, and then disappears.” The sheriff asked in his best interview manner.

I nodded.
“I find that hard to believe.”

“Well Sheriff, you tell it then,” I replied calmly. Color rose in his cheeks but any reply was cut short.

“You spend a lot of time in the wilderness?” This came from an older man.

“Before we moved here 18 months ago I was an Army brat and city girl.”

He chuckled shaking his head, “Beats all.”

“Can you use those,” The sheriff asked indicating the pistols on my waist and the rifle leaning against my gear.
“Yes I can.”

“You ever kill anything with them?”

“Just some lions, coyotes, wolves, and the occasional bear but I usually prefer my bow. It gives them a sporting chance,” I grinned pushing his buttons. I noticed his color rise again.

That same old man snapped his fingers, “You’re that bounty hunter, aren’t you.”

Blushing, I busied stoking the fire.

“Bounty hunter,” another man asked the older and whiskered guy.

“Yeah, sheepherders pay a bounty on predators and I heard about this girl who was a whiz at it from some friends of mine down south. I just figured it was a tall tale until now. You’re her, aren’t you?”

I nodded having already let the cat out of the bag by admitting to tracking and killing the predators, “But I didn’t think my identity got around. I had someone else collect the bounty for me. I didn’t want or need the notoriety.”

That same old man snapped his fingers again. I was beginning to really dislike that old man.

“You’re that same gal what tracked and captured those kidnappers.” He went to tell the story and it grew with his retelling. “… Rescued the seven-year old twins, captured and hogtied the bandits all by her lonesome. Hell Sheriff,” he turned to Fife, “you don’t even need a posse when you got Wonder Woman here.”

That comment could be taken badly but when good-natured ribbing followed I found myself grinning at the back and forth banter that followed. That ritual proved to be the means that allowed me to be accepted as an equal in the posse with even the sheriff giving his taciturn agreement.

“Settle down guys,” the sheriff interrupted exerting control, “this is serious business and it is time to move out.” As an afterthought he added, “I just wish we had a way to contact someone inside.”

Seeing the look on my face he growled, “What else haven’t you told me?” More grins from the posse followed.

Blushing again, I replied, “Well Sheriff, as it happens I did talk with my mother and gave her an extra cell phone I just happened to have brought with me.”

He stood slack-jawed and flabbergasted before exclaiming, “I am recruiting you to supervise my next posse, and you seemed to have thought of everything.”

“Not quite,” I returned, “this ground is cold. I wish I had thought of camp chairs.”

He started to grin until he saw that I was serious and instead growled, “Let’s go.” There were some good-natured grins aimed at his back as we broke camp.

After an hour of plodding through the waist deep snow the sheriff had his men in place around the house. He had a man watching each bedroom window at the back and another man watching the kitchen. There were six of us including me covering the front of the house. Sheriff Fife left a man to watch the camp and another at the head of the valley as a lookout. He wanted me to “man” the latter and out of harm’s way but as I pointed out; I knew the layout and I had the inside “man”. He reluctantly agreed.

“See if you can raise your mom.”

“What’s your plan, Sheriff,” I asked.

“It depends on what your mom tells us.”

I dialed but mom didn’t answer but a few minutes later she called me back from the bathroom. From her, we found out the guards had been changed with three men sleeping and two were keeping watch.

“Mom, how long can you stay in the bathroom and not be missed?” The seeds of an idea sprouted.

“Five or ten minutes, I guess.”

“Okay, don’t come out until you have to but don’t stay in there long enough to raise a ruckus either, and mom whatever happens don’t let on that you know me. If you do you’ll blow my cover. And don’t worry it will be over soon. I love you”

“I love you too.”

Sheriff Fife groused at me, “This seems to be your show, tell me what devious plan you came up with and we’ll see if it makes sense.”

I knew he wouldn’t like it and I was right. He didn’t. I didn’t like it either but the plan did made sense to me. In the end he agreed to it although he listed the reasons why it was bad.

“You’re a civilian, underage, and a girl.”

“Don’t you have junior g-men in your department, Sheriff?” I teased.

“Yeppers, but they’re not armed.”

“No problem, Sheriff,” I replied handing him my weapons, “If I need a weapon I’ll borrow one inside. But there is nothing I can do about being a girl.”

“In this case being a girl is an asset, I’d say. A man will be less threatened by a girl and remember she did capture those bandits.” That came from the same whiskered old man that seemed to know a lot about me who had spoken up before.

It was a simple plan. Like in the desert, I was portraying a little girl lost and asking for help. Again I was counting on the men seeing me as a helpless little girl and underestimate me.

The sheriff nodded, “Git going before I come to my senses.”

Trudging across the pristine landscape and pushing against the incessant wall of snow, I carefully watched the house for any sign of discovery. I was not purposefully being quiet but the soft blanket of snow absorbed the sounds of my labored breathing and falling down.

Climbing the porch steps I called out, “Help, hello the house. I’m lost and cold, Help.” I cried pounding on the door.
The door suddenly swung open revealing a middle-aged pock faced black haired man with dark cold eyes holding a semi automatic pistol tight against his body. In that sliver of time as certain as a photograph, I catalogued the interior.
The husband, with his children was on the couch in the same position as I saw earlier. Mom to my relief wasn’t in sight. Through the open arch leading to the kitchen I saw one female. To my right was the second guard, now alert and standing, looking behind me at the dark landscape. I didn’t see Margaret and surmised she probably was in one of the bedrooms.

Playing the part of a frightened schoolgirl I sobbed, “I thought I was going to die out there. Nothing but snow everywhere I looked and then I saw your light. Can’t I come in mister I’m cold and tired.”

“Sure let her in Floyd,” the guard on my right replied, cocky, stepping forward, grinning assuredly, “she’s just a kid and besides you’re letting the cold in,” In a flash I saw that he fancied himself a ladies’ man and cocksure.

Perfect.

I pretended to trip on the threshold and reaching forward latched onto his outstretched hand and using his momentum and my falling weight to jerk him into his partner. Using the slapping technique Manny taught me, together with my cold hands I rapped quickly on the back of his gun hand causing it to relax and open momentarily. As I continued my body roll between the men, my left hand caught the pistol mid air and in one motion rolled to my feet facing them as they untangled. Still moving and before either man could react I stepped forward and snatched the second man’s gun from his waist.

They turned as one facing me but stopping short seeing their pistols in each of my hands.

“How?”

“Magic,” I smiled as I signaled the sheriff and moments later the front room was filled with deputies who quickly handcuffed and gagged the prisoners.

“I think one room has Margaret Hanson in it and another has the wounded man.” I reminded the sheriff.

I was left in the living room to guard the prisoners while the rest of the posse went to wake up the other criminals. Mom had come into the room as the men were being handcuffed, “Atalanta what are you doing,” she asked seeing the pistols I held.

“Mom,” I groused, “please, not now, later okay.”

She nodded, folding her arms under her breasts clearly perturbed at being denied her maternal birthright. I saw some grins flash from the sheriff and a few of his deputies before they quietly and quickly left to round up the bad guys, which didn’t take long.

The outlaws had expected that any trouble would come from within the house and not from outside. Who in their right mind would be outside in this type of weather? Not one of them expected an alert this far west or north. The guards were to keep the family subdued and not against outside discovery.

After securing the fugitives on the couch and calling in reinforcements one of the men asked, “How did you find us? We left a false trail to the south and I didn’t think anyone would be out in this snow.”

“You have her to thank or I guess in your case, curse for that bit of luck,” the sheriff answered pointing at me and amused at their bewilderment.

“Why,” one of the men asked me accusingly.

“You made a big mistake when you kidnapped my mom,” I returned and then laughed, “I knew the second I walked into our house something wasn’t right. It was easy following you guys here,” I grinned rubbing salt in their wounded egos.

I turned to mom and continued, “When you weren’t at the clinic I used the inventory charts and your log to determine what was missing and likely reasons. Judy supplied the rest telling me that Margaret had called you with an emergency although I couldn’t convince our sheriff that you bad guys were responsible for it. I then took matters into my own hands.”

“I figured you’d not listen to me but I depended on Judy to look after you.”

“Don’t blame Judy mom, I tricked her into thinking I had drunk her mickey, going so far as to feign sleeping when she sneaked into the house later to check up on me. She gave me heck for it when I called her later and even accused me of lying to her. But as I told her, technically I hadn’t as she was the first to know.”

Recalling my past adventures the realization of the last sentence set in and more grins lit up members of the posse and even briefly touching the corners of mom’s mouth.

“What am I going to do with you? Going off in the middle of the night and not telling anyone where you’re at or that you even left, just has to stop.”

Shrugging, I returned, “I’m sorry mom but I just seem to be drawn into the middle of stuff but things have turned out all right.”

“Mrs. Reed, sorry to interrupt but how is our wounded prisoner doing?”

“Not so good I’m afraid, Sheriff. I told these guys that the bullet needed to come out but that I couldn’t do it outside of a hospital. I could kill or paralyze him if I tried but he will die if that bullet is not removed, and soon.”

“How soon and what are his chances?”

“His chances are not good less than 50/50 and that’s his chances now; in 24 hours 30/70. I probably should go check on him.”

“Mind if I go along,” the sheriff rejoined.”

“Suit yourself sheriff.”

“Mom, can I tag along?” She nodded taking my hand and we followed the sheriff.

Outside the window, a large winged bird with glowing eyes uttered a doleful shriek from high on its perch in a tree outside the kitchen window as the three figures passed by its vantage point. A shower of snow sparkled, catching the light and fell to the ground as the great owl took flight.

Sheriff Fife led the way into the bedroom walking over to the bed and then stepped aside to allow mom to examine her patient. I watched from behind her as she took his blood pressure and temperature while listening to his heart and checking his eyes using a small penlight.

Satisfied Liz straightened up and turned toward the sheriff, “His condition is worsening and he’ll be dead if he’s not in a hospital before tomorrow tonight.” As Liz explained, she moved from blocking my view of the man who lay, apparently dying.

Memories of a very different night came rushing at me but with different actors. Our gazes met and recognition followed scant seconds later.

“Sarge,” I drawled, “You can’t stay out of trouble, can you?”

“Bitch,” he spat.

Mom’s reply, “You know hi …” was cut short. A tongue of flame exploded at me from under his blanket. My reflexes, incredibly fast was no match for a lead bullet moving 1,000 feet a second and only needed three thousandths of a second to reach me.

Slow motion time kicked in at the last possible instant as I twisted left and away from the shot. I watched as the metal ball punctured my flesh just below my right breast and rib. I felt the slug careen off a rib and exiting my side underneath my arm.

Time then returned to normal as I crashed into and bounced off a wall and onto the floor. I moaned as a searing pain chased the bullet’s trail, followed by a blinding light and then warm darkness. My snapshot before the darkness was the window exploding beside the bed.

I woke in a large subterranean cavern that had several hallways leading away from its center from where I seemed to be at. One hall in particular seemed to beckon me, a hall that was brightly covered in a golden light. I looked at the scene from what appeared to be from inside a box, like observing from a distance and outside my body.

I felt a presence inside my mind demanding attention as I stared, still mesmerized by the light, “Atalanta, it is not your time. You must go back to your family and friends, they and the world need you.”

“What happened?” I thought.

Harvard my great owl appeared; slowly taking the shape of a tall blonde woman dressed in white silks and golden sandals, her body adorned in diamonds, gold, and silver jewelry.

She spoke revealing even white teeth, “Atalanta I hoped you’d have more time to adjust.”

“Huh,” I mumbled sensibly.

“… But I see that I’m going to have speed up the pace some. In the meantime I’ll give you some protection and a mark of that pledge.” The cavern faded.

“What is going on and where am I at?”

“In due time we’ll talk, but not now, it’s time for you to go back.”

The cavern and the woman began to fade, replaced by the room that I was shot in. I slowly became aware of someone hovering over me pulling at my clothes.

“Jeez, are you trying to smother me, I need some air … oh,” I winced as pain stabbed at my side.

The shape above me transformed into mom who paused her examination at my protest to ask me, “Did I hurt you dear?”

“No you didn’t, but the bullet did. I expect I’ll be sore there a while.”

“I need to stop the bleeding, dress and bandage that wound before it gets infected.”

“Sounds good,” I agreed, feeling that my shirt was warm and sticky, “but let’s use another room. Why is it so cold in here?”

Fife and another deputy stepped forward, assisted me to my feet, and with a man on each side of me we shuffled into the kitchen where I was eased into a chair. Mom shooed the men out and into the front room.

My long coat was eased off with mom then cutting my shirt off my body. Except for my bra I was naked from the waist up and perched high on my left arm was the perfect image of Harvard.

“How did that get there?” I wondered.

“Never mind, we’ll talk about it later,” she warned, examining my wound.

She worked quickly using warm water and a saline solution to clean away the blood and then bound it up with strips of linen and gauze. Stepping back she frowned, then looked over at the wife, down at herself and finally over to Margaret.
“Atalanta, you need a clean bra, yours is filthy, but none of ours will fit you but I don’t want your breasts irritating your wound either. I need to come up with a makeshift bra.”

“Can you have the sheriff bring me my pack?”

She nodded and disappeared into the other room and in a few minutes returned with my pack.

“Don’t tell me you packed a clean bra.”

“I tried to come prepared and I even brought a change of clothing for you too.”

As she was sorting through what I packed, I occasionally caught her looking at me oddly and more than once seemed on the verge of a comment. Soon I was dressed in a clean bra and blouse.

“Can you help me on with this coat?”

“You sure you don’t want to wear something lighter.”

“No, this is fine. Can you get the Sheriff for me?”

I was resting on my left arm and side relieving the pressure when he came in, “I’d appreciate it if you see that my animals and my stuff gets home safely.”

“Don’t you worry about it Atalanta, it’s taken care of. I have my best man on it.”

Thanks Sheriff,” I replied, “but can someone tell me what happened back there,” I indicated the bedroom with my gaze.

“You were shot and I guess it was your owl busted through the window hovered over you and then disappeared; not much,” he declared with a lopsided grin.

“What about Sarge?”

“He’s still holding on.”

The rancher and a deputy had found enough wood to board up the window against the cold. Also with the rancher’s help they were using a sled to pack the snow for a copter to land.

As we were waiting, I noticed the two girls staring at me wide-eyed. Calling them to me I apologized, “I’m sorry I got blood in your room and that my bird broke out your window. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

“Are you a super hero,” the youngest whispered shyly.

“No,” I replied giggling, “I’m just a girl who can’t get out of her own way, but I do have a secret weapon,” I leaned forward whispering.

She jumped up and down excitedly, “You really have a secret weapon!”

“I have a guardian and that’s like a secret weapon isn’t it.”

“Does she have wings?”

I started to answer no then I remembered Harvard; “Sometimes she does and sometimes she doesn’t. What do you guys say if I ask her to protect your room from bad people and then I will see if she will clean up your room after we leave?”

“Will she do that,” the older girl asked giving me a serious look.

“I’m sure she will keep the bad stuff out of there and stand guard while you sleep. I can’t say for sure about her cleaning up but I’ll ask. Okay.”

I noticed that mom spent a lot of time on the phone or huddled up with sheriff while we waited for the helicopter to arrive. What they talked about or who all she called beside Judy I didn’t know. The hastily constructed helicopter landing pad was about 50 yards away from the house and a packed runway leading from it to the house.

Despite my protests they carried me out on a litter amidst a round of “’Atta’ girl,” from the posse. Being carried and laying flat put a lot of pressure along my side and with each step toward the aircraft a wave of dull pain rolled over me and I groaned as the aircraft drew closer. Beside the pilot and three medical personnel, the feds had sent along three agents to oversee. The feds were always involved in crimes that crossed state lines and were quick to add their 2 cents. Sarge and I were tied in and quickly hooked to monitors and IVs. Before we left the ground both the pain and my mind was getting fuzzy and I didn’t remember the trip or arriving at the hospital.

Sometime later that day I awoke in a hospital bed hooked to IVs with an occasional beep from a monitor. The second time was later that same afternoon and I realized I was in one of those awful gowns that all hospitals seem to favor. Sleep hastily reclaimed me each time. On each occasion mom was seated in a chair.

The room was darkened when consciousness returned the third time, light provided by corridor lighting. I was familiar with many of the trays, equipment, and machinery present from working in and around the clinic.

My right side was swaddled in bandages and drips and IV’s were attached to various places along the hand and arm on that side too. Wires were also attached to several locations on my chest and an automatic BP cuff on my right arm.
Mom was curled up in a lounge chair asleep, if her even breathing was any indication.

The large round face wall clock read 2:30 in the a.m. from all appearances. After noting the furnishings and where the interior doors, closet, and dresser were located, I began to take a bodily inventory. It was then I noticed the straps around my legs and waist and that the bed railings were up. I felt like a prisoner.

I did have free movement of my left hand and arm and my head and neck. Oh and I could wiggle my toes. My hair was tied back keeping it out of my eyes and from tangling as much.

The door opened admitting a nurse, “Oh you are awake. How are we feeling this morning?”

“I’m ready to go home.”

“You have any pain,” she asked checking my vitals and IV before testing my dressing.

“No, but what are these straps for? How about you take them off me?”

“You’re not going thrashing about and tear open your wound are you?”

I responded holding up two fingers on my left hand, “Scouts honor.”

“In that case I guess it will be all right,” she acknowledged releasing the restraints. I experimented moving my legs and then I scooted higher in the bed.

“Whoa,” she cautioned, “too much moving around and I’ll have to replace the restraints.”

“Sorry I was just trying to get comfortable. When will I be released?”

“When the doctor says you can?”

I smiled, “I’m good friends with her.”

She smiled back, “Sorry sweetie not here, she’s not your doctor.”

Our conversation must have awakened mom because I heard her stirring and in minutes she was beside my bed.

“Sweetheart, how are you feeling?”

“Great,” I declared, “How long before you can spring me from this joint?”

She laughed, “I’m glad you are feeling better but probably not for another 24 hours.”

“Why,” I pouted, “I’m ready to go home.”

“Why,” she repeated, “why because you’ve been shot and I agree with your doctor that another night of observation to make sure that no infection has set in. Besides, you need to be interviewed and give a statement to the authorities.”

“Where are we?”

“Cedar City Medical Park,” Mom answered.

Great, I had a name and a place but not a location.

“Okay … but where are we again?”

“Utah, dear.”

“Um-mm, I’m hungry, any chance I can get anything to eat here and a drink; I’m thirsty too.”

Mom and the nurse left together, mom to get me some food and drink from the canteen near the nursing station and the nurse to her duties. She returned in a few minutes with some bland fruit cup and water that wasn’t very appetizing but it was cool and soothing.

“Thanks, mom,” I frowned after she had disposed of the container. “What happened after I was shot?”

“What do you remember,” she countered.

“Just flashes,” I admitted, “the explosion, the flame, the bullet, and the window crashing in. That’s all, just snapshots.”

“You’re one very lucky girl; an inch to the left …”

“Can’t happen,” I replied casually, “I didn’t become a girl for no reason. Besides I have a guardian.”

“Harvard?”

“Yes-no, well maybe but I think he is just a projection of someone else.”

“Who do you think that is?”

“First tell me what happened in there,” I asked referring to the bedroom where I was shot.

“The window blew in at the same instant as the shot did and followed by a giant owl that flew over to and covered you like a blanket and then seemed to disintegrate right before my eyes. When it did, I rushed right over to you and found you struggling to get up. It all took less time than it takes to tell it. Now it’s your turn.”

I shrugged, telling her of the cavern, the great owl, and of the woman and her message.

Perplexed, she replied, “I thought I saw a similar looking woman in that cloud that covered you, but it was just a fraction of a second and I could be mistaken.”

Pulling down the gown from my left shoulder, “You think this is that mark,” I asked pointing to the etched image.

“I don’t know but I won’t discount it either,” she countered.

We talked a little longer before I started to feel sleepy, “Mom I’m fine, but I am getting sleepy again and I think you need your sleep too,” I yawned pulling the covers higher.

A few days later found me at home either resting on our couch, in bed, or at the kitchen table. Doctor orders, no make that mom orders.

“Isn’t there another way, mom,” I asked for the umpteenth time. “I’m not one of these mutants and I don’t want to go to this Whateley Academy.”

We were seated at the table in the kitchen discussing me going to this school back east. Actually I was protesting going and had been ever since I had first learned of this school.

After the interviews at the hospital and the subsequent release the next day we flew home in a helicopter provided by a grateful government. Being a military brat I recognized two of the passengers as definitely from one of the services. Both spent a lot of time talking with mom.

In designing the new clinic a landing pad was built behind the center for any trauma victims. It didn’t require a lot of space and it was paid from a grant and its use limited to LE, medical, ranch business, and location made it an ideal staging area.

We landed to a small crowd of onlookers, Judy, Lindsey, and Sheriff Beckham chief among them. I felt like I was on display; landing in a helicopter doesn’t go unnoticed.

A week later mom broke the news about Whateley and I had whined about going ever since.

Finally she had had enough, “Out with it Atalanta, what is bothering you? It can’t be you’re afraid of meeting other people. Not the girl who singlehanded went into the desert and tracked down five bad men and rescued two little children. Or the girl that handed a guy twice your size, kicked his rear-end or the girl who in a snowstorm tracked down and rescued seven hostages and then survived getting shot.”

“… But.”

Liz was wound up tight and wasn’t about to be sidetracked, “Or the girl who played bounty hunter last winter and that I had to find that out from strangers. This same girl that has daggers as her hair pins. Now that I think about it this Whateley Academy may just be what you need to keep you out of trouble. And since it’s affiliated with the Army you can go there on a military scholarship.”

Great, now mom has convinced herself and any chance I had at changing her mind just flew out the window. But, a military school?

That O’Reily dude from one of the alphabet agencies must have really done a good job selling her on Whateley merits.
I conceded that the mutant rumors and the different hate groups out there might be a problem and that a temporary Military MID card shielded and allowed me to travel was useful. A small but larger group now knew my back-story and with the exception of my tattoo my appearance hadn’t noticeably changed. I did notice a subtle sense or source of power that I wasn’t aware of before being shot.

“Fine, have your way mom. I can’t really say why it bothers me as much as it does. It maybe that it seems I have no choice in the matter. It might be I don’t like to be labeled as a mutant. Or it could be something else, but you are right I am not afraid of any single person or a group of people. But I do have reservations about organizations that I’m not familiar with.”

“Congratulations Atalanta you have articulated your concerns and not just griped about it. There do you feel better,” Liz replied smiling.

I did feel better. “Yes I guess I do but I think it’s your smile that’s doing it,” I returned her smile.

“Good we’re going to celebrate Thanksgiving and Christmas together on Thanksgiving because they want you there early for your placement tests. So you’ll be there for their finals while you get placed and assigned your classes for the winter semester. You’ll also get your power testing and classification and permanent MID card then too.”

That was news to me, “So I go up to get tested and return back here and then go back to start school,” I queried.

“No, not that dear,” mom replied quickly, “the students have two weeks and the faculty has only one week. Your placement and power testing will run into both weeks and the MID card you have is temporary and is more like a travel warrant. Until you get your permanent card you can be arrested for unauthorized travel.”

“Jeez mom, that is a reason I didn’t want the mutant label.”

“You brought that one on yourself young lady when you rescued me,” Liz replied teasingly.

“I’d do it again,” I replied stoutly.

“I know you would and that is as good a reason as any you need this school. You’ll learn to deal with this new world that you’re in and stay out of miss-adventures.”

Somehow I didn’t think it wasn’t going to be as simple as that.

The next week flew by and Thanksgiving came and went with food and gifts and well wishes. The month long holidays was condensed down to three days with Sunday to rest on. Monday I packed my belongings and sneaked a visit to Ready and my cache.

Tuesday evening saw me waiting on the wooden platform at the depot for the train to arrive. I dressed warmly in jeans, boots, and my duster over Liz and Judy’s protests of, “You look like a hooligan going dressed in those clothes.”

My two suitcases were already checked and slung across one shoulder hung my purse while I clutched tightly the duffel or overnight bag. Its weight belied its compact size and contents: a change of clothing, toiletries, nightshirt, and duplicate documents.

My schedule called to change trains in Kansas City and again in Boston over to a local line that would take me into Dunwich where I was to be met from someone representing the school. My itinerary also included a one-day layover in Boston to connect with that local train which only ran three days a week to Dunwich.

As the days clicked off and the time for my departure drew nearer a strange dichotomy occurred: Mom and Judy grew more tense and anxious at the same time as I grew more enthused.

Mom adjusted the lapels on my coat for the third time while asking me again, “You have your money, cell phone and charger, travel papers, birth certificate, make-up, laptop …”

“Mom calm down. We’ve already went over this at least three times and checked and rechecked every item off the list. I’ll be all right but now I’m worried that you won’t be.”

“Honey I’m just worried that’s all. I’m sending my baby off into the world all alone and your just 14 years old.”

“But-But,” I teased posing, “I’m not just any 14 year old. I’m Superwoman.”

Before mom could properly scold me the faint sound metal of pushing against metal reached our ears, “clickety-clack, clickety-clack.” The sounds grew louder as each second ticked off until the hiss of air brakes signaled its stopping at the depot platform.

The conductor punched my ticket while the porter loaded my bags. A second round of hugs and goodbyes had the conductor admonishing us, “All aboard or you will be catching the next train.”

Standing at the top of the steps I waved and watched until the two lone figures disappeared against the sun. The train was almost empty and I had my choice of seats.

At last I was on my way to the New England school: Whateley Academy. What miss-adventures lay ahead?

Thanks for reading. There is one more chapter to go in this first book. It maybe a while after that before I start posting the second book. I have her at Whateley but am re thinking that timeline as it doesn't feel right. I do intend to write several more books of Atalanta's Miss-Adventures.

As always thanks for reading and your comments and I'll try and answer any question you have.

Atalanta's Story Chapter 11- Final Chapter Book One. Written By Katelyn and edited by William Durr. I want to thank Bill for his help not only in this chapter but many other bumps getting here as well. I wrote this during last Christmas and the story is set in that same time.

In this final chapter Atalanta's train trip is not without its excitement or its odd assortment of characters. But exactly what forces are at work?

Chapter Eleven

The rattle of cars jostling on iron railings and the hiss of air brakes signaled that we had reached the Kansas City substation and a date with the dedicated passenger train to Boston. The one I was on from New Mexico carried both freight and people.

It was nearing midnight when the train stopped at the Union Station and passengers ferried to the Amtrak station two blocks over. Just three of us and our luggage needed transportation there.

I wondered how they made a profit from just the three of us and then remembered several people who had only rode from one town to another.

My fellow passengers consisted of a young mother and her eight-year-old daughter who were traveling to St. Louis for Christmas. Her name was Lily White and her daughter’s name was Snow White. She did resemble the fairy tale princess dressed in white. I just had to ask how she had come to have that name. Lily had a beautiful sense of humor and didn’t detect any malice in my question. The question just held the innocence of youth.

“It’s funny how it came to be. I named her after my grandmother whom I adored and I met Mr. White when Snow was about a year old. Our names were Greene then. After we became serious and he asked me to marry him both of our focus was on my first name and how it sounded … Lily White. It took my mother to point out that after David adopted her, Snow White was even a more famous name.”

“Surely she has a middle name you can use instead as some children can be cruel.”

“She does and we do, but my husband is a children’s book author and we self-publish under the brand Snow White Productions which includes live performances. Sometimes we give impromptu shows as we did tonight. We didn’t have time for her to change from her costume into her normal clothes or we’d miss the train.”

“Is your husband not traveling with you?”

“Yes but he left a day early to go ahead and make sure everything is ready when we get to our next stop.”

“You must live an exciting life then,” I asked the little girl, “What with wicked witches and handsome princes. You’ll have to stay away from juicy apples though,” I teased.

“It has been fun,” Mrs. White pointed out, “but it has been more fun sharing it with the two most important people in my life. And David, my husband, even got in the act.”

“David White?” I sounded the name out, puzzled. I didn’t connect it with anyone famous.

“David White was an actor that played Larry Tate in an old TV series in the 60s called Bewitched. That was before your time or mine. His mother was a fan,” she explained.

“Now tell us how did you get the name Atalanta? I don’t believe I’ve heard the name before.”

“Atalanta is a mythological goddess that was raised by a she bear after her father disowned her because she wasn’t a boy. She grew up outdoors among the hunters and was the equal of any man in the physical feats of her day. I had my mom change my name to Atalanta after a mystical experience I had.”

“So you’re a real live goddess,” Snow White asked.

“Well I’m alive but I don’t know about the goddess part. But you are a fairy tale princess and I guess I’m a fairy tale goddess; what are the chances of us meeting like this?”

Lily laughed, “That is strange isn’t it?”

Arriving at the Amtrak station cut short any more replies as our luggage was transferred and we each had our boarding passes certified. The Amtrak was within minutes of leaving for St. Louis so we boarded together and despite the number of passengers, we managed to get seats together.

I then remembered that I was supposed to call Mom before I left KC not afterwards.

“Excuse me I need to call my mom or she’ll think the boogeyman got me.”

I pressed send and waited until mom answered, “Hello.”

“Hi it’s me. I made it all right and am on the way to St. Louis even as we speak.”

“Atalanta, you knew you were supposed to call when you got there and not after you left.”

“I’m sorry mom but I met someone that distracted me.”

That was followed by a few seconds of silence, “Should I be worried?”

“No mom nothing like that it’s just that I met and am traveling with Snow White and her mother.”
Imagine that, she thought I was making the names up. I convinced her by persuading Lily and her daughter Snow to talk with mom.

When I got the phone back mom teased me, “Now all you need are the seven dwarfs to show up.” The laughter in her voice assured me that she was releasing pent-up tension.

“Now you call me when you get to St. Louis.”

“Mom,” I protested, “You’ll never get any sleep if I keep waking you up.”

“I’m not going to either way until you are on your way to Boston from St. Louis.”

“Okay mom,” I sighed, “I promise I’ll call you. Bye, I love you too, mom.”

“She worries too much about me and what kind of trouble I can get in to.”

“That is what mothers do.”

Mom’s offhand remark about the seven dwarfs had elicited a response from my early warning radar. I didn’t see any little people in the seats so maybe I wouldn’t get involved in a Snow White dispute. One could only hope but Manny’s words that for people like us opportunities came looking us up wouldn’t go away. We didn’t need to look for them.
Okay I thought what kind of trouble could an eight-year-old Snow White get in, or get me in to?

I settled into my seat with my wide-brimmed hat seemingly over my eyes belied the scanning of the train environment and patrons. I yawned and settled deeper in my seat. I noticed conversations had lulled and more people were yawning behind outstretched hands.

Could everybody be this tired and sleepy, I idly wondered? And that it happened to everyone at about the same time. What I wondered would be the result of a closed environment on oxygen levels? Carbon monoxide would build up without a fresh air exchange.

I pushed back my hat and looked around at my fellow passengers who seemed lethargic. I did not note any train officials but I had no way of knowing if that was a common occurrence. Suspicious, I sniffed the air detecting a faint sulfur smell.

Reaching a decision, I slowly rose from my seat and wandered down the aisle to the lavatory. Inside I noted the overhead fan not working and immediately went to raise the window. The fresh clean night air immediately hit me in the face and swept the mental fog away.

The question that sprang to mind was; is the ventilation system off a maintenance issue or is it deliberate? I quickly walked over to and tried to open the doors to the other cars but found them blocked or locked.

My next actions were to open as many windows in the car as I could quickly and bring Snow to the lavatory for the fresh air and then her mother. Soon people all over the car was rousing from their stupor and then complaining about the open windows and being cold.

“I opened the windows,” I shouted, “the ventilation system quit working and we were being asphyxiated by the carbon monoxide. I couldn’t open the doors to the other cars and couldn’t think of any other way to bring in fresh air.”
“Quite often the doors are closed for safety or expediency reasons,” a man offered.

“Will someone check the lavatory and see if the ventilation has started working yet or if it is still not functioning,” I asked.
“It’s still out,” another passenger offered.

“We are going to freeze with the windows wide open.”

“Yes let’s just crack them a little and does anyone know how to contact the conductor,” I asked.

At that moment, a bevy of black clad assailants swarmed from the ceilings. In the next second, the car went dark and as it did I noticed they were equipped with night vision goggles. It was after a second of total darkness before my eyes adjusted drawing in and magnifying what light remained.

The result was a grey world without color containing images of both civilians and the attacking force. They were easily identified; all dressed in black with bulky night vision goggles calmly stalking their target or targets. All were short; they needed to be to fit in the ceiling access for the ductwork. Mom’s comment about Snow White and the Dwarfs popped into my mind and I smiled at the irony.

I immediately realized to escape detection that I needed to fumble in the blackness as the rest of the passengers were, feigning blindness and to buy time until I knew their purpose. It also became apparent they were converging on the area I was occupying. Whether I was their target or it was the Whites didn’t matter.

“Mrs. White, you take Snow on your lap, set still, be quiet, and let me deal with this.”

I didn’t wait for her answer but carefully moved towards the aisle. I felt a well of energy surge inside and my left shoulder itched. My satchel was on the floor by my seat with no time to make its contents useful.

One black clad figure separated and moved between the seat one over from me. As that figure drew even with me, a spark of light and flash of movement gave warning and habitually my hand moved to block and in the same motion deflected and turned what became a hypodermic needle aimed for my neck back in its flight to the person that held the needle. That person let out a muffled groan and slumped on the seat.

Warned by a budding Gnostic mysticism, I again sidestepped moving just a few inches and felt the swish of air as a metallic baton passed where my head was located scat milliseconds earlier. The person wielding that club didn’t have time to wonder why the crunch he heard was his own head meeting the blackjack as he was jerked off-balance and fell forward bent over the seat back a red spot between his eyes rapidly swelling.

I moved boldly now into the aisle and confronted the third attacker easily blocking his swing and with no hesitation or mercy used the baton to strike his forehead with a sharp pop. Moving fluidly, I spun using the baton as a guard facing the remaining two foes and instantly hearing and feeling a tinny splat on the baton.

Instantaneous it seemed they moved and disappeared into the ceiling from which they had emerged from seconds earlier. Obeying a sixth sense I followed by placing the baton in the hands of the ninja slumped over my seat area and quickly and silently reclaimed my space beside the Whites.

The sudden glare of overhead lights momentarily blinded me as my eyes adjusted to the flood of illumination. I blinked bringing my vision into focus. The doors from the cars opened and two railroad officials rushed in.

I acted as surprised as the other passengers did at discovering three unconscious men in black sprawled in various positions. It was apparent to me that their target was either the Whites or me, with two men unconscious in an aisle on both side and another stretched out on the center aisle in front of our seats. The conductor flashed me an accusing look.

“What happened in here?” He demanded.

I remained quiet letting others display their ignorance of what had transpired in the dark and then echoed their replies. Finally, I had enough of his interrogations and insinuations.

“Mr. Conductor,” I drawled, “the reason we are all confused is that the ventilation system quit working and we were all close to asphyxiation in here. Somebody figured it out and opened the widows to let in fresh air. Ain’t that right?” I asked and looked at my fellow travelers.

They now had an object to vent at and readily agreed shouting insults.

I continued, “As we were about to call you the lights went out and these guys I’d say came in through the ceiling panels.”

Security was called to hold the suspects for police interview and a doctor determined that the hypodermic contained a dose of a general anesthesia. We were also told that police would need our statements. Idly I wondered if it was normal for security and a doctor to travel with the train.

After the men was secured and the car returned to a more normal temperature Lily leaned over and stated, “Why didn’t you tell them what really happened?”

“Why didn’t you,” I countered.

“I don’t know but I thought you’d have a good reason.”

“I do. But it is difficult to explain. I’ve been trained to recognize threats and then act in those situations.”

“So,” Lily asked, “you recognized the effects of carbon monoxide poisoning and acted?”

“No,” I replied, “I acted and then recognized the cause. I acted because I’ve trained my body to a razor’s edge and knew that something was affecting me negatively.”

“Hum-m I think I understand.”

“I am on my way to a school in the north east and I think the attack was aimed at keeping me from attending that school. I appreciate you helping keep the spotlight off me.”

“Okay but it was pitch-black in here how were you able to see?”

I was tempted to tell a complete lie but instead settled for one that held some truth, “I used my other senses to compensate; similar to how a blind person develops better hearing and smell. But I do have good night vision too, so all of it together helped and I surprised them and that helped.”

The explanation was broad and general enough to satisfy all but a small elite group that I felt Mrs. White didn’t belong in.

We spent most of the trip in silence or in small talk until I decided to call mom before we arrived at St. Louis on the off-chance my departure was delayed by questioning from the police.

“Mom, we are just about to St. Louis.” I then told her I might be delayed some and explained that a couple of people were injured in the dark when the lights went out.

I blushed at Lily’s raised eyebrow and silently mouthed, I don’t want her to worry.

She nodded her understanding and acceptance as we began slowing to a stop. At the depot, I said goodbye to Lily and Snow as they disembarked. From my vantage, they were along with the rest of the passengers leaving the train being interviewed. Those passengers boarding were delayed while exit interviews was taking place and until those of us that was traveling to Boston gave their statements.

Hiram Fox was lead investigator and 30 year police veteran who had investigated almost every crime imaginable over those years. His team was competent and efficient turning what could be a lengthy process into one that passed quickly.
Hiram knew after only a couple of interviews and from background information on the passengers and assailants their intent and who their target was. He knew it and couldn’t prove it without Atalanta’s testimony. It irked him that his report would be incomplete and most likely the men get an insignificant punishment.

The three men were fringe outliers loosely connected with Humanity First and only one person, Atalanta Reed fit their target profile. She was traveling to a special school in New England and was traveling legally under a travel warrant.
He had three hardened mercenaries, one semi-comatose victim and two other of these men knocked out using their own weapons against them with no one admitting to have done it.

He had learned from Atalanta’s file of her desert rescue of the children and capture of the villains and her mother’s rescue a month earlier in a freak snowstorm and again the capture of the perps and her being shot.

There was no doubt in his mind a sector of Humanity First had hired mercenaries to kidnap Miss Reed. He also had no doubt she somehow foiled their attempt with the handicap of not having their night vision equipment to see in the dark.
He had been unable to poke holes in her story or break down her calm and confident manner that belied her tender years. Her demeanor as much as anything convinced Hiram that she indeed had whipped three full-grown adult men.

But she had steadfast denied having done anything other than sit quietly until the lights had come back on and claimed surprise at seeing the three unconscious men. He could find no one that disputed that claim. Hiram suspected the Whites could shed more light on it but he didn’t have any evidence to hold them or anyone for that matter. The most that the villains could be charged was trespass without Atalanta’s testimony.

“Atalanta, I have no doubt these men were sent to do you harm but without your cooperation they will walk. Is that what you want?” He asked exasperated.

“Lieutenant Fox, I have no doubt you are correct but I’m afraid I can’t help you. For all I know they tripped and knocked each other out or one of the other passengers did it and they don’t want to admit it for some reason.”

“I can guarantee those men didn’t trip over their own feet and I’m certain that one of the passengers-you-did overpower and defeat those vermin. You’re the only one that has the background to be that person.”

I tried again, “Lieutenant, I don’t know where you get the idea that I have the background you describe.”

I parried his questions until he left in a huff and soon after I saw passengers arriving and within minutes we left the St. Louis terminal and the non-stop trip to Boston.

After calling mom and assuring her that I had made it safely through the St. Louis connection and was on my way to Boston, I made a second call. I dug out the business card and dialed the number on the back.

“Hello,” the familiar voice spoke.

“Manny,” I smiled, “I have a problem …”

I watched as the lights of Boston twinkled and glowed from the night growing larger and larger until they merged into one gigantic glow. I wondered if I had done the right thing in contacting Manny for help.

All the adventures to date had been somewhat of my choosing and proactive. The brush with Humanity First was at their initiation and I was left reacting and being on the defensive. Due to Manny’s training and or my nature, I was more comfortable seeking danger than avoiding it.

Manny and I spent several minutes catching each other up what the other had done the last three months since he had left the ranch. He was just finishing a contract on the west coast and at loose ends until the New Year.

I caught Manny up on what mom was doing and how the ranch and his construction projects there were doing.
Finally, I told him about Liz’s kidnapping, the rescue, being shot by Sarge, and the decision to go to Whateley Academy.

“That SOB,” he declared angrily when I told him about Sarge, “If I ever get my hands on him.”

“He’s one tough bastard,” I agreed.

Then I told him about the abduction attempt by the group Humanity First also known by the acronym H1, “Manny I’m sure they haven’t given up and will try again in Boston. Until now, I haven’t been on the defensive side but I’m concerned about collateral damage. That thing on the train could have easily gotten out of hand and injured bystanders.”

He agreed that a second attempt was likely either at the depot or at the motel. He said he’d make a few calls and then call me back with the details.

The cavalcade of cars slowly rolled to a stop at the depot platform built into the back of the station lobby and open at each end. It was built similar to a tunnel. I rose from my seat and followed the stream of passengers exiting the train. Like cattle, we formed in a single line to have our tickets stamped, punched, or validated. Mine showed the departure time for Berlin and then Dunwich as 7:30 am Thursday, which should place me in Dunwich at 3 pm.

Collecting a cart, I retrieved my luggage stacking it on the buggy placing my duffel on top within easy reach. I carefully guided it through the maze of bodies to the front of the lobby to wait.

Looking out the glass windows of the depot lobby I scanned both the foot and mechanized traffic for the contact Manny had arranged. As I watched a car pull into one of the reserved parking slots in front, the car was decorated with faux runners and trim complete with reins and a jolly old man. On top in flashing neon lights was a sign that read, “Santa’s Cab and underneath in tiny print: “Hawks’ Concierge.” I smiled at the hastily added signage, Manny or as he was also known as Hawk, said I would have no doubt who my contact was. The driver, resplendent in bright red satin trimmed in white with polished black boots and matching cap, strode cheerfully across the sidewalk and into the lobby greeting me.

Manny, had by virtue of his clandestine operations and contacts, knew government operatives in cities worldwide that was hired either by the job or on retainer. These people operated legitimate business and moonlighting for the government on the side. The one Manny contacted in Boston was on year round retainer.

“Ho-Ho-Ho, Merry Christmas. You need a ride young miss?” The cut of his suit and the fake padding around his middle camouflaged the slight bulge under his arm. He caught my quick glance and smiled in recognition.

I couldn’t help but smile widely and returned his greeting as directed, “I do, to the South Pole, can you help me?”

“I can if you have the special travel arrangements.” That was my cue and I responded by producing my temporary MMID Card.

He gathered my luggage after handing back my card and loaded it in the trunk before opening the rear door to the sleigh. He smiled at me through the rear view mirror while noting how tightly I clutched my duffel.

Soon we pulled into the entry for the Holiday Inn near the North Station and parked. Mark turned in his seat, “Atalanta, I’ll take your bags in and we’ll meet more of my crew inside. You ready?”

I got out of the cab admiring the multistory glass enclosure that the Holiday Inn represented while Mark retrieved my bags. I followed him inside and we crossed the lobby that was already being decorated in Christmas tinsel and walked to the front desk.

I identified myself and gave my reservation number and immediately three men stepped forward, “Miss Reed, I’m here to take you into custody.”

“And you are and by what authority,” I asked coolly.

“My name is Melvin Renfrew and my authority is from the MCO branch office here in Boston.”

He was middle-aged of average height and heavy build with heavy features dressed in a dark suit. The two men with him fit that common description of street thugs.

“And what is it I’m supposed to have done, Mr. Renfrew,” I replied evenly.

“We have reason to believe you are an unregistered mutant and traveling illegally. I’m afraid you’ll need to come downtown with us while we conduct our investigation.”

“In other words you have nothing,” I accused, my gaze narrowing.

The lobby and its inhabitants changed in that instant as time slowed and the colors washed out replaced by a colorless world. In that world every movement, every gesture, every expression was magnified.

Before I realized I had moved, my hand clamped on Melvin’s which was inside his coat.

“If you don’t want me to beat you to death with it, leave it,” I whispered tersely standing inches from him and staring him in the eye smiling while he tried to free my grip. I stepped back when his grip relaxed and his hand moved back into view.

“Miss Reed has the proper credentials and is under military protection while she is here in our fair city,” Mark aka Santa Claus was speaking. Fanned out across the lobby was a bevy of sober looking elves in green and white dress poised and alert.

“She’s your responsibility then,” he sneered adding loudly, “and any damages or trouble she causes.” The last was for the ears of the desk clerk and any hotel guests in audience.

“I’m sorry,” the clerk began when we stepped to the counter, “but we’ll have to decline your reservation. We have our reputation and the safety of our guests to think of.”

“What reputation am I trampling,” I inquired mildly.

Flustered he mumbled an apology, “The Company’s policy is to refuse anyone that might harm or cause harm to its guests or personnel.”

Mark picking up my bags retorted, “Come on Atalanta we have better accommodations for you,” he snorted.

“Overdone wouldn’t you say,” I asked pointing to the elves that followed us.

Laughing heartily he guffawed, “Life’s too short to take everything too seriously.” I laughed in return as we walked outside to the cab where he deposited my bags again in the rear.

“Ours,” I asked indicating the two cars that pulled away as we did from the curb.

Nodding he commented, “That was sweet what you did back there. What tipped you? Don’t get me wrong we had it covered but your quick thinking stopped it before it started.”

“A combination of things,” I answered, “Manny’s training and my natural reflexes contribute. Lately though I’m developing a weird sense of danger.”

“That’s handy,” he observed.

“You know,” I replied suddenly inspired, “Are you up for some deviltry tonight?”

“What you got in mind?”

I told him my plan, and asked him “You think you can locate those clowns?”

“Yeah,” he replied, “and I like your style kid.”

I suddenly remembered I hadn’t called home yet and retrieved my cell phone from my purse. “Mom I made it.”

“How was your trip dear and did you get a nice room with a view?”

“The trip was nice but I haven’t seen the room yet. Yes I’m in a cab.” We talked a few minutes longer with my promise to call again before I went to sleep.

“You haven’t told her?”

“I was going to tell her when I got in the room but …”

“But you haven’t got a room.”

“Exactly,” I declared.

“All right but you have to tell her tonight after we get settled,” he rebutted as we stopped in front of a costume shop. I waited in the car and called Manny to inform him what had transpired at the motel, giving him the option to let mom know about his involvement. Mark returned a few minutes later with several bags in hand.

Mark deftly drove through the heavy downtown traffic to a house on the outskirts in a private location, set apart by stonewalls and gate across the drive.

“Home sweet home,” he declared as we passed by the gates and parked inside an attached garage. There we were met and greeted by a man and a woman who helped moved my luggage and the purchases inside. The costume store purchases were left on the kitchen counter while my luggage was taken to a room off the hall.

Soon a bunch of elves crowded in and began looking in the bags, raiding the icebox, or lounging on the sofa. The smell of food cooking added to make it a warm and cozy atmosphere.

Arlene separated herself and taking my elbow showed me to my room. “The bathroom is over there,” she uttered pointing at a closed door, “if you need to shower or change clothes. Dinner will be ready in about thirty minutes.”

“Thanks,” I responded, “But I’ll probably just wash up for now, and shower before bedtime. I think we have a late night excursion planned.”

Arlene nodded leaving me to go and wash up. Returning, I wandered into the kitchen area in time to catch some of the banter among the men. I walked over to where Arlene was busy with dinner.

“Anything I can do to help?”

She stopped what she was doing and wiping her hand on a towel responded, “I’ve got it sorted,” and hesitated before asking, “This foray tonight is your idea?”

I knew she had heard enough of the conversation to get the general thrust of the plan. “I did suggest it.” Frowning she turned and resumed her cooking.

Not feeling welcomed I wandered into the living room to sit beside Mark, “Have you called your mother yet,” he asked.

“I thought I’d wait until after supper to give Manny time to get his ducks in a row.” I continued at his quizzical look, “Mom would probably nail his hide to the barn door if he didn’t call her about you guys. Let’s face it I’m supposed to be staying in a motel tonight not at a private residence with people she doesn’t know. Manny is the common link.”

“Makes sense I guess.”

I tuned out on the conversation after that letting my mind wander over the course of events of the last few months and what lay ahead. Two thousand miles didn’t do justice to the gulf I felt existed two months ago to today. The evidence was that I was in the company of strangers in a strange house and in an unknown part of town on my way to a school I didn’t know existed two months ago.

“Dinners ready.”

I rose along with the others and walked into the kitchen area to sit at the table and eat.

“If you gripe about the food, you fix the next meal,” Arlene warned.

“The best food I ever saw,” one declared.

“Belongs in a picture book,” another agreed.

“It smells delicious.”

“It makes my mouth water.”

“Shut up and eat,” Arlene commanded as she finished placing the servings. Dinner was like that, a boisterous affair with good-natured ribbing and jostling for so-called alpha food portions. Arlene had managed to prepare enough food for a dozen hardy men’s appetites and us two ladies to eat. After finishing eating, I helped her clean up the kitchen despite her protests.

As I was wiping down the counter I murmured, “I’m sorry if I caused you any trouble.”

“Not your fault,” she answered smiling wistfully, “They don’t need an excuse to get into trouble. They are naturally good at it.”

“Okay Red,” Mark called out at me, “It’s time to call your mom,” pointing at the phone. I nodded my acceptance and picking up the phone dialed home. It was picked up on the first ring.

“Mom, it’s me.” I followed that greeting with hasty explanations and assurances. She wasn’t happy with me and especially unhappy with a couple of groups, Humanity First and the MCO who she described as terrorists. In the end, she did agree that my travel papers and mutant classification limited my choices.

She did want to talk with Mark who I introduced as Santa along with his elfin helpers. I blushed once or twice deducing what was being said from overhearing the one-sided conversation.

He ended their discussion assuring her, “You don’t have to worry about her safety Mrs. Reed, if anything happens to Atalanta it will be over my dead body.” A chorus of agreement echoed his sentiment followed by his statement, “And I’m too mean to kill.”

“You’ve certainly had an interesting trip, Snow White and the five Dwarfs, Santa Claus and his helpers,” Mom quipped when I was handed the phone back.

I breathed a sigh of relief, “It has been all of that and more. But on the bright side I’ve made new friends.” We exchanged more pleasantries before I hung up promising to call her again first thing in the morning.

However, the call produced a set back to our plan tonight. My part in the latest version called for me to act as lookout instead of at the point. Apparently, Mom had fanned the flames of paternal instincts and Mark was adamant about minimizing my exposure to risk. He refused all my calls at logical arguments or emotional pleading and he ended the exchange by suggesting we all get some sleep before midnight.

Rather than arguing with a wall or the furniture, I retreated to my room where I decided to draw a bath and soak. Before undressing and getting into the steaming water, I carefully arranged several utility items from my duffel as well as retrieving the bath salts and bubble bath mom had insisted on packing.

I exhaled a long sigh as I submerged my body in the hot water and relaxed. Submerged in the soapy water I washed parts that at times felt foreign and other times elicited unbidden images. The combination of bath salts fragrance and heat melted the day’s tension down the drain as I began drying off. I dried off in the tub as the water drained away before stepping out.

Dressing in clean underwear, I donned my flannel nightshirt before sitting at the dressing table and performing my habitual evening rituals.

Turning down the covers, I set the bedside alarm for midnight from my pillow.

Consciousness returned as I suddenly became aware. I remained motionless willing my senses to full alert. Sounds reached me first; the soft low buzz of conversation with an occasional word. I sensed rather than heard movement. Peering from under hooded eyelids, I discerned the darkened room and its contents. Facing me was the vanity and desk, on my left a chest of drawers and beside the bed a night table. The large red numerals read 2:00 AM. Memories came flooding in and quickly throwing back the covers, I hastily dressed in gray shirt and pants followed by pulling on my boots and long coat lastly jamming my wide-brimmed shapeless hat over my red mass of hair successfully hiding most of it and my face in the shadows. I guessed that someone had slipped into the room after I fell asleep to turn off the alarm.

I slipped quietly from my room and down the hall following the whispered conversation to the kitchen and to the garage when two Grinch and Frosty were huddled and an outer circle consisting of similarly themed characters that listened attentive to instructions of the brain trust at the center.

I sidled softly over and joined the outer circle unnoticed until one Grinch at the center looked past his companions and saw me. Eye contact quickly passed between members informing each an extra person had joined the group. One-by-one they turned staring at me.

“What,” I asked, “do I have something hanging out where it shouldn’t,” looking down and at my backside.

The Grinch growled, “What are you doing up?”

“I thought we had a plan,” I retorted.

“We did,” he conceded, “until your mother called back. It seems she knows you better than you think. You either stay here or we all do.”

Silence greeted his statement with all eyes on me waiting my decision. Sighing, I acquiesced, “I don’t like it, but I understand your position. I’ve been enough trouble for you without making it worse. I’ll stay here and leave it up to you whether you go or stay. You don’t have to go on with the plan if you don’t want to.”

“Believe me,” the former Santa replied beaming, “we’re itching to commit a little mayhem.”

“Okay do a good job and be safe. I hate to think of one of you guys getting hurt while I’m stuck here.”

In that moment recognition lit their eyes with the knowledge that anyone of them would have said and felt the same. They each gave me a sympathetic shoulder pat as they filed out.

Arlene appeared from a side door after they had left, “They will be all right,” she said wrapping her arm around my shoulder as I watched their headlights disappear. Uncomfortable by her show of affection I deftly slipped her grasp.
“You all have a gym here. I might as well work off some of this energy.”

“In the basement, I’ll show you where it’s at.”

“Don’t bother,” I replied sharply, “just point me in the direction. I need to change into my workout togs,” I added gently, puzzled by my sudden stab of anger.

Arlene silently pointed to a door off the kitchen and turned leaving for another part of the house. Groaning silently, I walked to my room wondering at my uneasiness and what triggered it.

Alone in my room I considered what I knew, what I thought I knew, and what I should do next. I needed independent verifiable information and only two sources to go to for that knowledge, mom and Manny. Manny knew Mark and the safe house but it was highly unlikely that he could know everyone here. The very nature of covert operations attracted opportunistic individuals who sold their services freely.

Mom on the other hand didn’t know anyone here but me but she had apparently called back and talked with someone here last night. Unable to shake the strong feelings of needing to act but having no idea of what action to take I fished out my cell phone and dialed.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Atalanta, are you all right? There is nothing wrong is there?”

“No, Mom I’m all right but I did tell you I’d call first thing in the morning,” I replied smiling into the phone.

“Are you leaving this early?”

“No mom, the guys left to go do … something.”

“I thought they were taking you as their lookout for that.”

“I thought so to; didn’t you call and make them promise to leave me out of it?”

“I thought about it but, no I didn’t dear. Did they say I did?”

“They might have given me that as an excuse not to take me. You know how men are.”

“I do,” she exclaimed lightly.

“That’s probably it,” I agreed laughing softly with her, “I’m sorry to wake you up.”

“That is fine,” she assured me, “you can call me any time for any reason.”

“Thanks mom, I love you.”

“Love you too, baby.”

I immediately dialed another number this time in Los Angeles, “Manny,” I inquired when he picked up.

“Yeah, Atalanta is everything all right.”

“I’m not sure,” I replied telling Manny of what happened and their explanation of not taking me with them along with my feelings of something being not right and calling mom and finding she hadn’t called back later to demand that I stay in the house.

Manny assured me that I was doing the right thing and asked me to describe everything I said or noticed since waking up. I did.

“I doubt Arlene is the mole but either way they will look in your bedroom first. Is your light on?”

I nodded, “Yes.”

“First close the vents in your room, stay away from in front of the windows, and turn your lights off. Then go into the bathroom, remove the light bulbs or break them and turn the ventilation on. Are you armed?”

“Yes.”

“Good, lock your door and set tight. How long have Mark and the team been gone?”

“Between 35 and 40 minutes I guess.”

“I’ll call Mark but it might take a few tries to get through if he’s busy. Think you can hold out until then?”

“Piece of cake,” I declared mightily.

“Hang in there kiddo.”

“I will,” I replied and hanging up the phone and quickly killing the overhead light and locking the bedroom door. Keeping to the room’s corners, I slipped over to the window making sure the curtains overlapped, remembering the details I had seen from outside looking in at the homestead where mom was held hostage. From there I snatched up my duffel bag and retreated into the bathroom removing the lights from their sockets.

Grateful for the hours Manny had me taking apart and assembling my weapons blindfolded, I quickly had the pistols put together and loaded. I slipped them in holsters strapped around my middle. I tucked a pair of rosewood nunchucks in my waistband that Manny specially ordered. He claimed the ancient intricate carving held secret powers. I hoped they did.
A feature of my boots was they contained hidden pockets designed to hold my tanto stilettos in. I placed a knife in each sheath. I strapped a 12-inch fighting knife across my chest, the handle down, the blade resting between my breasts.

I then shrugged into my dark long coat and pinned my hair under the shapeless wide-brimmed hat. I might move easier without the coat but it made me feel better with it on. My persona was tied up in it. And I hoped its flowing form would blend in and surprise my attackers.

I settled down to wait, opening all my senses to any stimuli, including that sense I didn’t have a label for.

A slight scratching at the door claimed my attention. Outside, the crunch of footsteps on frozen earth reached me, as did creaking of the windowsill. A second sight created in my mind showed the door to my room from the outside and two people outside bent over at work on the doorknob their hands twisting and turning feverishly. I wondered how many others were in the house and my view changed to a panoramic that showed two more teams of two checking the other rooms.

I switched location to outside my window seeing two more teams testing the windows. Abruptly, I felt a presence behind me and despite my body’s need to act; I remained frozen reaching out with my spirit instead. What it touched caused a reaction from the owl image on my left shoulder flaring to life sending warm energy throughout my body.

The bedroom door slowly opened letting in two black clad figures that tiptoed towards the bed. At that very moment I heard glass cut from the window being removed and a hand reaching through the window and tripping the latch.

Despite feeling trapped I remained in the vanity’s shadows hidden and watching. A soft curse came from one of the men at finding my bed empty.

“Maybe she went with them after all.”

“Not unless she left later and followed them at a distance. Turn on the light,” he directed the command at a man just outside the room in the hallway. The clicking of the switch echoed unnaturally loud in the heightened atmosphere.

“Shit, did we cut power?”

“No, here,” he added fumbling for a light.

Leaping from the shadows I crashed into him and knocking him into his companion sending both into the chest. I veered and crashed feet first through the window hoping it wasn’t hardened glass. It wasn’t and I crashed through sending glass shards flying. Both men outside flinched, recoiling from the flying glass ducking to protect their eyes. As I flashed through amidst the debris, I heel kicked one man in his ribs and twisting in mid-air kicked the other in the face and then disappeared into the foliage and trees.

Again, I felt the looming presence of one that I recognized as an ancient spirit. I slipped from tree to tree hoping to catch a glimpse of this new threat. Something old in me cried out to do battle with this new creature. She craved a test of strength and wills against this imposter. I felt her disdain and anger rise and with it, accusations of ignoble bloodlines.

What was going on? Who are you? I wondered at the voice in my head.

I finally located the entity that claimed my attention and was the source of my anger. He stood alone hands on hips calling out taunting, “I know you’re out there, come and face me if you dare.”

My body ached to answer his battle call. However, I remained hidden. I didn’t want to blow Mark’s cover and this entity wasn’t alone. Discretion proving the better part of valor I waited while studying his appearance and mannerisms. I didn’t know his name but I’d know him when we met again.

He turned and walked away after a few more dares. I felt the others were leaving and I cautiously approached the front of the house. Sensing no danger, I went into the garage first and waited measuring the temperament of the building.
At that moment I heard and then saw the approaching cars as they wheeled into the drive and parked in the garage after opening the motorized doors. Their headlights illuminated me standing at the back legs apart with my hands hanging at my side.

Mark was out of his car before it stopped, “Atalanta, are you all right? Manny called me.”

“I’m fine, did you do what you set out to do.”

“Most of it, but what happened here,” he asked pointing at the door ajar leading inside the house.

“We were set up, mom never called. At least a dozen people broke in here but I escaped through my bedroom window.”

“I know,” Mark replied, “Pete rolled on us,” he indicated a disheveled figure in the backseat of his car.

I changed the subject. “How much is left to finish the project?”

“The packages are ready to be delivered.”

“What about him,” I asked.

“We’ll put the fear of god into him and set him out somewhere in the countryside.”

“How about letting me?”

“Seriously,” he inquired studying my face.

“Seriously,” I echoed, “I want his balls.”

Mark visibly winced,“Okay, bring him inside.”

We found Arlene bound and gagged in her room who swore up a storm when she was released and again at Pete after seeing him trussed up. In my room, Mark nodded appreciatively at the removed and broken bulbs but swore softly at the broken window.

“How did that happen?”

“It was getting crowded in here and they had figured out why there was no light and the window seemed the quickest escape.”

“That’s the rub,” Mark murmured, “You shouldn’t have been able to break that window. Ah, hell let’s go in the basement and finish this thing. Then we go finish the other thing.”

Arlene and I brought up the rear to the basement, “Are you sure about this, Pete is a mean SOB.”

Stopping I gripped her arm, “This is hard to explain but one of the kidnappers tonight has woken up something inside me that calls for retribution. I will have my hands full to keep from killing this creep. Don’t worry about me, worry about Pete,” I replied my voice and eyes filling with feral intensity.

Entering the room, I saw the boxing ring and inwardly groaned seeing Pete is fitted with gloves.

“Queensbury Rules,” I inquired sarcastically. “I don’t want nor need any special treatment especially if it’s because I’m a girl.”

“Doesn’t matter what you want or need it’s what you get,” Mark replied laconically.

“Fine, whatever,” I snapped removing my coat, hat, and boots. From under my shirt, I produced my holster and guns and added to the growing pile the nunchucks from my waist. I waited stoically while my gloves were laced on tight, my gaze never wavering from the face of Pete’s.

Once inside the ring I waited impatiently as Mark gave us instructions and once he left the ring I immediately moved, quickly drawing a punch from Pete that I easily parried. Stepping inside his reach I threw a left right combination landing on his bottom ribs with resounding thuds and danced back out of range.

I read his intent milliseconds before he acted and when combined with my reflexes, training, and conditioning the contest was (to me) as exciting and predictable as sparring with a heavy bag.

Unlike what he did, I kept my hands low to throw quicker harder hooks to his body. My face offered him a target too tempting to ignore, seemingly unprotected. Each of his attempts missed by scant inches or slid off my shoulders while mine connected and throwing two punches to his one.

Anger replaced intent in his eyes, then panic and pain, and last was fear as he backpedaled wildly. Any effort at offense was abandoned sapped by bruised ribs and burning lungs.

The fight was two minutes old when I stepped inside a lazy, awkwardly thrown haymaker and countered by throwing a left hook with all of my 125 lbs behind it and connecting with his jaw. The report sounded like a pistol shot and I felt bone crack under my glove as his eyes rolled back into his head and he folded slowly to the floor like a rag doll laying there limp.

The ring immediately filled as Pete was revived and helped to his feet supported by two men. Individual words penetrated the zone I was in but my eyes never left his until my gloves were removed.

“I have a message I want delivered. Do you understand?” It was clear he didn’t. Pete’s eyes were unfocused and he was in pain.

“Anyone have any smelling salts and something for pain. I want his undivided attention.”

“He’s got a broken jaw and several broken and cracked ribs. He’ll need to go to a doctor or hospital and have those bones set.” The group’s medic announced after examining him and rendering first aid.

“Pete, I want you to deliver a message from me to whoever hired you. Tonight makes three times I’ve been targeted in the last 36 hours and I’m getting sick of it. Tell him or them to drop it or I’ll come hunting them. And I’ll find them. Do you believe me when I say I’ll find them?”

He nodded croaking out a, “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Good, just so you know I wanted this fight with edged weapons. I really wanted to hurt you Pete. You understand what I’m saying?”

He nodded numbly.

“Mark, do we drop him at the hospital before or after?”

“After I think as he’ll be a participant.”

“Given the time,” I asked pointing at his watch, “do we come back here or should I pack and we go directly to the station.”

Mark rubbing his chin reflected, “No we come back here, you do want to see the results in the paper this morning, don’t you?”

I nodded, “I do.”

I watched and acted as backup and lookout as the rest of the plan was executed. The three MCO officials from the hotel lobby, now dressed as the Keystone Cops, were strung up in Christmas wrappings and festive tape to columns outside the steps at the north branch of the MCO. The MCO lobby was similarly festively attired with bawdy humor and juvenile tricks.

Several well-placed calls brought the media; print, TV, and internet to the same north address and Hiram Ledger cooperated arriving in time to be photographed with his sad minions. Fleeing inside to escape he was met by our pranks going from the sublime to the ridiculous.

Hiram’s photos made national news, he became a laughingstock after his wide-eyed shock and antics on the lawn, and the subsequent yellow stripe down his back was printed in almost every national and local paper. It became a viral hit on the internet the same day.

The mood was light and conversation flowed freely around the kitchen table at the safe house. The sun was beginning to rise as night loosened its hold on the city. At the table’s center, boxes and bags of breakfast food was laid out along with steaming cups of coffee in Styrofoam containers.

“Shouldn’t we be getting ready to leave to go to the train station?” I asked over bacon and eggs.

“No we are going to drive you to the Berlin Station. First, what happened here last night? I mean what happened to you.”

“I’ve been asking myself that same question. Someone in the group last night triggered or woke up someone or something in me. It’s new to me too and I’m not sure what to make of it. Ever since I was shot a couple of months ago rescuing mom, things have been a little weird. First there was this,” I stated pulling down my shirt sleeve revealing the owl tattooed on my left shoulder.

Several of the guys inspected the artwork, commenting on the details and design, and asked, “Who did that work?”

I recounted the kidnapping, the owl guiding me, the rescue of my mother, and later being shot with the owl breaking through the window and covering me.

“All I know is the owl one moment was covering me and the next moment he disappeared and this,” I pointed to my left shoulder, “appeared.”

Mark had joined several of the other team members at looking at my owl symbol suddenly exclaimed, “Atalanta, you guys, have you looked real close at this mark?”

I shook my head.

“This is not ink work or even etched into or under the skin. It is more personal and permanent than that; it’s more like a birthmark!”

Like being shot and a rebirth, I thought.

“Like being shot and reborn,” Mark echoed my thoughts. Or had I heard his?

“That is the reason I asked what happened to you. You had the look I’ve seen in people right before or in battle right up until you knocked Pete out. Then it was like you flipped a switch.”

“I can’t offer much help explaining it either. That is why I’m going to Whateley Academy to get explanations and answers.”

Late that afternoon we drove into Berlin town limits. The train station wasn’t hard to find; all we needed do was follow the tracks and the road that ran alongside it. The depot and loading platform reminded me of the one in New Mexico that I had departed from---two days ago, it seemed longer.

I had called both mom and Manny to let them know how I was and what my plans were. Both were delighted that Mark and his team was driving me to Berlin to catch the train for the short shuttle to Dunwich. I believe Manny had already talked with Mark when I called him.

After the requisite greetings Manny bluntly asked, “We never got into any boxing but I understand you put on an exhibition last night or this morning. Mark said you looked like Tyson did in his prime.”

“You know what Manny. I put a hurt on him. I did it coldly, calculating, and deliberate.”

“Yeah Mark told me you broke Pete’s jaw and several ribs and you did it in a little more than a minute.”

“And he didn’t lay a glove on me Manny. But you know what’s scary.”

“What?”

“Ever since I got shot I have felt different; stronger … no not that’s not quite what I mean either. A better word is energy. Yeah that is it! Energy! It feels like I am plugged into 240 volts and not a110 outlet but not all the time. This tattoo or as Mark says my birthmark flared up when the five guys in the train attacked and at the motel but then faded real quickly. But at the house it flared and grew; I felt a presence there that I can’t explain but a part of me recognized it as you would an old enemy.”

“What do you mean by a presence?”

I thought about the answer long enough for Manny to ask, “Atalanta, are you still there?”

“Yes, I’m giving your question due consideration. It is like you feel someone looking at you and turn around to see who it is. Or you can sense a big cat stalking you. That is the kind of thing.”

“Go on,” Manny prompted.

“Like I said I felt my shoulder burn like before but unlike the other times I felt this warmth spread throughout my body. Then I felt this primal battle call …”

Manny interrupted again, “A primal battle call?”

“Yeah, it’s hard to explain a bunch of images or snapshots of battlefields. You know ancient stuff: swords, shields, axes, blood, with yelling and cursing in pain or rage. After that this cold rage sets in and I want to kill this thing … this presence and I bust through that window and go outside hunting him.”

“Well that explains about the window.”

“What about the window? Mark asked about it too.”

“That was tempered bulletproof stuff which you should not have been able to break.”

“Oh, sorry but when after it was over with I still had this need to battle with something. I wanted to kill Pete when they brought him in.”

“I don’t blame you, I …”

“You don’t understand Manny; I wanted the fight to be with knives not with gloves. I didn’t want to beat him but I wanted to hurt him.”

We talked a little longer and we hung up with Manny telling me to call him anytime. I told him not to worry Whateley would help me cope.

We exited the Suburban with Mark and two of his guys flanking us, and a third bringing my luggage at the rear. From the other vehicle, men poured out and staked out various locations around the perimeter.

I giggled looking at the bodyguards.

“What’s so funny?”

“My own entourage,” I smiled, “I must be a movie star or something.”

“Or something,” Mark returned as we walked through the doors.

The balding clerk swallowed nervously as our procession filed in. Four tough competent men and a girl walked through the doorway. One separated himself and came towards the counter. The girl veered off and sat down on a bench with two of the men standing facing out and the third man the one with the luggage setting beside the girl. He noticed at least two more nondescript types outside attentive.

He didn’t know who the girl was but it was obvious she was important.

“I’m Mark Rivers,” the man said, “We’re a military escort safely escorting that young lady from Boston here to the Berlin depot and see her safely onboard to Dunwich,” handing over her travel documents.

“She was supposed to come in on the train from Boston.”

“Some folks didn’t want her to get there and it was decided just to drive her here instead.”

It was irregular but the clerk decided after a second look at her escorts to not protest. The clerk took her original stub, deducted the fee from Boston and printed the ticket out to Dunwich, handing Mark two twenties and the ticket stub to Dunwich. He breathed a sigh of relief when they left.

“No problem,” Mark smiled as he handed me the ticket and bills, “you shouldn’t have any travel problems from here on out. Two of my guys rode up from Boston and they tell me nobody or anything suspicious got on. I have guys here looking for the same.”

On the heels of that statement, the train whistled sounded and air brakes began their hissing as the train pulled alongside the platform.

Impulsively I hugged each guy and in turn thanked each.

“Hey,” Mark laughed, “it was either protect you or protect Boston.”

“I’m not that bad.”

I handed my ticket to the conductor who duly punched it and handed it back. The guys insisted bringing my luggage on and since it was a short trip and the train had few passengers my luggage rode beside me.

Waving goodbye to Mark and his team as the train pulled slowly away heading towards the distant snow-capped peaks I could help wonder, what lay ahead?

I changed images for this chapter and I'd be interested in your thoughts on which you like best.

This is it for the first book. I do hope you guys and gals enjoyed the tale. I've enjoyed writing it. I am working on the second book and will start posting as soon as it is completed and sent to my editor.I hope to finish writing it in the next month but as I am on my third re write now, who knows how long.

Thanks for reading and I'll answer any question that I can.

Katelyn

I am sorry it has taken me so long to post this continuation of Atalanta's Story. I had much of it wrote a year ago but this has been written almost from scratch three times. I has to slap myself from a fourth. I want to thank Ashleigh for editing it and to Bill who helped me in the early stages of this story. And to Todd who read it. I hoped I have not missed thanking or shortchanging anyone. If I did accept my apologies. I guess I should add this is copywrited material.

Atalanta arrives at the train depot to find...

Chapter 1

Dunwich depot stood as a testament of 18th century craftsmanship. Oaken and chestnut timbers provided the flooring, walls, and structure still sound after 100 plus years. At the far end of the room and behind a walled off area complete with bars sat the old stationmaster in his official uniform, it was like stepping back in time, authentic even to his bespectacled face as he waited for passengers that were boarding, departing or waiting.

Due to the time he guessed most were waiting for the school van to arrive. He sat drowsing in the late afternoon sun. Across from him and to the right of the lobby was a waiting room that included arcade games. Not the very latest stuff but enough that made the area profitable. His eyes would gleam whenever there was activity around the games, soda, and snack machines.

I opened the door admitting a beam of sunlight that seemed to burn across the polished floor and painting me in a golden light. I stood silent, my eyes sweeping the rooms, carefully shut the door, and continued searching the interior.
The old man studied the newcomer. Even among the students that came each year she stood out. Tall, at just under six feet in her boots her frame; while feminine was athletic and toned and she moved with ease and power. Up closer her eyes were not green but gray sprinkled with flecks of blue-green. Her auburn hair hung naturally, curled in waves down her back and shoulders.

The lobby was empty except for me and the old man but my senses had caught someone leaving by the back door. Crossing the lobby carrying my luggage I nudged the door to his cage open and deposited them on the floor beside him.

“Hey what are you doing?” he complained, “You’re not allowed back here.”

“That go for them too?” I asked. His eyes betrayed him darting towards the back door.

“I expect my luggage to be looked after,” I smiled gently.

“Okay,” he gulped, “but…”

I was already in motion and at the backdoor before he finished his response. Gently easing the door open I peered around the corner and at the back loading platform. Down at the far end were three men, idly lounging around the platform in the afternoon sun.

I quickly and silently crossed the platform width and dropped down to the ground, and crouching, slipped to within a few feet catching some of their conversation.

“… you sure?”

“Yes, she looks just like her picture.”

“Get ready,” the first spoke hissed, “here is our ride now.”

The “ride” was a dark green passenger van without any distinguishable markings as seen from my vantage point. That knowledge taken together with the comment that I look like my picture rang warning bells in my mind.

I watched as the van parked. The men quickly subdued it's two occupants, tied them up, and tossed them into a nearby storage shed. Two of the men left the third in the driver’s seat while they went inside the depot.

The driver had his eyes glued at the front platform where he expected his confederates to appear. He didn’t see me as I came from behind, and using a hold that Manny showed me, quickly rendered him unconscious.

In seconds I had searched and bound him, leaving him behind the wheel barely able to hide before his two partners returned, complaining.

“Hey Bud, come on let’s go the kid skipped. Bud …,” he called in alarm as he realized something had gone awry. In that instant I sprang from my cover jabbing the hypodermic meant for me in his exposed neck, “Arghh,” he cried collapsing.

I caught the second man’s hand, as it darted under his coat, holding it tightly against his body despite his efforts to dislodge it. Suddenly, he shifted tactics letting that arm go limp and swung a left hook at me.

Thanks to Manny’s training I expected something of the sort and let go as he did, and, ducking under his left, caught his wrist with my left hand. Using his momentum I came up behind his twisting body, and shoving my right palm in his shoulder I forced him to the ground.

“Who sent you,” I hissed in his ear.

“Fuc … uh,” his retort was cut off as I applied more pressure to his rotator cuff.

“Talk,” I demanded easing the pressure.

“Okay, okay, that hurts, oww,” he squawked as I temporarily pulled back harder.

“I don’t know who he was. We got a call and the money was wired to us at the same time.”

“And then what,” I prompted bearing down on his shoulder for emphasis.

“We were to bring you to a safe house in Boston and wait for more instructions.”

“I want the address of that house.” I filed that address he gave in my memory for later use.

“Who's waiting for me there?”

“I don’t know who owns it,” he croaked.

“Oww,” he cried as I shifted higher on his body bring his arm with me, “I didn’t ask who owned it, but who uses it.”
“MCO, H1, and a smattering of others use it.” Clearly that was all the information I could dig out for now, and I quickly switched to a choke hold on his carotid artery. In seconds he passed out.

Digging through his pockets I fished his car keys out, and quickly locating the car they came in, drove it over, where with some difficulty I dumped their limp bodies in the back. And then I parked it under some trees at a far corner of the lot.

Next I checked and found the Whateley employees sleeping peacefully inside the shed. Crime must pay well; as after searching the thugs I found $5,000 in cash, while in the trunk of their car I discovered several handguns, an equal number of rifles, and lots of extra gear from tablets to NV equipment, medical kits complete with anesthetic, to changes of clothing and food supply.

The beginnings of a plan formed as I took stock of what happened. These three were sent to capture me for some reason, a reason that seemed personal. Until I was within the academy my safety couldn’t be guaranteed.

I retraced my steps to the backdoor, and seeing the lobby empty walked in silently. The clock on the wall showed that it had been only 15 minutes since I left the old man to go out back.

“You have a phone book,” I asked him. Wetting his lips he indicated the counter.

“Thanks,” I replied walking over and opening up the book quickly to the section I wanted. I committed to memory the three names I found there.
Closing the book I strode to where my luggage was and picked it up, “You haven’t seen me old man.”

He nodded, his adam’s apple bobbing.

Again I want to express my thanks to everyone that helped me in getting this story ready. I hope you enjoy the story.

In this chapter Atalanta meets a new friend.

Chapter 2

Outside, I walked towards town far enough to be reasonably out of sight and called the first number, “Crescent Cab.”
I told him where I was and he said that he was on his way.

“Where to miss?” the cab driver asked me from the driver’s seat after he had stored my luggage in the trunk.

“You know of any sporting goods stores around here?” I inquired.

He nodded putting the car in gear and accelerating onto the road. As we sped along the two-lane main street I suddenly yelled: “Stop!”

“Where?” he inquired braking the car.

“There.” I pointed at a stone and wood structure set apart from its neighbors. From a distance the building's front porch provided the inhabitants with privacy with stone pillars. The house was crisscrossed with intersecting roof lines containing numerous alcoves.

What caught my attention was the business name in giant lettering across the front; “The Owls Nest,” and a picture of Harvard or his twin rising toward the 60 foot stone tower topped with a conical roof. The rectangular windows, taller than wide and trimmed in white reminded me of a birdhouse.

After we stopped I studied the structure from outside the car before saying, “It looks … different.”

“It is,” he agreed, “some recluse built it years ago, to get away from the rat race, I guess. It stayed empty for years after he died; some say because it was haunted.”

“Is it,” I asked mildly.

“You couldn’t prove it by me,” he replied, adding, “I figured it was because nobody knew what to do with it.”

“And the new owner,” I prompted staring at the building; resisting the pull I felt.

“She bought it a couple of months ago and began renovations soon after. She just opened a couple of weeks ago.”

Up close the sign read, “Owls Nest: Metaphysical and Bookstore.”

“I shouldn’t be long, keep the meter running” I stated closing the car door.

“I’ll be here.”

Walking up the steps I felt a strong sense of déjà vu that was odd because I knew I had never, even from pictures, seen a structure to match this one.

Once inside I stopped to examine the room. Across the front and on my left housed in glass casing beneath the counter were metaphysical supplies, as was the back wall. In between were aisles of books. Various large, fat, candles dribbling wax in the wall sconces behind the counter helped to reinforce the occult theme.

I turned my attention to the tasseled curtains that admitted one of the most beautiful women in the world.

No, it was not Cindy Crawford!

I grinned to myself at that thought. She was as tall as me and her long, blonde, golden hair that hung in waves over her shoulder was coiffured; held in place with pins whose designs reminded me of some mythological creatures. She was dressed in sandals and a short sleeved mid length tunic of white silks. Her jewelry sparkled in the candlelight.
She seemed strangely familiar yet I couldn’t place her.

“Welcome, welcome, milady,” her voice lilting in tune with some unknown melody, “How may I assist you?”

I blinked in surprise at her choice of words and speech pattern. “I don’t know,” I admitted, “I felt I had to stop and come in here and look around. I guess it was the picture of the owl that did it.”

“Ah,” she intoned, “the messenger of the gods.”

“I guess so but I recently had an experience with an owl.”

“Tell me about that.” Not knowing why, and against my better judgment, I did.

“Harvard,” she questioned after I finished my tale, “whatever possessed you to use that name?”

Grinning foolishly I replied, “Can’t say I was possessed, but the name and the idea did come from out of the blue. Harvard was a smart bird and Harvard University is thought to graduate smart people. It seemed right at the time.”

Rolling the name over her tongue she replied, “Harvard, I like that name and very appropriate for a bookstore don’t you agree.”

“Yes it does,” I agreed.

“You don’t mind if I use it for my logo.”

“I don’t mind at all and I’m sure Harvard would be honored.”

“Good that’s settled and I have a gift for you in return,” she returned, walking to a shelf and handing me a thin paperback book with a red jacket and a warrior pictured with drawn bow and notched arrow, “The Art of War” by Sun Tzu.

“War,” I mumbled.

“Yes, ‘The Art of War’ written some 3,000 years ago and contained in its pages is wisdom far beyond mere warfare. Read it and absorb its teachings and you will the richer for it.”

Thank you Miss,”

“You may call me Audhilde, Atalanta.”

I didn’t remember telling her my name. She took my hand and led me to the front, pointing through the widows at the room on top of the tower and said, “That is the Owls Nest, a room to study, meditate, read, observe, or rest. You can access it through that door,” she pointed to a solid wood door located inside a small overhang, “ it also has a door outside that leads up,” She continued pressing a key in my hand, “this key fits that door. It is yours; use it at anytime-day or night. Just keep the door locked at all times.”

She quieted my protest, “You better get going; you have a lot to do, we’ll talk later.”

She was right I did, “Thank you, Audhilde.”

“You’re welcome … Atalanta.”

I don’t know why, but I had a strong feeling I could trust Audhilde.

Outside I breathed out a sigh, clutching the book and key tightly I walked quickly to my cab where we left to find the sporting goods store and from there to a grocer.

From there we drove to an outfitters ranch where I bought three horses and tack supplies. The ranch owner and the cab driver helped me pack my gear on the horses.

Out of earshot of the owner I paid the driver and tipped him an extra hundred for his silence.

After the cab left, I asked the owner if he would load the horses and drive us to just before where the railroad came into town. He agreed and we quickly loaded the animals on his trailer and soon were parked at a turning place a mile or so out of Dunwich.

I paid him for his service and as I did I said, “I’d appreciate it if you forgot you saw me.”

“This is dangerous country, especially with winter coming on and the wild animals we have here.”

“I’ll be fine,” I replied adding, “and I promise not to hurt your wild animals.”

“Nevertheless, I’d feel better if you put my number in your phone in case you need anything.”

“Thank you,” I replied, doing as he wished. I waited until he vanished from site before finding a secluded place to hobble my horses and then jogged back to the depot. Keeping to the trees I gained the rear lot unseen, and placing my ear to the shed was relieved to hear stirrings coming from inside. Crossing to the van, I replaced the key in the ignition, before running lightly to the car the three mercenaries arrived in, to find them awake and struggling with their bindings.
They quieted when they saw me but squirmed as I brought a chloroform saturated cloth to their faces. Thankful for the contents of their medical kits, I got in the driver’s side and quickly drove off towards Berlin, stopping where my horses were and unloading the trunk’s contents. From there I drove the car and left it up a logging road a few hundred feet past where my horses were hobbled.

Opening the rear door and leaning in I listened for their steady breathing before cutting one man’s bindings and leaving a note to where he could find the car keys. I ran to where I left the horses and the arsenal, loading it on the third horse quickly.

I had about thirty-maybe forty-five minutes of daylight left to find a camping spot for tonight in a wilderness I knew nothing about. Nevertheless, I turned the horses, traveling downhill to where I hoped the Miskatonic River ran.

Again I want to thank everyone who helped get this far; Bill for his encouragement, thanks to Ashleigh for editing and Todd for reading it. I've included an image of her that I feel captures her her spirit in the wild.

Atalanta makes camp and reaches out to an old friend for help.

Chapter 3

Just as darkness closed we burst from the trees and onto a wide expanse of a sandy beach sandwiched between two rocky cliffs where the river made a sweeping turn. Near the turn’s apex a cliff rose several hundred feet and at its base I found a place where the rushing waters had undercut the cliff, offering natural shelter.

The action of the waters left an abundance of firewood scattered around. This would be a bad place during spring flooding, but at this time of the year it was safe.

I picketed the horses before starting a fire to cook something for supper. During this I cast my thoughts over the failed kidnapping attempt today. I suspected it was probably at the direction of one person or one group. The group that I saw was ex military and if today was any indication: paramilitary. They also seemed to know my movements too.

Only a handful of people knew my travel plans well enough to predict my movements. I crossed Mom and Judy off that list. Lindsey only knew that I was going to Whateley, a military school back east and of course the day I was leaving.
I suspected the source had come from someone at Whateley, or from within the government. I knew from Manny’s stories that files and reports were often sidetracked, or copied by unsuspecting clerks.

While I was eating supper my mind began exploring my next steps. As long as I remained hidden and with nobody knowing my plans or destination I could formulate an offensive strike. Or at least cast doubts among the opposing troops.

I had just one person who I could trust and that could help me. Retrieving my phone I scrolled down the contacts until I came to the B’s and then I dialed.

Chapter 4

He stared out the window of the trailer he had called home for almost two years. The interior had taken on aspects of field trainings he had received over the last dozen years with tools, trappings, and materials piling up. The whiteboard too, reminded him of mission logistics. Construction supplies and personnel were eerily similar when they were mapped out.

This construction was all but finished and he was considering what was next up, another job with Franklin Construction, take Judy up on her offer at the ranch, or re-enlist. As he mused about his future, the images of Liz and Atalanta jumped forefront in his mind. He liked Liz and he felt with some effort they might have a future together.

But would that drive a wedge between him and Atalanta?

Manny wasn’t sure how Atalanta felt about him. But he questioned whether he wanted to settle down in one place. He had called and talked with Liz at two separate times since he had left in August. The last he had heard from Liz, Atalanta was complaining about going to school. Imagine that - a teenager who found school boring. Manny felt he had a responsibility to Atalanta for training her at her age, and not being there to answer questions and guide her through difficult decisions was sure to come up.

But he needed to make a decision in the next year if he wanted to enlist at his old level as he had no desire to work his way back to his current grade. Manny admitted to himself that he missed the camaraderie, the excitement, and yes - the danger that the Navy, and in particular the Seal's offered. But as he watched the sun set on the Pacific his mind traveled back in time to yesterday and last night.

He had three phone numbers all routed to one phone and the number that was called last night was the one he had given out to Judy, Liz, and Atalanta. He had been surprised and pleased to hear from Atalanta.

As she told him of the train assault he felt a surge of anger followed quickly by a sense of pride in her ability to thwart the attack, and later in the interview process with police. He knew from experience that most people when confronted by authority talked too much.

Though he considered the train attempt a one off event, he agreed with Atalanta that having a plan B for Boston was a sensible precaution. He was concerned when Atalanta and later Mark had called him with the details of the MCO’s attempt at an arrest in the hotel. Later that night when she called him back about the double-cross in Mark’s team, his mind went into mission mode. He assessed her situation giving it the same consideration he would if she was overseas on a covert operation and facing trained assassins. His instructions to her were the same as he had given many times before. Only now he was handing those out to an inexperienced 14 year old-girl.

The 15 minutes spent trying to raise Mark on the phone felt like a week, while the almost an hour until Mark called back went by painfully slow. He jabbed the phone hard when it finally did ring, “What in hell is going on out there?”

“Damn, man back off that ledge you’re on will you?”

“Knock it off,” Manny growled, “Did you get there in time?”

“Yeah, man we did. It was all over by then though.”

“Tell me what happened.” Mark did.

From Mark’s description of the aftermath and the fight with Pete, Manny knew Atalanta had changed in the months since he had seen her. She seemed to have developed an edge to her.

He also had to rethink his assumption that these were one off events but rather a series of planned tactics orchestrated by unknown parties. Manny was confident that in time he would find out who was behind these strikes. But did he - and more to the point - did Atalanta have that time? At least at Whateley she should be safe until he could figure it out.

He felt a weight lift from his shoulders when he decided to quit Franklin Construction after the LA gig was finished. Considering Atalanta’s situation the military was out too; a two year contract tied his hands to help her.

Manny had saved a considerable nest egg while in the military and Mr. Franklin paid even better. He didn’t need to work if he didn’t want to for several years yet. With his background and contacts he could consult or open his own security firm. The decision made, he felt lighter in spirit than he had in the last six months or so. It wasn’t in his nature to be indecisive and now that he had made that decision he could look at other options.

He felt a responsibility to Atalanta. He looked at his watch; she should be settling into her room.

His phone rang.

Chapter 5

“Hello Atalanta, I didn’t expect to hear from you this soon. Is everything all right?”

“Hi Manny,” I replied smiling, “I didn’t think I’d be calling either. I need your help.”

“Sure thing kiddo, tell me what’s going on.” I did, starting with getting off at the train station and finishing with leaving the car up a logging road. I also told him my conclusions.

“I think you’re right Atalanta this leak - although I guess technically it wasn’t a state secret, came through official channels. Now give me their names, the address of their safe house and that phone number that called them.”
Luckily I had extracted the time the would-be kidnappers had received their assignment and that number was easily deduced.

“What about your Mom?”

“I called her just before we got to Dunwich,” I replied adding, “She’s not expecting a call from me until tomorrow night. But I don’t know if the school will call her.”

“Okay, leave your Mom to me. I’ll call her and tell her what happened; that Mark and the boys followed you to Dunwich and foiled the attempt, but that they have you in another safe house. And that we have to maintain radio silence for 24 hours while we set up a trap.”

I breathed a sigh of relief, “Thank you Manny.”

“Sure thing kiddo, are you going to stay where you’re at?”

“I think so, I’d like to be farther away from the road but this place doesn’t seem to get a lot of foot traffic and there is only one approach.”

“There is only one exit, too,” he cautioned.

“That’s true,” I admitted, “but I can cross the river.”

“Those phones you confiscated have a data link?”

“Yeah, they do.” Manny talked me through how to set up a phone-to-phone connection and in minutes I had transferred the contents of the three phones over to Manny’s.

After finishing that he asked me if I could set up a warning system. “I did buy a couple of trail cams and I have my laptop.” I then listed some of the items that I had confiscated.

“Whew,” he whistled, “That’s some high grade military stuff. Here’s what you’re gonna do,” and he described how to properly set up a perimeter.

“Think you can handle that?”

“Piece of cake,” I declared snapping my fingers.

“That’s what I like about you Atalanta; your humility,” he laughed.

“No I’m just the can-do girl.”

“That you are. I’m going to run these names, phone numbers, and addresses through my contacts. That should tell us something about who’s behind this. I’m also going to contact Mark and have his guys stake the house out and see who comes and goes there. I believe too, I need to do my civic duty and report three suspicious characters.”

I grinned through the phone with him, “Manny I just had a thought, whoever hired those three is supposed call them tomorrow with further instructions. If I forward their calls to your number …”

“Brilliant,” he intoned the Guinness Beer commercial, “but nix on my number I know a better alternative,” and he rattled off an eleven digit number that I immediately entered into the phones.

“Have we forgotten anything?”

“Don’t forget to call Mom,” I reminded him.

“I won’t, but what about you, what are you going to do beside lay around in the sun?” he teased.

“Believe it or not I’m going to curl up with a good book.”

“One of those Twilight books,” he accused.

“Actually no, a book that someone gave me today. The Art of War, ever hear of it?”

“Really?”

“Yeah really, this woman gave it to me today.”

“Not that it matters,” Manny replied, “but The Art of War is a book I am ashamed to say that I forgot. There is a lot more than War in that book.”

“That’s what she said.”

We talked a few minutes longer before we hung up, with his reminder to set up the trip wires and secure the camp perimeter. First though I set up my tent and sleeping bag, dragging some of the gear inside where I separated what I needed.

Then I went and set up the wires and cams in a semicircle 50 yards out. Back inside the tent I powered up my laptop and initialized the cameras. Satisfied that I had done all I could to prepare I removed my clothing down to my underclothes. Rummaging through my duffel I found and donned the flannel shirt that Mom griped about, and that I found comforting. Sitting cross legged I reached back into the duffel for the parts and assembled my Ruger pistols.
I placed one under my pillow and the other in my sleeping bag. My knife, I left in its scabbard lashed to my boot but nearby. Suddenly tired, I turned off the lantern and crawled into the sleeping bag.

Chapter 6

As soon as he hung the phone up Manny called Mark in Boston, telling him what almost happened at Dunwich.

“Damn,” he whistled appreciatively, “Who is this girl anyway?”

“Hell on wheels, I reckon.”

“She’s all that and more,” Mark agreed, “You want us to fetch her.”

“Negative, I talked her through a thorough perimeter setting and she has a small arsenal with her. Take it from me, she’s damned accurate. Anybody coming looking for her there will have their ass handed to them.”

What do you need from us?"

Manny told him of the house that the abductors were planning to take Atalanta to. “Watch it for me, and see who comes and goes.”

Mark eagerly agreed because first it pissed him off that Atalanta was being targeted, and second he always welcomed gathering intelligence on a potential enemy since this was a house he was not aware of until now.

His next call was to a clinic in New Mexico, “Hello this is Doctor Reid. How may I help you?”

Manny knew that calls to the clinic after hours were forwarded to Liz’s home phone. He knew because he had set the phone network up that way. “Hello Liz, Manny.”

“Manny, it's good to hear your voice, but why are you using this number?”

He knew the school hadn’t her called yet.

“Something came up Liz.”

He heard her sharp intake of breath, “Something happened to Atalanta.”

“No our girl is fine, but something did almost happen. You know Mark drove Atalanta to Berlin train station, and you know the reasons why they didn’t take her all the way to Dunwich.”

Yes, she knew the damned requirements placed on travel restrictions with a temporary MMID card.

“What?” she interjected forcing herself back into the present.

“I need your attention Liz. After Mark dropped Atalanta off at Berlin he began having second thoughts, and they drove up to Dunwich to make certain she got to Whateley safely. It was a good thing they did because somebody tried to kidnap her from the train depot.”

“What happened, is she all right?”

“She’s fine and at a safe house; the bad guys were captured. We have put a plan in motion from what we learned from them. That plan calls for radio silence for 24 to 36 hours. You know what that means.”

Liz knew what it meant, “But why?”

“Look whoever took out the contract probably has a connection inside the Academy, or it could be as simple as forwarding the names of new students or anything unusual. The likelihood of active sabotage is low; it’s more likely a pencil pusher somewhere making a few extra bucks a month.”

“I understand that …”

“The contractor thinks his guys' succeeded and he will call them tomorrow with more instructions. We also know the address of the house they were going to take Atalanta to. Bottom line is, we are monitoring e-mails out of Whateley, surveillance at the Boston house, and the phones the contractor calls. This time tomorrow we should have a name at Whateley, who owns that house in Boston, at least an area code for the contractor, and last but not least, background information on the three that we are holding.”

After Manny hung up from talking with Liz he dialed a number he knew from his days at San Diego.

Again I want to thank my co-conspirators in getting this story posted. I'm not sure if I need to mention that this is copyrighted and the characters are from my imagination.

The plan starts to come together and Atalanta finds she has more resources that she thought. This offering has some explanation and one of my favorite scenes. See if you can guess that scene; I believe that is starts to give some insight into who she is.

Chapter 7

“You know what time it is?”

Same old Nick, blunt and to the point.

“Yeah,” Manny drawled unperturbed, “I do, don’t you know.”

“Nick its Manny-Manny Black …Hawk.”

Nick O’Reilly, Director at DARPA's tone softened, “Manny you old dog what the hell are you up to? Are you ready to reenlist yet?”

“No, not yet but that’s not why I called, I need your help.”

“What do you need,” Nick asked his tone turned serious.

Manny brought him up to date on Atalanta and her miss-adventures on the train, twice at Boston, and lastly at Dunwich. What Manny wanted was a tap on the three cell phones and email monitoring from Whateley.

Nick was happy to help. Nick’s daughter Nikki was at Whateley, and breaches in their security concerned him from a father’s point of view. Tied closely with that was the understanding that Whateley was neutral and off-limits, and that ban included Dunwich. Manny gave Nick the names of the three hired hit men to bring up their military records. Phone tracing and taps was a little more problematic but a discreet call off the books would take care of that.

“Anything else,” Nick inquired after Manny finished with his list.

“I don’t think so, I am about to call another person to get information on the house they were going to take Atalanta to in Boston.”

“Well why don’t you give me that information too and we can compare notes.”

After he had completed jotting down the information Nick asked Manny, “How did you get hold of this information?”

“Atalanta, she called me and gave it to me.” Manny continued adding in a whispered hushed tone, “I’ve trained a lot of damn good soldiers in my time and I’ve seen my share of warriors-I’d like to think I am one- but this girl is in a different class.”

Nick agreed, “I met her and her mother in Utah and flew down to New Mexico with them. I persuaded Mrs. Reid to send Atalanta to Whateley. The tales I heard from Fife’s posse members sounded like tall tales.”

“I guess you have heard of her desert adventures.”

Nick nodded over the phone then answered, “Some of it.”

Manny replayed that night from the Big City to the big desert trip that he and her Mom took, and the sight of the procession in the stark desert landscape, “…like from a Hollywood scene,” Manny intoned.

“She was lucky that in breaking that man’s collarbone and damaging his partners hamstring that she set up a tension between them where it hurt one to travel fast and it hurt the other to go slow.”

“And placing the slow guy at the front and the fast guy at the rear was brilliant.”

“It was genius too, tying the three rider’s boots together under their horse’s belly.

“I know,” Manny agreed, “she had her hands full supporting the twins on her horse, but by separating the men into three factions with interests that conflicted she eliminated their options at escaping.”

“What do you know about her,” Nick inquired of Manny.

“What do you mean,” Manny’s words were clipped.

“Relax Manny I wasn’t dissin’ your girl. My Nikki is a changeling too. Nikki’s complete change took close to a year and her magical abilities occurred right alongside them. Mrs. Reid didn’t say much about Atalanta’s change on the helicopter ride over. It might help us to help Atalanta to know more who Alan was immediately before, during, and after her changing.”

Manny relaxed, it was a reasonable question. “They hid it well from me and from everybody on the ranch. Judy, the ranch owner knew, Lindsey and her mother knew too, and then they told me. The changeling event happened their first day there and the similarities between Alan and Atalanta were enough that no one ever caught on. Mrs. Reid in her capacity as a doctor certified that Alan was born intersex, and at puberty her body changed to female with the influx of female hormones.”

“I thought she exaggerated with that portion of her story, a case of CYA, but I did some research about intersex seeing as how I have some personal experience with Nikki. In a nutshell …” Nick left that metaphor hanging. “Briefly a child’s genitalia can sometimes be confused until puberty.”

“It is likely that it would never have surfaced but for the gunshot wound she received rescuing her mother,” Manny continued. “As Liz explained it to me Atalanta’s body went through much what a normal person’s body does at puberty if they have the intersex condition.” Manny paused to clear up any misunderstanding, “I should point out what I say or observe are conclusions I’ve drawn, and may or may not be accurate.”

“Understood, please continue.”

“Well Nick you aren’t the only one that has been reading up on concepts, concepts I wouldn’t have considered a year ago. The way I see it the world is made up from five planes of existence. Those are, starting from the bottom and going up, the physical, the ethereal, the astral, the spiritual, and finally the mental plane. Each level is governed by the laws of physics but to differing degrees. An example is quantum physics at the higher levels. And each level can interact with us on the physical, again to varying degrees or vice versa. I think Alan-Atalanta’s physical change was controlled through the ethereal plane as that level closely resembles ours. Her results are within what you expect to find with a normal intersex condition, whatever normal is. Now she may be a mutant if the BIT or body image template and gene theories are accurate, as she apparently imprinted on Atalanta, or else she contains Atalanta’s DNA which was catalyzed by some force, probably from this ethereal plane or higher.”

“Manny, let’s cut to the chase! Enough with the jargon and theory just give me your elevator speech.”

“Alan wasn’t athletic: Atalanta is. Alan was passive: Atalanta isn’t. Alan wasn’t interested in contact sports, Atalanta thrives on it. Alan was brown haired and blue eyed, Atalanta is redheaded with green eyes.”

“Not anymore from what I saw of her,” Nick corrected, “Her eyes are now gray with some green-blue flecks and I think the hint of another color.”

Manny swore, “Well you know as much now as I do except that girl never ceases to amaze me. Most recruits take years to learn the subtle clues that Atalanta picks up naturally.”

“A natural you mean.”

Yeah, Manny knew what he meant. The Pareto Principle worked in warfare too. 20% of the soldiers made 80% of the kills, though privately he thought it was 5% made 95% of the kills.

He changed the subject, “How’s Nikki doing these days, and is she coming home for Christmas?”

“A lot quieter than last year I can tell you that,” and he gave Manny a synopsis of Nikki’s freshman year.

“I would hope this year is quieter than last year,” Manny laughed.

“I hope it stays that way with your Atalanta enrolling. She’s a sophomore, too?”

That was true Manny realized, he had come to think of her like a daughter or kid sister at least.
“I do feel a responsibility for her. You’ll call me when you have something.”

“I sure will and you’ll call me if anything breaks on your end.”

“You’re closer than I am,” Manny replied; he wasn’t sure if Nick knew he was coordinating this long distance, “I’m finishing up here on the West Coast.”

“I’m not due to pick Nikki up for the holidays until a week from now. What about Mark?”

“They’re watching that house in Boston.”

“So who’s doing our boots on the ground report?”

Manny answered simply, “Atalanta.”

“I see but shouldn’t she have backup since she is the target?”

“From her description, the location she chose for her camp is ideal; one way in and it’s easily defensible. She’s cool under pressure and a dead shot, though I hate to think of her having to kill someone. She set up a security perimeter and tomorrow she will look for a backdoor to her rabbit hole.”

“You’re good at this you know,” Nick remarked, “and you enjoy it too.”

Manny admitted both statements were true, but he didn’t like Atalanta being put in danger. “I’ll talk with you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Nick agreed.

Chapter 8

I stirred inside the sleeping bag, instantly wide-awake and alert. It was pitch black inside the tent and dark outside. I instantly shifted my sight, the rods and cones in my eyes changing in the low light. The tent’s interior and its contents sprang to life, albeit a monotone, dull world in hues.

I listened, really listened picking up the night sounds and rhythms. One of the horses snorted softly, another gently stamped a foot. The waters of the river murmured rolling over the rocks and lapping at the shoreline. In the distance the mournful wail of a lone wolf lifted on the night air. Somewhere an owl cried, its voice shrill.

I pulled back the covering, rose and dressed quickly in the dark and powered my laptop up and checked my cameras. Nothing out of the ordinary greeted my eyes.

After arming myself, I stood outside my tent scrutinizing the immediate terrain. The spring floods beating against the cliff wall had eaten away the rocky surface at ground level and rising up and outward. Where I set my camp up at was at an inverted bowl that offered protection and concealment from downriver. But not from directly across the river and that was an area I intended to explore with daylight.

Satisfied nothing lay in wait I fed and watered my horses and washed my face and hands in the cold waters. I quickly built a fire and cooked a breakfast consisting of cured meat, powdered eggs, and pancakes which I washed down with water.

My phone rang as I was washing my cooking and eating utensils, “Hello.”

“Miss Reid,” an unknown voice asked. I remained silent not recognizing the number either.

“Miss Reid,” the voice continued quickly, “My name is Nick O’Reilly we met on the ride with you and your mother from Utah to New Mexico. I got your number from Manny Black.”

“I’m Atalanta,” I replied recalling the name, “What do you want?”

“Manny called me last night to help with the phone tap and we’ve run in a bit of a snag. I need the phones. Mark is on his way there to pick up those phones. What did you do with those three men?"

“I left them tied up in the backseat of their car up a logging road.”

“Good they’re still there then.”

“Probably not, I cut the cords on one of them and he has probably untied his buddies by now. But I did take the car keys and tossed them by the roadside. They might have found them by now or maybe not.”

“I need for you to take their phones and IDs and give them to Mark. We’re going to use background information on them to make them cooperate with us and with any luck we might know who is behind this. Whateley and it's students are off limits especially on and near the school.”

Anticipating his next question I told him the logging road was a mile from town, “What time will they be here?”

“They left several hours ago and should be there in about two hours. Where will you be?”

“Tell them to find the logging road and I’ll find them.”

Nick chuckled on his end appreciating the response, “I’ll tell them.”

After disconnecting with Nick O’Reilly, I saddled the gray filly that I rode yesterday and led the other horses across the river. There was some vegetation left and they were less likely to be spotted. I also carried some gear and two rifles with me to stash there.

Crossing back over the river’s sandbar I rode the filly I now called Grey to the end of the beach area and up into the woods. An hour later we struggled out on the trees lining the road’s border. There I dismounted and studied both sides, and the length of the road as far as I could see.

Hunkered down I debated whether to stay put or cross the road to go hunting. I chose the latter moving stealthily into the timber along the logging road. Drawing close to the area where I had parked their car I dismounted and led Grey farther in the trees where she wouldn’t give me away. There I hobbled her and injun’d my way near to where I had left them the previous evening.

I sensed and heard them before their figures came into view. Their clothing was wrinkled, dusty, and their shoes scuffed. The men had blue stubble on their faces with their hair uncombed and unkempt. They were frustrated, tired, and hungry. Apparently they still hadn’t found where I had tossed the keys.

Hunkered down behind the tree line and concealed by a path of bushes I considered my next move. My position was on a bank about 20 yards from the roadside with a commanding view of them, their car, and a clear view of 100 yards of the road leading out.

My ears picked up the sound of a car engine as it revved to climb the sharp incline from the paved road and moments later the crunch of gravel reached my ears. I needed to act fast or these guys would scatter with sound of an approaching car.

I stood up, the lower half of my body hid by the vegetation and held up and jangled another set of keys, “You boys lose something?”

I was slightly forward of the car and they being at the rear turned as one facing me their back exposed to Mark and the team.

They fanned out slightly and the leader, the one I used the hypodermic needle on spoke, “Throw down the keys and we’ll forget we ever saw you.”

“Throw down the keys or what,” I drawled, “You have to have an ultimatum or it just doesn’t work. It lacks credibility. You going to tie me to the railroad tracks, or make me walk barefoot and naked over hot coals. You have to give me something to be afraid of.”

I paused briefly, my eye going to each man and lingering briefly, giving Mark and his men time to creep closer.
I added, “I realize you all are probably new at this sort of thing so if you’d like to take a moment to discuss the ultimatum among yourselves, I’ll wait.”

“What ultimatum?”

“Why the ultimatum that gets me to throw you boys the keys of course,” I replied evenly, “and I’m afraid, ‘we’ll forget we ever saw youʼ won’t fly. First, as ultimatums go, it’s not very threatening, and secondly, I don’t believe that you will ever forget me.”

“You bitch,” the leader took a step forward, “I’ll come up there and rip you arm from arm and beat you like a rag doll.”

“Your boss didn’t tell you about me, did he?”

“Huh?”

I felt a sudden change in the air, the air seemed clearer and sharper; magnifying sounds. I felt like I was on stage wielding my storytelling shtick. The world slowed. The little hairs on my neck straightened and chills ran the length of my spine. From the corners of my eyes I noticed some hawks and buzzards lighting in the branches and one owl. High overhead an eagle circled lazily, watching.

“I’m a woodland nymph, this is my home,” I declared shocked by my words. “Look behind me they are my friends,” I pointed at the growing number of predatory birds perched in the branches. “And him,” I pointed at the eagle, “I guess you could say he’s the general as he has the best view …” A sense of vertigo quickly passed as for a split second I saw us from the air.

Enthralled I continued, “Your boss stepped in it but he doesn’t know it yet. You do. I’m afraid coming up here and tearing me limb from limb is not going to happen. You’ll need to come up with another plan.”

What was Mark waiting for? They were close enough to take charge.

Deciding to go along with whatever game he was playing, I continued my spiel, “Come, come, gentlemen, I don’t have all day. I’m disappointed, what no plan b?”

“Yeah,” the one named Bud spoke, “You come down here.”

“Make me,” I taunted sticking my tongue out. I remained still as did they. It had turned into a Mexican standoff.

“Guys how about some help here.”

Mark and his team moved swiftly and soon had the men handcuffed in the backseat of their car. As they were doing that I retrieved Grey and joined them, handing over the documents and phones.

“Just what were you waiting on,” I demanded of Mark.

“It’s not often we get treated to a performance worthy of Elizabethan Theater, is it men?” A chorus of agreement, whoops, and catcalls followed.

“And the props, how did you get them to cooperate?” I knew he was referring to the timely arrival of the predatory avians.

“Coincidence,” I shrugged, “I don’t know it just happened.” That was true I didn’t know how it happened but none of us were buying mere ‘coincidence.’

“I guess we all better be going, you guys have a long trip ahead and I need to get my camp in order.”

“Here, I almost forgot,” Mark said reaching into his pocket, retrieving a phone, “this is a secured phone. Mr. O’Reilly wanted you to have it.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” I replied taking the phone placing in my coat pocket. “And I appreciate your help. All of you guys' help,” I added to his team gathered around.

“It just doesn’t sit right with me that we’re running off and leaving a young girl alone in the wilderness to fend for herself. Even though I have every confidence you will be all right. Still, a person can slip and break a leg.”

Looking at concern on each man’s face, I knew I needed to walk a fine line, “No man …or woman is an island. We’re a team right now. We each have a job to do. Your’s is to get these guys to wherever you’re supposed to get them to and my job is to stay out of sight. I can do that easier alone, and besides I wouldn’t want to sully any of your stellar reputations: especially yours Ben.”

From the gossip I overheard at the Boston house, Ben was a party animal and teased constantly by his companions. They didn’t need a second invite to pile on him with insults and barbs.

“It’s true I could fall and break an arm or leg,” I continued thoughtfully, “but I don’t think so. I’m light on my feet, I have three horses, I can ride a horse with either injury and Dunwich is at most a four or five hour ride. My Mom is a doctor so I have some medical training. No plan is perfect.”

By taciturn agreement we broke up soon after as I gave each man a hug and a handshake.

Swinging gracefully into the saddle, I whirled the horse around and leaping up the embankment, I called back, “See you guys on the other side,” rapidly disappearing into the forest.

“That girl is going to break her fool neck.”

“No,” another team member observed, “she is destined for more than that.”

I meant to post this Saturday but life kept getting in the way. Mostly though its myself as I want to rewrite it again. Again I want to thank all the people that helped me.

Plans are being put in place while Atalanta goes exploring.

Chapter 9

The wind streamed in my face as Grey and I flew across the forest floor. The filly seemed to feel the new sense of enlightenment, of freedom as she lengthened her stride, her hooves barely grazing the ground. I let her have her head for a couple of hundred yards before gently reining her in until we finally came to a walk.

“That was fun wasn’t it girl,” I spoke gently reaching forward and patting her neck. Grey, whinnying her agreement began nodding her head. Dismounting I unhooked the canteen from the saddle and soaked a cloth in water and held it to her nose. After taking a drink I poured out water in my hat and let her drink some.

From there I walked her down to the road where we crossed unnoticed and then into the bowl that led to the river’s edge and my campsite. After unsaddling Grey we crossed the river where I picketed her with the other horses before crossing back to my campsite. Despite it being a wide and deep river, debris and silt collected just below where my camp was set up. Here the water was only about two feet deep and I crossed it, barefoot and with my pant legs rolled up.

After erasing the readily discernible signs leading to the camp I relaxed in the tent to review and wait in the afternoon sun. The camp had its pluses and minus’ and water was the source of both.

Water had carved out the rocky surface to form a cup shape offering concealment and cover but that same action posed threats during the rainy season. But that threat kept the wild animals from using it as a den. I didn’t plan on using it past today.

I reached into my duffel bag and retrieved the book that Audhilde had gifted me yesterday and opened it to read while I waited. The book wasn’t very thick and I read it in about an hour taking note of several items to meditate on.

The first was that, “All warfare is deception,” seemed like straightforward advice while the second item that caught my attention, also in that first chapter, felt like a riddle. “If your opponent is of choleric temper, seek to irritate him …” Choleric, I knew meant a take charge fiery kind of individual. So, I thought, does that mean to fight fire with fire?

There was more than one personality type, why was only one listed? Could it be the author was proscribing to fight like with like; fire with fire? Or, remembering his warning about deception, just pretending to. The other takeaway from chapter one was a warning Manny had preached again and again about, “no plan survives contact,” or as Sun Tzu explains it: ‘As circumstances favor one should modify one’s plans.’

I knew in later chapters Sun Tzu continues to encourage subtlety in all its forms. Scattered throughout the book was other advice that stood out, knowing yourself and knowing your enemy. A good defensive strategy keeps you from defeat while an offensive strategy helps assure victory over the enemy. He also admonishes to not only win but to win with ease. I was also curious that an innocuous piece of advice at the start of chapter 8 jumped out at me: In war, the general receives his commands from his sovereign or ruler.

Closing the book I stretched, yawning as I put the book back in the bag and rose to my feet to look around outside. I felt like I needed to read that book several times to pull out all its gems.

I paused at the tent’s entrance to open my senses to outside conditions. Satisfied, despite the water’s constant murmur that nothing lay in wait, I opened the flap to walk outside.

I felt restless with the need to be on the move and looking at the sun, still high in the sky; I estimated I had five hours until dark. I doubted I had enough time to find a new campsite and break camp here and setup the new one. But I did have time to accomplish a portion of it by taking some gear with me as I explored the land beyond the river.

I waded across the river to retrieve Grey and the packhorse leaving the third horse behind to voice his protest. An hour later I had most of the staples and non-perishable goods lashed on the pack animal proceeding back to the valley. The third horse whinnied a greeting at us. Dismounting I fed and watered that horse before transferring half the weight of the supplies for him to carry.

From Grey’s back I scanned the landscape noting its features while munching on a protein bar. I led the procession across the valley with the bridles of the other horses tied to my saddle. Scrub brush, stunted pines, and tufts of wild grass dotted our way. Directly ahead and extending to my left rose solid granite cliffs. To my right the cliffs gradually gave way to rolling forested terrain of green. The river ran somewhere between the two formations, unless a tributary joined somewhere ahead.

As I angled the horses towards a notch on the horizon between the grey bulwark and the tree line I reflected back to yesterday at the train station in Dunwich. Two sentences spoken by the would be kidnappers was etched in my mind as were their implications and the reason I chose to shun Whateley for now.

“She looks just like her picture.” In going through their pockets I found the picture. It was the one on my MMID card and school ID. There were no official pictures nor was my name released in the Utah incidence.

“Here comes our ride.” I could still see that green van as it drove up looking exactly like thousands of other green vans. The facts seemed clear to me: They knew my arrival time, had a copy of my ID, and recognized the school van. That screamed a leak inside the school and until I knew more I wasn’t about to surrender my freedom for faux security.

Nope it wasn't going to happen.

I soon came to the banks of the Miskatonic River as it made a sweeping turn west across the granite face of the cliffs. Due north a large creek tumbled down an avenue offered by the forest and joined the Miskatonic farther to my east doubling the river’s size. It was this onrush of water that I suspected caused the erosion in the cliffs where I had camped.

Following the river back towards the direction of my camp I found what I was looking for at the intersection of the two waterways. Set back from the river bank about 50 feet grew a small copse of hardwoods and farther back and higher up, an outcropping of rocks stood guard.

After letting the horses drink I rode up to the plateau to investigate. Once on top, from my horses back I swept the terrain, from the Miskatonic disappearing into the west to my campsite in the southeast. From this location I had a commanding view, though I did worry that the growth of trees blocked my view to the north.

The tabletop like surface about 50 feet in diameter was surrounded on three sides by rocky sentinels. The location wasn’t perfect but the confines of the cave-like structure of the cliffs had me reconsidering spending another night there. From the sun’s position in the sky I had about three hours until dark and just enough time to move.

The sun had already set behind the thin ribbon that was the Miskatonic River and darkness was quickly settling in. But I had my tent set up, cameras in place pointing towards the three approaches. A fire flickered in the pit I had dug; with canned stew simmering in the covered pot resting on the grill.

After I had fed and watered the horses I constructed a temporary corral by stringing ropes between the rocks on the open end of the mesa to let my horses move freely. I had just poured a cup of steaming coffee when the phone rang. Fumbling in my pocket I found the ringing phone and answered it, “Hello.”

“Atalanta?”

“Yes,” I answered.

“Atalanta, it’s me Manny. How are you doing?”

“I’m fine Manny, how are things at your end?”

“I’ve good news, not so good news, and no news I guess. The good news is we found the leak in the school and we’re sure that it is coming from an extra email account that has been set up for that purpose. The file clerk has been sending reports to an unauthorized address but that address was established before she started work there.”

“Could it have been done from outside the school,” I wondered.

“No, it was probably done by whoever installed the network,” Manny answered, “the house in Boston you were destined for is owned by Red Bastard Properties; a shell company located off shore. Who the owners are, we don’t know and may never know.”

“Well that is more than we did know,” I said feeling my mood lighten, “what about the phone call?”

“That went well. The call came from somewhere in Nevada. The guys were anxious to cooperate with us and played their part to perfection. They are supposed to deliver you to a destination outside Omaha, Monday evening. You think you can hold out and lay low until then?”

“Piece of cake,” I stated cheerfully, “any more news?”

“Your Mom and Mrs. Carson both believe you are with Mark and his team.”

“How is Mom taking it,” I queried biting my lower lip.

“She is on edge but doing well. I need to hang up now because she is due to call any minute. I have my phone programmed to forward her call to your phone. I’ll call you back after she gets through talking.”

“Okay.”

“Atalanta, remember you are supposed to be with Mark and not alone in the wilderness.”

“I won’t forget.”

“Be careful.”

I will and you do the same. Bye.”

“Bye.”

I didn’t have long to wait before the phone rang. Taking a deep breath I answered, “Mom?”

“Yes. Atalanta, are you all right,” Mom’s strained words reached my ears.

“Mom, I’m fine. You know me; I’ll do anything to get out of school.”

“Atalanta this is serious,” she admonished me.

Properly chided I returned, “Mom I know it’s serious. I was trying to cheer you up.”

“I don’t need cheering up. I need my baby girl safe.”

“Not even a little bit,” I urged.

“Maybe a little,” she admitted, “but I’m concerned about that school and whether sending you there was the right thing to do. You’ve had all kinds of people after you since we put you on that train.”

“I know, but such is the life of a mutant ninja teenager,” I intoned. That did bring laughter. We talked several more minutes; I learned she wasn’t happy that Mrs. Carson had waited several hours before calling her about me. We hung up soon after with my promise to call her tomorrow.

Manny’s call came after I finished eating supper.

“How did it go?” he wanted to know.

“All right, I suppose, anything new on your end?”

“Mrs. Carson is spitting nails from what I hear.”

Somehow the image of a bent old granny, her chin stained and leaning on a cane with fire flashing from her eyes found it’s way in my mind. I grinned through the phone at the image.

“Good,” I exclaimed, “maybe by the time I get there she’ll be through chewing.”

Manny chuckled, “Somehow I don’t think you’ll get off that easy. Have you found another campsite yet?”

“I’ve already moved a couple miles north, that cave began to feel more and more like a tomb the longer I stayed there.”
We talked a few minutes longer before hanging up but not before he warned me to be careful. After inspecting the perimeter, I crawled in to my tent and went to sleep. As I drifted off to sleep I laid my plans for the next two days.

I want to thank everyone that helped me with this story. And I also want to thank everyone for reading and kind comments. Believe me they are appreciated especially this one as I have wavered between three versions.

In this chapter Harvard leads Atalanta to meet new friends and school days draws closer.

Chapter 10

Ben Donner found his wife, Eloise on the front porch her eyes scanning the horizon. He stood nearby quietly watching her.

“Ben,” she spoke softly without turning to face him. He walked and stood beside her. After 24 years of marriage and three children he knew Eloise as well as he did himself. She had been distracted and withdrawn for a couple of months but more so the last two days.

Eloise felt her husband’s presence long before he came to stand beside her. She was aware that Ben expected an explanation. She wasn’t sure he would understand but as the head of the tribal council she had duties that reached beyond her household. When she assumed the ceremonial leadership role she had also accepted the spiritual mantle attached.

Her gaze locked on the great bird with the distinctive profile that had just alighted on a branch in an old oak tree devoid of leaves.

Ben turned and looked in the direction she was focused on and he saw the bird too. As it lifted from it’s perch, she turned to her husband.

“It can mean many things,” Ben said, his head tilting with the owl.

Eloise sighed. Ben meant well. “Owls are messengers,” she intoned, “sometimes it takes time to decipher their message. I know our traditions hold them as harbingers of death but that is only a surface prediction. I think this message is that of a blessing, or a curse, and I believe that we can determine which that will be.”

Eloise smiled at her husband her eyes lighting up, “That is why I’ve been in meditation this weekend. I feel we have an opportunity to create a beneficial alliance or create an enemy.”

“So,” Ben asked, “you have any idea what form this message takes?”

“No, I don’t,” Eloise admitted a half smile playing on her lips, “we’ll have to wait and see.”

Harvard and dawn’s early light guided me down a steep trail that emptied into a valley that ran roughly west to east. Harvard had shown up yesterday morning as I was breaking camp. He had flown off in the direction I’d decided on, so I followed him.

For the rest of the day, Sunday, Harvard would disappear only to reappear at regular intervals to spur me on. This morning he had called repeatedly until I had exited my tent.

“Keep your shirt on,” I growled at the pesky bird, “I’m hungry,” and I began building a fire.

He called back at me excitedly before flying off. Shrugging I fed and watered my animals and began breaking camp as my breakfast was cooking. Afterwards I washed the cooking utensils and myself in the creek that I had followed most of yesterday.

I was starting to feel grimy after three days in the wilderness and longer since I’d had a shower or bath. Yesterday Manny and Nick seemed confident that after today I could come in out of the cold, so to speak. I had another mother daughter chat too, wincing slightly that we were misleading her in thinking I was safe in a house somewhere in the Boston area surrounded by my own set of bodyguards.

Riding across pine carpeted woods, crossing rushing creeks, and up, around, and down rocky trails, I had traveled through most of the terrain that surrounded Whateley Academy. On several occasions I had stopped to study the campus wondering which one was Poe cottage, and how I was going to fare.

Today, though I had crossed over a ridge line into a long narrow valley that showed evidence of recent travels. Harvard disappeared into the rising sun while I kept to the trees, but still following the old road.

About mid-morning I crested a hill and stopped dead in our tracks when the old dirt road suddenly became freshly graveled. On my left about 100 yards farther sat the proverbial little red school house, two athletic fields in the back and three maintenance buildings. Farther yet, at the base of the cliffs and beside a rushing stream, another building was erected. Its design suggested a power plant.

I saw no one outside, and then remembered that it was a school day. Kicking my horse into motion we continued to follow the road at a distance. After passing the school house I was surprised to find a well worn footpath on my right, and spanning the stream a pedestrian bridge that led into the woods paralleling the direction I had journeyed yesterday. If the path continued, I felt sure it ended near Whateley.

Ahead Harvard called urging me to hurry. Side streets soon emerged with neat rows of housing laid out on either side. Across the road stood a row of municipal buildings; the sheriff’s office and jail, city hall, courthouse, and town maintenance shops.

The business district was laid out in a square, it’s streets aligned with a compass’ cardinal points with the businesses lining the main streets and the housing set farther back. I identified a garage fuel station and parts warehouse alongside a grain and feed store. Facing it and across the street was a department store and grocer. Situated perpendicular was a clothing and electronics store, and a combination barber and hair stylist.

Harvard was screeching at me perched high in an oak tree with it’s leaves stripped. Jostling my horses into motion we ambled down the street and towards Harvard as he was insistently calling. Again, I found it odd that there seemed to be no foot traffic.

Ben was outside carrying firewood inside to fill the wood box when he looked up and saw the lone rider approaching, leading two horses. The long coat and wide brimmed hat hid the rider’s features. He could tell that the traveler was slim of build and above average in height and most likely young; under 25.

Depositing the wood in its designated place on the back porch he crossed over and opened the kitchen door, “Eloise,” he called, “I think your message has arrived.”

“I know,” she replied softly, “no need for you to wake the dead,” she smiled at him as he came to stand beside her. Both looked through the kitchen window as the horses had stopped at the entrance to their house, and beneath the oak tree where the owl was perched.

“Let’s go and greet our guest,” she suggested moving towards the front door. They walked quickly across the kitchen and living room, opening the front door and stepping out onto the porch.

“Hello, can we help you?”

“I’m not sure,” the rider replied dismounting and removing her hat. A mass of red fiery hair tumbled out, her gray green eyes sparkling. “I’ve been following Harvard; it seems, for the last several months. So here I am,” she added smiling revealing even white teeth, indicating with her gaze the owl.

Both adults were shocked by her quiet air of confidence that belied her tender years.

“Why don’t you come in, rest a bit and tell us about yourself,” Eloise invited.

“I need to look after my animals,” she responded unsheathing and unloading her pistols placing them in her saddlebags and removing a duffel bag tied to the saddle horn.

“Come on in, Ben will look after your horses.”

I saw the two faces at the window and since it was below the tree Harvard had chosen to rest in I stopped. After the figures in the window disappeared I clucked at my horse to move towards the house where the couple had moved to the front porch. They appeared to be in their early forties. He was a giant of a man; close to six and half feet with wide shoulders and narrow hips. The woman was about my height though she was heavier in her lower body. Both had swarthy complexions and dark hair.

After cursory greetings I swung easily off my horse and disarmed, handing over the reins to Big Ben at her invitation and followed the woman inside. We crossed the living room to the kitchen where she invited me to sit at the table.

“You want something to drink and eat?”

“If it’s not too much trouble,” I replied.

“It isn’t,” she stated, dishing out a bowl of stew and handing it across the table to me. “You want water or coffee?”

“Coffee sounds good,” I admitted as I took the offered bowl of stew, smelling the aroma of meat and spices teasing my suddenly growling belly.

As I was eating, the big man came in from tending to my horses. I assumed he was the woman’s husband which she quickly confirmed, “My name is Eloise Donner and this is my husband Ben. I’m the head of the tribal council of the Medawihla Indians.”

Implied in her introduction was asking who I was and what was I doing. I dropped my spoon into the empty bowl and considered my reply. By stopping and accepting their invitation I had obligated myself to provide them an explanation.
“Thank you for that food and coffee, it is the best I’ve had in days. I’m Atalanta Reid, and I guess I followed Harvard to your door.”

“Harvard?”

“That big ol’ Owl perched in your tree out there,” Eloise exchanged a quick look with her husband as I added, “He just shows up from time to time and I just sort of follow along when he does.”

“Really, how long has this been going on?”

I sensed more than idle curiosity in her question. I gave them a condensed version of the circumstances leading up to Harvard’s first appearance.

“So you’re a Whateley student then,” Mrs. Donner smiled at me when I finished.

“Yeah.”

“You’re a mutant then?”

“Yes,” I replied cautiously, the MCO and H1 still fresh in my mind.

“Don’t worry we are used to mutants around here,” she smiled assuredly at me. “But what are you doing out here and not in school?”

I recounted Friday’s events, my actions since, and the additional manpower I had called in.

“Mrs. Carson thinks you’re being guarded in a safe house somewhere in Boston but you’re out here in the wilderness instead. She’d be fit to be tied if she knew where you were at instead,” Mrs. Donner continued as a smile tugged briefly at the corners of her mouth.

“With all the recent attempts to kidnap me it seemed the best plan to us.”

“What does your mother think of you, a young girl, gallivanting all alone in the wild?”

Ducking my head I softly replied, “She thinks I’m in Boston, too.”

“You lied to your poor mother too,” she scolded me, her maternal instincts awakened.

A spark of anger jumped into my eyes before I could quench it, and straightening up I bit back a retort, replying mildly, “I guess I did.”

She then gave me a five minute warning and lecture on the dangers a girl faces alone and especially alone in the wild. “You could have gotten lost or broke an arm or a leg.”

“I didn’t though, I can take care of myself and I’m at home with Mother Nature.”

“I’m sure you think you can but all teenagers have an inflated sense of invincibility.”

“Except that I am …invincible that is,” I replied softly leaning back in the chair and grinning like a Cheshire cat. The woman may mean well but her words were starting to tire me.

My reply caught her flat-footed as her mouth twitched calling up a scathing reply. Before she did I changed tactics.
“Mr. Donner you haven’t said anything, do you think I’m a foolish, naïve young girl who’s in over her head too?” I drawled evenly.

He stared at me and then turned to look at his wife before rising from his chair, “Excuse me ladies but I believe I need to bring in more firewood.”

We both turned, silently watching his retreating backside. We quietly studied each other. “Can we start again?” I asked extending an olive branch.

“Okay, I’m Eloise Donner and that big lunk who just snuck out of here is my husband Ben.”

“I’m Atalanta Reid,” I replied extending my hand across the table, “and I seemed to have gotten sidetracked on my way to school.” We were both smiling as our hands clasped.

“That is a man’s greeting, we women are more about hugs,” She invited me rising from her seat. It was true, the custom of extending a hand, usually the right hand, showed that each party was unarmed. A hug was even more intimate and vulnerable.

As Alan, I was suspicious of the motives behind a hug. As Atalanta, I still entertained reservations dependent on the situation or the person. I had no qualms hugging Mom, Judy and Lindsey. Manny fell into the trusted category as did Mark and his guys.

Nevertheless, I returned her embrace.

“Whew girl, you’re ripe.”

“Sorry,” I replied, “but that water was too cold to bathe in.”

“You got a change of clothes?”

I nodded, “yes.” Mrs. Donner pointed at the first door off the kitchen, “That’s our guest bath. Why don’t you go in there and soak and I’ll bring in some towels?”

“Thank you I will,” I returned picking up my duffel bag and heading for the indicated room. Mrs. Donner returned with the towels as I was shaking out my clean clothing and hanging them up.

“I’ll wash those things if you want,” she stated pointed at my soiled clothing. Seeing my hesitation she quickly added, “I was about to wash a load of clothes anyway.”

“Okay thank you very much.”

“You yell when you get in the tub and I’ll come in and get your dirty clothes.” I nodded in agreement and began removing my boots as she hesitatingly queried, “You’re a changeling, aren’t you?”

I stopped with a sock in my hand, sitting on the tub’s edge. I narrowed my gaze, looking up at her giving her question it’s due consideration. I wasn’t ashamed of being either a boy or a girl but I thought by now it would not be obvious.
“Yeah I am, but how did you know? Was it something I’m doing that’s giving me away?”

“No, it’s nothing like that”, she quickly denied but then admitted, “maybe a little. You do have a man’s habit of directly challenging someone, but some women are more direct than others. We also lease some of our lands to the school. Over the years I’ve gotten to know some of the students and teachers and the ratio of changelings is increasing. You needn’t worry though outside of that context I wouldn’t have guessed.”

“That’s good to know,” I responded, “I’m not ashamed I was a boy and now a girl. I’m still the same person inside, and I was happy being a boy, and mostly so as a girl.”

“Just mostly so?”

“Mom and people in general seem to feel I need to be protected; or like a piece of china I might break. Not to brag but I could kick Alan’s rear-end everyday of the week and twice on Sundays.”

“I can take care of myself as well but I let Ben help me; it makes him feel good as a provider and it makes me feel good to feel protected. It’s a male and female thing. Haven’t you had a boy put his arm around you like that?”

The image of Jack giving me his coat sprang to mind and corners of my mouth crinkled in response, “Yes and it did feel good as you say, and I may want it, but I don’t need it.”

“Well I better leave before your water gets cold,” Mrs. Donner returned as she left the room gently closing the door behind her.

Finding some fasteners I pinned my hair up, quickly stripped and slithered into the water, before calling out to let her know I was in the bath.

An hour later I was seated at the kitchen table in clean clothes feeling both refreshed and contented.
“Thank you, I forgot what being clean felt like,” I smiled at Eloise and Ben who were both seated at the table with me.

“You sure clean up good dear,” Mrs. Donner replied adding, “What are your plans for the rest of the day?”

“I’m going to return these horses and spend tonight in Dunwich, and if everything goes as planned, turn myself in to Mrs. Carson tomorrow.”

“Don’t look so glum,” Mrs. Donner admonished laughing as they followed me outside to where Ben had tied the horses, “Mrs. Carson isn’t an ogre.”

Standing beside Gray I shook Ben’s hand while giving Eloise a hug; “I know and thanks again. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be all right. And,” I cautioned, “Remember, you haven’t seen me.”

Once the village had disappeared from view I placed a call to the outfitter I had bought the horses and tack from and arranged for him to pick me up.

Two hours and five miles later I met him and we soon had the horses loaded and gear stored. I made a deal with him to board and stable Gray through the summer months in exchange for two of his horses back. The sun was just setting behind the mountains as we drove through town.

After we had unloaded the horses we stowed my saddle and gear in a locked private locker. I left my plunder and my two suitcases in there as well while I called the Crescent Cab for a ride despite the outfitter’s offer to drive me into town.
“You’ve done enough already and I won’t put you out anymore.”

The cab pulling in and coming to a stop interrupted more offers as I hurriedly thanked the outfitter again, opening the back door and climbing in.

“Where to Miss?” the woman driver asked me looking in her rearview mirror.

“Where is a good place to eat?”

“The Carriage House is probably the best we have to offer.”

“Thanks, take me there.”

As we turned onto the paved road to town she asked, “Are you new in town?”

“Yeah, I’m new in town,” I replied dryly.

“You parents waiting for you in town?”

I tamped back my irritation at playing twenty questions with this windbag busybody as I wanted to remain as boring as possible. That might not be possible with this driver, but I had to try.

“They’re letting me explore a bit on my own. I’m meeting them tomorrow in Berlin. How about you?” I asked cheerfully, “You live here long, are you married,-any kids, how long have you been driving a cab …” She droned on clueless answering my twenty questions. During the drive I decided she would be lucky to remember her way home let alone remember me.

Breathing a sigh of relief when we pulled into the parking lot of the Carriage House I exited the cab, paid the fare and strolled across the lot to the entrance.

I really appreciate the help that I received in writing Atalanta and to y'all for reading it. The pic is a one off I wanted to show a older version with a hint of bad girl thrown in and this is the best I could find.

A plan doesn't go as expected and Atalanta receives support for her meeting with Mrs. Carson.

Chapter 11

True to her word, the key that Audhilde gave me did fit the outside door to the Owl’s Nest and I quietly opened, closed, and re-locked the outside door. The stairs, hugging the brick foundation wound upward drawing tighter and tighter until it opened onto the Owl’s Nest Reading Room.

The view from the top of the Owl’s Nest was magnificent taking in the town square; its lights and the surrounding countryside. With all the windows enclosing the room and at this height I felt almost like I could fly.

Heavy drapery framed the windows held in place by ties to let in the light, but was easily removed for privacy. At one wall facing north, and looking out on the forest, rested a white board day bed with a row of drawers. In front of it was a rectangular flat cedar trunk decorated with brass hinges and latch.

Inside I found blankets, sheets, and pillows to make the bed ready to sleep in. Closing the curtains I undressed, and donned the flannel nightshirt, placing my duffel bag in one of the drawers built into the daybed. I then turned on the reading light beside the chaise lounge.

Picking up my cell phone I saw the time was 9:45, and later than when Manny had been calling. Even allowing for an hour difference between here and Nebraska, he should have already called with news of the sting. I was debating whether to call when my phone chirped.

“Manny,” I greeted him hastily.

“No,” the voice responded, “it’s Nick, Nick O’Reily.”

“Mr. O’Reilly, any news?”

“Yes,” he replied slowly, “but its bad news I’m afraid. We don’t know if he had a tail on his guys or a sixth sense, but we walked into a trap and he got away, if he was even there.”

“He was,” I stated emphatically, “he wanted to see his handiwork.”

“You seem sure.”
“I am, I don’t know how I know, but he was there.”

“I’m of the same opinion, too.”

“What happened, did anyone get hurt?”

“Yes, those three guys were all killed in the explosion.”

I immediately felt a sinking sensation in my stomach, although I wasn’t sure why. Had I sent them to their deaths? Was I responsible? No, that wasn’t the source of my conflict. They were mercenaries and chose it despite knowing the risks. The pit in my belly grew larger demanding my attention. Suddenly images began forming, first was the desert, the campfire, the gangsters, and the children. Next I saw the sheriff’s posse and me hunkered around the fire in the snow, followed in quick succession by the train figures, the appearance of the MCO in the hotel lobby, and the attack on the safe house. Then it hit me, none of those adventures and confrontations resulted in anything but injuries.
This however was permanent and the gravity of my status sunk in.

I had been silent long enough for Nick to ask, “Atalanta, are you all right?”

“Uh, oh yeah,” I replied distracted, adding, “I’m all right, I was just thinking.”

Nick O’Reilly had dealt with men in all types of situations during his years in government, and he had some idea of their responses under different conditions. But Atalanta was not a man, or an adult, and he had only his daughter Nikki for comparison.

“Nothing you could do about it,” he assured me.

“What is the plan for tomorrow,” I asked sensing his discomfort.

“As far as Mrs. Carson knows you are with Mark and his team. They’re driving up in the morning to pick you up, and then take you to school as if you’ve been with them all along. Where should they pick you up?”

“Why not meet at the train depot?”

“Okay, I’ll tell them.”

Manny called soon after we had hung up and we basically went over the conversation I had with Mr. O’Reilly, with Mom calling soon after I finished talking to Manny.

My conversation with Mom, or should I say her conversation with me, followed a similar path as the two previous calls. She flexed her parental and maternal muscles throughout the call despite my assurances that I was fine. But unlike those calls I could tell that she was becoming agitated or suspicious that we were holding back information from her. I tap danced around answering direct questions, quickly changing the subject whenever I felt she was getting close to the real truth. After 30 minutes of verbally sparing I was tiring under the strain of not revealing too much information.

“Mom, I’m really tired and I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow. Can we talk then?”

“Of course dear, I keep forgetting that it was you in danger and that you could have been hurt.”

“Mom, it has been hard on both of us.” She agreed, and after we traded I love you’s, we hung up.

By the time I slipped between the covers the time was after 11pm. It had been a long day with Harvard rousing me before dawn, spending time with the Donners, hitching a ride to town, negotiating the sale, and waiting until dark to slip in here. My head had barely kissed the pillow before sleep claimed me.

Chapter 12

I awoke before dawn wondering momentarily where I was before reality pushed aside my confusion. Quickly dressing, I opened the door and was surprised to see the lights on. Audhilde in a white dressing gown was resting on the chaise lounge.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“You didn’t,” she assured me rising effortlessly and greeting me with a warm hug. “Come breakfast is ready,” she continued holding onto my hand and leading me into a cozy breakfast nook carved from one wall. The centerpiece was a round mahogany table surrounded by curved padded bench seats and a row of windows in the background.

She sat on one end of the bench and I sat at the other end facing her across the table.
“Did you sleep well,” she asked.

“Like a baby; wow do I feel good. Thank you for a place to rest my head.”

“You’re welcome. Anytime you’re in town, or need space, or just want to visit, the door is always open to you.”

A door opened to admit a waitress carrying a tray of food and a pitcher filled with juice. She placed the tray down on the tabletop and set a plate of food in front of me and a bowl of fruit.
“Milady, will there be anything else?”

“Thank you Melissa, yes, please send in Jeeves.” Nodding she backed away from the table to leave the room.

Audhilde filled two glasses with the aromatic cloudy liquid from the pitcher, “My special mixture; nectar of the goddess.”
Hesitatingly I grasped the glass, eyeing its content suspiciously while slowly bringing it to my lips and sniffing the aroma. Experimentally pressing my lips together I sipped a small amount. Whatever ingredients were in the drink combined to make me feel instantly refreshed. That was my immediate reaction as the liquid swished in my mouth to trickle down my throat. Surprised that the concoction tasted so good, I took a longer gulp and looked up at Audhilde.

She was smiling at me amused at my precautions, “Afraid I whipped up a witch’s brew?”

“Not at all,” I giggled, “I didn’t know if we had similar tastes but apparently we do.”

“I think we probably do.”

I nodded as I used my fork to stab some food from my plate. As I was finishing the meal an inner door opened to admit a black haired man in his middle 30’s, wearing black trousers, a white starched shirt, bowtie, and black coat. He was broad shouldered with a flat stomach and narrow hips, gliding silently across the floor.

The set of his jaw, his carriage, and the clear blue color of his eyes belied a servant.

“Milady you called for my services?”

“Yes, Jeeves I did. I want you to retrieve Atalanta’s luggage from her locker and bring it here. Atalanta be a dear and give him your key.”

I automatically reached in my pocket and retrieved the key handing it over to Jeeves, “It’s in the …”

“The locker at the outfitters,” Jeeves supplied taking the key from my fingers and walking away.

“Dear,” Audhilde began, “you need to look your best this morning when you meet Mrs. Carson. I had Melissa draw you a bath and I’ve taken the liberty of laying out a school uniform for you to wear.”

Using a linen napkin to dab at my lips and to mask my confusion, “It’s not that I don’t appreciate it.”

“…But why am I doing it,” Audhilde finished still with an enigmatic smile on her face.

“Yes,” I returned narrowing my gaze.

“First, I want to assure you I have your best interest at heart and you are under no obligation to follow my suggestions. To answer some questions you might have, I saw which way you left here Friday in the cab, and later I noticed you going out in the truck and horse trailer. Whateley’s uniforms are in their brochures, and on their website, so it was easy to sew up a set. You need to take the lead when you see Mrs. Carson. Looking fresh and made up with school colors gives you a head start. It’ll keep her off balance. Now go get cleaned up.”

An hour and half later I walked back into the room where Audhilde was waiting. Melissa had used hot air, combs, and pins to hold up my hair in a modified upswept hairdo that highlighted my slender curved neck drawing attention to the delicate earrings dangling from each ear.

My eyes and mouth were suitably enhanced to draw attention towards my youth and innocence but with subtle hints of sophistication.

A white ruffled blouse peeked from under a blue blazer, a school emblem on one lapel. Black trousers over patent leather ankle boot lets with 2.5 inch heels completed the look of a prep school student.

“You look absolutely delectable,” Audhilde began her voice lowering, “you’re going to knock them dead.”

I did look good, but was uncomfortable with the attention that went into the effect and that it was sure to draw later. I was reminded of the time Mom had dressed me in revealing layers of clothing for the Saturday cookout which seemed eons past. That also proved to be a turning point because after that guy had tried to grope me at the dance, was when Manny began training me in self defense. I wondered if this would prove to be another departure point.

“Thank you,” I simply replied shifting my weight from leg to leg, my eyes darting around the room.

Audhilde simply smiled, “Your clothes and gear are packed and in the SUV. Jeeves is going to drive you to school.”

“Uh, there might be a little problem; Mark and his team are set up to drive me.”

After calling Mark and coordinating with Audhilde, we settled on meeting the guys at the train station depot and following them to the school. Just before 11am I followed Audhilde and Jeeves out to the back of the store to my transportation; a white Cadillac Escalade limousine that was equipped with running boards that raised and lowered.

“Your carriage waits,” Audhilde announced amused at my expression at the amenities and Jeeves standing nearby ready to assist me into the vehicle.

Turning to Audhilde I gave her a gentle hug careful not to disturb my hair or makeup, “I really appreciate this, but I don’t understand why you are going to all this trouble.”

“You’re welcome my dear and in time you will understand.”

Chapter 13

Jeeves and I had just parked when Mark and his team consisting of two black Chevy Suburbans stopped on either side of our vehicle. We were parked at the train depot lot ready for the trip to Whateley.

“Whoa girl, what happened after we parted Saturday? Guys!” Mark called his team who all came over and crowded around my rolled down window.

“Look at you,” one of the guys remarked, “our little tomboy is a real live princess.”

Mark leaned his head in the window, “Nope,” he declared, “no glass slippers.”

“Hey,” I exchanged jauntily, “I have to keep you guys on your toes or else you’d be taking me for granted.”

“Not a chance of that happening.”

Jeeves clearing his throat,throat reminded us that we needed to be moving. Mark, giving Jeeves a quick once over, a second glance my way, then at his crew,; quickly huddled with his team.

“Just a second,” he called as a flurry of activity began among the guys adding, “I’ll be right back,” then disappearing behind one SUV. Items were being pulled from opened hatches, and in less than five minutes Mark had transformed his team and vehicles from nondescript, to uniforms with a company name engraved on their sports coats, to the reinforcing image of magnetic signs on the vehicle doors.

“Short Executive Services,” I read aloud from his jacket as Mark opened the door sliding into the rear seat beside me.
“We’re using our company image to present a congruent appearance to back up our story, especially fitting seeing how you two are dressed.” Turning to Jeeves he continued, “You don’t mind if I ride in this car and direct traffic as if this was a planned operation.”

An almost imperceptible twitched pulled at the corner of Jeeves’ mouth, “I don’t mind,” he replied laconically.

“Okay guys,” he spoke into his radio, “we pull out together and maintain 20 second intervals and check in with me at 10 minute intervals, sooner if you see anything out the ordinary.”

The procession pulled onto the blacktop in the ordered form and maintained an even and steady interval at 40mph.
As we rode Mark told me to follow his lead when we got there. “It was my idea to hide you away for a couple of days and not yours,” he explained.

“Why, why can’t I tell them what aroused my suspicion? You guys get a kick in the rear while I get a pat on the head.”

“You, Manny, and Mr. O’Reilly came up with this plan, and unless you have a better idea we need to see it through. Besides,” Mark looked around at the plush interior; his trained eye noticed the thick glass and stiff suspension, “you seemed to have gained a friend, chauffeur, and bodyguard since Saturday and this fits in nicely.”

Mark was fishing for information about my benefactor leaving me in a difficult situation. Audhilde had said nothing about keeping her identity secret but I didn’t want to alienate either set of friends. Neither did I want to broadcast that alliance. “Knock it off Mark,” I growled, “if you’re half as competent as I think you are, you have already run the plates.” He had the good graces to duck his head.

Jeeves spoke cryptically from the front seat, “its all right milady. Audhilde owns the Owl’s Nest bookstore in Dunwich and I think she and Atalanta share a common bond with owls. She has the means and the inclination to help. It is as simple as that.”

At that moment Mark’s radio crackled with a message from the lead car, “I see the turnoff ahead.”

“Okay, go as far as you can down the turnoff, and still be seen easily from the road, and wait for us. Jeeves slow down and give them time to get in place.”

“What’s going on?” I queried.

“Ray is a decoy to flush out anyone that might be waiting, thinking you are in that car. When we get to the turnoff, I’ll radio him for the all clear. If it’s clear, we turn off and proceed the rest of the way in a tight formation. If it’s not clear, we drive on.”

“You’d leave them like that?”

“It’s part of the risks,” Mark returned cheerfully.

Up ahead a barely visible sign indicated the Whateley turnoff, a narrow one lane road with the occasional wide turnoffs to let oncoming traffic pass. We got the all clear signal from Ray, with Mark calling school security.

Soon we were traveling in a tight formation until we reached the gates that signaled the school campus. On either side of the entrance, stone walls rose with a pair of gargoyles watching silently as we stopped for security.

After exchanging pleasantries we were invited to follow the school’s security van to Schuster Hall where Mrs. Carson waited. We arrived as class was being dismissed for lunch with students crowding into Crystal Hall, which was adjacent to the administration building.

Jeeves got out and opened my door, helping me out with an assist from the elevating running boards on the SUV that gently lowered me to earth. Dozens of pairs of eyes locked on the spectacle that we had become as students grouped at the entrance to the cafeteria, or at the benches that lined the walk. Other students remembered at the last minute pressing business at the library. Schuster and Crystal hall was the natural hub of the campus and even more so now.

With Jeeves on my left and Mark joining in step on my right from the front of the Cadillac we walked up the steps to the administration building. On point and leading the way was a member of school security as we pushed past the double doors that marked the entrance.

The hall was teeming with students jammed into self forming knots that blocked the flow of other students. To my left a sign read: ‘Mrs. Elizabeth Carson’ and under it an entrance to an inner alcove. The four of us filed past the threshold and into the reception area where the receptionist greeted us, “Go on in, she’s expecting you.”

Feeling both like a prisoner, and like a dignitary, I wordlessly complied feeling it would soon sort itself out. Seated beside the Headmistress were two more members of security; F. Delarose and G. Bardue. Mrs. Carson dismissed our security escort with a wave of her hand. With that same hand she indicated we should take a seat in the chairs provided.

She made the introductions of her staff, “…you are of course Atalanta Reid and these gentlemen are.”

Mark reached into his breast pocket handing her a business card, “Mark Short; Short Executive Services, at your service,” he replied.

“Mr. Jeeves in the service of Milady Audhilde,” added Jeeves in his monotone voice and who also handed her a business card with the bookstore’s name and address printed on it.

“Mr. Short I know your involvement in this, but I don’t know why.”

“That, I’m afraid, is confidential information.”

Mrs. Carson returned stiffly, “I assume this fulfills your contract.”

“It does,” Mark agreed.

“I thank you for intervening on one of our student’s behalf,” she stated her lips thinning, “but now I have to ask you to leave.”

“Of course,” Mark replied, and rising turned to me adding, “Atalanta you know how to get a hold of me if you need me.”
Rising too I wrapped my arms around him, “Thank you Mark, and thank the guys for me,” I whispered.

“Knock them dead, kiddo,” he whispered in my ear.

“You know I will,” I returned louder grinning at him and felt some of the tension leave his body. He smiled back at me and turned smartly on his heel and marched to the door, opened it, and closed it softly behind him.

I reclaimed my seat as Mrs. Carson was asking Mr. Jeeves his responsibility.

“Miss Audhilde gave me explicit instructions to deliver Miss Atalanta’s luggage to her room.”

The Headmistress nodded and spoke into her intercom and a few minutes later a knock on the door admitted another member of security.

“You will escort Mr. Jeeves to Poe cottage and off campus after he delivers Miss Reid’s luggage to her room.”

I arose as Jeeves did and extended my hand, “Thank you Jeeves, and thank Miss Audhilde for me.”

Instead of gripping my hand in the classic grip he gently took my fingers in his and bowing slightly lightly brushed his lips against the back of my hand, “Milady.”

He gently released my fingers turned on his heel and glided noiseless from the room.

Warning Disclaimer: This is the very first story I ever wrote and it was written about 5 years ago and completely reworked three times. The last version is to make this story naturally flow from the first book. I tried to be accurate in the WU but I've learned at lot about Whateley since then but as I was focused on telling the story it never entered my mind to review Whateley physics/facts and my editors weren't familiar with it either . Until it was brought to my attention. As such there maybe errors but I've worried this story to death as it is and I hope it is not too much of a distraction.

Mrs. Carson and Atalanta reach an understanding and Atalanta is taken on a condensed tour of the school.

Chapter 14

I reclaimed my seat amidst the silence that had settled on the room and waited. After it became apparent that I wasn’t going to protest Mrs. Carson cleared her throat, “We have an improvised schedule ready that should get your powers testing out of the way as we really need to get your permanent ID card in the system.”

I was curious at what they’d find, and I wanted the ID for travel, though it chaffed at me, “Good,” I declared.

“Whateley is used to dealing with all types of students, with all kinds of problems and accommodations. We pride ourselves on a program to adapt to any needs while maintaining a core curriculum. That is what this intake interview will accomplish; fill in any areas your application may have overlooked, or changes since.”

“Most of our students here are unusual in one way or another,” Mrs. Carson continued, “But you are unusual in several ways. First we don’t believe that technically you have the mutant meta-gene complex; and thus are not a classic mutant. But you have changed sexes, plus hair and eye colors, and these are genetic markers for mutants. The changes are consistent with an internal bit map and conform to known exemplar behavior.”

Mrs. Carson paused to sip the water beside her elbow and ask, “You follow me so far?”

I nodded; this was what Mom and I had learned from our research. “How can I be a non-mutant but display mutant traits?”

“I didn’t say you weren’t a mutant; just that you don’t have the gene complex.”

“So there are other ways to become a mutant?”

Mrs. Carson frowned.

”Your mother masked your change by declaring that you were intersex, and indeed you may have been, but after almost two years that is impossible to know now. That also hinders us locating and identifying the mutant gene now. Because, this year, over a year plus after your initial change, you are shot and apparently go through another change. Any anomalies we find in your DNA will be hard to trace to either change. Additionally you have no powers testing done nor have you not attended public schools in over two years except a short stint this fall. Is that about it?”

“It is a little more complicated than that,” I admitted.

“Please continue.”

“No offense but is it necessary for them to be here,” I indicated the men. I thought she was going to refuse but after giving each of us long looks she complied.
“Chief, Gunny, I’ll call you later. Chief meanwhile see if you can reach Ayla to give Miss Reid the 10 cent tour.”

“Thank you Mrs. Carson,” I began after were alone, “I don’t how much detail we’ll go into but some of it is intimate details that I’d rather not discuss in mixed company.”

“I understand, please continue.”

“The biggest adjustment I had; was learning to be a girl and all the things that go with that. Mom thought I needed to immerse myself in it, a boot camp for girlhood to bring me up to date with other girls my age. Since Mom is a doctor nothing was off limits, and I mean nothing.”

“So you got the mother/daughter talk.”

“I did. Mom got it in her head that as a girl I might view boys as competitors and not as potential suitors, so she set me up with a date, supervised of course. But as a precursor the Spa held a cookout and dance on Saturday nights that was an unofficial date with this boy,” I felt color rising in my cheeks at the memory.

“Ah I think I see. Your mother kept you too busy to think.”

“Yes and it kept Mom from thinking too. It was several months before I stopped to wonder the why or the how.”

“I thought,” Mrs. Carson interjected, “that your mother decided you were intersex.”

“I think Mom and I both wanted to have a logical answer because people don’t just spontaneously change their sex. At least, not in our world it didn’t happen. Mutants were the last thing in our minds, and didn’t even come up on our radar as a possibility until this past summer. We were researching that likelihood when Mom was kidnapped.”

“From my perspective as the Headmistress at Whateley it is hard to conceive of anyone that doesn’t know about mutants.”

“I feel the government and the media does a good job of selling other options. But back to the reason why I blended in so well, and why mutant was the last thought as the reason I changed. The change started our first day there and only Judy, the owner and a friend of Mom’s, Lindsey, and her mother who worked for Judy, had met me as Alan and knew the truth. My hair color was easily explained away as girls do change their hair color and any differences in height could also be explained with different shoes.”

“So you had just moved out there and nobody there knew you well enough to notice the change.”

“That and Mom and Judy let it be known that I had got sick and I was recuperating, receiving limited exposure for a couple of weeks. By then everyone accepted that Mom had a daughter.”

“Like a perfect storm,” Mrs. Carson mused adding, “and you didn’t have any special powers?”

“The first two months were spent with Mom and Judy tutoring me and me physically recovering. Later at that cookout though, when a creep tried to grope me, I surprised myself when I whipped him. I believe my BIT map is that of Atalanta, her archetype, and if you remember her from mythology she was an equal to any man, and she loved running. At this same time I began to dream of running as a Native American girl, and I began self-defense training with the foreman of the construction crew who also happened to be a former Seal.”

“So you felt any increase in skills came from your training?”

“Yes the running woman from my dreams turned out to be Changing Woman from Navaho lore; she signaled the change from maiden to woman. And 28 days later I had my first period.”

“Is that when the owl appeared …in your dreams?”

“No he appeared the night I went looking for my Mom, and later when I was shot he protected me.”

“Was there anything else that happened that might have revealed a power set?”

“In hindsight there were hints.”

“Hints?” she queried.

“You’d have to know what I was like as Alan to really see the difference. I guess you could say I was a sissy as a boy. As a girl though I love rough and tumble play. And I’m good at it. Manny said I was a natural.”

“It says here you have a tattoo of the owl. How did that happen?”

“It’s not a tattoo, a friend said it is more like a birthmark,” and I told her of the image appearing after the owl covering me vanished.

“No, that’s definitely not a tattoo,” Mrs. Carson stated after examining the image on my shoulder. “You do know the legends and myths about owls?”

“I know most of them,” I replied, “a messenger of wisdom, death, that sort of stuff. I also know its Athena’s sign and I think it could be her seal on me. Or it may not. The Native Americans have owl traditions too.”

“Seal,” Mrs. Carson quizzed lifting an eyebrow, “please explain?”

I shrugged, “after I was shot I had this vision of being in a cavern with a huge owl which transformed into a woman and she said something like, ‘I didn’t think they would try to get to me through you, and I won’t allow that to happen,’ or something to that effect.”

“That makes sense I suppose,” She mused, “have you noticed anything odd or unusual about the image?”

“It seems to respond to threats or perceived threats.”

“Respond in what way?”

“It tingles and I feel an influx of power or energy, and knowledge.”

Mrs. Carson sat back and spun in her chair to face the far wall lost in thought.

“You'll be in Poe, with the other transgendered, changelings, and alternative lifestyles students. Even in today’s enlightened society we still have prejudices and bullies; so the Poe residents are placed together. The other students are led to think Poe residents are just eccentric. We have a lot of powerful mutants on campus and we want all students to stay safe here, so the secrets at Poe are known only to the ones at Poe and certain administrators. Any questions so far?”

“So you are telling me that as a misfit you’re putting me in with other misfits,” I asked grinning crookedly.

Ignoring my quip she informed me that Ayla from Poe was waiting to show me the cottage, the cafeteria, and the special exhibit that all students were required to view. Afterwards, I needed to check in with her to receive my schedule for the week.

“Any questions?” Mrs. Carson asked as she walked me to the door.

“Just one, what are you going to try and schedule for today?”

“I’m going to try to reserve a lab for your power testing if you get back here on time and …” placing her arm on mine, “a word to the wise. We have a group here, the New Olympians, who think they are reincarnations of the original Olympians. Just try and give them a wide berth for a while.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” I replied, smiling, remembering to look them up later. Not for a confrontation, but getting to know a potential enemy was always a good idea.

Chapter 15

Outside the office door, a 5 foot tall slender person with spiked black hair, dressed in an androgynous fashion waited, “Hi I’m Ayla Goodkind. You are Atalanta Reid?”

“That’s me,” I admitted smiling at Ayla whose head just barely came past my shoulder. My first impression of Ayla was that she was a tomboy, although being a resident of Poe cottage nothing was certain. The name Ayla suggested a girl, so for the time being that was how I would think of her.

“Come on,” she called over her shoulder leading the way deeper into the building, “we don’t have a lot of time, so you get the short version of the tour.” I followed her as she opened a door that lead into a great room with cloth sofas, chairs, and tables placed around a gigantic fireplace.

“Some students use this as a lounge especially in the winter months when it is so cold outside. It’s a good meeting place to study, or to curl up with a good book, or just to cuddle.” Her words were clipped and staccato, as were her steps.

She led me to a small hallway where a bust of Homer sat in a niche before a set of double doors. Grasping his dome head and pushing back, it swung away to reveal a keyed lock. Ayla produced a key and placing it in the lock, turned it, revealing a keypad which Ayla punched in some numbers and then immediately swiped a card. The metallic echo of bolts being withdrawn followed and Ayla pulled open one of the doors.

“This is the Homer Gallery and each new student is required to be given a tour of its contents within their first 24 hours on campus.”

The gallery was a long room filled with antique looking items, some displayed in individual glass cases, some in rows behind glass. Several individual portrait paintings hung from the wall.

“What you see in here are items donated by prominent Whateley alumni; not necessarily famous, but a who’s who of mutants.”

She continued to talk as I idly noticed artifacts displayed in some of the cases that reminded me of futuristic ray guns.
Ayla stopped her spiel as she noticed my interest, “What powers do you have; I’m a density warper.”

I really hadn’t given that much thought. Exactly what was my forte? The truth was I didn’t know.
Shrugging my shoulders, “I don’t know exactly: Mayhem maybe,” I replied softly.

“Mayhem,” Ayla grinned, “you’ll fit right in at Poe then.”

Ahead I saw a familiar costume draped over an armless and legless frame with its trademark coloring, “I thought he was a comic book hero.”

“Who, Champion?” she looked at me like I had grown another head.

“I guess I’ve lived a sheltered life growing up but he’s been around so long I figured he was just a movie hero.”

“He’s real enough but like you say he has been around since the 30’s and World War Two. Champion is actually several Avatar spirits. The present Champion identifies traits in a person to pass it on to a future Champion. That person is always a Whateley graduate.”

Ayla led me to a large oil portrait of a fit and trim man dressed in officers clothing from the 1800’s with high collar, cloak, and tails. He looked eerily familiar, “Dracula,” I queried.

“Lord Paramount,” she replied, “although his ancestor was Vlad, history has recorded him as brutal, and where the terms Dracula and bloodthirsty originated.”

Ayla next led me over to a display surrounded only by velvet ropes, “Is that …?”

“Yes, that is one metric ton of 16-karat gold bars donated by Gabriella Guzman.”

“Who,” I asked puzzled by the name.

“Gabriella Guzman, the Mexican tycoon. She attended Whateley in the 80’s on a scholarship, and her talent is some sort of Esper ability to predict the stock market. Anyway, she’s made millions and donates a lot back to the school.”

“Cool,” I replied noncommittal.

Ayla looked at me oddly, “That’s the tour,” she stated lamely as we turned and retraced our steps to the double doors where she locked the exhibits up.

“I need to return these keys. If you’ll wait here I’ll be right back and I’ll show you where you’ll be living for the next few months.”

Inside the entrance to Poe, on a pedestal, sat a bust of the legendary author, the cottage’s namesake. I stopped for a moment to study the image. His carefully manicured moustache contrasted sharply with his wildly untamed hair, but it was his deep-set expressive eyes that held my attention.

“Atalanta, meet our housemother, Mrs. Bella Horton, her word is law here.”

Mrs. Horton had a presence about her from years of having seen just about everything and every trick under the sun.
“I’m pleased to meet you Mrs. Horton,” I greeted her.

“That remains to be seen,” she shot back a rueful smile playing across her face, “it depends if you can keep your nose clean.”

“Ayla you better get to your next class, I’ll show Atalanta to her room.”

“Thanks Mrs. Horton. I guess I’d better. Atalanta I’ll see you later.”

“Later,” I agreed, “and I’m sorry I made you late for class.” Ayla waved off my apology as she left for class.

Mrs. Horton explained that the first floor was the lounge, and because of the nature of Poe’s secret, was as far students and faculty not of Poe were allowed. Thus the tales of Poe grew embellished with rumors and innuendo, but nowhere touching close to its mundane secret.

Once we were on the second level, as she was leading me towards my room, Mrs. Horton continued with reciting the house rules, “This level is for incoming freshman and some sophomores that haven’t mastered their power level yet, so furnishings and accommodations are rather plain.”

“Is that because they often get destroyed?”

“Atalanta you catch on quick,” and anticipating my next question added, “we didn’t know what powers you have or any new powers you might have gained in the last couple of months. To be on the safe side we placed you on the freshman level.”

“That seems reasonable,” I agreed as we walked to the end of the hall where my room was located and the farthest distance to the communal shower. Removing a lanyard from around her neck she used the key fastened to it to unlock and open the door.

It was shoehorned into the floor’s design carved from leftover space with just enough room for a single occupant. Actually it was probably the janitor’s closet at one time. Long and narrow the room had a bed along one wall, and at its foot, an apartment sized refrigerator, desk and a desk light. A chest, dresser, and wardrobe occupied the left wall. A door at the far end of the room opened in to a small bathroom and the room’s only window. Two hard backed chairs, one at the dresser and the other in front of the desk, near the foot of the bed, completed the furnishings. My luggage and duffel bag were on the bed. Jeeves had placed a case of the Goddess Nectar beside it.

Reaching into her pocket Mrs. Horton handed me a key to the room, “I have a master key to all the rooms here, but each room has it’s own lock. We don’t have any thieves here but if you value privacy you might want to keep it locked.”

“Thanks,” I replied taking the key and walking farther into the room, “I won’t have to worry about getting lost in here, will I?”

“No dear you won’t. I’ll leave you here but you’ll need to hurry to get anything done today.”

I nodded walking into the tiny bathroom and inspected the window and its view I returned to the room and left locking the door behind me to find Mrs. Carson.

These three chapters are a little longer than ideal but the next chapter is about the same size as these three but it seems like a logical place to pause. Atalanta meets fellow Poe residents, her first meal in Crystal Hall where she exchanges greetings with a bully. Mrs. Carson flexes her authority and accuses her of being an artist. Her testing results are mixed and unpredictable. I hope you all enjoy these chapters.

Chapter 16

Several hours later I returned to Poe cottage, walking briskly between Doyle Medical Complex and the cottage; hoping to burn off the pent-up frustration that that Ophelia Tennent had caused. I hadn’t expected a gynecological exam, and certainly not one as invasive as the one she performed. Mom had performed all my prior exams and none were as complicated as the one Dr. Tennent had completed.

I felt violated: used.

Pausing at the top of the steps to release the anger I felt building inside me, I used a series of deep breathing exercises until I’d finally bled off the surface tension. Opening the door, and making sure I carefully closed it, I strode purposely across the lounge, taking the steps to the second floor landing two at a time. My heels rang loudly along the hall, and again minutes later, as I retraced my steps to the showers, carrying a change of clothing in my arms.

Thirty minutes later I was fully dressed in my signature style; wide brimmed black leather hat and black boots and pants and wife beater tee. The steam rushed out the door ahead of me as I emerged to find Ayla waiting.

“I thought you might like some company for supper,” she nervously laughed.

“Sure,” I replied quickly, “I just need to put my clothes away.”

“Okay just meet us in the common area, on the first floor.”

“Us,” I echoed.

“Team Kimba, we met on our first day here and just clicked together. We had plenty of practice watching each other’s backs. The other odd thing is we are like you, all of us are changelings.”

Returning to the common landing, I spotted Ayla in a corner with a host of people lounging around in chairs, sofas, and two hammocks suspended crazily from the ceiling. Combat Finals was over and many of the semester’s final papers and tests had been turned in or taken, and many students were winding down for the holidays.

Ayla saw me about the same instant and called me over all eyes turned to me and conversation died out. “Everyone this is our new girl Atalanta Reid. Atalanta meet our group, that redheaded goddess is Nikki, aka Fey, beside her is Bunny and Riptide. Next to them are Toni, or Chaka, and Chou and Molly. The one hanging out,” pointing to blue haired girl hovering, “is Billie, aka Tennyo. That good looking guy over there is Hank, codename Lancer, and over there,” indicating a pile of clothes on a sofa, “somewhere, is Jade. Hey JADE,” Ayla said raising her voice, “meet the new girl.”
The pile of clothes stirred and an incredibly youthful face peeked out followed by the rest of the girl who looked about 12.

“Pleased to meet you all,” I replied looking over the diversified group.

“You’re the girl they tried to kidnap at the Dunwich station,” Nikki stated and I nodded. “You know Ayla’s jealous that you have a larger entourage than she does. Even she doesn’t have the balls to show up here in a limousine escorted by bodyguards.”

“It just happened,” I replied softly adding, “I picked up some enemies on the train trip out here, but some friends as well.”

“And apparently one of them is my Dad.” That statement set off a round of questions.

Nikki explained, “Dad called me at lunch to tell me, and this is the first time we’ve all been together in one place.”

“Who is your Dad?”

“Nicholas O’Reilly,” Nikki replied.

“He’s your Dad? I talked with him a couple of times over the weekend. And I met him last month when he took Mom and I home from Utah in a helicopter. That was a cool ride.”

“I didn’t know that; how did you and Dad meet?”

“Well it was like this …” I recounted the story of my Mom’s kidnapping and what had transpired since, leaving out Audhilde and the Owl’s Nest in Dunwich. After finishing I rolled up my sleeve revealing the image of the owl.

“Harvard,” Ayla mused, “how did you come up with that name? The Harvard surname derives from Hereward which literally means ‘army guard’.”

“That’s creepy.”

“It just came to me naturally, like it was his name,” I replied stunned by the implications in the name’s meaning.

“Enough of the chit-chat, I’m hungry let’s eat.” Billie declared floating down from the ceiling where she had been hanging out.

“You’re always hungry,” Jade teased as we left to go to Crystal Hall. The group split into pairs with Jade and Tennyo in front and Fey, Chou, and Molly lagging at the rear. Hank fell in beside me as I listened to the banter forged from shared experiences.

“Did you say you were an Army brat,” Hank asked me as we walked.

“Yeah, I changed schools about every couple years it seemed like. Both of my parents were in the service. Dad was killed in an accident in Iraq a couple of years ago this month.”

“I’m sorry about your Dad. My Dad is in the Army too and we changed schools a lot.”

“That sucks,” I replied after Hank finished telling me about how his little brother lied about him and got him into trouble at Fort Bragg.

I walked in the cafeteria beside Hank as we lined up to order buffet style from the trays packed with food. We indicated what we wanted and it was heaped on a plate and passed to the next worker in line. At the end of the assembly our individual trays were given to us where we carried them to the cashier where the drinks were dispensed.

Still chatting with Hank I followed the group to a table on the second floor. After we were seated I watched with interest at the differing amount and kinds of food represented. Billie ate enough food for a dozen; Nikki seemed to only eat vegetables.

“High metabolism,” Billie explained looking up momentarily from her second helping.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare but I don’t see where you are putting all that food,” I apologized smiling. Billie shrugged off my explanation as she continued her assault on her food.

I couldn’t help noticing that my supper consisted mostly of meat while Nikki’s was vegetables, “Are you a vegetarian,” I asked her.

“I am now; it’s a side effect of the changes I went through. Meat just doesn’t taste good and I can’t wear synthetics; it breaks me out in hives.”

I shuddered at the thought of giving up meat, my ‘ratty ole’ nightshirt, or my trademark hat and coat, “Sorry,” I mouthed silently.

As I ate I felt we were being watched, and after finishing eating I asked the group about it.
“We have a reputation of sorts- we being Team Kimba,” Jade explained, “and the way you arrived today has set you apart from most new arrivals. Most of us don’t have limousine and bodyguard services: Ayla is probably the closest we have of a celebrity here. Everybody wants to know who you are and you upped the curiosity factor by showing up here out of uniform.”

“You’re right, this,” I indicated my clothing, “is a statement. I didn’t want to come here but I’m here now. It will be a process but I hope to make the best of it in time.”

After that brief interlude into the semi serious the conversation turned back to the silliness of the holiday season.

Chapter 17

On the sidewalk, outside of Crystal Hall groups of students organized, clustered around the lighted areas. They were bonded by experiences or cliques, united by age and temperament, and the group I was in included Hank, Jade, and Billie. Billie was going home to Colorado, Hank was staying on campus and Jade was deciding whether to chance another Christmas with Nikki, reminiscing how the last one went where St. Louis was pretty much destroyed, but Billie almost tore a hole in reality.

“Wow you guys are unbelievable,” I marveled as I felt a tingle spread outward from my body.

Jade who had fallen into step beside me, “That’s …”

Suddenly a tall girl appeared from the shadows jabbing her hand at either me or Jade, “Seriously you expect …arr’gh,” she cried as I shifted grabbing the offending hand, Using her momentum, and my strength and training, I forced her to turn her body, bringing her arm behind her shoulder and pushing her face first into the brick wall.

Conversation died out as the girl’s cries ceased with her struggles to free herself.

Suddenly, the sea of students parted as Gunny Bardue strode forward, “What’s going on here?” he demanded.

“This girl was just demonstrating her love of Whateley for me by kissing the bricks.”

“I believe she has shown enough love, don’t you Miss Reid?” Bardue asked, a smile forming that never left his eyes. I nodded releasing her arms and taking a small step back, balancing on the balls of my feet.

The girl wasted no time in retribution, as she spun using her left hand to try a backhand blow. Prepared, I crouched, sticking my leg between her legs, causing her to stumble into Bardue and sending both sprawling to the ground. She lay prostrate on Bardue.

“Tatiana’s in a demonstrating mood tonight,” someone in the gathering crowd shouted. The snickering quickly died as Elizabeth Carson broke through the student body, demanding, “What is going on here?” while glaring at the assembly who quickly found somewhere else to be.

“Everyone, move along,” she ordered, “except for you Kimbas; and yes that means you and Molly, Chou. You stay too Miss Reid.”

“Now,” Mrs. Carson began after Tatiana and Bardue had regained their composure and their footing, “somebody tell me what is going on here.”

“I’m afraid it is mostly my fault Mrs. Carson,” I spoke, “Tatiana and I were exchanging greetings …” several Kimba members snorted, turning away, “and I’m afraid I don’t have full control of my powers yet, and,” stepping forward I snapped my fingers and brief flash of light exploded, briefly blinding Tatiana.

“Oh, dear,” I moaned, “there I go again,” as I steadied Tatiana to keep her from stumbling. “I seem to have two left feet tonight.”

“So, I see,” Mrs. Carson replied dryly, “Sergeant, anything you want to add?”

“Not really,” Bardue admitted haltingly, “I walked up and Tatiana stumbled into me as Atalanta said.”

“Tatiana anything you want to add?”

She glared at me, “No, it was an accident.”

“You may leave, then.” Mrs. Carson turned to me, “Miss Reid a word in private,” and before she guided me out of earshot of the others, “Mr. Bardue I’ll need a word with you, later.”

Tatiana stalked off while Team Kimba carefully studied star patterns.

“Miss Reid, I am not a fool, so please do me the honor of not treating me like one,” Mrs. Carson demanded once we were out of earshot, “what happened back there between you and Tatiana? I don’t want to hear anything about greetings nonsense, either.”

I giggled my eyes shining, “I don’t know what to tell you Mrs. Carson, we did exchange greetings.”

“And why didn’t you mention you used magic?”

“It was as much a surprise to me as it was to anybody, but I didn’t mean to bring Sergeant Bardue into it.”

“Atalanta I don’t know what game you are playing, but many of our students are dangerous, so be careful. Now, you’re free to join your friends.”

“Well,” Jade asked when I joined her at the stargazers club, “what did Mrs. Carson say to you. How much trouble are you in?”

“Trouble? I don’t know. I’ll probably learn how much tomorrow. She just asked me what happened. I told her we were exchanging greetings, but I don’t think she believed me.”

“That was a neat light trick, how long have you been practicing it?” Nikki asked as we continued walking towards Poe.

“I still have no clue what happened …or how.” At her quizzical lift of one eyebrow I added, “Hey, I’m just a babe in the woods.”

That declaration was greeted by good natured jeers. Hank leaned in to me and whispered, “That’s all right Atalanta I believe you are a babe.”

Wow, was Hank flirting?

Sergeant Gunny Bardue stepped out from the shadows and fell in beside Mrs. Carson.

“What exactly happened between Atalanta and Tatiana, Bardue?”

“I don't know what started it, but when I got there Atalanta had Tatiana face planted in the wall. The kid thinks fast on her feet; quick as a flash she says, ”That Tatiana was demonstrating her love for Whateley.”I suggested that Tatiana had shown enough love for Whateley and then just as quickly she released her. Tatiana tried to sucker punch her, but instead ended up on me. That kid has had some combat training.”

“You sure?” Mrs. Carson asked.

“Yes I am.”

“That's not in her file. Wonder what else she forgot to mention. Her father was an army colonel, maybe he taught her.”

“No,” Bardue countered, “what I saw was SF training, and another style that is familiar.”

“Then why didn't you correct her when Atalanta told the fib about using that little bit of light to blind Tatiana.”

“Several reasons; the main one being she left herself open.”

“Hmm, I think I see what you mean. What's the other reason,” Mrs. Carson asked curious.

“I think she was trying to diffuse the situation telling that fib and I don't think she meant for Tatiana to get tangled up with me.”

“I agree. We have to work hard to keep these kids in line though. I think I need to have her powers testing done immediately; we can't have a dangerous mutant running around that has no idea of her power.”

“Yes ma'am.”

“Oh and Bardue, I need you to be at my office at 8am tomorrow.”

“Yes ma'am,” though he inwardly groaned. It was never a good sign to have special duty with a mutant student.

I had finished unpacking and hanging up my clothing, and walked to where most of Team Kimba was lounging in their corner. I sat and listened to their tales from last year. Billie grinning from ear to ear looked over at me and said, “If you weren’t so slow you could have been with us.”

“No thanks, I had a hard enough time adapting, and enough adventure, but it sure sounds like if I had been here I would have had to adjust quicker. But I don’t know about the company I’d have to keep,” I teased. Cushions filled the air and rained down on me.

Mrs. Horton emerged from her room and called me over, handing me a note, “Your schedule has changed Atalanta. You're to report to Mrs. Carson's office at 8am for powers testing.” Nodding thoughtfully I looked at the note, “Thank you Mrs. Horton.” I stood there for a moment seemingly lost in thought as Mrs. Horton shut her door.

“What was that all about?” my friends wanted to know.

“Oh, this?” I asked, waving the note. “It’s just the grownups establishing who's in control. My schedule has changed. Powers testing has moved up and it’s all day.”

“That sucks,” Ayla noted.

I nodded, “I kinda’ expected it though.” I got up, yawned and stretched. “I better get some sleep, and I need to call my Mom. See you all in the morning,” I called back as I sauntered up the steps.

Chapter 18

Security cameras were trained at the entrance hall of all the school’s cottages and at various intervals around campus. Anything that moved was recorded and could be viewed live in campus security center as well. That was in addition to temporary security cameras that recorded known trouble areas and almost guaranteeing anyone sneaking out at night after the midnight curfew was sure to be recorded unless you knew where to look.

At 3:12 am a dark figure glided softly and quickly down the hall, keeping to the shadows and onto the landing. A shroud or cape draped the shapeless form which seemed to brush the floor. The mist paused before Mrs. Horton's door and noiselessly opened the door, disappearing inside. Moments later the ground floor window slid open and the figure dropped quickly and silently, blending into the background.

Thirty one minutes later a shadow hung precariously outside a 4th story window, testing its defenses. Forty feet and slick unbroken walls presented its own deterrent; for the window was easily opened. Resting on the window ledge the figure took in the room and it’s occupant. The images and emotions that filled the room caused the figure to shudder, and a few seconds were lost as balance was reached for and achieved. In one swift motion the figure rose higher than the sill and glided through the window it’s fingers brushing the top sill adding momentum and direction; the shadow landed in the darkness.

Steady rhythmic breathing continued as the figure descended on the sleeping forms on the bunk beds. A finger jabbed into a pressure point under the jaw line quickly followed by a soaked handkerchief to her face. The procedure was repeated on the much larger person on the bottom bunk. Using materials found in the room the girl on the top bunk was tied and gagged. The figure rummaged in desk drawers finding a magic marker and construction paper. The shadowy figure drew a design on her face and quickly wrote messages on the construction paper, one which was suspended between bunks. Another pasted to her nightshirt. Several others posted their commands/warnings.

Then, just as suddenly, the figure disappeared, and at exactly 4:29 appeared outside Poe cottage.

Wednesday morning I woke at my usual time, and listened to the building waking up, greeting a new day. I heard voices that seemed to be coming from the front lawn and I padded to the room’s only window to look. From the view through the window I saw Fey, Chaka, Jade, Chou and Tennyo on the front lawn begin stretching and warming up. I did my business, dressed, and walked downstairs and out the front door. I stood and watched as they did what seemed to be ordered forms.

I began to immediately stretch and when they finished I asked, “You guys do this every morning?”

“Weather permitting yes.”

“Can anyone join?”

“Sure you’re welcome. We’re usually are out here by 5:30 and finish at 6. That gives us time to get showered, dressed, eat breakfast, and to our first class on time.”

“Cool, I appreciate it,” I replied as I began practicing my forms that I had spent the last 18 months perfecting. It was a routine designed for efficiency and for effectiveness and took 10 minutes to complete.

“Is that it,” Chou smirked.

“It is the way I was trained,” I replied adding, “I have a different 10 minute routine for each day and I spend the rest of the time running.” As I finished talking I started running opting to travel a short run around the campus.

Less than hour later I was out the door of Poe dressed in my habitual pants, top, boots, overcoat, and hat striding purposefully towards Crystal Hall for breakfast. As I did I noticed a commotion towards Melville cottage.

Inside the cafeteria I quickly got in line and got a plate of food and went looking for the table where I had eaten last evening with the members of team Kimba. The five members that were on the lawn this morning were seated and eating. I walked over to them, “Mind if I sit here,” I asked indicating an empty seat beside Nikki.

“No, not at all,” Nikki smiled.

“Thanks,” I replied sitting down and digging in.

“There was some commotion over at Melville this morning,” Chou commented looking up from her plate at me.

“Oh, what kind of commotion,” I asked innocently.

“I don't know the details but Tatiana is mixed up in it.”

“Tatiana? Good for her. Wonder what mischief she is up to now,” I responded wide-eyed rising from the table. “I have to be going. It wouldn’t do for me to be late this morning.”

The walk to the Headmistress’ office was a short one, “She’s expecting you, go on in,” her receptionist said. Nevertheless I knocked before opening the door.

I was surprised to find Sergeant Bardue waiting in Mrs. Carson's office as I closed the door behind me.

“Sergeant I apologize that you got caught in my and Tatiana’s discussion yesterday. That was not my intention.”

“I didn't think it was,” he acknowledged.

I turned my attention to Mrs. Carson, “Ma'am?”

“After that incident last night we thought it best to get your powers tested and classified before your academic testing fully begins. The Sergeant says you have combat training.”

I centered myself breathing deeply and feeling the flow of chi into and out of my body, sensing its movement through my body testing for a choke point. Finding none I began channeling reserves of energy, filling me with an excess of energy that began to bleed off before I mentally turned down the stream to a trickle.

Both the Sergeant and Mrs. Carson felt and saw the difference in Atalanta who then smiled at them gently, “One of many things my instructor taught me.”

Bardue and Mrs. Carson hurriedly exchanged sideway glances, “What else did you learn?”

Instead of answering her question I instead turned to Bardue, “You’ve spent time in the military Sergeant.”

Bardue responded quickly, “You’re right I am military trained but that was years spent in the effort. I am just trying to learn how much training you’ve had, and in what.”

Manny had instilled a sense of caution in me and I carefully crafted my response.

Smiling I replied, “Standard fare I suppose I really don’t have anything to compare it with,” hoping my smile diffused the words.

They didn’t.

“This is serious business,” Mrs. Carson frowned, admonishing me.

“Well,” I began, “Manny began training me soon after my change and between his tutoring and my change, I don’t have a reference point. It feels as if I have always had this ability, but Manny did say I was a natural.”

Bardue’s face paled, “A natural, are you sure that he called you a natural, and not naturally good at it?”

“Nope, he said a natural.”

He and the Headmistress again exchanged quick looks, “You stay away from Tatiana; I don’t need any more trouble from you or her,” she cautioned.

“I have nothing to prove but I will defend myself and my friends, if necessary.”

“Very good, but have I made myself clear?”

“Crystal clear.”

Mrs. Carson elbows on her desk and fingers interlocked, leaned forward, “We had another incident last night, and it involved Tatiana.”

“Oh, what did she do,” I asked after a prolonged silence.

“She didn't do anything,” Mrs. Carson sighed. “Someone broke into her room last night and drew a Snidely Whiplash mustache on her lip.”

A grin spread across my face, “I'd like to see that.”

Mrs. Carson saw the wide open expression; the innocent large gray eyes on the teenager’s face and inwardly groaned. “Drop it,” Mrs. Carson spoke with steel in her voice.

“Excuse me?” I asked.

“There was a written warning Tatiana got along with the drawing. How good an artist are you dear?”

“Not good, but good enough to draw a mustache I expect,” I admitted.

“I want you to drop it. Understood?”

“Very clearly,” I replied following Bardue out when Mrs. Carson went back to shuffling papers. Bardue led me outside and we followed the quad to the Doyle Medical complex.

I immediately tensed, “What are we doing here? I had my physical yesterday.”

I meant to post this chapter Friday but I was sidetracked writing the sequel. I tend to immerse myself in my writing and it takes me time to emerge from it and dry off. And I do want to thank Bill for his encouragement and editing book one and Ashleigh for her editing this sequel.

Atalanta is tested for her powers and the results are mixed and surprising. She also reveals her code-name and drops a bombshell on Bardue and Nikki.

Chapter 19

“It is a shortcut to the testing lab,” he replied leading me down a corridor to a series of rooms where most of the testing was scheduled. Bardue opened a door leading to a large room with all kinds of machines in it.

There we were met by a rather chubby fellow in a lab coat, and a tall man flanked by Dr Tennent. A fourth man stood off to one side observing. At a far corner was yet another tech fiddling with some machines. He didn't look up.

“I'm Dr Hewley,” he began rubbing his palms together, “the guy in the lab coat is, “Dr Polland,” pointing to the chubby man, “and the guy in the back is Dr Bellows. He is your advisor. The mad scientist fiddling with the machines is Chris. And I believe you have already met Dr. Tennent.”

“We’ve met,” I admitted dryly.

Now,” He continued unperturbed still beaming, “let’s sit down and get some background on you. We will record this, and for all your power testing you need a codename. Have you picked out one yet?”

I nodded, “I’m partial to Equal,” which raised eyebrows.

“Equal,” the word echoed off each lip, “Why Equal? Codenames usually describe a mutant’s power.” That was Dr Hewley speaking.

“The simple answer is that Equal describes me, and in a roundabout way, my powers. I believe I have a base power set that is nudging the extremes of baseline human, but when I’m threatened I receive help to meet the situation. And the name Atalanta means equal.”

Dr Hewley nodded, “let me start with what I've been told and you jump in and correct me, alright.” He didn't wait for nods but dove right in, “You transitioned in May of last year at basically the extreme upper limits of human capacity.”

I agreed, “I believe I imprinted on the BIT of Atalanta, an archetype.”

“From your descriptions you fit better as a paragon and exemplar of Atalanta, probably a level one paragon and exemplar three.”

“I believe Avatar two is a better indicator,” Dr Pollard objected, “it seems we’re talking a single spirit and powers just above or at human levels. I agree with exemplar level which includes some regen power that according to her application morphed into healing regen.”

“Good, good,” exclaimed Dr. Hewley,” now let’s get to the second transformation. As I understand that was triggered when your life was in danger.”

“Yes,” I replied shuddering at the memory.

“...and that you have since, gained additional powers; those possibly coming through being imbued, or by an avatar. What I think what we are looking at is an imbued paragon exemplar with acquired esper, healing, warper/energizer, and probably wizard traits all at or below level three.”

“This,” cautioned Dr Pollard, “is preliminary and testing will probably combine or rule out some categories.”

“Atalanta, do you understand the terms and meanings as we use them at Whateley referring to powers and levels?”

“Yes sir, as much as I'm able. I have read the packets from the school.” I hesitatingly bit my lip, “I don't know if it makes a difference but after the sex change I believe I became an Exemplar of Atalanta using her for my BIT, not as an avatar.”

Dr Bellows spoke, “I’d be interested in your description of the difference.”

“Well Doctor, I didn't get noticeably stronger or quicker, what I did notice was an attitude change. An attitude that seems to mesh with what I’ve read on Atalanta. I think I got her body and attitude but not her spirit. With that change in attitude I began to train...like for an Olympic event and it just so happened that a former Seal was available to train me in JKD and combat arts. As a guy it wasn't anything I was interested in but as a girl I couldn't get enough. I also seemed to inherit a love to hunt and train with both modern and primitive weapons. I also found I could track animals and people. At the end of 14 months of training with Mr. Black my senses, mind, and body were well trained and toned, and at the upper level of human capacity. Based on the stories of Atalanta that I’ve read it fits her more than it did me.”

Dr. Hewley interjected, “I believe we are talking about a difference without a distinction but I believe you also had other changes besides sex.”

“Yes,” Atalanta admitted, “my eyes changed from blue to green and are now gray with some green and gold flecks, my hair from light brown to auburn with copper highlights and my complexion from cold to warm. I also believe I picked up some Mediterranean DNA. These changes were for the most part just richer or deeper hues. I didn't change races or get white, green or purple hair. Set against the change of sex it was pretty small.”

Dr Polland added, “Now about your recent change. We understand that happened when your life was in danger.”

I was slow to respond as I relived the events that led to being shot. “My Mom, who is a doctor, was kidnapped to treat a gunshot wound by some people who broke a guy out of jail. I took matters into my own hands to track them down and I managed to rescue her with the help from the sheriff and his posse. After it was all over with, the guy who had been shot shot me with a gun he had hidden under his blanket. He was a member of an earlier group which I also tracked down and captured, that had previously kidnapped a pair of seven year old twins. I guess he was exacting revenge.”

“What happened after you were shot?”

“My Mom tells me that my owl crashed through the window, stood guard over me, and then seemed to disappear. When I came to, this was on my left shoulder,” I replied pulling up my sleeve to reveal my tattoo like replica of Harvard.

I frowned as they all gathered to look.

“I don’t think that is a tattoo,” Dr. Bellows observed.

“It is not a tattoo but I believe it is a birthmark.”

“Well it’s obvious that Athena and the owl are intertwined; it’s her symbol. The owl is a messenger for many cultures scattered all around the globe but for the Greeks it was Athena’s symbol and Atalanta was a protégé of Artemis and not Athena.” Dr. Ophelia Tennent paused in her lecture to direct a question at me, “Why didn’t you point these out while I was doing your physical?”

“It was listed on my medical records that my Mom, the doctor sent. I assumed you had read it,” I replied mildly before adding smugly, “besides as you told me you’re the expert.”

Dr. Tennent’s retort was interrupted by an excited shout from Dr. Hewley, “This puts a different spin on testing her powers and classification.”
“How so Doctor, it seems to me nothing much has changed,” Dr Tennent interjected.

“I beg to differ; Miss Reid believes that she is an Exemplar and that she used Atalanta as her BIT, or her archetype. A reincarnation if you will of the body but not the spirit of Atalanta. She has demonstrated that to my satisfaction with her testimony.”

I flashed Dr. Hewley a brilliant smile, “Thank you.”

“That testimony includes a vision where a woman, undoubtedly Athena, tells her, that she will place her seal on her body. The owl is I suspect just one part of that seal.”

Let’s get started,” Dr. Hewley spoke excitedly, rubbing his palms together. His exuberance broke the inquisition and I followed the group to a door that opened to reveal a large and well equipped gym with an Olympic size pool. There I was directed to change into my workout clothes.

Over the next three hours I was tested with everything they had available; from rowers, to elliptical trainers, the treadmill, to the weights and finally the pool. Mixed in were agility, and reaction tests with cardio endurance.

They cut short the endurance and cardio exercises. Twenty minutes at 25 mph and at a nine degree incline had done very little to affect my BMR. They tried to catch me by surprise several times by slowing the treadmill to a walk from the jogging pace, while changing the slope.

Twelve laps around the pool and they called a halt to that test when the monitors showed that it might take several hours to raise my metabolic rate much above resting.

Another anomaly became apparent when lifting weights; five hundred pounds seemed to be my limit but I could apparently lift that weight indefinitely as my metabolic rate and muscle tissue showed very little stress.

So, while I didn’t have super physical powers, my body seemed to tap into the atmosphere and make use of the ambient energy, converting it into sucrose, amino acids and oxygen to fuel increased demands. At least that seemed to be their working theory. That explanation worked for me.

The average human response/reflex time is 0.75 seconds mine was timed repeatedly at 0.001seconds or a millisecond. To blink an eye takes a third of a second. Their interpretation was either that I was sensing intent through the ether; a type of precog ability, or that I was warping time for brief milliseconds.

We finished with floor exercises and gymnastics, testing my flexibility and resiliency.

“That’s enough; we’ve learned all we can here,” Dr. Hewley muttered, “let’s go down the hall to the reinforced testing area.”

That sounded ominous.

We walked several hallways twisting along the underground tube until we turned a corner and stopped in front of a door marked test lab one. Dr. Hewley producing a key unlocked and opened the door.

When he did I immediately felt as if a thousand violins were playing a thousand different melodies, and all of them out of tune.

“Ugh,” I exclaimed clamping my hand over my ears and reeling backwards. My gaze narrowed with my eyes flashing as I became aware of the web of discordant energy that pulsed in the room. Luckily it stopped at the door and I was able to view and probe it safely from a distance in the hall.

Dr. Tennent stopped, noticing my distress and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“An energy or something in there is really out of tune; it feels like nails on a blackboard,” I shivered eyeing the jarring waves that danced off the walls and ceilings.

The doctors and technicians were veterans of many such tests, and while some test subjects had felt the subtle energy patterns employed in the room, none had either seen them, or reacted so violently, in their presence. The lab was one of several that were warded, and that were used with mages, with protection circles etched in the floor to contain and dampen the magic. That was standard procedure for new magicians.

“I don’t understand,” Dr Polland began, “are you telling us you can see this energy.”

“Yes I can see it, it’s hard not to.”

“Can you change it into a form that you can work with?” Dr. Tennent asked.

I nodded, “Yes I think I can, but I don’t know what the result would be, and doesn’t that kind of defeat the purpose for the wards?”

“It does, but what do you mean you don’t know what the result would be?”

Feeling a familiar tingle in my shoulder I replied, “There is a lot of unnecessary energy in there I need to absorb or bleed off, and then recalibrate what’s left. But if you give me time I think I can insulate myself against its effects.”

“Okay, we will get someone to set up a smaller room and see what happens. In the meantime there are other tests we can do,” the ever exuberant Dr Hewley explained as he led us to a smaller room down another hallway.

“This test is designed to study your reflexes, stamina and any precog ability,” Dr Hewley began explaining, “Balls will shoot out from the walls at you from all directions with increasing speeds and quantity. The objective is to not let them hit your body; however, you can use your hands and feet to deflect them or dodge them altogether, any questions?”

“Can I use my head?” I asked smiling.

“Not in this test you can’t, no,” he replied poker-faced.

Party Pooper!

The room resembled a handball court with windowless, high, unbroken walls and the door that seamlessly shut behind me. Walking to the room's center I meditated drawing in energy and expanding my centers to move energy more effectively. I gave a silent nod indicating I was ready.

Soon a red ball came at me that I choose to block with my forearms. Then they came in increasing amounts and colors, changing speeds. Soon after, they came from varying heights and from the corners speeding towards the room's center. I didn't think they were seeking my heat signature but rather seemed to be covering the room in patterns.

Patterns that eventually would result in enough balls at every conceivable space to be unavoidable.

Before that could happen though my concentration was tested as not all the balls were coming at me at the same speed, or the same colors, and some were blinking. The balls stung my arms and feet where I blocked them.

I knew it was just a matter of time before I miscalculated a ball's speed, or two or more balls converged at a sufficient angle to make escape impossible. The balls were now being launched from behind me as well and the room was buzzing with whirling, multi-color orbs. Then something unexpected happened; time seemed to slow down and several balls seemed to pass right through my body as if that part of me blinked in and out of existence. Astonished, I lost my concentration and control of the pattern, and seconds later was whacked by several balls at once.

Immediately they shut down the test and the door was opened and I was surrounded by several doctors.

“Congratulations,” beamed Hewley, “you lasted 3 minutes and 23 seconds which is the very best time we ever recorded, but what happened there at the last? It looked like several balls passed right through you without touching you.”

“I don't know it surprised me too,” I admitted, “and I lost my focus.”

“Well it looks like some sort of warper power and maybe precog as well, though you may be sensing patterns,” Dr Tennent opined, “very impressive.”

“Are you ready for your next test?”

I nodded numbly, my mind still on what exactly happened to me in that room. As we walked down more corridors towards the next testing area Dr Hewley explained, “This next test is usually not administered by us, or at this step, but since we are still waiting on a room we’ll take advantage of your training at the gun range. Sergeant Bardue will conduct these tests.”

The room we found was an underground gun range except the targets were substantially more solid that the cardboard types I was used to.

Bardue led me over to a locked cage that held a variety of weapons, “Select a couple of pistols and a rifle,” he directed.
I looked at the rows and rows of weapons, “Any chance you have a Ruger .40 S&W and a M1A1 in there anywhere?”

Wordlessly Sergeant Bardue retrieved the two pistols and the rifle which he handed to me. From another locked cabinet he produced magazines and ammunition. I followed him to the shooting bench where he handed me glasses and ear plugs.
“Okay what do you want to see me do in here,” I asked a little perplexed at the layout.

“I want to see how well you shoot and how good your training is.”

I acknowledged his challenge while I waited for everyone in the room to prepare.

“When you’re ready,” Bardue announced. I stood silently a few minutes frowning at the silhouette 25 yards down range before snatching up the pistol and magazine and snapping it in place. In one smooth motion I brought the weapon to shoulder height and began firing.

The shots blended into one long roar with tongues of flame licking at the shuddering figure suspended from the ceiling; some of its stuffing laying on the floor. Five seconds later the slide hung open on the last shot.

I released that magazine and snapping another in place snatching the second pistol in my right hand I used my left to feed a magazine into its handle.

The next step was the typical hostage scenario and I moved weaving between obstacles while dodging simulated fire. I ran the gauntlet without being hit or hitting any hostages while hitting 29 of 30 targets.

Bardue was all smiles when I got back to the starting area, “Good job Atalanta, don’t worry very few people get anywhere near a perfect score. Let’s see how well you shoot a rifle.”

He had targets for me at 100, 300, and 500 yards and ten shots at each distance free hand. I was confident as we had trained almost every day for a year at these same distances. Most shots hit the one inch inside circle with just two in the second ring and none from inside 500 yards.

“That’s very good,” Bardue remarked taking the cleared weapons from me and replacing them inside the cage.

“They should have the small room set up now for you Atalanta,” Dr Polland interjected as he led the way down hallways until we came to a small alcove.

Clustered in the hallway were four additions to our group, I recognized none except Mrs. Carson and Nikki O’Reilly. The others were introduced as Circe and Eliza Grimes who were both members of the mystic arts department.

Mrs. Carson, as Headmistress, began, “In all my years here, no student has reacted to the warded room and protected circle as you have. It appears you have an affinity for magic, but in a different pattern than expected. I'm here in my official capacity as caretaker of the Academy, and the rest of the faculty is here, to observe the interactions and to understand what, if anything happens outside the ordinary. Nikki is here because her magic use is not standard either, so maybe she will see something the rest of us don’t see. These wards are of the same pattern, but not as extensive or powerful, as the other wards were. Now Atalanta, if you will just walk into the room and tell us what you are experiencing.”

I nodded stepping tentatively into the alcove, “It’s not as strong, but I do get a kind of probing feeling like it’s bouncing off me, and it’s most distracting.”

To Fey, and the other mages present, the wards seemed to part for her and then snap back into place as she passed; almost working as a shield. From the framework of the field it was as if she didn't exist.

An idea came to Fey as she watched the interplay between Atalanta and the wards, “Atalanta do you mind if I cast a little fireball spell at you?”

“Sure go ahead.”

Fey called a limited knot of magic from her body, forming a small ball of fire and aimed it at Atalanta. It passed right through the fabric until it touched the threads immediately surrounding Atalanta. They then flared as the magic dissipated along the threads becoming weaker as they moved outward. The field also seemed to be reorganizing into a different weave.

Surprised murmurs followed the display.

“Atalanta,” called out Mrs. Carson, “see if you can interact with or affect the wards.”

“Okay.” I searched inside myself and found the core of essence that had awakened in me two months ago, pushing it out and into my arms and then my fingers. Reaching out I touched the lines of magic which began to vibrate and change colors, radiating out. Once the change was complete, the outer lines began drawing inward. It quickly became apparent that the wards were shrinking and strengthening; acting as a living thing rushing inwards in a swirling vortex and accumulating in me making my body glow and vibrate with the increased energy. A warm glow that quickly escalated until I felt ready to explode. I heard someone shout a warning as a purple light radiated out from my hands and fingers and exploded against the far wall. No, not a typical explosion with backpressure but more like a torch effect sending a shower of sparks as the energy bolt melted a six inch hole through three inch boiler plate steel and extending another five or six feet into the dirt behind it. I remained fixated as did the rest of the group.

“What just happened,” someone asked? That question seemed to unleash a torrent of answers, statements, guesses and claims. Bedlam resulted for a moment until Mrs. Carson gained control.

“Everyone calm down and take a deep breath. I want each of your opinions, one at a time. We'll start with Dr Hewley and work to my right and end with you Atalanta.”

“The wards did not seem to react to Atalanta at all, as they are designed to.” Each instructor added more observations to the mix, but Fey summed it up best, “Those wards were weak, but they didn't react to Atalanta except to shield her, which they did when I tossed that fireball spell, like she was not there or a part of the network. The pattern also seemed to be shifting to match her coherence. What would have happened if or when that happened is anyone's guess.”

“Ever since being shot,” I noted when my turn came, “and I acquired this seal, I've been able to call up reserves of what I call energy. That energy is what I used to touch the matrix and that's when everything started going crazy.”

“I think a few more experiments are needed,” began Mrs. Carson, “Atalanta do you think you can do what you did but outside the ward this time?”

I shrugged, “I don't see why not.”

In minutes I constructed another ward and this time I stood from outside repeating the touching as I did before. A tiny whirl was heard as the wards shimmered and blinked off.

“Did you feel anything?” Mrs. Carson asked.

“Just a tingle,” I admitted.
“Okay construct another just like the first one,” Mrs. Carson directed.

This ward shimmered brighter and a pop was heard as it winked out and I felt a sharper twinge. I constructed a third that was twice as powerful as the one I had merged with. I directed my energy through my fingers to the web interface and a white spark jumped from my fingers into the cords holding the wards together which pulsed brightly and as the strands died another spark jumped from it into me. I staggered to my knees from the jolt. My eyes flashed from gray-green to red and back to gray-green. “Damn,” I muttered, “that stung.”

Mrs. Carson looked at her watch, “It’s after 5pm and time for dinner. Sergeant escort Atalanta to the dining hall. The rest of you,” turning to her instructors, “I want your reports and recommendations by tomorrow noon. And Atalanta, I want you stay out of trouble and Sergeant I expect you to see to it. By trouble I mean stay away from wards or using magic until we get a better understanding of the exact nature of your powers.”

“Am I under house arrest then?” I demanded.

“In a way, yes you are. I want you and the students safe. You don’t know your way around here yet and you don’t have a firm grip on the nature, nor the extent of your powers. Until further notice I want a member of security with you wherever you go on campus.”

“Not that I’m protesting, but I’d like to point out that any problems that have occurred were interactions with other people’s magic. But,” I smiled, “I have no problem with temporary, reasonable rules nor do I intend to make any trouble.”

“That’s sweet of you dear,” Mrs. Carson smiled sweetly back as she turned to retrace her steps and we fell in behind her.

“Sergeant Bardue, Nikki, I'm sorry I have screwed up your day.”

“Comes with the territory,” Bardue sighed, “just don't make a habit of it okay.”

“Actually it was cool and interesting,” Nikki observed, “but what happened before I got here?”

“Everything went to hell in a hand basket when we went to test if I had any magic in that shielded room. The pattern or weave ...whatever you call it, picked at me like dragging fingernails on a blackboard. Just out of synch: Incoherence.

So they had me do some other test while you guys did your thing,” I shrugged.

“Well,” Nikki began, “I never saw someone interact with warding the way you did by not disturbing it and then just absorbing it. I don't have to tell you that you came close to melt down.”

“Yeah that surprised me; all that energy rushing in felt like I was going to explode if I didn't do something and quick.”

“You'll have to learn how to control the amount you take or else channel it into something like an enchantment to use later.” Nikki cautioned.

“You’re right,” I replied turning to Bardue, “Sergeant now might not be the best time for me to bring this up, but I have a question or favor to ask,” I uttered biting my lip and tentatively continued, “back home I was a bounty hunter.”

“Excuse me,” Both the Sergeant and Nikki stopped and were staring at me slack-jawed.

Atalanta clears up a misunderstanding and answers some questions. Meanwhile Mrs. Carson reaches out to learn all she can about Atalanta and makes her plans. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Chapter 20

I was equally as stunned and confused then giggled as the realization hit me, “Not people you guys...animals. Sometimes I track and trap them for tagging, sometimes a bear, or cat, or wolf will go rogue and I have to put them down. That's part of who I am, a huntress. Besides I like the wild outdoors and I'm real good at what I do. So I wonder if there is any call or need for that kind of work here.”

“Girl you’re full of surprises aren't you,” Gunny challenged, “is this another thing you failed to mention on your application?”

“Well,” I hedged, “it’s there, just not in the exact context though.”

“Like you having combat training.”

“Martial arts,” I countered. Silently we started walking again.

Crystal Hall was buzzing when we walked through the doors. Supper was in full swing. The cafeteria was crowded but the food line moved easily and soon I was seated beside Nikki at a table while the Sergeant had wandered off to eat with security. No doubt with one eye on me.

“So is it true,” Nikki asked, “are you a bounty hunter?” This piqued the interest of several Kimba members that had just came up. “A bounty hunter, for real,” Jade bubbled as she and Billie sat.

“Just sometimes,” I admitted shyly, “please keep it between us. I was asking Sergeant Bardue if there were a similar program here as I really like being out in the wild and tracking.”

Nikki grinning from ear to ear adding, “She's had combat training too.” Chaka, Chou, Billie and Hank perked up at that news.

“What kind,” Hank wanted to know. “Close quarters or hand-to-hand.”

“I was taught close quarters, and that hand-to-hand meant somebody had laid a hand on you, a no-no where stealth is required. He also taught me a form of Wing Chung Kung Fu, KJD.”

“Who was this guy, I mean what did he do,” asked Chaka.

“Seal, Black Ops.”

“Okay girl spill it, what else are you not telling us?” Nikki conspiratorially leaned forward grinning.

“Really guys I didn't do much, heck there wasn't that much to do just a lot of open space and a nice guy who offered to teach me some self defense moves. Nothing compared to the adventures you guys got into.”

“You just proved my point,” Nikki smirked, “to start; this guy was only going to teach you something basic, right.”

“Yeah. So what?”

“So why did he teach you more than basic and more importantly why did you continue learning?” Nikki repeated her inquiry.

I replied thoughtfully with a faraway stare, “I hadn't thought about it before. Just instincts I guess.”

Shifting directions Nikki asked, “How many adventures have you had?”

“Five or six,” I admitted.

Nikki looked around at her group, “Numbers are somewhat similar to what we experienced.” There was general agreement with that assessment.

Nikki continued relentless to drive home her point, “There are what less than 1,000 people in 100 square miles where you live.” She continued when I nodded. “There's double that population here in at least at a quarter of that size and in Boston several million people. Our adventures were bigger and more explosive simply because of opportunity. My point being is that just like we did, you drew trouble to you. It wasn’t your fault and it wasn't our fault either. It just happened. It sounds like you drew about the same number of troubles with fewer opportunities. Will that happen here after another transformation? Likely.”

“You have already made strides in that direction after only one day. First, youby getting in a scuffle with Tatiana, which that brought Mrs. Carson and security down on your head. And today you turned mystical arts and Mrs. Carson on their heads with your power testing.”

“So you are saying I'm a trouble magnet?” I asked frowning.

“I have a theory about when a new mutant emerges; they sort of bring that chaos and change within them out into the world. Nature's way of stasis.”

“Whoa, Dr Frankenstein, I presume,” Bunny teased Nikki. “Who did you swipe that from?”

“In Future History: The Predictive Power of Mathematical Extrapolation. Something was said in class and this neat little theory popped in my head.”

“I can't argue with the reasoning since my code name is Equal and stasis is balance,” I moaned. “So does that mean I need to go find some new changelings and then go find some trouble?”

“No,” Nikki replied quickly, “That's not what I mean. Think of it like a pressure cooker building up inside. If you don't have some pressure outside pushing in, that cooker’ll blow up.”

Jade excitedly agreed, “Just like a pressure cooker we need to blow off a little steam.”

“Just not blow up half of Boston doin' it,” Ayla replied dryly thinking of the destruction they had help cause and that she was lucky her investments had escaped damage.

Unperturbed Jade bounced to face Nikki, “You need to write a paper for one of your classes. Bet you'd get an 'A' on it. Then we could use it as defense exhibit 'A' with Mrs. Carson.”

“I don't know guys,” Nikki complained, “It’s just a spur of the moment doodling kind of thing.”

“It kinda’ makes sense,” Hank said, “And it would explain a lot of things that happened. You need to dig deeper on this. It might help all mutants out.”

“I’m supposed to have an appointment with Dr. Bellows sometime this week,” I echoed, “would it help if I sounded him out?”

“That's not a bad idea.”

I slowly became aware that the buzzing had dropped several levels in volume and looking around was surprised that the cafeteria had emptied of almost half it’s occupants while we were eating and talking. “What now guys?”

“I guess to Poe, we go,” Jade answered as we rose to deposit our plates and then walk through the doors of Crystal Hall.

From his vantage Gunny Bardue watched the Kimbas and Atalanta leave and followed from a discreet distance, breathing a sigh of relief when they passed through the doors at Poe. Buzzing from his pager interrupted his vigil, ' My office in 10.C.'

“Wonder what’s up.”

Bardue strode in through the doors at Schuster Hall and bypassed the receptionist to knock on Mrs. Carson's door. He was surprised to find Chief Delarose seated as he responded to Mrs. Carson's summons. “Mrs. Carson, Chief,” he greeted them with raised eyebrows. Mrs. Carson ignored his implied question, “Where is Miss Reid?”

“She’s in Poe with the rest of Team Kimba.”

“The Chief and I were discussing who from security to put with Atalanta. We both think Everheart is ideal.”

“I couldn't agree more, especially after the bombshell she dropped on us coming back through the tunnels.”

“And what was that?” Mrs. Carson demanded.

“It seems back in New Mexico she was a bounty hunter...”

“What?!” both Carson and Delarose shouted together.

“Tagging animals, or killing those that hunt livestock. They pay so much an animal and she was asking me if there was a similar program around here.”

“Well we do have some problems from time to time but it might present a problem with the Medawihla Indian Were tribe of bears. But we need to talk with Eloise and Ben first.”

“On the bright side,” Bardue jabbed, “she doesn’t apparently charge to hunt humans.” He was referring to her search and rescue efforts.

“People do get lost from time to time,” Delarose dryly pointed out.

Mrs. Carson turned to Delarose, “I think that about does it for now, Chief you’ll let Sam know.”

He nodded and both men rose to leave, careful to close the door gently behind them. Outside they parted ways Delarose towards Sam’s residence and Bardue to the cottage.

Samantha Everheart had just finished cleaning, oiling and assembling her guns when a knock sounded. She tensed for a second before smiling, “Come in Chief,” she answered not looking up from her table.

“Sam you are going to wear out those guns if you don’t quit cleaning them,” he teased.

Hive; her built in computer program, despite her not asking about it automatically returned a value of 26.3 years.

“No, a weapon is a tool and a tool works best when it is clean. But you didn’t drop in on a week night to discuss the merits of weapon cleaning.”

“I can’t fool you can I Sam? You’re right I didn’t. I’m pulling you off your normal duties for a few weeks to babysit a new student.”

“Sit down,” Sam indicated a chair, “and tell me about this monster of the midway.”

“She is the new girl that came in yesterday, Atalanta Reid, and she seems to be a bit of a trouble magnet.”

“Ahh, shades of Team Kimba then?”

“Something along those lines. After eating dinner last evening she gets into a tussle with Tatiana.”

Samantha stopped what she was doing and looked closer at Delarose, clearly interested, “What’s the problem; Tatiana’s a psycho?”

“It’s not that, Atalanta treated Tatiana like a red-headed step child. Bardue said Tatiana never stood a chance, and he is sure Atalanta has had combat training, while her files indicate she has martial arts tutoring.”

Sam asked leaning forward, “Anybody can claim anything, what makes you think she has any training of that type?”

“Bits and pieces,” he admitted, “her files indicate martial arts training and Tatiana maybe a psycho, but she’s tough and has three years of training here at the school under her belt. Bardue witnessed part of the fight; he says Atalanta had her easily pinned to the wall. When he asked what was going on, Atalanta says that Tatiana was just demonstrating her love for good ol’ Whateley. School spirit don’t you know.”

“She’s quick thinking and has a sense of humor to boot,” Sam chuckled, “What’s the problem?”

“I'm coming to that,” Delarose grumbled. “Somebody stole into Tatiana’s room last night, tied up her and her roommate and drew on her a Snidely Whiplash mustache and left a message; 'Don't even think about it.' We are sure Atalanta did it but we had cameras on all of the outside doors, hell even the door leading to the basement. Nothing went in or came out of Poe last night.”

“The cameras were compromised then,” Sam volunteered.

“We thought of that, again nothing.”

“I like her style.”

“There's more. She almost blew up the labs in Arena 77. It had something to do about her changing the protective wards, drawing it in and amplifying and losing control. The whole mystic arts department, Mrs. Carson and Fey witnessed it.”

“Well I still don't see what the problem is; she doesn't seem like a bad kid. Just keep her away from warded areas until she learns control.”

“If that is all there was I wouldn't be here,” Chief Delarose replied quietly. “It seems like she either was vague on her application or the people here didn't read between the lines.”

“Just what was in between those lines?” Sam questioned.

Delarose paused to consider how much to reveal and how much to let Sam find out on her own.

“That the training she had received was with a black op Seal operative.”

“Oh shit,” Sam buried her head in her hands. Seals and black ops meant lethal force. She should know she had spent more years than she wanted to recall in that line of work. Because of the nature of that work many members of that fraternity were certifiable insane.

“Do we know who trained her?”

“No we don’t and she’s been a bit evasive about names.”

“That just means she has been trained well. Not to worry there aren’t more than a couple of hundred of us and chances are either I or one of my contacts knows this soldier. Okay that’s not too bad. When do I…”

Sam’s words froze in mid sentence seeing the look on Delarose’s face. “There’s more,” she asked incredulous.

“Separate from her martial arts and CQC classes she is also a bounty hunter, a tracker, a huntress in the wild. Who knows what else we’ll find. There was nothing in her files about her being a mage either. An image of an owl was noted on her left shoulder but we assumed it was a tattoo …”

“But it’s not a tattoo,” Sam interrupted.

“No, it seems to be a birthmark …”

“A birthmark she wasn’t born with,” Sam quipped.

“Yeah a birthmark she wasn’t born with,” Delarose echoed dryly, “Atalanta thinks it is a seal from Athena.”

“She’s evolving then.”

“It would appear so. Another oddity is her chosen code name; Equal. It’s benign yet holds an implied threat.”

“It reminds me of the Marine and Seal code: Adapt, improvise, and overcome. Say no more, when do I start?”

“In the morning,” the Chief responded. “She runs 5-10 miles every morning and Mrs. Carson has given her free rein in the forests around the campus subject to the usual boundaries and restricted areas. She is setting up a meeting with the Medawihla tribe to meet with Atalanta.”

“Chief” began Sam, “something doesn’t add up; why is Mrs. Carson being so accommodating. Just what are her powers?”

Chief Delarose signed again, “There’s a bit of mystery there, but no she’s not a mind dominator. Mrs. Carson thinks she knows more about her powers than she lets on. Probably to give her enough rope to hang her if she’s up to no good.”

Samantha, with Hive running a probability matrix and she recalling her experience replied, “Whateley has all the experts and the initiative. If I was her I’d be cautious about revealing too much too early. She’d probably fit well with a sniper unit. I take it you want me to babysit and observe her and give you a report on her stability.”

Chief Franklin Delarose drawing himself to his full height and squaring his shoulders admitted, “That’s exactly what I want.”

“You got it, Chief but I need to see her file.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” he replied as he stood up, turning to leave, “come by the office tomorrow.”

And in another part of the campus:

“Eloise how are you? Are Ben and the kids doing okay? Good. Good. Have you got your Christmas trim up?”
“Me. No I'll probably take a few days and see the grandkids.

A few more like pleasantries were exchanged before Eloise chuckled, “Out with it Liz. I know you too well. What is on your mind?”

Liz is Elizabeth Carson the Headmistress at Whateley and Eloise the council leader of the Medawihla Indians that was neighbor to the school and from who Whateley leased their grounds.

“A new student came in yesterday and frankly she is a bit of a puzzle. She’s a changeling with two events; the last one two months ago. The first was at the upper level of baseline and from male to female. Her mother, a doctor, certified her as intersex and as a result she wasn't tested as a mutant. But for most of those 18 months she trained one-on-one in martial arts and close quarter combat drills. Her second changing resulted from being shot, while rescuing her mother from fleeing criminals. This happened in front of witnesses that made her mutation impossible to keep secret. This change resulted in another mystery as she received a seal but no change in her appearance. Today during our powers testing she fouled up our warding. Then she told me she's a huntress and bounty hunter and that I believe she might be connected in some way with the five-fold court.”

Eloise interrupted, “I don't see where I can help you.”

Elizabeth continued patiently, “She expressed an interest in exploring the forests around here and possibly hunting down rogue animals...”

“Liz we police our own area.”

“I know you do. She also does tagging for wildlife and conservation. And her second change happened when tracking kidnappers.”

“I still don't see where I can help you.”

Liz taking a calming breath patiently continued, “Two reasons. Her connection I feel is someone from the five-fold court and since your tribe traces its ancestry to that time I hope you might be able to add insight to what the connection might be.”

“And what is the second?”

Elizabeth decided to be blunt, “She's going to be here during Christmas break and frankly I'd like to keep her away from magic while our instructors are on leave. She is used to running free in the New Mexico Mountains and I was hoping that your tribe could show her around a few days.”

Eloise laughed heartily, “If I agree, you owe me.”

“Agreed,” Liz silently breathed a silent sigh.

“But I have a couple of conditions.”

“Name them,” Liz replied cautiously.

“Who do you have babysitting her?”

“Samantha Everheart.”

“Good choice. I'd like her and Nikki to escort Atalanta here before Christmas. I reserve the right to change my mind after meeting her, and I want to talk with her mother when she is here. After all, she's supposed to be at the Academy and not on the Reservation. From one mother to another I want her to be okay with it.”

“I don't have a problem with any of that. And Eloise, thank you.”

“What are friends for,” Eloise replied warmly.

Elizabeth Carson leaned back in her office chair smiling at the ceiling. That had gone well. Keeping Atalanta occupied in a familiar routine and away from magic just made Christmas a lot easier to enjoy.

Eloise Donner likewise had a similar self-satisfied smile plastered on her face. Liz and the school owed her a favor and if Atalanta did have a connection from the five-fold court, it most likely was from the center court. The five-fold court had it’s own secrets and she suspected the Center Court employed some nasty enforcers to keep order. Atalanta and Athena were a formidable combination, or she could be hosting an unknown deity.

The attacks by the Voodoo Wolves from several years earlier had taught her the value of allies. And the goddess of war and wisdom, if that was who Atalanta is, would be another link in much needed defenses.

I meant to post this chapter on Monday but my hear wasn't in it. My daddy was brought home under hospice care on Tuesday and it is only a matter of time. This a shorter chapter and I will try and post the next chapter tomorrow or Monday.

Mrs. Carson makes some calls and Atalanta gains a running partner. Hope you enjoy this chapter.

Chapter 21

Thursday morning I woke up completely alert with no lingering effects of sleep dimming my senses. I remained motionless, sensing the room and the environment; searching for anything that didn’t belong. Air movement alerted me to the open door and another presence in the room. Opening my senses I tasted of the energies swirling around me, catching a familiar light scent riding on the morning air.

A smile played across my lips, “Nikki you’re up early,” I observed, opening my eyes and throwing back the bed covers adding, “what brings you around?”

“A group of us get together each morning to do warm ups and some sparring to keep in shape. Care to join us?”

“Sure. I'll be down in ten minutes, you want to wait you can.”

“I'll wait.”

I shrugged into a pair of workout pants, a sweatshirt, and a pair of trainers. I brushed out my hair, fastening it into a ponytail before jamming my wide brimmed hat on.

I'm ready,” I announced to Nikki and we hurried outside to join the others. I fell into the rear of the group not wishing to disturb their tai chi warm up routines as I completed a series complicated forms that Manny had taught me that emphasized hand-eye coordination using my hands and feet while maintaining my balance. After my self-allotted time I announced I was going for a run.

“Care for company.”

The newcomer wore loose fitting workout clothing but I noticed a badge hung from her neck, “I'm Samantha Everheart,”

I shook the offered hand, “I'm Atalanta Reid. Sure if you want. I need to warn you though it’s pretty intense, I run for speed, endurance, agility and balance, and just for the fun of it.”

“That sounds good,” Sam declared.

I had guessed that Sam was not a baseline human but after 5 miles that guess was confirmed. We were now running beside a tumbling lusty mountain stream and leaping from rock to rock while marveling at the view of the sun as it began to peek between a notch in the mountains. Suddenly I sprinted my long legs a blur as I stair-stepped a series of rocks each taller than the one before it, and ended on a giant slab of stone a good twenty feet higher and dead flat. Moments later Samantha plopped down beside me with neither of us showing any fatigue from five miles with obstacles no armed forces had conceived of.

“You weren't kidding were you,” Sam remarked.

Several minutes passed as I was absorbed in the sun rising against the backdrop of the Presidents mountain range. Tentacle rays of purple sunshine streaked across the horizon splashing colors against the drab monotone grays that darkness had wrapped the landscape in. I raised my arms skyward and stretched and basked when the golden rays of the sun painted our perch in warmth and promise.

“This is a piece of cake compared to back home,” I replied.

“I'm your bird dog,” Sam announced bluntly, “I’ve been assigned to dog your steps for the next few weeks; the powers that be are a little nervous about you.”

“I figured that was it,” I responded mildly. “Mrs. Carson implied as much.”

“No hard feelings.”

“None, You... and they are just doing their jobs. I do appreciate you telling me.”

Suddenly pensive I turned to Sam and asked, “What did you do before Whateley security.”

Samantha knew she wasn't asking about her janitorial duties and decide to be blunt, “Seals, Black OPS, sniper unit,” she responded.

I nodded my head, “My teacher...Manny did the same thing.”

“Mind if I ask his name. I probably know him. We might even have shared the same piece of dirt.”

I sighed. Manny had not told me I couldn't but if they were nervous before, this wouldn't allay any fears. “I used to tease him about his name and what he did. At first I thought he was joking or it was a government code...men in black.”

Samantha was stunned, “Are you talking about Manny Black.”

“Yeah,”

Manny was not just a Seal, he was team leader, deadly, loyal and one of the finest men and soldiers that Sam knew. If Atalanta had been thoroughly trained by Manny, Atalanta was dangerous .They had worked the same theaters but not at the same time. Usually it was her leaving, or Manny coming in. They had briefed each other often and Manny was as sharp as any. If he hadn't liked being in the field no doubt he would have made bars and a desk in Washington. Though Sam guessed he had contacts there too.

“I know him, a fine man and you could not have a better teacher.”

I smiled, “Manny said I took to it like a duck to water, a natural.”

A 'natural' was a military term for trainees who were natural warriors.

“I guess he taught you everything then.”

“He said he did,”

“If I know Manny, he did. You should be proud there ain't more than a couple of dozen men and no other woman I know of with that level of knowledge and training.”

Good God she earned that as a baseline and at 14 too! That’s Scary good.

“I am proud. Though,” I smiled ruefully, “we hid the rough stuff from my Mom. At least I did.”

“We're going back the same route?”

I nodded springing from the perch hanging briefly in air as my feet lightly kissed the foot stone and then skipped wildly from rock to rock; much as a rock skipping across water. In less than 15 minutes we were back at Poe. A small sheen of moisture on my lip was the only sign of exertion and Sam did not show that hint.

“Thanks Samantha for the company. I'm taking a shower and get a bite to eat and see what else Mrs. Carson has in store for me today. I hope to take some placement tests on as many subjects as I can and concentrate on what Whateley teaches that normal high schools don't. See you at Crystal Hall?”

“I don't know,” she confessed, “my fuel requirements have altered.”

We parted company at the entrance to Poe; me to shower and change clothing and Sam to the security center.

“Well,” demanded Chief Franklin Delarose when Samantha reported.

“She's a good kid.”

“Besides that,” growled Delarose.

“She is in damn fine physical conditioning.”

“Out with it. Did you find out who her mystery guy is” Sam sat down immediately somber and professional and told him everything she learned.

“What is your assessment,” Delarose asked tersely.

“She has lethal skills as a baseline; even more so as a mutant. As a baseline there are not more than a dozen people that could defeat her. As a mutant it is anybody's guess. What we do know is she hasn't used lethal force and she’s had opportunities to do that.”

“What do you recommend?”

“The same recommendations I’d give for most of the students that come here; keep a close eye on her for a month and give her freedom to run while keeping her busy with classes.”

“What about encouraging her to join with the grunts?” The grunts were a Whateley group version of infantry.

“I don’t think she’d fit in,” Sam answered quickly, “her skills runs more along the areas of asymmetrical force; infiltrator, sniper, intelligence, and the survival school are all areas that she is suited for.”

“Hank’s a member of the grunts and Team Kimba plus he’s their logistics manager. Could she work with Hank and the Parkour Hooligans?”

“That’s an interesting combination,” admitted Sam, “also, she’s female and he’s male too.”

Delarose slid a file across the desk to Sam, “There’s her files, read them and bring them back,” Delarose ordered dismissing Sam with a wave of his hand.

After Sam left Delarose dialed a number he had on speed dial that was picked up after three rings, “Yes,” the cool cultured voice on the other end asked.

Delarose repeated what Sam told him. “Write it up and email me the report.” And the line went dead.

Several hours later Elizabeth Carson was frustrated and angry. The files she had received on Manny Black were either redacted, stamped top secret, or lead to dead ends and false leads. It looked like he had sat on his dead ass for 16 years and retired on a 20 year pension. His pay was classified. She knew that short of hacking into the military, which she wasn't about to do, she had just one option left to play.

Sighing again she reached for her phone dialing a number she had often dialed in the past. “Nick O’Reilly how can I help you.”

“Mr. O’Reilly, Elizabeth Carson from Whateley.”

“Mrs. Carson, how can I help you, I know Nikki's not in any more trouble there.”

“No, not at all, though this new girl reminds me a lot of Nikki and she is at Poe too. She went on to summarize Atalanta's situation and her concerns, “...and if you don't mind see what you can dig up on her father Lt Colonel Frank Reid who went down over Iraq two years ago.”

Nick chuckled, “If Mr. Black is what you think all I will be able to tell you are in generalities not any operation details, who he served with or under. Best I can do is ask around get assessments about his honor, intelligence, aptitude, any marks and what they are for, attention to detail, habits, discipline, willpower, maybe some special schools he was sent for.

The head of DARPA continued, “I’ve already met Miss Reid and her mother on a helicopter from Utah to New Mexico. I arranged for her temporary ID card and to fast track her military mutant card. But you already have someone on staff there that should know Manny, Sam Everheart.”

“She vouches for him.”

“Then what is the problem. Is there something you're leaving out Mrs. Carson?”

“There is,” she admitted, “but I'm uncomfortable revealing third hand information.”

“Since you called me, it is obvious you have concerns with this rumor. If I know what this rumor is I can probably rundown a contact for Black and ask him about this rumor, since I assume Atalanta told Sam something that Black told her and she told you. Mr. Black is the only person that can confirm or deny that rumor.”

“Okay, you're right. But this goes no farther than us and Mr. Black.”

“Understood,” Nick smiled into his phone.

“I've been around long enough and been around enough military types to know what ‘A Natural’ means in the military.”

“Ah, now I understand your concerns. Let me give you a few pointers. Naturals can be a huge asset or a bigger headache; it all depends on how you handle them. Usually they are in great physical shape, aggressive, and intelligent. Physically you need to keep her challenged and active.”

“She requested that she be allowed to run the forests and mountains here. For now I have limited her to the campus but she has a tentative invite to spend Christmas at the reservation and Eloise has promised to show her around. And she wanted to know if there were any bounty programs here.”

“Bounty programs for what.”

“She tagged animals for wildlife and hunted predators that go rogue.”

“Ah I see. That's exactly what she needs, challenges and Eloise will be good for her; tagging a moose might be just what the doctor ordered. Elizabeth, could you use another person in security?”

“We are always hiring. Security people come and go. Why?”

“Would you consider hiring this Mr. Black, if I can find him, and if he agrees?”

“If he checks out, then yes.”

“Okay, I'll get back to you, probably today, or two at the max, in the meantime Atalanta can be a big asset in any fight and I don't think you have to worry about her starting anything or going postal.”

I'm posting this earlier while I have some time. Atalanta starts her class assessments and meets Dr. Bellows for the first time. She also meets a group of bullies and ends up with more face time in security. And she make the acquaintance of Mr. Hawthorne! I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Chapter 22

After showering, primping before the mirror, and dressing in the school sanctioned uniform I skipped down the landing to find Mrs. Horton waiting. She handed me a slip of paper, “Your schedule,” she stated.

“Thank you,” I said smiling at her retreating figure.

After eating breakfast the rest of the morning was taken up with placement tests from 9 to 12 at one hour intervals; an hour for lunch and another test from 1 to 2 before an hour with Dr. Bellows beginning at 2.

At precisely 2pm I knocked on Dr. Bellows office. He invited me in and to sit.

“What no couch,” I quipped.

“Old fashioned,” he declared with a wave of his hands. “Comfortable?”

Nodding I waited patiently for the doctor to begin.

“Atalanta what are your impressions from your first few days at Whateley?”

Succinctly I replied, “Competent, concerned staff. Good food. Nice room. Good people at Poe. Some bullies. Nice country.” I might as well be reading a list of ingredients from a box of cereal.

Dr Bellows frowned, “Let’s take them one by one. But first, what you tell me is and remains confidential. Tell me why you think our staff is as you described them competent and concerned, and not say concerned, caring or compassionate.”

I carefully choose my words, “My observations lead me to believe that the school has developed a system that works well for the conditions here. Adhering to that system makes their job easier. Recognizing that makes them competent. They are also concerned any breaches in that system makes their job harder and less competent.”

“You make it sound cold and calculating,” he commented mildly.

“Calculating certainly but I'd use formal not cold. As far as the other “C's” I didn't say they weren't that.”

Bellows cleared his throat as he made a few notes, “You mentioned good food.”

“It’s well prepared and there is plenty of it with a wide variety, and companionship for dinner helps.”

“Ah,” he smiled, “care to elaborate.”

“It’s mostly the people from Poe, and the Kimbas in particular. We joke around and kid one another. It makes eating more than just eating. I think we will help each other if needed. But I seem to be acquiring more acquaintances in security than in the student body.”

Dr. Bellows wanted to know how I felt about changing sexes.

“I assume you are interested in how I coped initially.”

“Yes but also any issues that might have come up since.”

I told him how my mother, Aunt Judy and Lindsey had given me a weekly female goal, to complete each week. At the end of that week we'd meet for dinner and I had to demonstrate that I had completed my assigned task.

“I guess you could say Mom didn't give me time to dwell on it. So I didn't. In exchange I got her to let Manny give me self defense lessons,” I said summing up my transition.

That is the way the hour was spent with him asking questions, jumping from subject to subject, and writing notes at my answers or non answers. Dull, boring, and predictable.

That afternoon in another part of Schuster the phone rang in an office with the door closed as the Headmistress was putting the finishing touches on a successful fall semester. “Hello,” she answered, the phone cradled against her ear as she read more reports.

“Mrs. Carson, Nick O’Reilly.”

“Mr. O’Reilly, how nice it is to talk with you again. Did you find anything out?”

“I can tell you this much, Mr. Black comes with the highest recommendations from some very high level people. In fact the Navy is holding his position open and is actively recruiting his reenlistment. I was able to track him down, and in fact spoke with him. He thinks highly of Atalanta and didn't know much about her latest change but doesn't think it will affect her too much. But he very much would like to remain in contact with her. Have you given any consideration to hiring him in security, or even as instructor?”

“As I said we are always on the lookout for good security people and same goes as an instructor. If he could fill out a resume and send it in and follow that up with a visit.”

Nick chuckled on his side of the phone, “The resume will have some blank years on it but it should be on your desk today. If you, and or Chief Delarose are available he can be there Friday.”

“What time.”

“Will 2pm work for you?”

“Yes, 2pm is fine. But can you have him call me this afternoon to confirm.”

“I’ll let him know that. You asked about Atalanta's father Lt Colonel Frank Reid. He was serving in the 513 Military Intel Brigade out of Iraq. He was career army, his wife, Atalanta's mother, is a doctor and medic and both are college educated. He or rather she was raised as an Army brat.”

“Thanks for the info on Atalanta's father I'm not sure how it fits in here though, but it’s another piece to file. Are you going to get to spend any time with Nikki at Christmas?” she asked.

“I have a few days off and plan to fly to St Louis to spend time with both Nikki and her brother at their mother's home. How about you, are you visiting the grand kids?”

“Yeah,” she admitted her voice softening thinking of them, “I really love this time of the year. And speaking of vacation time I better get busy, so I can get that time off.”

“Me too,” he agreed and having said their good-byes they hung up.

After seeing Dr. Bellows I went back to Poe and hung out with Team Kimba in their designated corner; I had been officially adopted as a groupie. It was too early for dinner and we fell into an agreeable silence.

The clock read 3:30pm and I was restless, “Guys I need to get outside for awhile, maybe run the rooftops, swing from the ceilings, or I just might find the tallest tree I can find and just look.”

“Look at what?” Chaka inquired amused.

“At nothing mostly,” I answered adding, “Sometimes when I look way off at nothing, something comes to mind. At least I hope nothing falls out of my mind, I don't have any to spare,” I grinned.

“One is the loneliest number,” Ayla smirked.

“I'll try to remember that and keep my mouth closed.”

“If you want a tree to climb,” Fey offered, “about hundred yards north from here is a giant Hawthorn maybe 50 feet high with plenty of foliage. And Hawthorns have certain properties.”

“Thanks, Nikki I might just do that. Right now though I'm going to Kane and let Sam know where I'll be.”

“You have to check in with them, that sucks.”

“Nah, not really, I'm just playing nice.”

The walk to Kane didn’t take long. Pushing the door open I stepped inside, asking the receptionist “Is Samantha Everheart around? I'm Atalanta Reid.”

She picked up a phone and dialed then spoke with someone, “She’ll be right down,” Ginny her tag read, said.

“Tell her I'll wait outside. And thanks.”

Outside on the sidewalk I soaked in the rays of the sun, grateful for the beautiful days so far at Whateley. Conversation drifted to my ears carried by the fall breeze and I quickly located the source. Four older students walking abreast strode rapidly toward me and if my instincts ran true, to avoid a confrontation I needed to yield the walkway. That I wouldn't do.

Another option was the bench near the fountain that was off the main sidewalk. Purposely I crossed over the intersection and sat on the bench waiting calmly on Sam. The four, all exemplars, two boys and two girls stopped in front of me at the bench. The leader, about 6'2” and 200 lbs posed and arrogantly sneered, “Let’s rest here for a minute.” Then lifting a hand to his chin he first looked at his group and the bench, then at me, “There's not enough room for all of us, you need to move.”

I wanted to tear his head off and stuff it where the sun doesn’t shine, but now was not the time. “Fine,” I replied, “I was just leaving anyway.”

The blond headed self styled leader chose that moment to grab my shoulder.

Before his hand could tighten its grip and while his arm was moving I ducked under and using his weight and momentum sent him tumbling into the rose bushes that adorned the bench area. He cried out in pain as the prickly bush clawed at him.

Not hesitating I moved forward between the girls my hands a blur as I struck them dozens of times using both hands. Using long hours of practice a quick heel kick connected with the other boy’s jaw sending him into the blond guy who had finally escaped from the rose bushes. They became entangled in each other’s bodies and wildly gyrating limbs; both ending on the ground in a heap.

I resumed my machine like strikes on the two women who seemed to stand still and defenseless against the fury of my attack. In the midst of this whirlwind I suddenly gripped one of the women by the arm in both of my hands as I twirled her and released her into her partners who were just coming to their feet. They fell to the ground with a thud. Caught up in haze of battle I glided forward and executing a spinning heel kick on the second girl that caught her between her shoulder blades, the force of it landing her among her struggling teammates. More confusion and curses came from the tangle of bodies. From start to finish the fight had lasted less than 10 seconds.

Sam had just pushed through the doors of Kane Hall.

“Stop! This Is Over,” shouted Sam, her hand resting on her weapon. I took two steps back acknowledging the order and raising my hands, palms out. The big blonde came barreling out from his friends his face a mask of rage, stopping after two steps seeing Samantha and finally hearing Sam’s warning, “One more step and you will wake up in the infirmary.”

“She started it,” he blustered.

“Shut the hell up Counterpoint. I saw the whole thing. All of you inside, you too, Atalanta.” I waited, trailing the group inside and hearing Sam paging Delarose.

I was led to a room by myself to wait. Through the room’s open door I noticed that the two males were also put in separate rooms while the two girls followed Sam into Delarose’s office. After they were interviewed Sam called the boys into the office and they too were interviewed and allowed to leave. I had to wait about thirty minutes before Sam came to fetch me with a half smile on her face, “Just can't stay out of trouble can you girl?”

I shrugged, “It would seem so.”

“Damn I never saw anyone use their hands that fast. Where did you learn that?”

“Just something I picked up.”

Chief Delarose was seated behind his desk a steaming cup of coffee perched within easy reach. His head was down as he ran his fingers through his hair. Franklin Delarose's eyes held strong emotions that threatened to spill out. I read a mixture of emotions in his face; one of anger, but clearly frustration was the dominant emotion.

“Reid what am I going to do with you?”

“Chief, I was avoiding confrontation until what’s his face laid his hand on me.”

“I know. Sam saw the whole thing. Speaking of Sam, why did you come over here?”

“It was obvious that she is my bird dog, so I came over to let her know where I'd be.”

“Why would you do that?” he asked wearily.

“Chief,” I straightened and leveled my gaze directly into his eyes, “Administration, instructors and security staff are by rank and decree entitled to my respect. That is why.”

“Okay,” he growled, “you can go. Everheart go with her. See that she stays out of trouble.”

“Atalanta, mind if I ask you something,” Samantha asked as the two girls walked northward across the campus.

“Ask away.”

“I saw the whole thing and you definitely tried twice to avoid a confrontation but you had a third opportunity to exit without confrontation. Why didn't you take it?”

I turned my head and looked hard at Samantha before answering, “Are you satisfying your curiosity or gathering intelligence?”

“Both,” Sam admitted chuckling.

“I thought so,” I grinned back, “What I told the Chief is true...about respect. It’s automatically given to my elders, but not so with my peers. That respect is earned not given. Four-on-one does not earn my respect. Those who have earned my scorn don’t get to lay their hands on me.”

Her former training kicking in; Samantha stopped with her hands on her hips and brusquely asked, “I am tired of beating this bush to death. Who the hell are you?”

I shook my head answering, “You are not going to like this; I don't know. Two years ago I was a 13 year old boy. Six months after that I was a 14 year old girl: A 14 year old girl who was trained by an elite soldier for a year and a half. At first it was just some self-defense tactics and to get used to this body. Somewhere that changed. If Manny was here he might be able to shed some light on it but he left about a month or two before I changed the second time.”

As we walked past Poe I continued, “Now I'm a 15 year old mutant girl who doesn't know what powers she has, and surrounded by mutants who do know their powers, and have been trained to use their powers. Tatiana and the group back there are all older and more experienced than I am, but I relied on my training. I'm sure you know what asymmetrical means.”

Samantha smiled, “I do indeed. Neutralize, eliminate, contain, control the threat swiftly and efficiently.”

“…With the least muss and fuss.”

“Exactly,” Samantha agreed. She couldn't help it she liked this girl, and understood her as someone who had also switched sexes, and while Atalanta hadn't fought in the sandbox, she had grown up as an Army brat and been trained by the some of the best the world had to offer.

They stopped by the base of the huge aged Hawthorn tree that rose 50 feet and whose foliage extended its covering and protection farther.

“We are here,” Sam announced needlessly.

I craned my head looking up into the expanse and network of limbs and felt something stir. That ...something prompted me to address the Hawthorn. Feeling silly I obeyed, “Mr. Hawthorn I am pleased to meet you, how have you been feeling?”

Samantha watched as Atalanta paused and seemed to be waiting and listening for a response.

“With your permission,” I added, “I would like to rest among your branches. Maybe we can get to know each other.”
Samantha half expected to hear a voice come from the tree, but what she got was unexpected; an image of her as Sam holding and comforting her daughter when she was about ten years old followed by disjointed images of guys she had known.

I turned to Sam smiling, “I think this is just what I need.”

“I'm tempted to join you.”

“In that case let me introduce you, “Mr. Hawthorn this is my friend Samantha Everheart.” Another image came to mind of her friends in her unit.

“I'll have to wait,” Sam demurred, “on duty,” she explained to the tree? No she decided it was Atalanta to whom she was talking. “Do I need to come back and fetch you?”

“No. I'll meet up with some of the guys at Poe to go to dinner.”

As Samantha watched I reached up and grasped a bottom limb, swinging up gracefully and balancing on the branch. Samantha estimated that the limb Atalanta was perched on was at least 10 feet off the ground. Someway and somehow the old tree appeared to lean over seemingly lowering parts of his trunk giving easier access. It was hard to tell, as the trunks grew in cockeyed ways, as Hawthorns are apt to do.

In seconds I ascended and settled into a nook halfway up and invisible from below. Samantha got the silly image of someone being offered a chair to sit down and 'take a load off.'

The tree forked, forming a modified cup and handle for me to settle in. The tree branches rose on either side to offer support and concealment while providing a commanding view of the campus. I smiled as I watched the comings and goings of students, faculty, and security. After several minutes of people watching and meditation I began to descend.

“Thank you Nikki, that was just what I needed,” I told my companions as we walked along the path with Jade and Billie to Crystal Hall. Of course my confrontation with the New Olympians was buzzing as snatches of conversation reached our ears and I had to tell of my version of events.

“Damn girl you get in more trouble that we did last year,” Nikki noted.

“Yeah it does seem I'm collecting enemies. Maybe I ought to read 'How to Win Friends and Influence People,'” I fretted.

“I don't think it will help,” Billie needled.

We kept an easy banter going through the line and at the table. After we had finished eating I looked around the table at my friends, “Thanks guys, I really appreciate your acceptance of me and I hope you never regret it. But if you guys ever need me, you got me. Though, it might not be safe being my friend.”

“Sometimes shit happens,” declared Billie with Jade adding, “We'll deal with it if and when it comes up, we have before and no doubt we will again, whether you were here or not.” Nikki nodded agreement.

The next morning I woke at my usual hour and went down to the lawn to do my morning routine of conditioning and forms with the other members of team Kimba. Although this was just the third morning we were forming an easy alliance.
As usual I finished first and I watched Sam walking up to wait on me.

“Guys I’ll see you later; my ride’s here,” I called out as walked over to Sam and we began our usual 10 mile run.

Sorry that I haven't posted but my daddy passed on the day that I posted the last chapter. It has been a surreal week and a half.

Atalanta has tests more tests that raises more questions than they answer. More plans are laid.

Chapter 23

By 7:30 I had showered changed clothing and was out of Poe joining the throng streaming to the cafeteria. Again it was a beautiful, sunny day, chilly but warm for mid December with temps in the 30's. I had received another revised schedule this morning. The 9am hour was reserved for an interview with Louis Geintz in Parapsychology at Kirby Hall, 10am for Circe, and then 11am for another placement test before lunch.

At 8:30 am I left for Kirby Hall for the 9am meeting with Louis Geintz, “Come on in,” he invited me after I knocked on his door, “we need to get started.”

In that interview I let slip the images and feelings I had at old Mr. Hawthorne tree. He seemed amused that I named a tree. But he did pursue the images and asked about other such feelings.

He asked me to recall the events and moves in the fight I had last night with the New Olympians. To my surprise I could plot each move in my mind as it happened like it was déjà vu.

“What do you mean by déjà vu?” He asked looking up from his writing.

“It’s like looking back on it now and when it happened as the same thing.” I saw he was confused and attempted to clarify my explanation.

“I see now the sequence of events has happened before and I just tapped into them; déjà vu or maybe precognition. The same types of things occur when I’m running, jumping, or dodging obstacles; I seem to just know how to shift my body in the air to land lightly ...as if it’s choreographed.”

“All my senses are sharpened, some more than others and in differing ways,” I replied to his question about what I had noticed different with my five senses.

“Describe those changes for me.”

“I don’t have x-ray vision but I can see in low to no light places.”

Geintz looking up from his notebook queried, “How can you see in no light?”

“My sense of smell, hearing, and touch usually combine to send me a report. If it’s a smell that I’ve had contact with, I will recognize it. Hearing will give me a direction and by touch I mean air currents that touch my skin. And remember even in what are termed no light conditions, rules of physics still apply."

“Which means what exactly,” he prompted.

I fidgeted in my seat as this interrogation was becoming tedious, “Darkness is not just the absence of light but another point on the electromagnetic scale. In low light conditions I see in monochrome or black and white. Seeing in darkness takes a similar adjustment.”

“Okay I see,” he beamed while I rolled my eyes at his pun, “go on,” he replied, “anything else you notice that’s different.”

“If I concentrate I can see in a type of micro and macro vision. It is similar to using binoculars at a distance or a microscope with objects up close. At times I see squiggly lines switching between the choices. With some things that I touch I can feel like I’m being watched.”

“What do you mean by being watched? Can you describe the feeling?”

“Like someone peeking over your shoulder, you just feel it, or maybe ...,” I mused as another thought crowded in, “I’m peeking over somebody’s shoulder.”

“Ah, I see, do continue.”

“The only thing worth mentioning is that my sense of smell now includes an ability to detect patterns.” Seeing his quizzical look I added, “It’s like how a forest smells after rain; I can detect a difference from a previous visit; if there in fact is a difference. But I can’t tell you what is missing.”

“Fascinating,” he declared, “but weren’t you already tested for those things, and why are they not noted?”

“A couple of reasons,” I offered, “I’ve had almost two years to get used to my change, and all the latest change has done is to refine my senses. I guess body language plays a part in their evaluation and by now it seems normal to me so there wasn’t anything that was troubling to me. In the lab there is no need or room for the binocular effect. It was a combination of time constraints, them not asking the right questions, and me being comfortable in my skin.”

He looked at me fully before answering, “That seems a likely explanation. I believe you have Circe next and you do not want to keep her waiting.”

Nodding I got up and left, using the map I had been given to find Circe’s classroom and lab I found myself stopped by a gray wall. There was a type of white noise in my ears; this noise was from within me and not coming from the environment.

I again traced the map using my finger as a guide returning to this same place. I suspected this was part of the test. I carefully felt along the wall for any hidden triggers and finding none.

Frustrated I shifted tactics while remembering some advice I was once given; “The answer is within you.”

Images of tropical wet rain-forest environment surfaced along with tents and structures and beds covered with mosquito netting. The webbing was used to keep the unwanted insects at bay.

Looking again at the wall using my near sight the wall blurred until I saw fine strands began emerging from the solid surface, forming a network of interlocking triangles that masked the entrance to Circe’s classroom and lab.

The matrix congealed to resist my efforts to gain entrance. I intensified my energy at my core, seeing pools of it forming and then hesitatingly using one finger lightly touched the web. Immediately it began humming and tension increased along it’s interface.

“Stop,” a voice shouted.

Startled I lost focus and inhaled sharply, and then watched the intricate design disintegrate leaving behind a confused student and an angry instructor.

“Damn, now I have to rebuild that.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened,” I replied.

Circe bit back the retort on her lips remembering she was the new kid and something of an oddity. She cocked her head, studying the new student, “No I don’t believe you did, but it doesn’t help build a new one. Never mind follow me in.”

I followed her inside and to a table with materials already laid out. Frowning while tapping her cheekbones, Circe mused, “I believe you have some affinity for magic, probably in arcane, hermetic, or runes. I take it you haven’t actually tried to produce any effects through formulas.”

I shook my head, “I hadn’t even thought about magic until last Saturday.”

“You’ll probably start with the Theory of Magic 101 but,” she replied searching through the materials until she found what she was looking for; a teardrop shaped jade pendant with a silver chain passing through a drilled hole in the wide end.

“Jade is prized for its metaphysical properties,” Circe continued handing me the stone, “and it a good starting place for you to play with.”

At my startled look she explained, “Most magic is formed from essence obtained any number of ways: Some through using ingredients or ceremony and others through using objects. Many mages gather and store essence in crystals for later use. This stone is clean or clear of any but natural forces that all crystals share.”

In lecture mode she elaborated further, “I know your magic is reactionary, at least so far, but I don’t know where or how you acquire and store your essence. The nature, and amount you enhance this stone will tell me a lot about whether you use natural magic or use magic naturally.”

Seeing my confused face she continued, “If you can’t enhance the stone in the next week then your type of magic works through recipes or ceremonies. If however, you can charge the stone it will mean you are drawing from your environment. But I don’t want you to do this in any of the buildings on campus as they are all warded and may contaminate the results, if any. In other words I want to eliminate any variables we can. I also want you to take notes when you try this. Something may show up that will help.”

“I believe I understand what you want and I’ll be sure to do my best. Do you suggest any certain time of the day.”

“It’ll best if you can pick a time when you won’t be disturbed and if at all possible the same, or close to the same time each day.”

“Thanks I’ll do just that.” Circe dismissed me and began to rebuild her illusion.

After lunch, Sam intercepted me in front of Crystal Hall as I was leaving to take my placement test in math.
“Change of plans; Mrs. Carson wants us in her office asap.”

“I’m supposed to be taking a test,” I quipped.

“It’ll wait,” she growled, “It’s not nice to keep the Headmistress waiting.” I followed her into Schuster Hall past the receptionist’s desk and to Mrs. Carson’s door. Sam knocked.

“Come in.”

The Headmistress was seated behind her desk; on her left already seated in standard office chairs were Chief Delarose and Gunny Bardue.

Circe and Dr Bellows were seated next to them, then Nikki, and beside her an empty chair. I sat trying to piece things together.

Seeing my confused and concerned look Mrs. Carson smiled reassuringly, “No dear this is not a lynching party. I originally scheduled it for just you, me, and Nikki. Circe called citing an urgent need, and Dr Bellows as your adviser is here to help sort out your schedule. Security is here for two reasons; because of your unusual request to roam the forest as a bounty hunter, and Emanuel R. Black. I believe you know him Nikki is here because she is going to introduce you to the Medawihla tribe later today”

Manny!OMG! Would she be glad to see him? You bet. But he had left before the kidnapping and her 2nd change. Would he see much change?

“Manny! Really! Wow, I'll be glad to see him. But he hasn’t seen me after my latest caper,” I cried.

“No he hasn't,” agreed Mrs. Carson, humming thoughtfully. “Atalanta I want you to understand that we do everything we can here to insure our students’ success. But that is a difficult task with so many varied needs. This meeting is for your benefit. We are hiring Mister Black for several reasons one is that he is at the top of his training and he has recommendations from some very high people, second, he knows you. He will be either security or faculty, maybe both, and can help guide us to better help you.”

“I can't help being a little concerned … about these extra security steps,” I answered defensively, “but,” I continued, smiling to remove the sting from the barb, “I understand why you are doing it, and I do believe you have our best interests at heart, also, I trust Manny with my life.”

But my best interests were not necessarily the schools. Not a biggie but something to file away.

Mrs. Carson noted the plural usage of the pronoun and not the singular. She continued, “From a report Mr. Geintz sent me, and what Circe reported, it seems our powers lab missed a few things on you. Normally that would present a problem as our emerging students have a waiver to travel here, but everyone needs their MID cards issued during combat finals to travel for Christmas. Since you are staying here that won't be a concern. There is a concern with combat training that the MCO might label you a threat and authorize lethal force.”

“Mrs. Carson,” I interrupted, “Mr. O’Reilly has already approved my MMID card. Both my parents were military. Dad died in uniform, and he had his 20+ years in. And MMID's are classified. ”

“You are right, Atalanta you do; I forgot and it'll work better for our purposes. But back to the powers lab based on what Mr. Geintz and Circe reports, we changed your rankings in several categories. One is the Wiz that is bumped up to 4 mainly because,” Mrs. Carson paused a hint of a smile briefly passing her lips; “you’re a danger or accident waiting to happen.” I grimaced as I recalled destroying Circe's door while keeping my head lowered purposefully looking at Nikki.

“So we are looking into hiring a tutor for you in the arcane to help you develop control. Dr. Bellows tells me you are adjusting well to your sex change, and from your initial test results you'll be joining the sophomore class in traditional high school curriculum.

Your mutant based classes are a mixture of basic and advanced. We’ll know more after we come back from Christmas break, but here is a schedule of classes that we believe you will qualify for,” Mrs. Carson continued handing me a sheaf of papers across the desk, “we can't really fill out a schedule yet but this should give you an idea of when what's available. You might try a buddy system for your mundane classes the majority of which are offered between 9am and 2pm.”

Mrs. Carson paused to drink from the water glass beside her. “Atalanta, I don’t feel comfortable leaving you alone here at the school during Christmas break. Ordinarily our security would be enough but since we don’t know exactly how you will interact with the magic on campus and our instructors are leaving too for Christmas I have something else lined up for you.”

“I’ll be tagging along with you?” I asked innocently. Sam remained absolutely still while a tiny shiver shook Delarose and a quick puff of air escaped from between Bardue’s lips. Nikki’s eyes widened and she mouthed a silent, ‘are you crazy.’

“Don’t be absurd,” she retorted, “I’m referring to the Medawihla Reservation. The Tribe owns all the land around here and controls access to the lands and any bounties that maybe offered. Ben and Eloise, the council elders, have agreed to meet with you tomorrow at their home to discuss you staying with them for a few days.”

“Samantha and Nikki will accompany you to and from the village, and most likely next week when you return. You may go,” she finished referring to me and Nikki.

Samantha rose to follow Atalanta but sat back down at Mrs. Carson’s hand wave. A few minutes later her door opened to admit Geintz who sat in the chair vacated by Atalanta.

Mrs. Carson wasted no time coming right to the point, “From the latest reports by Dr. Geintz and Circe, earlier tests done with Atalanta missed a few things.”

“We all knew that Atalanta’s five senses were enhanced; not really all that remarkable because most mutants receive upgrades. What’s unsettling though, the enhancement that was missed despite several examinations and the types of upgrades she received.” Dr. Geintz paused to let his audience absorb his information.

“This next is self reported by Atalanta today and needs to be verified but she can smell patterns, has normal and telescopic and microscopic vision, as well as the ability to screen out colors.”

“I don’t see how being color blind is an advantage.”

“Technically and in a vacuum it’s not, but almost all nocturnal mammals have some type of color blindness that’s due to the overwhelming amount of rods that makes efficient use of low light. The disadvantage is you’re sacrificing acuity but Atalanta seems to be able to compensate by her sense of taste, smell, and hearing. Ever hear of echolocation?”

“Vaguely, isn’t that similar to radar?” Dr. Bellows asked.

“Close enough for our purposes. So what we seem to have here is the ability to shift vision among normal, telescopic, microscopic, and between daylight or nighttime vision as she needs or wants to,” Louis Geintz added.

“I get your point,” Elizabeth Carson replied, “is that all you have?”

“Not quite, she described her moves with the New Olympians as déjà vu; some type of precog ability I’d say.”

“Would you care to guess what triggers her precog or how developed it is?” Mrs. Carson queried.

“The best I can offer is that as a Paragon it is probably tied to her particular skill and that seems to be a warrior.”
The Headmistress nodded thoughtfully before turning to her mystic head: “Circe I believe you have something to add to this discussion.”

“As you know my classroom and labs are hidden; except for my students or from those who can at least sense magic. Most magic users will find the hidden latch or failing that find another class. Until today nobody has shaken my wards apart. I believe she is interacting with a divine magic similar to Kerry Ellison. Kerry’s magic took the form it did because during her formative period she was confined in a church.”

“I take it you believe Atalanta is in her formative period.”

“I do,” Circe conceded, “Kerry’s is and was benign but who knows what Atalanta’s will be? She needs to be carefully guided; especially concerning is the training she has already received.”

While I have a few minutes of down time I thought to post an additional chapter. I'd like to say that I can return to a regular habit of a chapter every few days but I just don't know. Writing and posting Atalanta's Story has been a type of therapy so I appreciate that you like the story. I also want to thank Bill Durr who encouraged me and Ashleigh.

Atalanta, Sam, Nikki, and Hank visit the Medawhiia tribe and as usual something happens unexpected. As usual Atalanta finds herself in the mix of something she didn't start.

Chapter 24

“I’m sorry you got stuck showing me the reservation,” I said as Nikki and I we walked towards Poe to wait until Sam was finished.

“No problem,” she waved off my apology, “I’ve wanted to see Eloise and Ben but just couldn’t seem to find the time.”

“What do you suppose they are talking about,” I inquired and then laughed at Nikki’s raised eyebrow. “Yeah I know it has something to do with me, but what have I done now?”

“What have you done now?” Nikki echoed as we walked through the door at Poe, “I have no idea what kind of mischief you’ve been up to today,” she mocked.

“Haven’t you heard the latest,” Ayla spoke up from Kimba corner where he was lounging with the rest of the team.

Why, what did you hear,” Nikki teased.”

“Well girl what I heard was...bad, but I defended you. No way I said, even she wouldn't do that...you didn’t, did you.”

“Yeah I kind of blew up Circe's magic door,” I replied followed by a round of laughter the loudest coming from Nikki and Ayla.

“Oh come on dish out the dirt.”

I then recounted the tale drawing an outrageous revue of events,

“So,” Nikki replied dabbing at her tears, “you blew up her door,” her voice straining to talk past her laughter, “and then offered to build her a new one. It’s a wonder she didn’t give you a new one,” stressing the last three words.

“Hey,” I declared, “it was an accident.”

“I’m beginning to wonder,” Jade howled through tears of laughter, “if Whateley will survive three years of you.”

“That’s not fair,” I pouted poking a finger in Jade’s rib, causing her to erupt into more laughter.

“Atalanta, don’t let them get to you,” Hank his tone soft, “it could happen to anybody,” he continued a smile playing at the corners of his mouth revealing a cute little dimple in his cheeks.

Whoa where had that thought come from?

“…Not. No kidding,” he grinned as his dimples deepened, “Atalanta you are one of a kind.”

“It will be different for Mrs. Carson to be riding someone besides us,” declared Chou.

“Exactly how did you manage it,” Billie asked me.

“I’d like to know that myself.” Sam had just walked in through the threshold and quickly continued, “You ready to go,” she asked me.

“Oh, no it is the hole for you.”

“Don’t worry we’ll bake a cake and put a file in it,” another person declared.

“It’ll be over before you know it,” Jade jeered, grinning.

“Knock it off,” Sam commanded, adding, “You ready Nikki?”

The comments that followed include jibes at me for leading poor Nikki astray before Sam restored order. In the silence that followed, Hank’s words echoed loudly.

“Would you mind if I came along?” Sam shrugging told me and Nikki to get ready while she called Mrs. Carson for the okay.

Samantha Everheart grinned as she walked beside the two girls and Hank as they kept up a constant stream of chatter. She was surprised that Mrs. Carson had approved Hank to accompany them. The question in her mind was what had prompted Hank to ask.

She got real enjoyment as Atalanta introduced Fey and Hank to Mr. Hawthorn formally. Fey executed her part exchanging pleasantries with the old tree as if they were long lost kin. Hank watched with Sam, from a distance.

When we had resumed walking I asked Sam, “So how bad was I drawn and quartered?”

“Bad enough but I predict you’ll survive,” Samantha smirked.

“What other choice do I have?”

“Just one,” Sam parried before adding, “You know you’re doing nothing to ease anyone’s perception of you, don’t you?”

“Does it matter?”

Sam shrugged, “Probably not.”

The air was crisp and sunny not a cloud in the sky though each of us wore a light jacket against the chill. Even though it was unseasonably warm the threat of winter in New England was very real.

Hank fell into step beside me while Sam and Nikki led the way.

“What was it like for you,” I asked softly.

“What was what like,” he returned whispering.

“The whole sex change thing: and growing up as a girl.”

Hank turned his head to see if I was serious, “Funny nobody has asked me that,” he returned wistful, “and you would think with as many male to females somebody would be curious.”

“It could be,” I replied lightly, “that they felt it was a downgrade to be turned into a girl: maybe jealous.”

“It maybe that,” he laughed softly, “but to your question; if I answer yours, you have to answer one for me.”

I nodded, “Deal.”

“Expectations,” he began, “it was about expectations … and reputation. Almost all little girls have expectations of Prince Charming; a white knight saving the damsel in distress. Getting married and our wedding day and the perfect dress and having babies,” he intoned in a sing song voice as his eyes looked to a far off horizon.

“Sorry,” he said shaking his head, “… anyway those expectations no longer apply and I have to set new expectations. If I had my choice I would have remained a girl,” he concluded.

“Me too,” I replied, “I would have chosen to remain as a boy but I can’t say I’m unhappy in this body either. I have a lot of new friends and my Mom and Manny helped me to set expectations, though to be truthful my expectations as a boy were more inferred than talked about. But I don’t understand why that would be that way.”

“I think I can help with that,” Hank responded. “Traditionally women are the caretakers of the family; they are the ones that organize family reunions, give support to the ones that are experiencing grief and loss. The keepers of family lore and heirlooms and the ones that remembered important dates and brought flowers for those that have passed on.” He paused to let the information sink in, “Women hold the family unit together because they are the ones that have babies and it’s very important to remember that the man can leave, deny being the father; the woman cannot. We have that responsibility for life. So a lot of energy is spent on the effect of choices and expectations.”

“Wow,” I interjected, “Mom and I had the talk but it never went into that detail.”

“I’d be surprised if she did,” Hank assured me, “Mine was reinforced almost daily by my Mom, girl cousins, aunts, and classmates as I grew up.”

“So you fit in, and didn’t feel out of place?” I asked as we descended deeper into the forest.

“Not at all, what about you what was it like growing up as a boy?”

I gave that considerable thought before answering, “I grew up an Army brat like you and I didn’t make many friends. Our relatives were strewn all over the country so I didn’t bond with any cousins: boy or girl. I was expected to stay out of trouble, get good grades, and go to college. That’s about it,” I shrugged.

“You never felt out of place or wondered what being a girl was like?”

“I felt out of place at school, where the other students had a history with their classmates. Dad was gone most of the time, I had few friends but no long term ones, so most of the time it was Mom and me. I like to read and learn new things and when we got to a new base Mom would take me around the historical sites. I liked comics, online role playing games and swimming. I pretty much hung around the house, helped Mom and entertained myself.”

“You know,” I continued, “We both changed before, at, or during puberty so in a sense other than appearances and mentally, we were never fully our birth sex.”

“Yeah,” Hank agreed, “If we had changed at 17 or 18 and fully developed I can see us having more problems adjusting.”

“I just thought of another expectation…,baby!” I exclaimed snapping my fingers. Hank cocked an eyebrow at me; smiling.

“No, you blockhead,” I snapped. “As a boy we were expected to suck it up and if we didn’t …”

“You were labeled a sissy,” he cried beaming.

Humph! Men really are clueless.

“Wrong!” Hank’s smile disappeared replaced by lines creasing his forehead. “But don’t feel bad most men wouldn’t get it either,” I teased smiling while wondering at my choice to massage his male ego.

“I’ll give you another hint,” I smirked.

“…Hints,” He snorted and countered smiling, “What is with girls never coming to the point.”

“If you guys would shut up and listen,” I parried, “we wouldn’t have to hint. We could just come tell you, but then it will just go over your head so we have to let you think it was your idea.”

“If you girls didn’t always have to get the last word in …”

“We do not.”

“Do.”

“Do not.”

“Settle down back there,” Sam growled grinning.

“Where were we?” Hank asked mumbling.

“Dare you to say that fast ten times,” I laughed.

“No thanks, once was hard enough.”

“I was giving you an expectation that boys are expected to suck it up and be a man and the name you’d be called if you didn’t and you said …”

“Sissy,” he grinned at me.

“And I said wrong. Tell me something Hank, growing up, what soft cuddly name did your parents call you? I’ll give you a hint; it wasn’t sissy.”

“Baby,” he cried triumphantly.

“Bingo,” I exclaimed adding, “for boys it is a singular pejorative as in “a baby” but for girls it is a collective compliment as in baby girl.”

“That is an interesting thought on expectations we grow up with,” Hank mused, “and just one example of the changes on perspectives we changelings go through.”

I agreed.

“Now I have to get all worked up and offended and beat up on anybody that calls me a baby,” he threatened. I grinned at his use of hyperbole. “And you …”

“And me,” I prompted.

“And you dream about your wedding day and the perfect dress and making babies.”

My belly did flip-fops and the blood drained briefly from my extremities, the hot denial dying in it’s infancy. Other than Mom’s warning about pregnancy this issue of love, marriage, and a family had not been a topic we discussed. It was not even on my radar.

But it was now.

I quickly checked in on my body’s response to those ideas and the lack of negative feedback unnerved my self-image.

Concerned at my lack of response Hank spoke, “Atalanta I didn’t …”

“You didn’t,” I interrupted, “why do you think I took self-defense training? I just had never connected marriage with it; that’s all.”

“Good, it is a lot to take in.”

“It is,” I agreed and went returned to the task at hand.

The forest journey went quickly; and I was surprised at the green still left on the undergrowth and the maturity in this part of the forest. In some points briars and bushes threatened progress, in others the canopy of branches were high enough and the hardwood spaced far apart enough to conduct battles on.

The forest was full of life both with chlorophyll or blood coursing their veins, watching the intruders silently, the flesh and blood ilk watching at a distance.

I noticed our heading as due north, except for a detour to the east of a couple hundred yards, and then back on the due north heading. I didn't say anything but I felt tingling on my shoulder and filed it for later exploration.

Nikki stopped at the top of a rise as we viewed the town laid out on the valley; a meandering stream in the distance crisscrossing dropping down the from the sheer granite cliffs that hemmed in the town from the north. More of the mountain range poked at the sky farther west and south. While to the east and southeast the sod rolled in a series of undulations towards Whateley, Dunwich and eventually Berlin.

Chimney smoke drifted lazily in the afternoon air; below traffic was increasing most of it foot traffic, or horse drawn wagons, though the occasional automobile or more often trucks prowled the streets. Overall it felt and looked no different than a thousand other small towns in America. It had one main street that intersected with side streets that ran north and south warranting only a blinking caution light.

At the far end of the intersection perched a gas station repair shop and blacksmith. Across the street was the veterinary with the medical clinic located next door. Beside the clinic were the town hall/ tribal council building and across the street sat the general store containing mostly hardware and hunting/fishing supplies.

I also saw a department store that sold clothing and household goods, a grocery store and electronics. Past the intersection I saw an attorney's office, a craftsman supply, a building supply and an electrician and plumber business. I had a better view from the hillside than I had from ground level on Monday.

Across the street and on their side of the road was most likely town maintenance judging from the equipment scattered here and there, with the jail and tribal deputy’s office lining up next. Farther to the west a small red brick school building rested serenely in the morning light. Farther still, but close enough to take advantage of the stream's fall from the cliff a huge waterwheel was erected that served to grind flour and meal as well as serve as a backup power station. On either side of the streets laid out neatly were plots of land and housing.

“They are expecting us,” Nikki declared, “Let's go on down.

We followed a worn path across a foot bridge that led to an intersecting street which Nikki turned on, and stopped at the third residence before walking up to the door. Before she could knock the door opened and a middle age, tall, athletic woman walked out on the porch walking with cat-like grace. Beside her was a wide-shouldered, barrel-chested bear of a man.

“Welcome Your Highness.”

Your Highness?

“It's Nikki,” she corrected softly, “You know Sam?” Eloise and Ben nodded.

“This is Atalanta,” she continued pointing at me.

“Glad to meet you,” I said.

“You look … just as I had you pictured,” Eloise drawled, her eyes narrowing. Nikki and Sam exchanged quick glances.

“And this is Hank who wanted to come along, to keep Atalanta company.”

“Ah I see,” Eloise responded her face masked as she wrapped her arm around Ben, “Behind every good woman …”

Ben smiled good naturedly at their inside joke. I felt heat creep into my cheeks at her suggestion.

“That’s what Mom said, too,” I replied evenly.

“Smart woman,” Eloise replied adding, “Come on in, sit down and we’ll talk.”

I followed the Connors inside while Sam and Nikki hung back with a few random words drifting to my ears. Hank was on my heels. The house was furnished functionally and comfortably; a coat rack beside the door, a sofa, chairs, end tables and a TV in a far corner with a center throw rug and coffee table on it. It was as I remembered it.

Eloise led the way to the combination kitchen and dining area and where I again noted modern appliances. I was reminded once more at the differences between this village and the ones I had seen back home. The Medawihla tribe seemed to have its foot firmly planted in the 21st century.

“Coffee, tea, or water,” Eloise asked her guests.

“Nothing for me,” Sam declined as she didn’t posses a human digestive tract.

Nikki and Hank wanted water. “And coffee for you,” Eloise said pouring me a cup while speaking, her back to the group.

Sam and Nikki again exchanged quick looks at Ben and Eloise and then at me. As she handed me my cup our eyes met and an understanding passed between us.

“I have something to tell you all, but I need your word to keep it to yourself for the time being,” I started once everyone had seated.

Sam being a part of the staff responded, “I’ll have to reserve judgment but as long as it doesn’t compromise my ability to do my job I will remain silent.”

“Good enough,” I declared and I went on to relate the details from last Friday until Monday evening.

“So while everyone thought you were in a safe house, you were out traipsing around the wilderness,” Nikki accused, “Why didn’t you let the school and Mrs. Carson know where you were?”
Sam looked on with interest.

“An ambush was set for me using the school’s van and they had a school ID of me for identification. What would you think?” I countered. “Besides,” I added, “your father signed off on it. Leaks at the school had implications for all student safety and I’m sure your safety entered into it. And it worked, we found the leak.”

“Really,” Sam asked leaning forward, “Who was it?”

“As I understand it, it isn’t a person but a backdoor into the internal emails generated with an unauthorized address included. While it was centrally accessed the Trojan was installed with the system. I think they are probably sorting that out now.”

“Does Mrs. Carson know about the security leak?”

I measured my response, “I don’t know; I have been out of the loop since my team brought me in.”

Sam wanted to know where I spent Monday night.

I demurred, telling them I didn’t have permission to share that information for the time being.

Eventually I got their round of questions answered and then we got down to the reason for the trip.

“Now tell me a little about yourself and why you feel a need to be a huntress. And tell me something about this bounty program,” Eloise smiled.

I told of my lost canyon transformation and the subsequent adjustments and my dreams of Atalanta and the running dreams. “I think Atalanta is my exemplar and she was a hunter, as am I. Atalanta also has my old name, Alan, in it. Back home the shepherds paid a bounty for lions and wolves and such and I have also done some wildlife tagging. The folks at Whateley seemed to feel that after being shot I am an imbued paragon now. ”

I then rolled up my sleeve revealing the owl relief etched in my arm.

“That looks like a birthmark.”

“It is a birthmark,” I declared, “though it is only a few week old.”

“I believe,” Ben interjected, “we can probably work out something in tagging and relocating wildlife. The state and federal wildlife agencies have been pressuring us for a population count. We’ve been reluctant to agree because of our unique nature.”

Eloise continued asking, “Do you know, or has anyone told you what Ben’s referring to by our unique nature?”

My dumbfounded look said I didn’t.

“The Medawihla Tribe is a tribe of Weres, Ben is a Were Bear and I’m a Panther.”

“Oh,” I answered surprised, “that’s interesting. Though,” I turned to Ben, “my first impression of you was as a bear of a man,” I smiled at him.

“And you reminded me of the big cats I’ve seen in New Mexico,” I continued turning back to Eloise.

He grinned back at me and replied, “We keep a low profile and with good reason; we don’t like outsiders prowling around. With your experience we can satisfy both the concerns of our people and the various groups and agencies.”

“It’s something I’m good at.”

“I don’t like having anything to do with the government,” Eloise groused.

“I grew up an army brat so I never gave them a thought, but now that I’m classified as a mutant I’m starting to develop distaste as well,” I declared.

“I don’t like it either,” Ben agreed, “but now that we have our own police department the sheriff leaves us alone. Sooner or later the Feds will override any of our objections: if we don’t do something they will.”

“I know,” Eloise sighed, “but I still don’t like it. Still see what you can find out about it.”

“Excuse me,” I interjected as my shoulder image flared and rising to my feet, “but my other mother is calling me.” A curious entourage followed as I rushed to the door and outside to the covered porch which faced west.

A flash of color and movement alerted me, and as I walked briskly across the floor to the steps I heard a familiar screech. To my left and in the direction we had come, I saw a great owl perched in an evergreen.
Harvard!

He or was it she screeched again.

“Owls in the daytime are a bad omen,” Ben remarked.

I wasn’t listening, sprinting across the front of the house and confronting several cords of firewood blocking my path. In full stride my feet hit the tops of several stacks and gaining momentum with each step I launched head first into a full grown bull moose that was in a headlong charge.

His prey was a seven or eight year old girl in full flight screaming for all she was worth.

The full force of my 125 pound body slammed into his 1,000 pound frame. His charge broke as my right hand clutched one enormous antler creating leverage and twisting his head and neck in an unexpected direction with his body
following. As he went to one knee my legs swung around and clamped around his neck. I brought my free hand down hard on his nose.
He bellowed in pain.

My free hand reached into my boot and came out with a six inch dagger poised to strike his jugular vein. My hand froze in an overhead strike as Ben’s frantic shout reached me.

“Stop! He’s a Were moose. Dustin,” Ben’s shout warned me.

I swung free landing on the balls of my feet, knees bent and knife extended with my eyes flashing fire. I watched poised as the moose morphed into a moose of a man standing a foot taller than me with wide shoulders and long arms and legs.

After he had fully changed I sheathed my knife; I stepped up close and suddenly struck him on his neck with the edge of my hand. He folded like a beach chair on the ground.

Eloise began explaining, “That is Dustin Bull, a cousin visiting from a tribe from out west. He’s been nothing but a pain since he arrived, but his death here as an ambassador would be hard to explain.”

I nodded my eyes still riveted on the prone form.

“Atalanta, none of that takes away from your heroic actions at saving this little girl from certain harm and possible death. I don’t know what started this, but his actions are inexcusable. He is no longer welcome here. Ben,” she turned to her husband, “you know what to do.”

He nodded, “I do.”

Sam, Nikki, and Hank were standing off to one side watching me closely.

Dustin began to stir and climbed groggily to his feet shaking his head vigorously and automatically. With his long face and bushy tufts of hair he made a comical sight and suddenly I knew.

“Hey moose jaw,” I taunted.

His body tensed and he clenched and unclenched his fists.

“Moose jaw, a little thinned skin are we? Well moose jaw,” I drawled evenly, “just so you know if Ben hadn’t stopped me I would have cut your throat. As far as I’m concerned it’s over with, but if you want a rematch now is the time to speak up.”

The challenge hung in the suddenly still air.

Ben broke the stalemate when he forcefully guided Dustin toward the street disappearing around a corner with a hand on his shoulder.

I turned to Eloise’s fixated gaze, “What?”

“You really would have killed him.”

“His jugular was the size of a rope,” I agreed.

By mutual and unspoken agreement we walked back inside the house. Once we were seated Eloise asked, “Tell me about your other mother.”

Blushing I replied, “I didn’t think anyone heard me. The owl showed up first as I was hunting the people who kidnapped my Mom and guided me to her, and then saved my life when one of the kidnappers shot me. I believe she’s connected to the Five-Fold Court. I think she’s Athena, but she wants to remain somewhat a mystery, so I have tagged her as my other mother."

Ben had come in while I was explaining; remaining quiet, listening attentively, he finally spoke, “What do you know about the Five-Fold Court?”

“I know there was a court for each direction and each was affiliated with an element and the center court is what held the whole thing together.”

“That pretty much sums it up,” Eloise responded, “but the center court enforced its decisions through an enforcer. We believe whoever she was; was killed and over time the Court lost it’s effectiveness before splintering into various factions and then fading into history’s dustbins.”

An image flashed across my mind too fleeting to capture.

We then hammered out an agreement whereby I would spend Sunday through Thursday with the Donners.

“Now Atalanta I want to call and talk with your mother. If she’s not all right with you staying here, then I’m afraid you’ll have to spend Christmas in your room.”

I took the phone she handed me and called home, “Mom it’s me,” I said when she picked up the call.

After we exchanged pleasantries I handed the phone to Eloise and they talked for a half hour and I was sure that I was being dissected. Next she talked briefly with Sam who then handed the phone back to me.

She gave me the required talk about being a good guest; “Atalanta I miss you so much.”

“Mom I miss you too and I wish I was with you too.” We hung up to the words of ‘I love you.’

Eloise and Ben followed us outside as we had to leave to go back to the Academy.

“What happened back there,” Nikki asked. Atalanta perplexed her; she and Team Kimba were no strangers to violence and had dished out their own share of violence. It was the speed, suddenness, and the finality of her actions that flummoxed Fey. Atalanta showed none of that in dealing with Tatiana and the New Olympians.

“You mean about the moose,” I asked smiling gently.

“Yes, the moose,” Nikki pushed out a pent up breath, “You meant to kill him,” she stated.

“Yes and I would have if Ben hadn’t stopped me.”

“But why,” Nikki stammered, “you didn’t show that level of aggression at the school with Tatiana or the New Olympians.”

I stopped walking placing my hands on my hips and facing my three companions, “It is pretty damn simple,” I drawled evenly. “The short answer is, I reacted as I was trained; the school has rules that exclude death by combat. A child’s life was in danger in this instance and that includes no mercy rules.”

The silence deepened as they digested my words and apparently came to an agreement, “That makes sense,” Hank smiled at me; dimples and all.

I relaxed, “Thanks,” I replied softly.

Nikki and Sam led the way while Hank walked beside me, “Don’t take it personally Atalanta; the truth is people don’t know how to take you. You set this school on its ear even before you arrived on campus.”

“I guess I have,” I replied looking at the surrounding forest, “things just seem to happen around me and I act.”

“Yes you do.”

I'm sorry I never meant to be this late posting the next chapter. I know how irritating it can be to be reading a story and have it go missing for a month and you have go back and read up. The fallout from my daddy's passing and one sister's refusal to talk sucked all creative energy from my heart.

Last week I started writing a trashy erotic story that I have no intention of posting in its current version but there's nothing like sex and sex scenes to spark my creative muse.. Again I apologize for the delay and will finish the posting for this book in the next two weeks.

As a gentle reminder in the last Chapter Atalanta was introduced to the Medawihla Indians who she is to spend Christmas with. While there she almost creates a diplomatic incident when she almost kills a visiting Were Moose and ends with the group back on school grounds.

Back at the school Mrs. Carson gets a call and a visitor and Atalanta reconnects with an old friend.

Chapter 25

Elizabeth Carson picked up the ringing phone, “Yes.”

“This is Eloise Donner.”

Mrs. Carson momentarily felt fluttering butterflies, “Eloise I’m glad to hear from you. How did the meeting go? I assume they have left.”

“Yes they have left. I talked with Atalanta’s mother too. We’ve made arrangements for her to spend Christmas here with us.”

Elizabeth long used to negotiation tried a different approach, “Well what did you think of our new girl?”

“I can see why you might want Atalanta off campus during Christmas break,” Eloise’s brittle laugh echoed.

“What happened,” Elizabeth asked softly.

“It’s actually kind of funny now but at the time it wasn’t. We had a visiting dignitary; a Were moose named Dustin Bull, who has been a pain in the rear and we were looking for a reason to send him on his way. But you know how tribal councils and treaties work; our hands are basically tied.”

Elizabeth listened silently and waited for the reveal, “We were all seated in the kitchen when suddenly Atalanta bolted for the door, and we followed her outside where she launched herself at a bull moose charging a neighbor’s 8 year old girl, who was about to be trampled under his hooves.”

“And Atalanta intervened?”

“Indeed she did. She bulldogged that moose to one knee, and would have killed him if Ben hadn’t stopped her.”

Elizabeth sighed inwardly. Every freshman class had one; the one student that was a trouble magnet. She had thought this year was going to be different but Atalanta looked as if she was going to be this year’s contributor.

“Are you sure that she could have, and would have?”

“Yes on both counts, and to be honest he deserved it, but I’m glad politically that Ben stopped it.” Eloise wasn’t certain why she didn’t mention Atalanta’s boot knife.

Elizabeth offered her counterpart an olive branch, “Eloise if you’re not sure we can call this off.”

“No,” she teased, “I’ve made my bed and now I have to live in it.”

Whateley’s Headmistress silently breathed easier at that statement; she needed that week off from this madhouse. Elizabeth felt that Eloise was playing her own game; that she felt was benefiting her people. A game, that if she misplayed it, at least it wasn’t going to spill over onto Whateley adversely.

They hung up after exchanging season pleasantries. Before she could return to her required paperwork, her intercom buzzed.

She looked at the wall clock and answered, slightly annoyed at yet another interruption, “Yes?”

“Mr. Black is here for his 2pm appointment.”

“Tell him I’ll be with him in a few minutes,” Mrs. Carson replied as she reached for her phone and dialed security.

“Chief.”

“Yes,” Chief Delarose answered.

“Manuel Black is outside my office, I thought he’d see you first before coming here.”

“I haven’t seen him, but I’m on my way over right now.”

“Good,” she replied placing the phone on the cradle.

Mrs. Carson swung her chair facing a blank wall and considered this new potential hire. Mr. Black would have enough understanding to see his immediate supervisor first before coming to her, so obviously this was a ploy to gain some perceived advantage which could be anything. The simplest course she decided was just simply to ask.

Manny settled into the chair to wait after Mrs. Carson’s receptionist paged her. “She’ll be right with you in a few minutes.”

He nodded as he reviewed the events of the last week starting with Atalanta’s call and ending with Director O’Reilly’s offer. The offer intrigued him on different levels and came at a time when he was seriously deciding to rejoin the military. After almost two years the construction gig was becoming stale, although the New Mexico job had proved enlightening, while the latest foray had helped establish severed connections from his growing up in LA.

He had received satisfaction from taking the blueprints and ideas from the drawing board to the completion, but it didn’t hold his interest the way his military excursions had.

Until recently his future had been mapped out for him; three to six months on assignment with a month to unwind, then to a school for up to a year, and then another assignment. It was always with the same group of players unless they had cycled out or KIA. Guys that you could trust at your back and that you could depend on, and you had developed a sixth sense with. That had all changed on a mission four years ago where plans had been compromised and he had lost three buddies in the action.

When his time to re-enlist came, he had opted out of the military to see if he could make civilian life work. After two years, life as a citizen was quickly losing it's luster and he was back at square one: The military looked bright again.

He smiled to himself as he waited knowing that in coming directly to the Headmistress he had upset their standard procedure. He was interested in seeing how they responded to both his action and his appearance. Mirrored wraparound sunglasses, form fitting long sleeved shirt under a leather jacket and chinos all in black completed the mysterious men in black image he had cultivated for his own amusement.

As he waited, he studied the students and staff, wondering if he could fit in here. He didn’t think so, but for Atalanta’s sake he’d stick with it until the school year ended. He had a gut feeling that their paths were destined to intertwine for their immediate futures.

The outside door opened to admit a man in his 60’s with a full head of hair tinged with gray streaks, a ready smile and a natural spring in his step. He carried himself erect and a steady gaze.

“I’m Franklin Delarose; Whateley’s Security Chief,” he said extending a hand, “I expected that you’d come by and see me first.”

Manny politely ignored the offered hand until he was level with the man, “Manny Black,” he replied, “Mr. O’Reilly said it was Mrs. Carson that called.”

“Ginny will you let Mrs. Carson know we are here?”

“Of course,” she replied speaking into an intercom and then directed them inside.

He followed Delarose into the room and carefully shut the door while taking a position perpendicular to her desk all the while scrutinizing the interior and the occupant behind the desk. He read in her eyes and manner the same tough, single mindedness of purpose he had witnessed in squad and unit leaders. Their gazes locked briefly and acknowledgment passed.

“Please Mr. Black have a seat.”

“Manny,” he offered, sitting and patiently waited for the interview to start. An awkward silence followed as Delarose waited for Mrs. Carson to start the interview.

“We are all adults here so I’ll be direct,” Elizabeth Carson declared, “Mr. Black I’ve done a background check on you that brought up very little. I understand that is common in your line of work.”

Manny nodded, “What else would you like to know? I can take orders, get the job done and keep my mouth shut.”

The Headmistress narrowed her gaze; she didn’t care for his attitude but often competent men possessed a self-confidence that bordered on arrogance.

“We are always in need of security here.”

“As you say Mrs. Carson we are all adults here so let me be direct as well,” Manny interrupted, “I’m not a mall ninja or a rent-a-cop, and if that is what you want we are both wasting our time,” he finished rising to leave.

“Sit back down Mr. Black. We didn’t call you to do that. We called you because you know a new student that came in this past week. We’re concerned for her and about her on several levels.”

Black eased forward in his chair and asked evenly, “What type of concerns?”

“I understand you trained her.”

“You understand right; I did.”

“And I understand she is a Natural.”

“Yeah,” he hedged, “she certainly picked up stuff as easily as anyone that I’ve ever trained.”

“That’s not what I meant and I think you know it.”

He nodded, “Yeah you meant it with a military meaning and that is exactly the way I meant it too.” Manny decided that hedging wasn’t doing him or Atalanta any favors.

“Look,” he continued opening up, “She’s a good kid and we trained for several months before even the notion of a Natural came up. I had built a gun range that we used and I had just introduced her to the bow. Out of nowhere she bolts up the hillside and I reach her in time to see the third arrow hit a cougar in mid-air that was after a baby lamb. That was the first time I had her training with the bow.”
Manny paused choosing carefully his words, “It was at that point that I realized what she faced, and from then on I trained her with that in mind.”

“That’s when she became a bounty hunter?”

Manny nodded, “Yes, but I tried to buffer her from that attention.”

“Why?”

“When I realized she was a natural, I also knew the baggage that comes with it no matter what it is called. People, organizations, and governments recruit those individuals because they know what they can do too. For an awakened natural she or he will have enough organic opportunities without looking for them.”

“What do you mean by organic opportunities?”

“Things don’t happen in nature, in a vacuum, nor without reason. I know Atalanta and I know that she is a good kid with a heart of gold, so I assume there is a type of opposite activity that she will have to balance out. By organic opportunities I’m referring to the fact she foiled three attempts to kidnap her on the way here by the H1 and the MCO.”

“What!” both Mrs. Carson and Delarose exclaimed.

“You didn’t know?”

“It seems that is another part of an incomplete file that we have on Atalanta. Care to fill us in?” Mrs. Carson asked.

“Not much to tell,” Manny replied smiling, “a rogue splinter group from H1 sabotaged the fresh air system on the train car she was in from KC to St. Louis. They expected to find her unconscious from the bad air, but Atalanta had opened the windows and they became the surprised party instead.”

“And how do you know this?”

“She called me from the train, after it left St. Louis, for help. I had some contacts in Boston meet her at the train depot in Boston. The MCO tried to assume custody at the hotel, and later broke into a safe house. After those failed attempts my contacts then decided to drive her to Berlin where she caught the train into Dunwich.”

Then remembering their cover story he added, “After the train left the station my guys decided just to drive up to Dunwich. It was a good thing they did.”

Delarose and Mrs. Carson exchanged quick glances before Mrs. Carson pointed out, “Yes it was, but whether we hire you or not you seemed to have taken her under your wing.”

He replied agreeing, “I feel responsible, so yeah I’ll be around.”

They talked a little more before deciding on a six month contract that ran through the end of the school year, starting with the New Year. That gave him time to settle in his apartment on campus and complete whatever business he had left on the west coast.

Mrs. Carson walked them to the door, “Mr. Black, so we understand each other, my obligation is to the school and then the students. Can you give the school that type of dedication?”

“I can work with that.”

About halfway between the village and the school, Sam’s phone rang.

“What is over there,” I asked Nikki. We had stopped and I noticed the lush green growth.

Nikki’s face tightened, “That is the Grove; it is sentient and watches over the forest. People wander in and get lost for several days, somehow always coming out very close to where they go in and always the worse for wear. It is off limits.”

I smiled faintly at the notion of off-limits..

“We need to stop by and see the Chief when we get back,” Sam explained as she walked over.

I stopped at the old Hawthorne tree after we got back from the village to pay my respects; patted the tree’s trunk fondly and telling him about the village and the moose.

Sam, Nikki, and Hank watched from a safe distance.

“I’m getting hungry,” I said to Sam as we drew even with Poe, with Nikki and Hank separating to go inside.

“You’ll have time later,” Sam returned as we turned into Kane Hall, “The Chief wants to see you.”

Sighing I followed her down the hall to Delarose’s office. Maybe it said something about my status; I already knew several members of security by name and sight, as well as where the Chief’s office was located. What does that say about a student on her fourth day on campus?

“Do you know why the Chief wants to see me?” I asked as we walked.

She smiled at me shaking her head, “You’ll find out soon enough,” while knocking on the door and announcing us.

I trailed behind her as we entered. Delarose was seated and he had someone in the room with him. Sam was partially blocking my vision but he seemed familiar, “Manny,” I shouted striding quickly toward him ignoring Sam and Delarose. He gripped me in a bear hug as we embraced.

“How are you doing kiddo?” He asked me, grinning from ear to ear.

“A lot better now Manny. It sure is good to see a familiar face. What are you doing here? How long you staying? You have time for me to give you the ten cent tour. Have you talked with Mom?”

Manny held up his hands in surrender, “Be patient, all in good time.”

Delarose interjected, “Atalanta, Manny has come to work here.”

“Really, when do you start?” I asked Manny a goofy grin etched in my face.

“He starts New Years,” Delarose answered and added. “He is part of security and will be helping to train you as well.”

“So I have two babysitters,” I beamed walking between Manny and Sam hooking an arm in each of theirs.

“Manny have you met Sam…Samantha Everheart. Sam, meet Manny Black,” Delarose made the introductions. Manny raised an eyebrow but said nothing while shaking Sam’s hand.

“Atalanta I believe you still have time to make your appointment with Dr. Bellows, and Sam can show Mr. Black to his apartment. Afterwards you two can meet for dinner.” Delarose said dismissing us.

“Sure,” I replied, “Let’s go.”

Delarose stopped Sam, “Sam can catch up with you later Atalanta; she needs to file a report first.”

Sam nodded, “Okay Chief I’ll do just that,” she replied walking out with us and stopping at her cubbyhole.

Manny turning to Sam drawled, “I know of a Sam Everheart, are you any kin to him?”

“You might say that,” she teased him, “I’ll tell you about it later.”

“I’ll see you later for supper ,” I said to Manny who had joined Sam at her desk.

“I’ll meet you at Crystal Hall for supper;” he called out as I left him chatting with Sam as I left on my way to Kane Hall and my meeting with Dr. Bellows.

Wonder what insane ideas he will have for me?

I want to thank Bill and Asheligh for their help and encouragement and to the readers and their comments. It really is appreciated. I hope to get into regular postings--one or two chapters a week.

Dr. Bellows suggests a class change for Atalanta. Atalanta and Hank sit on the steps at Poe until Mrs. Horton runs them inside. Atalanta and Manny talk about Whateley and later she has a talk with her mom and we learn a little more about Audhilde.

Chapter 26

The hall was deserted; as was the desk that Dr. Bellows’ secretary normally occupied. His office door was open and I skirted the desk to knock on the doorframe. A locked briefcase occupied a side chair with an overcoat draped over the back. His desk was cleared of the usual bric a brac that seemed to always clutter desks. No coffee cups, water glasses, or loose pens and papers.

“Going somewhere Doc,” I inquired through the open doorway.

“Christmas Break. Come on in and have a seat,” he said after inviting me in and closing his door before occupying his usual seat behind his desk. His hands clasped in front of his body, elbows resting on the tabletop.

He leaned forward.

“Atalanta looking back on the week, what are your impressions and thoughts on anything, anyplace, or anybody? It doesn’t have to be connected with Whateley.”

I hesitated before speaking. “You asked for my general impressions. Let’s face it, if I was a girl you met on the street you wouldn’t be asking this question. So what you want to know about is my life as a mutant,” I snapped.

Dr. Bellows remained still his serene smile locked in place, his eyes locked on mine. Most people didn’t know Dr. Bellows was a low level mutant with weak empathetic abilities that he carefully hid. He could feel the waves of frustration and anger.

Still smiling he replied, “You’re right my only interest in you is as a lab rat.”

I got up from my seat and began pacing the floor before coming to a stop in front of his desk. Placing my hands on his desk I leaned forward, “Don’t patronize me doctor.”

I quickly resumed my pacing before stopping and quietly resuming my seat. “Labels, I hate labels. I hate these damn mountains around here,” I cried waving my arms to include the horizon behind him.

“Back home,” I continued, “the mountains were wide and expansive, they let you breathe. Here, they are right on top of you.”

It wasn’t the mountains that were bothering her.

“At home I was just a girl.”

“… That’s not quite true is it?”

I knew he was referring to the desert incidence, but especially the snowstorm rescue. He was right. After that scene in the cabin, life couldn’t go on as it had before.

I sat down, “I’m sorry doc. You’re right I couldn’t stay there.”

He remained quiet, waiting for me to continue.

“I felt this same way when Mom enrolled me in regular school this fall.”

“And how did you feel when she enrolled you here?” Dr. Bellows prompted.

Looking up at him through hooded eyelids, my lips thinned, “I didn’t want to be here either.”

“Why? What is it that bothers you most?”

I knew exactly what bothered me the most but I hesitated as I ran the reasons through my mental filters.

“Atalanta I want to help you - as your therapist and as your advisor, but I need your help and I need you to trust me.”

“So, this is a doctor patient confidentiality agreement then,” I asked with the tendons in my neck jumping.

“Yes,” he replied quickly, “but with a couple of exceptions; if I think you are a danger to yourself or to the school.”

“I have to trust you but you don’t have to trust me,” I drawled. “Okay I’ll tell you this much: I hate labels. I hate being labeled. You know the reason I didn’t like going to high school this fall? You know why I didn’t want to come here?”

“Labels,” he inquired mildly.

“Now you’re talking,” I declared.

“Some labels are necessary for …”

“Specific labels are necessary,” I agreed, “like eye color, height, weight, age, and so on. But general labels like mutant, nationality, education, religion, dangerous, and similar descriptors are prejudicial and stereotypical. These words are used to impose rules and limitations by those doing the labeling because they are just too damn lazy or incompetent to be bothered.”

“But …”

“But nothing, you wanted to know so you are going to listen,” I interjected, “When I changed, more than my body and sex changed. I’m nothing like Alan-.” I stopped speaking as I ran the name Alan over my tongue again. “In fact,” I continued, “that name seems alien, and like the name of someone I used to know. Alan wouldn’t mind rules; he wouldn’t mind classes that were boring. He didn’t know what he didn’t know.

I do know the difference. I can smell life on a breeze from the sap that flows in the trees and converted by sunlight to energy, to birds on the wing. Chipmunks, squirrels, and rabbits scurrying for food, and the natural ozone water emits as it tumbles towards the ocean. Nature is life, and it is death, and I can sense both. Those are lessons that you don’t learn inside the classrooms, or being herded around like animals and put in our stalls at night.”

“Umm,” he replied, looking thoughtfully through my file. “You have been very helpful and insightful and maybe I should take another look at your schedule.”

I watched him, lightly drumming my fingertips on the chair arm as he consulted a list of classes and writing on a separate sheaf of papers. Finished he straightened up leaning back in his chair and studied me.

“Thank you for your honesty, and after taking a second look at your schedule, I do believe I have uncovered an opportunity for you to train your senses in a way you can’t in a classroom.”

Ruh-oh!

Butterflies floated in my stomach as my legs tingled.

“I had you penciled in the survival class, and thinking you might look into joining the Parkour Hooligans, I now feel you need a more balanced education. The good news is that Whateley has a very good Drama and Theatre department and I can get you in.”

“Drama …Theatre?” I asked as the blood drained from my face.

“Yes,” Dr. Bellows continued cheerfully, “and you will be in time to participate in the Spring play.”

“Doc I don’t know a thing about plays and stuff, and I don’t have any interest in learning.”

He leaned forward in his chair, his eyes pinning me as his voice carried, “Atalanta, I truly believe this gives you a chance to stretch yourself and test your senses in a way that they haven’t been tested, and you’ll learn more about yourself in the process.”

The admonishment to “know yourself”, from The Art of War jumped out at me.

“You have to admit it’s not your typical classroom.”

“I’ll give you that much,” I smiled wryly, “and you maybe right that I might learn something about myself.”

“Good that’s settled then, if I can work you in,” he replied standing and extending his hand, “Enjoy the break.”

“You too, Doc,” I returned grasping his hand and leaving the room to meet up with Manny. As he walked me to the door he asked me about my upcoming Christmas visit with the Medawihla Indians.

Manny was waiting for me outside and as we were walking toward Crystal Hall he asked, “Out with it Atalanta, what happened on your visit today?”

“What makes you think anything happened?” I inquired mildly.

“Oh, for one thing the report Sam had to make, and for another I know you,” he replied as he jostled me.

I filled him in on the morning’s activities as we went through the food line and after finding my table we sat down to eat.

“You carry that boot knife everywhere?”

I nodded, “I do.”

He leaned over and whispered “We need to have a talk somewhere private.”

I nodded not surprised, “I know just the place,” I grinned back at him. “First though I want to introduce you to some of my housemates,” as Nikki, Hank, Jade, Billy, and Chou sat down around us.

After the introductions were made, Chou quipped, “So are you here to keep Atalanta out of trouble?”

“No,” Manny replied fine lines appearing around his eyes, “I’m here to save the school from her.” Good natured jeers followed with Hank offering his escort services.

“Atalanta you are full of surprises,” Manny grinned at me as we were ensconced in the branches of Mr. Hawthorne.

“You wanted someplace private,” I reminded him.

When he told me we needed someplace private to talk the image of the giant hawthorn tree sprang to mind and after eating and trading barbs with my house mates I led him over to the ancient tree and introduced Manny as a friend.

After introductions we scrambled up into the tree and found a nice wide expanse that resembled a palm to rest on.

“I did, didn’t I,” he agreed. He paused to marshal his thoughts.

“When I left New Mexico I assumed you’d be there for another four years or so. I left a few things unsaid that now need to be said. The ranch was private lands and you didn’t have any local or formal security policy and it was surrounded by public or reservation land where custom formed the policy. Out there it was pretty much left to each person whether or not to go armed. Considering the wildlife and border issues that was probably the best decision.”

I nodded following along and guessing where this talk was leading to.

“There is an old saying,” he continued, “when in Rome do as the Romans do. That’s good advice for everyone to consider but particularly applies to people like me and especially for mutants like you. You don’t want your MMID card to list you as dangerous: authorizing deadly force.”

“This is about the moose today isn’t?”
He nodded, “Not entirely, but it does help illustrate a principal that you need to learn. Mrs. Carson, security, and faculty don’t know exactly how to classify you. That in itself is not a bad thing, but if you are going that route then you need to fly under the radar. You need to be seen obeying the rules.”

“I never initiated any of these confrontations.”

“I know Atalanta,” Manny sighed, “but as I told you out on the desert when you first started out, opportunities will come out of the woodwork. It’s almost like you’ve created a vortex; attracting this energy to you. Think of it as a test. Like a test those results will follow you around. What you want to be is classified as a non lethal threat and the best way to accomplish that is not to be carrying lethal weapons.”

“I know.”

“Are you carrying?”

I retrieved my knife from its concealed sheath; the afternoon sun absorbed by the flat matte and thick tanto design, the box cutter end constructed to penetrate. That particular knife was favored by US Special Forces.

“Did you bring your other edged weapons?”

“They’re in my room.”

“Okay I want you to leave them there at all times. Now that you are part of an organization, you will need to follow rules.”

I narrowed my eyes absorbing his thoughts, “I think I understand what it is that you’re saying but it was my instincts and your training that saved my rear end on the way out here. How do I balance rules with self-preservation?” I asked stubbornly.

Manny blew out air through his puffed cheeks, “Always follow your instincts but Atalanta …you are good enough to not need weapons; at least not here. This place is not a battlefield and even soldiers when they are on the base go unarmed unless it is in a warzone.”

I nodded replying, “It just feels so different out here.”

“You have to play the hand you’re dealt, not the one you wish you had.”

Dusk had settled and I had just seen Manny drive away. I really wanted to be in the car with him and though I had the money for round trip tickets, I knew better than to ask.

“I’ll see you next weekend,” he said.

“Are you going to take a side trip on your way back?”

“If nothing unexpected turns up, I will.”

“Tell Mom and Judy hello for me and that I love them.”

“I’ll do that, and stay safe,” Manny assured me as he put the vehicle in gear and drove away.

“You too,” I called and turning walked towards Poe where I sat on the steps. The lights were blinking on across campus as darkness tightened its grip.

“Mind if I sit down,” Hank asked stopping at the steps.

“No, help yourself,” I answered scooting over.

“How did it go with Dr. Bellows, did you get your classes sorted out?”

In the darkness I studied Hank’s manner and decided he didn’t know about the theatre class, “Yeah it is mostly sorted out with a few classes to be decided after Christmas. He thinks I should take Theatre but I don’t know about it.”

“A lot of people like it, but most of the people taking it are upper classmen.”

“Hey I’m special,” I joked.

“That you are,” he agreed whimsically: blushing.

Was he flirting with me? Feeling devious and remembering the date with Jack, I asked Hank about the school, what he liked and disliked about Whateley. What kinds of entertainment they had on campus and if students were allowed to go into town.

I smiled as Hank talked and talked. And they accused us girls of gossiping but give a man a chance to talk about himself and suddenly you are a great conversationalist. But I listened-- . I really listened, until Mrs. Horton opened the door to remind us it was time for bed.

“Hank, I really appreciate it, I had a good time tonight,” and impulsively, I hugged him.

“We’ll have to do it again, I enjoyed myself too,” Hank responded beaming.

Mrs. Horton scowled.

We walked up the stairs to the landing, where Hank hesitated. I reminded him a gentleman sees a lady to her door. I impishly smiled as he complied and walked me the hall’s length to my room where I bade him good night. But not before I hugged him and again told him I enjoyed his company.

Once behind my closed door I stripped down to my panties and donned the “ratty old shirt” as Mom called my dad’s old flannel shirt. Sitting cross legged on the bed holding the phone I reflected on just what had happened tonight with Hank.

Obviously he had buoyed my spirits. The question was why. Was that due to his being a boy and me a girl or as kindred spirits? We were both Army brats and we could also help each other understand the expectations that came with our adopted sex. I didn’t know the answers but I did know that I liked the feeling that I felt from someone finding me attractive. And I didn’t know if I was losing the battle to retain a semblance of my masculine identity, and if I was, what it meant that I was no longer terrified at that thought.

Pushing that question aside I dialed the 505 area code that represented home, “Mom,” I greeted when she answered. “It’s your favorite daughter calling.”

“You’re my only daughter Atalanta, how are you?”

We exchanged the essential greetings and normal information before telling her that Manny was coming to work at Whateley.
“And he said he would try to stop on his way back to see you and Judy.”

“I’m glad you’ll see a familiar face. Have you made any friends with the students yet?”

“Yeah, I met up with a group calling themselves Team Kimba. They are cool and all but one are girls; and he is a changeling too.”

“Oh my, how is he adapting?” Mom was sharp.

“Hank went with us over to the reservation to see the Donners, and we had a long talk on the way over.”

“Really what did you two talk about? Comparing notes?” she asked lightly.

“Well yes we did.”

“What did you learn?”

“According to Hank, it is about expectations.”

Mom was quiet for a few seconds, “What kind of expectations, as I assume you mean expectations for girls?”

“Yes Mom the expectations he had growing up as a girl; he said his expectations centered a lot on weddings and babies.”

I heard a sharp intake of air, “Mom?”

“I’m here, that was a bit of a jolt.”

“Tell me about it, it was a surprise to me. You and I talked about the rules changing; because I could get pregnant. We didn’t really go into the love and marriage, or the family part.”

“No we didn’t and Hank’s right; little girls as a rule do grow up with the whole fairy tale princess background. I’m sorry dear I should have probably prepared you better but girls your age have moved or started to move away from that fantasy.”

“Not your fault Mom after all how were you going to bring it up? I know how,” I declared giggling excitedly.

“I’m afraid to ask: how?”

“You could’ve read me a bedtime story of “Snow White,” “Beauty and the Beast,” or “The Princess Diaries.”

“Hmm I like the idea.”

“…Mom I was just joking.”

“We’ll see but tell me, do you like this boy, Hank?”

“We sat on the stoop this evening and talked until Mrs. Horton called us inside. And I made him walk me to my door.”

“Oh and how did you accomplish that?”

“By reminding him, a gentleman sees a lady to her door.”

“Atalanta you little scamp,” she replied wistfully adding, “I sometimes now wish you had been born a girl.”

“If I had been, Hank and I would be batting for the same team,” I reminded her.

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Mom responded her voice trailing off. “Atalanta if you could, would you return to being a boy?”

“If by returning you mean before it happened: maybe. But if you mean now, then my answer is, I don’t think that I would.”

“So you’re happy being a female?”

A smile played across my face as I pondered that question. “I would say content.”

As we prepared to hang up Mom cautioned me to go slow and jokingly asked if she needed to write me a BC script.

“Bye Mom.”

I lay in my bed dressed in my nightshirt and panties staring into the ceiling, my mind everywhere but alone in a room on the second floor of Poe at Whateley in the middle of New Hampshire. My mind roamed to New Mexico, to the cottage I shared with my mother for the last 18 months and my friends, especially Lindsey and Mom's friend Aunt Judy.

I missed the open spaces that were bigger than life reaching as far as the eye could see toward the horizon. Here I felt squeezed in by the high tight mountain ranges and the societal and school restrictions. I had met several people this week, some I counted as friends, some were stick figures animating the background and others were potential enemies. I didn't fully trust the instructors, nor the security yet. I understood Mrs. Carson well. The school was bigger than any one person. While I understood it, I didn't like it.

As my conscious mind began to shift into lower brain wave patterns and sleep began to exert its hold, the unease and tension I felt all week surfaced. Sifting through my memories, free from the demands of testing, and learning new routines I become aware of the shifting emotions and ties of all the people that I had met in Vermont.

Those persons one at a time now stood out in stark relief, their auras blazing and throbbing with intensity shouted at me. Despite the vivid scenes tap-dancing through my conscious mind, that busy mind gave way to deeper levels where these scenes turned to dust before shifting smoothly into the realm of the subconscious. My last thoughts before sleep claimed me were of my Mom and Dad.

Later that night appearing from out of the darkness a familiar form alighted smoothly high on a branch outside a second floor window at Poe cottage. It peered through the window it’s glowing yellow eyes burning like hot coals. Its visage gave the impression of a “V” channeling downward ending at it’s great hooked beak. The only movements came from its upright, pointed ears as they occasionally twitched-in anticipation.

After several minutes of intense concentration a soft glow began emanating from the room’s interior. The mist flowed into every nook and cranny of the room before becoming aware of the single occupant. Deliberately the energy began clustering around the sleeping form before beginning to work its magic.

Not once did the figure stir or give a hint to the inner workings as new dendrites and neurons were formed establishing faster and more secure connections. Many of these new contacts established neural pathways in formerly abandoned and neglected zones, resulting in illumination in heretofore dark corridors. These corridors long neglected; having being swept aside by technological and artificial achievements, activated. Ancient wisdoms and knowledge became accessible as new networks emerged, enmeshing seamlessly with the old. The resultant core was similar to the upgrading of FAT tables to NTFS. Both worked side-by-side and each had their uses but NTFS greatly expanded capacity for storage and indexing.

The glow gradually dimmed before winking out of existence, it’s alchemy finished.

Outside, the great owl rose from its perch and glided silently disappearing into the darkness; mission accomplished.

Audhilde looked out the tower across the bleak landscape, reflecting on a promise she made so many years ago.: A promise that she hadn’t kept to her satisfaction; That promise that brought her to this outpost of civilization to rectify that shortcoming.

Her mind traveled across the ages to a different time on a windswept, moonlit beach, the ocean lapping lustily behind the young couple who had sought her help. She had given the young prince guidance in his quest to reclaim his rightful place on the throne. The athletic girl beside him was the only female allowed on his voyage.

Both of them were facing dangerous days that lay ahead.

Their child could be in danger if it was know she was a potential heir to two kingdoms. They had come to her for help in shielding the baby girl, until such time as one or both had reclaimed their inheritances.

She frowned in remembrance, turning from the window as her mind again went to that deserted beach. They had placed her in the position of deceiving her own sister; hiding from her the result of their indiscretion. The young woman was her sister’s charge, so she was strict in what she demanded as tribute. In the end she had reluctantly agreed to keep their secret and make arrangements for the babe’s care.

The hint of a smile played at her lips as she remembered the days of chaos that followed; the young man and the young woman “making their mark” in the world, and the stories that were told and retold around the world for ages. The prince was wounded in the re-taking of his throne and the young woman banished, while the caretaker for the child had vanished. Probably with good reason as Audhilde’s sister was known for exacting punishment for real or imagined crimes.

The years that followed were chaotic for her as well, and she never was able to locate the child. The knowledge stung, the pain made worse as she couldn’t confide in her family or to seek their help. That night on the beach Audhilde had looked at the soul of the child and memorized her signature.

During a birth, death, or in times of extreme emotional distress the veil is lifted and the exposed soul shines like a beacon, and rings with a sound that is unique. Audhilde could see and hear the exposed souls of any she chose to. She had had sporadic hits over time of the one she sought, but too briefly to locate. Almost two decades ago she was able to trace that particular soul signature across the Atlantic to the New World, where once again all traces disappeared.

On a whim she decided to explore this “New World”, and after about ten years the chaotic pattern she sought emerged from the calm of ether on the East Coast of the United States. From there she was able to follow it south and west.

Her aristocratic features twisted into a rueful grin as she remembered her surprise at the body that housed the soul she sought, and at her subsequent decision to reverse nature’s mistake bringing her promise full circle and to fruition.

The air around her shimmied as she briefly caught the scent of ozone and a body blinked into existence. The person next to her was striking both in appearance and in similarity.

“Sis.”

I'm sorry I seem unable to post a chapter on a regular time table but some many things are claiming my time. I do appreciate that you have stayed involved in the story. In this chapter Sam takes Atalanta to spend Christmas on the Reservation with the Donners. It is a quiet chapter but things always seems to happen when Atalanta is around. I do hope you enjoy this story.

Chapter 27
The Medawihla Indians didn’t really celebrate Christmas as such but did honor the activity of harvest changing over to one of rest, renewal, and reflection. The brightly colorful reds and greens of the plant I carried under one arm testified to a last ditch effort to bring the Donners an appropriate gift.

Mom had suggested it yesterday during our phone call, “Atalanta, are you looking forward to visiting the reservation tomorrow?”

“Yes, they’re nice people,” I responded non-committally.

“Atalanta what’s wrong?”

“Nothing …much,” I admitted, “but I’ve been thinking it might be nice to bring the Donners a gift of some kind. But I have no idea what to get on such short notice.”

Mom almost immediately suggested poinsettias, and the immediate sense of relief I felt said it was the correct choice. Finding none on campus I enlisted Mrs. Carson’s help to travel to Dunwich to locate the holiday plant.

Mrs. Carson was hesitant to allow me outside, instead she sent someone into town for the plant I now carried. Overnight a cold front brought darkening skies, blustery winds, and colder temperatures necessitated that the semi-tropical plant was carried protected inside my long coat that whipped in the breeze.

“So tell me Atalanta,” Sam began, “how you got Mrs. Carson to run your errands,” she continued, nodding at the potted plant I was shielding.

“The same way,” I smirked pointing at my duffel she carried, “that you have my luggage.”

Our eyes crinkled with laughter as we trekked through the forest to the Medawihla reservation where I would stay with the Donnors during Christmas.

As we walked up the Donner driveway Sam turned to me suddenly serious, “Stay safe, keep out of trouble, and take this,” she said handing me a cell phone. “Keep this with you at all times and check in with me at least once a day.”

I turned the phone over in my hands, seemingly studying the device while I considered this new demand.

“If it makes you happy, sure I’ll call.”

“It will,” she assured me. “I’m responsible for you, and as you know your trip here from your home wasn’t uneventful.”

“You have a point,” I admitted placing the phone in a coat pocket as we walked onto the porch.

Ben Donnor opened the door inviting us inside. I took the poinsettia from under my coat and placed it on the center of the kitchen table.

“Have a seat,” he invited us to sit, “something for you to drink,” he asked Sam while turning to hand me a cup of coffee.

“Thanks.”

“Nothing for me,” Sam declared wryly pointing at her stomach, “been acting up lately.”

“You need more battery acid in your diet,” Ben grinned in return.

“You may be right,” Sam conceded. It had been years since Hive had designed her new more efficient energy and repair system that included items not in standard American diet. She sometimes missed the taste of food but it was a small matter overall.

I heard Eloise’s footsteps as she walked the hall into the kitchen, “Oh, how nice,” she said seeing the bright Christmas plant on her table.

“I didn’t know what else to get but I thought I should bring something to show my appreciation.”

“We are glad to have you.” On seeing my duffel she picked it up and motioned me to follow her, “I’ll show you to your room and you can hang up your clothes.” Wordlessly, I dutifully rose and followed her to a room near the back of the house, at the end of the long hallway.

“Sorry this is not more centrally located but as council elders we often have visitors that drop in and stay the night, or several nights. This way they won’t be disturbed and if they need fresh air its right outside,” she continued pointing at the outside door several feet from my room for the next few nights.

“Does it lock,” I wondered aloud.

“Yes but we hardly ever lock it; the kids use it to come and go but they each have a key if you want it locked.”

I nodded, “I don’t think so, I don’t even know why I asked,” and I turned to follow her into the room.

The king size bed faced the door, at it’s head a nightstand. On the opposite wall was a combination desk and dresser, and beside it a chest of drawers with a small closet at one end. The patterned curtains and the hooked rug by the bed were the room’s only personal touches.

“You can put your personal things in there,” she indicated the desk/dresser combo, “and you can hang up your clothes in there,” she pointed at the closet and added, “After you get done in here come on into the kitchen.”

Nodding I unzipped my duffel bag, “Thank you, I will.”

Eloise hesitated beside me as if she wanted to say something else before abruptly leaving the room. As my fingers lingered briefly on the sheer smooth fabric of my underclothes I was again struck by the differences in clothing between boys and girls. Knowing that difference is what drove home the point of the change that I had gone through. These feelings were becoming rare, but I suspected I would always have them. But that was all right as Alan had done nothing wrong and deserved to be remembered by someone. I smiled as I put away that ‘ratty old shirt’ as Mom called it. It was a flannel shirt that was a favorite of Daddy’s that I claimed after his death.

Closing the drawers, I unpacked my skirt, dress, jeans, chemise, two tank style tops, one white blouse, and a peasant tunic hanging them up for the wrinkles to fall out. As I removed my jars and containers of makeup and lotions from another compartment in the bag, I placed them on the dresser top. I could not help reflecting on the amount of clothing and accessories I brought for three days.

I smiled mischievously as my hand found the several jewelry items at the bottom of a side pocket in the duffel. I took off my hat and hung it from a mirror corner and my coat on a peg beside the door, retrieving the two cell phones from their coat pockets.

Sitting down in front of the mirror I began to brush out my hair and then pinned it up using the lethal instruments Manny had given me. From another compartment I produced a necklace and fastened it around my neck and matching bracelets on my forearms. With my hand on my throat I tested the latch and watched as the 2 inches of honed steel glided from its sheath.

Snapping it back into place, I held up my arms and marveled at the intricate spiral artwork designed into the bracelets. The left one held 18 inches of steel piano wire, while the right one contained a cutting edge on the ring tethered to that bracelet by a thin rope chain. As I replaced my boots with sneakers I wondered why I chose to wear the covert weapons. Shrugging, I took a last look in the mirror, grabbed the phone Sam had given me and turned to leave the room.

“You’re such a girl,” Sam teased me after seeing my wardrobe change.

Instantly striking the classic modeling pose I returned mocking, “Eat your heart out,” while sticking out my tongue at her.

“Now children behave,” Eloise scolded, her smile widening as she did. “You look nice dear.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed briefly as she viewed my jewelry accessories, “Nice pieces, Christmas gifts?”

“Manny got them for me last year,” I admitted.

“You have your cell phone?”

I nodded producing the phone Sam had given me.

“Good,” she replied and then explained to the Donners what she expected of me, “…and if I don’t hear from her, all of you will hear from me. Understand?”

Harsh, yes, but she had learned long ago life was even harsher,; especially if you left something to chance.

After a few more minutes of small talk Sam got up from the chair to leave and we followed her to the front door where she wished the Donnors a Merry Christmas, and to me an admonishment to call her. I impulsively hugged her feeling a slight return of pressure and a smile.

I promised that I would, and watched her stride purposefully down the sidewalk and soon out of sight. Turning, I found the husband and wife team seated in the kitchen watching me intently. Walking back across the room I sat down across from them and waited patiently.

Eloise spoke first, “For about two months I have had visitations from your owl, Harvard I believe you called him.” I nodded silently wondering what she wanted.

“Owls have a reputation among us of being a messenger both of good and ill; mostly of bad news. I don’t necessarily subscribe to that view but a lot of people do.”

I waited silently and patiently.

“A few years back we had the attack of the Voodoo Wolves, Nikki showed up at the beginning of that war. She was our warning, and a help in fighting them off. The owl showing up was to tell me you were coming. The question is, why? Do you have any thoughts on how or why you were transformed? Or what your role is here?”

Wood, water, fire, metal, earth; words from the Art of War flowed into my being. I shook my head while scanning my environment for a hint at what those five elements from Sun Tzu meant for me at this time. Wood was all around me in the house and the furniture, there was fire in the fireplace for warmth, water flowed in the pipes and metal was evident in utensils and appliances. I frowned briefly at earth, until I realized that meant biological; life, and there were three life forms in the room.

Again I scanned the room this time noting the elements displayed in varying amounts; amounts that varied in other circumstances. The five elements formed the whole contributing differing amounts according to need and function.

But how did this whole fit together?

I recalled chapter 11 of the Art of War: The Nine Situations and listed fifth was intersecting highways where two or more kingdoms came together. I knew Whateley leased their grounds from the Medawihla Indians, and I of course could be the third kingdom.

“You’re concerned about a repeat of the Voodoo Wolves?”

“The Bastard is more like it,” Ben replied frowning, “and we don’t want to repeat making hasty and ill informed decisions, like we did before, regarding some students at Whateley and enlisting their help in the Voodoo attack.”

“The Bastard?”

“Yes,” Eloise interjected, “he was directing those attacks.”

“And you think he might be behind the attacks on me?”

“We think it likely if you are here to help in our war with him,” Ben admitted.

I tugged at an earlobe, “Manny did say an awakened natural draws opportunities to us, so there is no doubt if he attacks I’ll be drawn in to it. While the train attackers and the motel guys were H1 and the MCO agents, the other two attempts were by mercenary types and could have been hired by anybody, including this Bastard guy. Or his understudy,” I added remembering the name; Red Bastard Properties that Manny provided me as the owner of the house in Boston.
“Humm,” Eloise responded to this new information, “It could be one of his minions or not connected at all. But at any rate we had help with the last one; from Nikki and a few of the other Whateley students that turned back that attack. Nikki will help us again if she’s here or learns of it in time but you’re liable to be drawn into it as well. We’d rather you not be blindsided if that happens.”

“What do you know about him?”

“We know he’s old,” Ben began, “and that he’s a servitor to possibly the GOOs, and that his strength or powers comes from when he infects someone. The more followers he has, the more powerful he is. He also feeds on fear.”

My hand moved from my earlobe to just over my breast: something didn’t add up. “Anything else beside he wants to destroy you and he creates corrupted weres?”

“We know he’s located somewhere in California or Nevada.”

“What about his other activities,” I prodded and added at their blank stares, “You said his power in part at least is strengthened by converts and followers, which suggests cults or illegal activities; prostitution, drugs, and slavery being likely ways to recruit victims and minions.”

Ben and Eloise exchanged sheepish looks before Eloise confessed, “I think we became too tightly focused to consider mundane methods of recruitment. Nikki, as well as us, have a history with the Bastard that goes way, way back in time and I believe we were blinded by that history.”

“Nikki and I both have contacts that should be able locate these types of activities, then trace them back and locate any in the vicinity of California or Nevada that meet our criteria. Attack his perimeter and we might weaken him and draw him out. That goes whether he is your Bastard or mine,” I added smiling.

We talked a little longer before Ben and Eloise offered to show me around the town which I accepted, spending the afternoon with the Donners. As tribal Elders they were well known and it felt like I was introduced to the whole village.

“I’d like to go for a run any place around here that is a challenge,” I asked once we were back at the house.

“You could run the valley,” offered Ben.

“I like the freedom that less traveled paths offer me. What about there?” I replied indicating the cliffs to the north adding, “I doubt they are any more rugged than the mountains back home and I ran those in the dark with no problem.”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Eloise returned, “but I understand if you need to. How long will you be gone?”

“An hour or less,” I replied studying the cliffs, “it can’t be more than 10 miles there and back.”

“I don’t know,” Ben interjected, “averaging 10 miles an hour in that rough terrain is pushing us in our Were forms.”

“I was giving allowances, meeting someone and stopping to chat,” I smirked back.

“Go on then but don’t forget your phone, and be careful,” Eloise warned me.

I thanked her and went inside to change into my running gear consisting of boots, hat, and the long coat sans the jewelry.

“How do you run in that,” Eloise asked when I returned to the porch indicating my duster.

“The coat, why that’s my handicap and besides I have an image to protect,” I replied my eyes sparkling as I sprinted across the porch leaping the steps to land softly in the gravel still in stride quickly gaining the street and soon after disappearing behind a neighboring house.

The husband and wife team watched the young girl disappear behind the neighbor’s house and reappear at the town crossroad, and moments later she slid behind a row of buildings. They silently watched as she reappeared halfway across the valley and nearing the cliffs.

“Looks like she’ll pass by ol’ Russ’s place,” Ben noted as he turned to go inside adding over his shoulder, “I think I’ll call ol’ Russ and give him a heads up and have him keep a lookout for her.”

“You do that,” Eloise agreed, “and I’ll start supper.”

Ben nodded as he dialed the phone.

Atalanta creates a stir with her run down the valley. But as usual nothing is simple with her. I do hope you enjoy this chapter,

Chapter 28

My feet barely touched the earth and I felt light as a feather with the wind whipping past my face as I ran across the plains. I covered ground in a sprinters pace that I could keep for hours and I delighted in the freedom and energy that coursed through every fiber of my being.

Nearing the foot of the cliffs I passed an isolated cabin with an old man sitting in a chair on the porch. I lifted my hand in acknowledging his greeting. The land rose sharply behind his cottage and boulders were strewn about haphazardly in his yard; some of which was as tall as the cabin the man lived in.

Lengthening my stride I leapt, striking one such boulder halfway up its face and immediately springing off that foot upward and to my left to touch the next boulder’s hard surface. Without breaking stride I immediately propelled off that leg, up and to the right and higher up on that first mass of rock, and so on until I reached the flat, broad summit. From a distance I appeared to be running up invisible steps.

I crossed the table-like surface still at a dead run, and without hesitation leapt into open space and hung suspended in mid air before making contact with the face of the cliff proper. I didn’t land with a thud or hugging the surface, but I transferred the energy from the jump into my arms and legs absorbing that energy and shifting it to upward motion. From a distance the cliff’s appearance was smooth, but up close there were many irregularities that my hands and feet found purchase on. I knew that speed and energy could temporarily counteract the force of gravity and I counted on my innate agility and balance to keep moving the 100 feet to another flat surface.
From there to the top of the mesa was 300 feet of broken rocky surfaces caused by winter’s snow and ice, freezing and thawing, creating cracks and fissures.

As I reached that demarcation point a single metallic reflection of light from the forest to the east reached my eyes. Even as I started to scramble up the scarred face I noted the light’s distance and location.

In just under a minute I was perched atop the mesa seemingly surveying the conquered landscape I had just vanquished. In reality I was searching for movement among the pines; warning bells ringing loudly. Seeing nothing I ran along the mesa paralleling the cliff, still looking for movement or anything that seemed out of place. From there I ran 100 yards deep into the mesa and back, finally retracing my steps to the funnel that I emerged from onto the butte.

Staring down at the impossibly sharp twisting channel cut into the rock from the dizzying heights, a smile played across my lips at movement below. Seemingly tossing caution aside I plunged downward at a dead run into the teeth of that yawning chasm my laughter echoing. Just as gravity and movement was the key to climbing, descent equally was dependent on reducing gravity’s forces. Pivotal to that end was spreading the headlong momentum created over a larger area, my hands and feet were a blur as I sped over the rocky surfaces; each step and hand hold measured and precise.

The trip down that chute took half the time that ascent had and in seconds my feet were churning across the flat surface of the big boulder that flanked the cabin. In mere seconds I was once again laid out in mid air, two storeys in the air seemingly about to dash myself against the hard ground at my feet. As I soared overhead I flashed a brilliant smile at the shocked old man looking upward at me.
At the last possible second my hands grasped the top of a two inch sapling, riding it gently to the ground where it deposited me gently.

Turning I smiled gently at the old man, “Whadduh’ think?”

“I think you’re crazy,” he replied.

“You’re probably right,” I agreed and once again broke into a run determined to finish the course on time.

Hearing me walk into the kitchen Eloise looked up from her meal preparation, “How was your run dear?”

“That,” I scoffed grinning, “was only a warm up and mildly challenging. Anything I can do to help?”

“No just go clean up for supper.” I nodded, turning to walk down the hall.

Ben came in from the back porch, “You know where she ran?”

Eloise her hands busy shrugged her shoulders, “Down the valley and back I suppose.”

“You’re half right. She went as far as Russ’s cabin to where part of the mountain broke off, and then she went right up the Devil’s Washboard.”

Eloise stopped her preparation drying her hands as she did. The Devil’s Washboard as it was locally known was a proving ground for the young alphas of the clan to make a name and move up the ranks.

In the last few years the sport had become popular enough to combine it with the July 4th celebration and make a day of it. But those who attempted it did so with the best gear they could afford, under the warm July skies, and months of preparation leading up to it. Few completed the climb. That Atalanta had attempted in boots, long coat and in the winter showed an appalling lack of judgment and temperament.

“How far did she make it,” she asked scowling.

“Clean to the top,” Ben answered adding, “Russ said she ran right up the side of the mountain like a squirrel up a tree.”

She turned to her husband of 30 plus years to see if he was teasing her. He wasn’t. “How did she get down …fly?”

“Almost,” Ben chuckled, “Russ said she literally ran down the mountain and never made a misstep. And at the bottom,” he continued his voice rising, “she caught the top of a sapling in Russ’s yard riding it to the ground. He said she did it as easily and naturally as stepping off an elevator.”

She turned back to her work as her mind dusted off memories of failed attempts and broken bones on that handiwork of the devil. The image of Atalanta racing across the porch to attack a full grown moose, and how easily she had brought down that 1,000 pound animal of muscle and sinew. She contrasted that with the subdued images of her riding up last Tuesday and earlier this evening. It would be easy to underestimate her abilities.

“I wonder what other surprises she has for us.”

I showered quickly, careful to keep my hair dry and dressed in the bathroom; exchanging my boots for sneakers and again donning the jewelry from Manny. I carried my clothes to my room and deposited them in a hamper that I found in the closet.

“Anything I can do to help,” I inquired of Eloise after I walked back into the kitchen.

“You can set the table,” she answered pointing to the dishes and silverware drawer.

“How many?”

“Just us three, the kids are visiting friends. You’ll meet them tomorrow.”

Tuesday was Christmas; tomorrow was Christmas Eve.

Eloise continued, “We don’t celebrate Christmas as such but we do celebrate the season tomorrow evening with a feast and dance at the main hall. They will be there.”

I nodded as I placed the plates and silverware on the table. Ben was in the front room on the phone. As I moved around the kitchen I reflected on the domestic duties that came with the change and a tiny little smile played across my lips. Ben, after starting to the kitchen, turned back to answer the jangling phone.

After placing the food on the table we sat down and waited for Ben to finish his conversation.

As he sat down Ben explained the calls, “Russ is a gossip.”

I raised an eyebrow but Eloise continued to eat while Ben mumbled between bites. About halfway through eating Ben was interrupted again by the phone ringing. After a brief conversation he was halfway to the table when the phone rumbled again.

“Ben, leave it off the hook or you’ll never get finished eating,” Eloise instructed him as he answered it.

The looks that they gave each other, told me this wasn’t a usual occurrence during supper. I remained silent during the meal but wondered at the cause of the unexpected activity.

A knock at the front door sounded just as we finished eating, and as I offered to clean up the kitchen for Eloise.

“If you want to help you can put the leftovers in the refrigerator and wipe down the table while I wash the dishes.”

In the midst of the cleanup I was struck by the fellowship with Mrs. Donner from sharing the household chores. It was similar to the unspoken communication that I had developed with my Mom soon after we moved to New Mexico. I didn’t remember that closeness helping Mom before the change. Soon we were both humming some unnamed melody shared by generations of women and dictated by necessary cooperation.

Carefully folding the drying cloth I turned to Mrs. Donner, hastily hugging her, “Thank you, this reminds me of home,” I said, my eyes glistening.

“Maybe you should call your mother,” she replied adding, “and don’t forget to call Sam.”

“I believe I will,” I responded going to my room to call. After hanging up with Mom and promising to call her tomorrow evening, or Christmas Day, I checked in with Sam before going to spend time with my hosts.

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t know you had company,” I began, intending to detour through the kitchen.

“No,” Eloise waved me into the room, “you’re the reason these people are here.”

“Me,” I replied confused.

“You can blame Russ for that, as he is sort of the unofficial official caretaker of the Devil’s Washboard.”

“The Devil’s Washboard,” I echoed, “what is the Devil’s Washboard, and what has that to do with me?”

“I forgot,” Eloise chuckled, “the Devil’s Washboard is that part of the mountain that broke off and that you went up this evening.”

“Oh-kay,” I responded, “What am I not seeing?”

“Each spring a group of our young alphas train to scale that section of the mountain. Each year at the 4th of July picnic we hold an event and celebration for those attempting to climb that part of the mountain.” Eloise explained adding, “It is a rite of passage that very few complete and the ones that do are honored. Also, not every year sees one that makes it all the way to the top and back down. In fact it has been over a decade since the last person succeeded and he died in the Voodoo attacks.”

“So,” I began slowly, “you’re saying that it’s a hard climb?”

“Much more than that,” Ben interjected, “lately there has been talk of discontinuing the Devil’s assault climb, but your successful run today has created a buzz around it.”

“And,” Eloise clarified, “tomorrow we hold a feast and dance to celebrate both Christmas and the Winter Solstice season. These good people wanted to know if you would kick off the celebration with a demonstration tomorrow evening.”

Ten pairs of eyes turned to me, “Sure if you folks want. I was going to do it anyway.”

After several minutes of questions and answers on when I planned to run the gauntlet, and then what activities to include, a schedule was agreed to for the festivities.

“Please,” I cried holding up my hands, “are you all sure this is what you want. It seems like a lot of trouble to go to for a stranger.”

Darcy Wood one of the women visitors spoke, “Many of our young people haven’t seen anyone successfully complete the climb and interest is dying out. And besides we women get to pick at our men folks if you make it.”

I then excused myself from the group claiming fatigue and retired to my room. Truth is that I enjoyed my solitude and that I still wasn’t comfortable away from home and among strangers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The small wooden structure was hidden among the pines placed on the outskirts and stocked for those that got caught in sudden winter weather changes. No windows and a single door attested to the Spartan nature of the outpost. A tiny shaft of pale light peeked from under the threshold. Parked beside the shanty, a pair of ATVs and a late model all wheel drive sedan.

Inside the cabin flickering light from a single candle danced across the ceiling merging with the shadows of the three men gathered near the open fireplace. All three were young men in their late teens or early twenties, dressed in jeans, boots, and brush jacket.

“I don’t like it,” one of the men whispered.

“Don’t worry about it,” another man spoke. He was large, close to filling the cramped quarters. He had to duck his head upon entering and leaving the cabin. “All you have to do is drive; me and Jim will take care of the girl,” he added, careful to keep the anger from rising into his words. He needed a driver to make his plan work but the constant complaints and three days of a self imposed quarantine in a cramped bed worked to keep him on edge.

Jim grinned in return, “Yeah we’ll take care of the bitch. Nobody will connect you with us.”

“Okay,” the third man grumbled, “I need to get back before I’m missed.”

“You do that,” the large man responded, “and we’ll see you tomorrow,” he added guiding the traitor to the door. They watched him get in and drive away.

“You think he’ll come through,” Jim asked his larger companion.

“If he doesn’t I’ll make him wish he had.”

As Atalanta prepares for another run up the Devil's Washboard and Christmas Eve day's festivities she borrows a horse and goes exploring the forest. Later at the party....

Chapter 29

Darkening clouds banking to the north were driven by a blustery and colder wind, signaling a change from the unseasonable warm weather that had held sway over the northeast.

The forecast was for worsening conditions this evening, and snow to start after dark with the likelihood of a foot or more by tomorrow, with high winds causing drifts.

Ben and Eloise had not liked the idea that I wanted to borrow a horse and do some exploring, before my circus-like performance scheduled for early afternoon. But I had risen early and went outside to stretch and run in place; practicing various katas and forms as I had been taught to.

By the time the clock struck 8am I had finished my routine, eaten, showered, dressed, and was filled with restless energy. I paced the floor. Sitting at the kitchen table I drummed my fingers on the hard surface while staring off into space.

“Nervous,” Eloise asked from her seat.

“Huh,” I mumbled roused from my musings, “no, not about the Devil’s Washboard.”

“Something is bothering you,” Eloise asked gently.

“You’re right,” I agreed, “something is bothering me, but I can’t put my finger on just what. It’s like I missed something important, or left something unfinished.”

That was when I knew I had to go outside and explore. As I explained to both Donnors; being outside in nature helped me to clear out the cobwebs. Ben offered to accompany me but as I pointed out he was going to be busy setting up out at Russ’s cabin. However, what I needed and wanted was the solitude of nature.

While both understood, they were concerned about me having an accident, or the weather turning bad. To ease their concern I carried my cell phone and rode their handpicked horse.

So here I was on the back of a Morgan gelding named Blackie (What else would you name a coal black horse?). After leaving the barn we paralleled the road leading to Dunwich. I briefly considered visiting the hidden weapons cache I accumulated from the Dunwich train station kidnapping attempt, but I quickly discarded that idea.

What the hell would I do with the stuff; it was too large to hide.

Instead I just let Blackie have his head and we ambled through the forest traveling roughly northeast. At the top of a rise Blackie stopped and snorted his displeasure.

“What is it boy; you see something?” Blackie seemed to nod his head and whinnied in agreement, backing off the grassy spine we were following.

I dismounted, patted his neck, and while rubbing his nose apologized; “Sorry ol’ boy that I got you out of your warm barn and into this cold.” I continued to offer soothing words as my eyes and ears scanned the trees, bushes, rocks, and the ground seeking anything out of the ordinary. Blackie could have caught the scent of his ancestral predators; bears, wolves, snakes, or big cats.

It could also be that he was high strung and just spooked by the wind rustling in the trees. But Morgan horses as a rule had good sense and a dependable nature. Holding his reins tightly I guided us below the skyline, but continued following the hillside while wishing for a long range weapon. The faint game trail I was following led us into a bowl-like depression with an abundance of thumb sized hickory and oak saplings.

Blackie watched me with interest as I tested several of the straighter samples, and whinnied softly as I bent over one and snapped it. In a few minutes I straightened up and presented my makeshift spear to Blackie who stamped his hoofs in approval. The crude weapon had its branches stripped with a debarked and sharpened end. I hefted it above my head grinning and swung into the saddle. Spurring my mount we attacked the rim with vengeance.

We emerged from that bowl head up nostrils flaring and eyes wide: defiant. My spear was gripped tightly, while Blackie’s muscles were bunched and tight. My eyes scanned our peripheral while my horse kept his focus on footing and what lay directly ahead. In seconds we had bonded as a team, horse and rider as one unit; ancestral habits born of combat.

My lips thinned in a feral smile as energy poured into me and my eyes flashed colors. Blackie shivered and leapt forward eagerly.

“Easy boy,” I whispered in his ear leaning forward and tying my reins to the saddle horn trusting that he wouldn’t shy and throw me.

Every 50 feet or so I leaned forward whispering encouragement to Blackie, who seemed to listen actively with his head up, teeth bared and his hooves striking the ground.

The wind whipped up at times causing my coat to flap wildly around my legs which Blackie ignored. Soon we emerged from the forested slope, where by mutual agreement we stopped short of the Dunwich road and scrutinized the terrain. Again, as if with one mind we scampered onto the road and turned toward the village. Blackie with his neck bowed, head up alternated between a sideways walk and hooves flashing in a natural three step cantor. Amused, I gave him his head, estimating we had time to make it back and do the run everyone was excited to see.

“Eloise come here you have to see this,” Ben called to his wife. She joined him at the living room’s large window where they watched Blackie high stepping and shifting between a sideways walk and a three step cantor. On his back Atalanta gripped a lance firmly in her left hand. Her right hand rested lightly on her lap.

“What the hell happened?”

Blackie was a gentle animal that didn’t possess a three step gait! Yet here he was prancing ready for war. The simple homemade spear Atalanta carried spoke loudly. With one accord they moved to the back door and met Atalanta at the barn where she was just dismounting.

Ben moved to take the reins, “Here I’ll unsaddle and rub him down.”

Atalanta made no move to untie the reins, “Blackie and I came to an understanding out there.”

They followed her into the barn watching as she soaked a cloth with water cleaning his nostrils and then wiping his neck free of sweat. Ben and Eloise stood back and watched as she next loosened the cinch, then removing the bridle before giving him a few sips of water.
After removing the saddle and blanket they watched as she used a stable towel to dry his back, and then groomed him using various combs.

I led him into his stall, added two cups of oats to his feed and filled his trough with fresh water, watching to make certain that he didn’t drink too fast or too much. I turned to watch Ben examining my spear.

Slipping my arm around Blackie’s neck I cradled his head, “Blackie caught a predator’s scent which neither of us could see. I felt the need for a long range weapon and I found a stand of oaks and hickories, so I made a spear. Blackie seemed to understand what I was doing so I gave him his head to get us out of there. And he came through like a champ. Didn’t you boy?”

Blackie agreed.

Husband and wife exchanged quick glances then looked from me to Blackie, “Atalanta,” Ben chuckled, “You are just chocked full of surprises.”

I smiled.

“It’s about time to head out to the picnic area,” Eloise announced.

I gawked, stopped short by the sight that greeted my eyes. The Devil’s Washboard site had been transformed into a celebration reminiscent of a renaissance village, complete with tents of all types in festive colors, including those with peaked roofs and open front and/or sides. Smoke hung close to one tent that my nose said was the food cart. Pennants and banners were strung from tent to tent; their rainbow of colors dancing on the wind.

Painted lines indicated where outdoor games like the egg toss, cakewalk, and others were being played. Set up against one large boulder a band was playing seasonal tunes.

Under one large open air tent hastily arranged benches and tables had been set up to eat at. That area was occupied by women, children, and older adults. There was a buzz of activity as the children scampered about, with the adults moving among groups with either a drink or a plate of food in their hands; sometimes they held both.

“How …”

“How did we get this set up so quickly,” Eloise smiled. “After you went to bed we did our planning. The food was already being prepared, so all we had to was to set the tents up.”

“Still, it is a remarkable achievement.”

Ben who hadn’t stopped with us returned with several people in tow, a couple I recognized from last night.

“Atalanta, are you ready?” he asked.

“Word must have spread that the entertainment has arrived,” I mused as more and more people noticed us, and the din gradually lessened as they began moving to a better location to view the washed out area.

“They might want to move over there,” I suggested pointing to a location farther south giving the watchers a more panoramic view.

“You’re not starting at the bottom of the cliff?”

“No, over there,” I replied, pointing at a sloped 10 foot boulder that marked the farthest distance the rubble from the rock slide had moved. The array of boulders formed a rough backwards “D” with the cabin nestled inside the rocky curvature. The inline boulder formation consisted of six rocky tumors that led directly to the scarred face of the cliff. Each outcropping was separated by seven- ten yards except between the third and fourth; those two were twenty to twenty five yards apart.

Ben’s eyes narrowed as he traced my route, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” I nodded walking toward my starting line and began stretching, deep breathing and focusing on the route that lay ahead.

The throng of people faded from view replaced by that of a battlefield. Morning mists rose from the surface obscuring a clear view of the battle. I could clearly hear the war cries and those of the wounded and dying. Suddenly a huge warrior holding a humongous sword in both hands appeared directly in front of me. His metal helmet concealed much of his features but for his red glowing eyes. He looked straight at me and his mouth twisted as if in recognition. But before I could react the vision faded leaving behind a growing knot of anger forming in my gut. I deliberately began to tamp down the embers that the visage had fanned.

Buying myself time to regain my focus, I started my warm up again; concentrating on my fighting forms and katas. I sensed unrest starting to take hold of the crowd and for a moment wondered if I could regain my core. Almost immediately I felt a presence swell inside me bringing with it an expected end.

I nodded to Ben that I was ready who turned to the crowd holding up his hands. Instantly I sprinted from the starting blocks toward the first obstacle, dashing up its slope and crossing it’s surface at top speed. My launch into space and the subsequent landing occurred, pushing off on my right foot and landing in stride on my left foot. My feet lightly kissed the rocky surface as again I seemingly defied gravity to float across the next expanse.

The widening gulf after the third obstacle loomed large, it’s leviathan-like opening threatening to dash me against its rocky fangs.

Surely I raced towards my own destruction!

Instead at the last possible second I chose to run lightly across the rope that the various banners and pennants were strung from. Supported by two poles they bridged the gap between the two rocky boulders.

From there on it was a repeat from yesterday, except I didn’t run the mesa; instead I turned around and immediately descended the mountain again at a dead run.

I watched the festivities from my remote corner of the room, thankful I could find a few minutes alone. The celebration had moved from the old shack to the town hall shortly after my run. The weather had turned nasty and it had begun snowing heavily, forcing the ceremonies inside. I was given a plate of food that I quickly ate and then went to the Donner home and changed into clean slacks and blouse, leaving my hat at home but pinning up my hair.

The dancing and music stopped for solemn exchanges of gifts between various tribal leaders. I suddenly felt someone invade my personal space as a young man in his late teens walked over to stand beside me. He pretended to be intently watching the dais but I felt his gaze.

“You were totally cool today. I don’t see how you were able to do that and make it look so easy.”

“Thanks,” I replied dryly looking for Eloise.

“Wanna’ dance?” he asked inching closer, his eyes roving over my body.

“No,” I replied picking my drink up from the table that stood at my side and walking away with his gaze following me.

Creep I thought, as I sipped my drink looking for a familiar face.

In another corner seated at a table I spotted three other girls about my age, and a couple of empty chairs. I made a beeline for the relative safety of other girls, all the while berating myself for what on one hand I considered to be a cowardly retreat, but on the other hand behavior that was expected of females.

Screw it, I decided, if that boy couldn’t take a hint and he followed me over to the table, I’d plant him on his backside. I ain’t no damsel in distress I snorted to myself, my fingers flexing and stretching.

“This seat taken?” I asked the girls.

“No, sit down we wanted to talk with you anyway.” The three girls’ names were Darcy, Penny, and Vickie.

“We were beginning to think that it just a myth that someone had made it to the top of the Devil’s Washboard,” Darcy added after I sat down.

“And they won’t even let us girls try,” Penny pouted petulant before a giggle escaped her lips to belie her frosty appearance.

Vickie picked up the gauntlet and ran with it, “We’re just supposed to be bobble headed bimbos,” she dramatically exclaimed nodding agreement.

“And to think it took a girl to do it.”

“Girl power,” the three chorused to high fives.

“Who’s that,” I asked grinning at their antics, but indicating the boy that was loitering close by.

“Oh, that’s Marty Weaver; he gives me the creeps,” Penny answered.

I nodded in complete agreement, understanding her use of the creepy label. The other girls exchanged knowing looks and in that moment I acknowledged a shared history that previously had been hidden from me. And I understood a little more about being female.

“I got that same vibe”

Sipping my drink, I occasionally added a comment or answered a question, content to sit and absorb and reflect on the revelation.

“Whew,” I uttered wiping my brow, “Is it hot in here or is it me?”

The girls agreed it was me.

“Maybe you’re coming down with a bug?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Fresh air might help clear your head,” Darcy suggested.

Fresh air: Yeah that might help, I thought rising slowly from the table.

“Better get your coat it is cold outside,” Penny warned.

“Yeah, I’ll get my coat,” I mumbled, hesitating before changing course to the coat rack.

“Wait, I’ll go with you,” Vicki said as she got up to walk over beside me.

“I’ll be alright,” I assured her, “but if I’m not back in a few minutes come after me.”

“Okay.”

I shrugged into my coat and then walked over, opened the front door to go and stand under the overhanging roof of the porch. Breathing deeply of the fresh cold air, I watched the snow falling and enclosing the area in a foggy mist reducing visibility to a few feet.
Sucking deep breaths of the frigid and humid air brought tears to my eyes, as well as a brilliant display of lights. I staggered against a support post. From my peripheral, Marty’s leering face loomed large and I cursed as Mom’s warning about watching my drink at all times rushed to the fore. I willed myself to stand erect before pitching head first into the blackness.

Where-oh-where can Atalanta be? The school and the Reservation is in a panic looking for her. Another exciting chapter as our heroine goes missing! LOL! Melodramatic yes but it is a lot of fun.

Chapter 30

The celebration was winding down earlier this year than normal. But the day’s festivities had started earlier due to the Devil’s Washboard run. The snow and colder weather settling in had convinced many to retreat beside a warm home fire.

Eloise, along with several of the organizers was chatting at the food and refreshment table enjoying the fellowship of their clan.
“Looks like the excitement has died down.”

“Yeah,” Eloise agreed, “It’s just as well with the weather moving in.”

“Anybody seen Atalanta?” Ben who had just joined the group asked.

“She was just with them girls over there,” Eloise pointing to the trio of Darcy, Vicki, and Penny.

“I think I’ll go and see about rounding her up so we can go home.” His wife nodded her agreement.

“She wasn’t feeling good and stepped outside for some air,” Penny replied when asked about Atalanta, but the girls sheepishly reported that they had forgotten the time. Ben had gone outside to try and find her, but he was unable to tell her footprints from the others that were leaving to go home, as the gently falling snow filled in the tracks. He turned to walk back inside.

“She wasn’t feeling well,” Ben told his wife adding, “I’m going to see if she went home. Will you all check to see that she is not in the building … and check in the bathrooms?”

“I think I’ll go with you.”

Ben pulled his wife aside and whispered tersely, “I know she can take care of herself but she is only 14 years old and she is in our care; I wish you’d stay here because if she is not at home we will have to organize a search and rescue mission. It’s not snowing hard enough that I couldn’t find some sign of her if she went home.”

“You’re right,” Eloise replied somberly kissing her husband on his cheek, “We’ll check here thoroughly, and you … be careful.” She watched him leave, ducking slightly through the open door frame and disappear behind the closed door. She turned to her companions to direct their search efforts while she went to talk with the three teenagers that had last spoken with Atalanta.

Stopping, his feet on the porch, Ben knew the house was empty. It felt empty. Walking over from the town hall he had seen plenty of footprints. The more recent prints and the earlier imprints leaving half filled depressions from the accumulating snow.

Nevertheless, he called out and searched every room even though the house seemed to mock his every action. She wasn’t there. Hopefully Eloise had had better luck than he did. He was standing at the kitchen counter reaching for the phone to call her when it began clamoring for his attention, echoing loudly in the empty house and magnified by the still cozy air.

“You find her,” Ben asked.

“Find who?”

Ben recognized Sam’s voice, “I thought you were Eloise calling. What’s up?”

“Atalanta hasn’t checked in and she isn’t answering her phone so I thought I’d call you to see what she is up to.”

“The truth is Sam; we don’t know what she’s up to. Nobody has seen her in the last hour. She’s not here and I thought you were Eloise calling from the town hall with news.”

“She is not with some of the kids?”

“No, that’s not likely. I did talk with three girls that apparently were the last to see her. They said she wasn’t feeling well and went outside for fresh air, and they being teenagers got busy talking and forgot about checking on her.”

“How long ago was that,” Sam asked.

Checking his watch Ben answered, “Over an hour now. I’ll call you back after I talk to Eloise.”

Despite the late hour the Donnor kitchen and living room was crowded. Three members of the reservation police, both Donners, four other members of the tribal council, and a handful of volunteers were on hand.

After Ben had called her back Sam had reported to Delarose and he had sent her and another security member to the village to help in search and rescue efforts. It was after midnight when they arrived at the Donnor home and were debriefed. They had two expert trackers out looking for any sign of Atalanta, and had begun calling the neighbors from the Donner home.

The only solid information they had was from the three teenage girls that were the last people to see Atalanta. They reported that she complained of being hot, and a queasy stomach, as well as asking about who Marty Hover was. Marty Hover was among the missing too, and now a person of interest. They were going on the assumption that Atalanta was drugged and wandered off, or was kidnapped.
Their options were limited to the trackers until daylight, and even then depending on the weather, it was highly unlikely that short of a miracle they would find her trail. Logistics for a grid area search was being readied for the first light of the new day-Christmas day.
They found Atalanta’s personal cell phone in her room but not the phone that Sam had given her. She probably had it with her and by tomorrow they would be able to triangulate its position.

“What do we know about Mr. Hover,” Sam asked again.

“Not much,” answered Police Chief Joe Mayor, “he graduated high school this year and does odd jobs. He has had a few juvenile pranks, underage drinking and marijuana usage, but nothing extraordinary either way.”

Sam narrowed her gaze, thanked him and walked off to find Eloise who was in the kitchen.

“Excuse me,” Sam interjected in a conversation Eloise was having with several women, “but could I talk with you a minute.”

“I feel that we’re missing something,” Sam began once she had Eloise alone, “do you think that I can talk with one or more of the girls that Atalanta was with last.”

“Sure Penny lives right down this same street. I’ll call and see if she’s still up.”

“You didn’t have to come with me,” Sam grunted as she and Eloise waded through a foot of snow that had fallen.

“I don’t mind,” Eloise said from behind her ski mask, “I could do with some fresh air and they know me. What do you hope to learn?” she added.

“Probably nothing,” Sam admitted, “but you never know what little thing turns out to be that one piece you need. Besides it is better than doing nothing.”

Eloise nodded in agreement. Atalanta projected an air of cool confidence and ancient wisdom that belied her tender years, but she felt uneasiness in this situation that logic failed to displace.

Sam too, was reviewing what she knew concerning Atalanta. She was Sam decided unique even among the mutants that came to Whateley. Atalanta was a mystery; a dichotomy of competing powers. Or else she was package deal mutant but not the typical physic that power testers were familiar with. No, hers was combining the Exemplar trait with a warrior spirit honed by centuries of conflict, and passed down through her DNA. A natural skill uniquely sharpened by training with Manny Black; a special operations soldier that specialized in controlled and lethal violence.

She knew families and bloodlines passed down blessings and curses to their offspring; her ancestors all had served and fought in almost every war for the last 500 hundred years. That heritage belonged to Atalanta as well; both her parents had served in the military.

That was the natural physical heritage that she inherited, but Sam also felt that Atalanta’s heritage included a spiritual or supernatural component. She felt that Atalanta’s recent birthmark was sufficient evidence by itself to draw that conclusion.

The unease that she felt was that this mystery smacked of an amateurish attempt that was buoyed by dumb luck. And dumb luck often was a person’s greatest opponent because you just couldn’t plan for it. In her experience that kind of luck needed to be pressed hard before it changed into good fortune or deep do-do for you.

She trailed Eloise who had turned off the street and up a drive that glistened smoothly from the flashlights they carried. A porch light came on as they trudged across it’s wooden planking. Seconds later more illumination sprang into action as the front door opened highlighting a man and a woman.

They looked to be in their 40’s, dark haired with the muddy complexion of the Medawihla tribe.

“Come in,” the woman greeted Eloise warmly stepping back to allow them passage.

“This is Samantha Everheart from security at the school, and she thought that Penny might know more than she thinks she does,” Eloise explained cleaning the snow from her shoes as Sam followed suit.

“Sam has more experience investigating these things,” Eloise continued once they were firmly inside.

“I’m older than I look,” Sam explained at their raised eyebrows.

“Sam this is Ralph and Penelope Beaufort,” Eloise added briefly as they followed the Beauforts into the kitchen.

Seated at the table was a girl with dark curly hair cut short in a page boy look with clear blue eyes. She contrasted sharply with Atalanta’s long athletic frame and quiet, confident, but oddly innocent air that she emanated.

Again she reflected on the mixed messages that Atalanta sent.

“Penny,” Sam began once they were introduced and sat down across from her, “I want you to start from right before you got to the site of the Devil’s run and try and recall with as much detail as you can everything that went on. From the foods you ate and the drinks you drank. I want you to relive the taste and the texture, the wind in your face, the names of the people you saw and talked with. Okay?”

Penny hesitantly began from when she arrived at the foot of the mountain, speaking sometimes in monotone at other times in breathless hurried bursts. Sam smiled while the grownups fidgeted before they retreated to another room.

“Wait,” Sam interrupted her, “did Atalanta say he ‘gave me the creeps’ or that he was creepy?”

Penny looking up and to the right sheepishly recalled, “It was me that said he gave me the creeps and Atalanta agreed that was the vibe that she got too from him.”

“No biggie,” Sam assured her, “But can you describe for me what makes Marty creepy? Is it the clothes he wears, what he says or does, or who his friends are?”

“No I don’t think it is any of those things,” Penny mused, “it’s not what he says; its how he says it. He’s around when you don’t want him to be.”

“Like a stalker?”

“No a stalker is personal to one person; Marty seems to be just around every corner to almost all the girls and he seems to have this smile that he is laughing at your expense. He makes me wonder if I have something on my teeth or toilet paper stuck to my shoe.”

“Okay I’ve got it. Go on. What happened next?”

Penny continued her narrative until Atalanta left their table and went to retrieve her coat.

“Are you sure,” Sam interjected, “Are you sure,” she asked again leaning forward on her elbows, “that she carried her drink with her to get her coat.”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

Finally, Sam had something concrete to investigate; the drink cup might have been trashed but it was equally true that it might not have been seen and was still where Atalanta left it.

“Thank you Penny,” Sam smiled, “you’ve been a big help.”

Eloise and Penny’s parents had gathered back around the table after wandering off.

“You find something,” Eloise inquired as she came to stand beside Sam, and the Beauforts beside their daughter.

“A long shot, but I’ve had long shots that have paid off before. I need to get into the meeting hall tonight.”

“I can let you in.”

“Do you mind?”

“Not really,” Eloise replied shrugging into her coat adding, “we have to go outside anyway to get home.”

Sam got into her cold weather gear, thanking Penny and her parents as she followed Eloise outside in the cold and the snow. The snow approaching knee depth on their way over was now above knee deep. If the snow kept falling it soon would be too deep for ordinary foot travel; requiring snowshoes, skis, a snowmobile, or four-wheel drive vehicles.

The town hall at the town square had its own courtyard flanked on each side by municipal services and the police station. Retrieving her key Eloise unlocked the door and turned the lights on flooding the interior. The cavernous interior empty now was making their voices and footsteps loud and heavy.

The coat rack was to the left of the door, beside it a small round table, and on it, a single plastic cup. Sam sniffed its contents and tasted it, “Hive analyze any ingredients not normally found in soft drinks.”

“ 3,4-methylenedioxy-methamphetamine, 3,4,5-trimethoxyphenethylamine , and 1-phenylpropan-2-amine.”
Hive supplied the relevant information; MDMA, Ecstacy, and Mescaline!

Sam straightened, her fingers tightening around the cup, “This drink has drugs in it.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure, we need to get back and show this to Chief Mayor,” Sam replied already in motion towards the door.

“That Dustin Bull that was here, where was he from?” Sam asked as they waded back through the snow..

“Dustin,” Eloise frowned, “What’s he got to do with this?”

“Maybe nothing, but that drink had mescaline in it, and mescaline has mind altering properties that have a high degree of use in the desert southwest.”

“He is from the Arizona/ California area,” Eloise replied and added, “but we expelled him.”

“That you did,” Sam agreed, “but how do you know he left?”

Eloise’s answer was long in coming, “By our honor code,” but Eloise knew as soon as the words were said that it was a system with no enforcement teeth. The remainder of the trip was spent in silence.

Seated at the Donner kitchen table Chief Mayor, Ben, Eloise, Sam, and Gregg Boone, a member of Whateley security that Delarose insisted on, discussed what the drugged drink meant for finding Atalanta.

“It is your opinion that Dustin didn’t leave when ordered to - that he wanted revenge, and that he recruited Marty to help him.”

Sam nodded her head in agreement.

“Why? What reward could Dustin offer Marty that he’d risk his life here for it?” Mayor argued.

“I don’t know,” Sam hissed through clenched teeth, “But what I do know is Atalanta’s drink was spiked, and that she and Marty are missing. Whether or not Marty had anything to do with that, the fact remains that in this weather they are both at risk and need to be found as quickly as possible.”

“That we can agree on,” Joe returned and turning to a subordinate gave additional instructions to the trackers.

One of those trackers, Lou LaRue, was several miles east of the village cutting signs through the forest northward. LaRue left the grid searchers to their maps, coordinates, pins, and protocols while he loaded his gear onto Homer his burro. His one concession was the radio to stay in touch. From the search headquarters he traveled directly east following the road to Dunwich, sacrificing haste for observation.
Intimately familiar with the wilds of New England, and especially the Medawihla Reservation, Lou pushed as hard as he dared for two hours before he began to look for signs. It was another thirty minutes before he stopped and led Homer south into the forest where the ridgeline ran farther east at a northerly angle before intersecting with the Dunwich road a couple of miles ahead. If Atalanta had come easterly they would have to follow the ridgeline and come past where he stood.

He judged that he had traveled fast and far enough that if anyone taken this route their sign would be visible. He didn’t find any sign which he expected, but he needed to cross it off his list. He then proceeded to backtrack to the road before crossing it to travel north into the woods. His destination was an old logging road passable by foot or by four wheel drive vehicles. It cut sideways across the terrain meeting with a series of other logger trails before entering Canada and joining with a road similar to the Dunwich road.

Lou knew too that along that trail was a line cabin; a cabin that was used by loggers for restocking, and lost hunters or hikers for rescue. If there was a kidnapping, and if they came this way, he expected that they would use that road and most likely be holed up in the cabin overnight. Locating that cabin in the dark and in a snowstorm was an almost impossible task but then he didn’t need to find the cabin; only find and follow their sign. The snow seemed to be slackening and a look to the skies revealed thinning clouds to the north and west with one lonely dim star peeking through. The bulk of the front had moved through their area and what were left were intermittent snow bands.

He heard its labored breathing long before the jalopy came into sight, it’s twin headlights cutting across the slick smooth surface. Lou was thankful he had not chosen to cross the road. He watched from the cover as the clunker plowed through the snow covered roadway. He chuckled as he walked from the forest and in the wake of the receding automobile.

“Homer,” He told the burro, “wasn’t it nice of them folks to break trail for us.” The donkey brayed agreement or it could have been annoyance at being roused from his warm stall. Donkey brays were all pretty similar, so the bray could have just been a bray.
Lou patted Homer’s neck fondly, “I agree,” he laughed while fishing out his phone and following in the car tracks.

“Yo, Joe, Lou here, they just passed by me,” he greeted the Chief by name. “Yeah,” he added when asked for details, “The sawmill road, I saw three of them, and no, I couldn’t identify any of them, but the vehicle did look like Mark’s.”

Lou was told to follow it discreetly; not to engage, but only to observe and that Joe would be along with reinforcements after daylight.

Lou acknowledged the direction and hung up frowning.

Lou and Homer made good time now that they were following a plowed trail, but as the terrain became steeper and route more treacherous, he was left walking between the tire tracks rather than face the packed snow that had refrozen.

He almost missed where they had turned off the road; the turnoff was at a dip, and in a series of switchbacks that slipped behind a rock formation into a grove of spruce with a smattering of hardwood.

Surprisingly the turnoff was flat and broad and because it was protected by the overhanging branches, there was little accumulation here. Suddenly, as if a switch was thrown the forest retreated leaving a large clearing directly in his path. A cabin peeked out from under the trees at the far end surrounded by several types of vehicles. The car he had been following was parked directly in front of the cottage and less than 30 yards away. The three men were close enough that their voices carried clearly, and if not gathered about the trunk and facing away would have easily seen him.

What happened next was the stuff of legends told around campfires.

What the rescuers find when the morning comes. Probably some more campfire tales!

This chapter ends this second book. The next one is being written. I want to thank Bill and Asheligh for their help and to those that PM'd me. I also want to thank everyone for reading and your comments.

Chapter 31

I awoke to total darkness while being jostled from side to side suspended in a mental limbo. Awareness crept back to me in sluggish stages. My first thought was this wasn’t my bed, and where was Mom? Then I remembered Whateley and finally staying at the Donner household. But I didn’t recall their bed being this hard or cold or metallic; I was laying on my side in a fetal position. Fleeting images of a spinning house tumbled through my mind. While this certainly wasn’t Kansas, I was sure I wasn’t Dorothy, neither was I in a tornado or even a house.

Where the hell was I?

I discovered in trying to look at my surroundings that my hands and feet were zip tied. I was gagged and blindfolded with my hands tied behind me.

Again: Where the hell was I?

Better question: Who was I? With that question a name popped into focus, Atalanta Reid. Yeah that name fit; it felt right. I’m Atalanta Reid. That realization seemed to open the floodgates and I was no longer drifting in limbo; I now had an anchor to springboard from.

Opening my senses I detected a barely audible buzz of conversation coming from behind my head. Coupled with the hiss of air below me and of the feel from a rubbery textured surface beneath my fingers came the realization that I was in the trunk of a moving car.

In the trunk of a car, bound, gagged and blindfolded!

Panic threatened to seize control of me.

Automatically I fell back on the meditative training that I had been taught. Breathe … deep, one-two-three-four and repeat; one-two-three-four...

I retreated back to what I knew; I’m Atalanta Reid and I’m a 14 year old mutant at Whateley staying with Medawihla Indians during Christmas. I had just given an exhibition run on the Devils Washboard and afterwards celebrated with eating and drinking. Was that yesterday or last night or was this the same night? There was something about drinking that seemed important. But what was it?

Why was extracting logical constructs from my mind like pulling shoes from a muddy field. Giggling I realized that that thought was a logical construct. The sputtering from the car’s exhaust forced its way past the abstract; the vehicle’s exhaust gases were leaking into the trunk and possibly into the passenger compartment. Carbon dioxide will put you to sleep and then kill you.

I needed to escape and fast!

Curling into a tighter ball I brought my knees tightly against my breasts and slowly passed my hands over my feet until they were now in front. I then removed the blindfold and gag spitting it free. Pulling up my pants leg I felt for the knife sheathed there and breathed a sigh of relief when I felt the handle. Holding it firmly in my fist I slowly pulled the knife free and moments later used it to cut my feet loose and then clamping it firmly between my knees and quickly sawing through the plastic zips that bound my hands.

Pausing to catch my breath I considered my next step. From the vehicle sounds and feeling the flimsy material separating the trunk from the occupant compartment I realized that I could kick my way into the backseat. However, that might cause us to wreck and I had no desire to crash off a mountain top.

A more pressing concern was eliminating the threat of carbon monoxide poisoning. I gripped my knife firmly and carefully switched positions where my head was now at the rear of the car. Removing the taillights from their sockets using the knife handle I carefully knocked the taillight lenses out to allow in fresh air.

Suddenly an idea occurred from out of the blue and I scratched the insulation from one of the lamps. I discovered through trial and error which two wires to short out to produce light from the bulbs. I used the light to explore the trunk’s interior; finding a tire tool that might be helpful.
Remembering a problem Daddy had with the trunk on one of his cars I scooted around to study the rods that provided tension against the lock and stabilized the trunk hinges. The rods crisscrossed each other being anchored in a slot on the opposite end and thus providing maximum tension when closed and less as it was opened.

Securing the sharpened end of the tire iron in an adjacent metal structure, I used the tire iron to pry the end loose from its slot. Being careful to ease it free I was mindful that the potential power wrapped up in it could break bones if released at once. I almost let the second rod escape as we suddenly began a steeper climb as the tire iron was almost ripped from my grasp. I regained control and quickly lowered it to the floor.
As I lay on my back and looking upward my eyes locked onto the curved hinges and I immediately began the tire iron to twist and weaken them. I was hoping that when the trunk lock was opened they’d assume the weight of the snow was why it didn’t spring open and therefore gather around to help brush away the snow. I smiled at the resulting image.

I scooted into position where my legs were coiled against my body and the soles of my boots firmly against the trunk lid’s structure. With my back braced against the trunk’s floor I was poised to shove the lid violently open.

I could feel mental acuity returning as I lay in the trunk. With fresh air replacing the exhaust fumes the effects of the drugs began to wear off. I then noticed the top of my blouse was unbuttoned and that my bra was twisted to one side.

My first instincts was shame and to cover up; the second was white hot rage. But after corralling those intrinsic actions I began to feverishly take stock of what happened at the party.

Marty!

I remembered the creepy feeling that I got from him. It had been so powerful that my immediate response was to seek the company of other females for support and validation.

Cold reality then struck me down to my core.

Marty had spiked my drink!

The other girls and I weren’t reading intentions we were reading actions! In other words I was not the first girl he had drugged.
But I was damned sure going to be the last!

As that thought trickled through me; another more powerful one replaced it, justice. I’d expose the rat that he was, removing his shield of anonymity to the village, and especially the girls.

My course charted I settled in to wait and to marshal my strength, mentally rehearsing my actions when we stopped and the trunk was unlocked. I didn’t have to wait long as I felt us slowing down.. A thin, feral grin appeared on my lips as I lay in wait. Soon after, the car came to a stop with the brakes protesting. Scant seconds later the car doors opened and slammed closed. I counted three distinct sounds as the doors closed.

I caught snatches of conversation and a curse as one slipped in the snow. I counted three separate voices. I followed them in my mind as they traveled the car’s length and rounded to the rear. I waited calmly both relaxed and poised to spring as the key turned in the lock.

“Damn, guys I could use some help with this; the snow is weighting it down.”

I heard some jeering and soft crunch of footfalls in snow as they moved to help lift the trunk lid. As the lock cleared the retaining plate and a sliver of light shone through I uncoiled my legs and struck the underside of the metal lid with all the explosive power coiled in my body and legs.

Modern collision design theory holds that forces are dissipated through the vehicle’s body and frame, using overlapping angles to direct impacts. My sideways torsion with the tire iron had deformed the hinges allowing the hinge bolts to loosen.

The trunk exploded up and out sending a shower of snow skyward, the flakes reflecting pinpoints of light from a moon that shown through a break in the clouds. I heard the cries of surprise and saw the three bodies stagger backwards. Possibly because of a production flaw or because of unequal force applied, the passenger side hinge held while the left side began to strip its threads. As the lid bounced off the roof panel and came wobbling down, my foot met it again with all my force directed at the weakened hinge. The strained and weakened joint let loose with the lid spinning off to my left; hanging awkwardly on the passenger side but tethered to the car by one twisted hinge.

I stood up in the back of the car, the tire iron forgotten in one hand staring out at the three men on their backs laid out in a semicircle before me. Marty was on my left and Dustin Bull spread-eagled straightaway with an unknown male on my left. I tasted and felt the fine mist from the snow falling back to earth. The full moon was now spotlighting the natural amphitheatre with the majestic conifers acting as witnesses.

“Now I know who orchestrated this little party,” I drawled evenly, staring down at the Were moose. He lay still; too shocked and stunned to move.

“Speak up boys or I’ll think you’re not glad to see me,” I sneered placing a booted foot on the shelf that supported the tail lamps and leaned forward.

They scooted away on their backsides before scrambling to their feet. I had counted on their reaction and immediately jumped to the ground facing them, poised on the balls of my feet ready to strike. I took three steps to my left as they countered with three of their own to my right. I stopped, and they did as well with one accord. Smiling I moved to my right and they followed suit.

Suddenly all time and motion ceased, suspended as if held in a separate space. In that moment of not-time I became an observer looking at myself from a view from behind the guys. Suddenly it was if I saw what they saw, felt what they felt, and thought like they thought. Just as quickly time snapped back to normal and I was again looking out from my body.

“Boys you invited me to this dance, but,” I added grinning with my eyes flashing, “this is a come as you are affair. If you try to make it a costume ball I’ll think you are trying to embarrass me. I wouldn’t like that …at all. In fact I’ll probably have a temper tantrum and throw things …and break things,” I added flatly.

“That’s not fair,” the unidentified male on my left whined, “we are no match for you in this form.”

“I got news for you; you’re no match for me in your Were forms either, but go ahead test me if you’re feeling lucky,” I replied.

He suddenly threw up his hands, palms facing outward, “I’m out ‘a here. I didn’t want any part of this to start with.” He continued to back away apologizing for his part.

“And then they were two,” I turned to Marty and Dustin, “but our dances were interrupted before the music stopped. Not to worry though I brought my own arrangement this time,” I laughed tossing the tire iron at Dustin’s head.

Dustin instinctively reached for it and as he did so I slipped under his outstretched hand, hitting him with a left under his arm and behind his left breast; on his unprotected ribs. The resultant thud and whoosh knocked the air from his lungs and cracked some ribs. His legs buckled and he sat down hard on his ass. A harder blow would have broken his ribs and punctured a lung, or his heart. I wanted him out of the fight not dead.

“And then there was one,” I announced picking up the tire iron and twirling it like a baton advancing on Marty who circled warily.
Like a hawk I advanced, amused as he divided his attention between the twirling metal baton and me. My reflexes were incredibly quick and I seemed to be in a zone where I could read his reactions even as he decided. After the first half dozen blows to his face connected, I stopped.

“Marty confession is good for the soul … and body. You can stop this anytime.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he blustered between swollen lips.

Splat, the sound of a right jab connecting with bone immediately followed.

“I didn’t mean any harm,” he wheezed, whipping away blood dripping from a nostril.

“Oww,” he cried as I threw another left to his ribs.

“Okay I confess,” he moaned.

“Confess to what,” I snarled.

“To taking advantage of the girls.”

“By drugging them?”

He shook his head, “yes.”

I caught a movement from a corner of my eye and whirled around as an old man stepped from the trees. He was leading a burro and propelling the third man forward.

“Who are you and what do you want?”

“I’m part of search and rescue team sent to find you. But,” he paused looking from Dustin to Marty and at the third party member he had captured, “I’m not sure who needed rescuing here. My name is Lou La’Rue.”

“Mind repeating that,” I returned smiling softly.

“Lou …Touché,” he chuckled, “but what was he confessing to?”

“You want to tell him Marty,” I asked and added when he hung his head, “Marty here drugged my drink. Some kind of date rape drug I suspect and I wasn’t the first girl he tried it on either, was I Marty?”

His silence spoke volumes.

“What now,” I asked Lou.

“We wait I guess. Chief Mayor said he’d send backup after it got light.”

We found some rope and tied the men up in the cabin then Lou went outside and cared for his animal; placing it in the lean-to beside the cabin.

Afterwards I found the cell that Sam had given me in my pocket that I’d turned off.

“Shit,” I exclaimed turning the phone on, “Sam will have my hide, I was supposed to call in yesterday.”

I punched in Sam’s number, “Hello?”

“Sam, it’s me …”

“Atalanta, are you all right? Where are you?”

“I’m fine but I have a couple of guys here that might need medical attention.”

There was silence before Sam asked, “What happened to them?”

Oh, that,” I replied breezily, “They wanted to dance and didn’t understand the rules.”

“Well where are you?”

“In a cabin somewhere, here let me ask Lou where we are at.”

I relayed the directions from Lou to Sam who said they’d be here about daybreak.

“Has anybody called Mom.” I asked hesitantly.

“Ha-ha-ha, Superwoman is afraid of Momma.”

“You got that right; we all have our kryptonite,” I admitted, “does Mrs. Carson know.”

“Yeah Delarose called her.”

“You want me to call her too?” I replied blithely.

Sam laughed easily in my ear, “no I don’t, but good try though. Do call Mrs. Donner.”

I promised I would, hung up and called Eloise Donner.

The tendrils of darkness clung stubbornly at the edges of the horizon resisting the relentless dawning of a new day. Broken clouds, gusting winds, snow showers with orange and black streaks of sunshine greeted the caravan as it turned off the Sawmill road onto the opening that lead to the cabin location. In the lead Dodge AWD van Sam rode beside Ben, in the back were Gregg and the medic Steve Burman. In the second Dodge rode Joe Mayor and two of his deputies with one of the trackers that they had picked up on the way in.

Joe had changed his mind at waiting for daylight when Sam had called him after she talked with Atalanta and learned that someone needed medical attention. Not knowing who needed help or how severe the need, Joe decided that as Police Chief his presence was warranted. He had assembled a cobbled together posse and left as soon as possible, and by pushing his driver they had caught up with Ben and Sam a few hundred yards short of the turnoff.

As they pulled into the clearing Sam whistled in surprise, Ben braked suddenly and the driver of the second van swung wide to avoid plowing into the back of the lead vehicle.

“It’s easy to tell where Atalanta has been,” Sam noted dryly. Eight pairs of eyes silently looked at the scene laid out on the forest coliseum floor. The rear end of the older model heap faced them, with it’s empty taillight lenses staring like empty eye sockets in the harsh light. The trunk lid tilted crazily; held aloft by one twisted hinge that seemed to shiver in the chill wind.

Getting out of their vehicles, closer inspection revealed the snow was packed in places and in others held bodily impressions amid crimson stains. There was a huge dent in the roof panel where apparently the trunk lid had bounced off.

Sam picked up a tire iron that was lying in the snow, tossing it aside when it was obviously free of organic material.

The bray of a donkey carried on the morning air and greeted them.

They were greeted at the door by Lou, the old trapper who stepped aside to let them in. The cabin was one room, separated by a sleeping portion cordoned off with curtains. A stone fireplace, probably measuring three feet square, occupied half the back wall with a cauldron suspended over dying embers. Nearby was a half filled wood box.

In the center of the room stood a wooden table with a pair of wooden benches and scattered about three hewn chairs covered with hickory strips seats. At a far corner Atalanta sat in a chair propped against the wall, her boots hooked lazily in the bottom chair rung.
Moans drew their attention to the cordoned area where three men were bound together on the bunk. The person in the middle was unmarked; on the left Dustin was clearly favoring his left side and breathing raggedly. Marty nearest to them looked like his face had had contact with a wildcat. One eye was black and swollen almost shut; his nose lay at an angle and was obviously broken. Both cheekbones and lips were cut and swollen.

Sam eyed the devious method that they were tied up in, knowing this was Atalanta’s handiwork; recalling Manny’s telling of the manner in which Atalanta had trussed the desert bandits.

Marty and Dustin had their inside hands tied together the rope running behind the back of the middle guy. Marty’s left hand was tied to the right hand of the middle guy while Dustin’s right hand was connected to left hand of the middle guy in a crisscross manner. Their feet were tied in a similar overlapping manner that resulted in limited movement but left the trio unable to coordinate any efforts to free themselves.

Sam almost felt sorry for them.

Almost.

I was in the parlor of the Donner household the day after Christmas, talking with Eloise, Darcy, Penny, and Vicki. Marty had decided confession was indeed good for the soul and the Medawihla tribe was going to deal with him internally while Dustin was being held for his western band to pick him up. They were both in the infirmary under guard, recuperating. Dale Sherman the third guy had been blackmailed into it or so he said.

I left the politics to the politicians.

I had just returned from the barn to feed and water Blackie, the Morgan gelding I had ridden two days ago. Of course while I was sorting his oats and brushing his coat I had brought him up to date on the Christmas Day Massacre as I had internally dubbed it.

“Blackie do you think it was them you caught wind of that day we went riding,” he stopped his chewing to give that thought due consideration. After careful deliberation, he shook his head vigorously and went back to eating.

“Me neither,” I agreed.

I talked with him while continuing to clean his coat and he would occasionally pause from his eating, look up at me and shake his head or whinny. He seemed to understand what I was saying, or else he was enjoying the grooming.

“Blackie you big faker,” I told him, wrapping my arms around his neck, scratching behind his ears, “you be careful and I’ll see you when I can, but I don’t know when that’ll be.”

He nodded sagely.

I had then returned to the house to wait on Sam, when the girls had come by to talk.

They had come over to see me off and to apologize about forgetting me at the party. The girls were fascinating to me… I guess because they were typical teenagers. Darcy the smallest of the trio bubbled with emotion with her every thought or feeling registering in facial tics and her pupils opening and closing, her reactions emphasized by her bouncing pixie hairstyle.

Vicki, the next girl in height at 5’ 5” wore her dark hair long and braided. She was the most developed girl out of the three and was constantly smiling. Penny had the look of the poster girl for tomboy and she was the only one that wore pants.

They kept up a constant stream of chatter among giggles, exaggerated ‘uhs and ahs’ and interspersed with comments on this boy or that girl’s clothing or hairstyle choice. It unnerved me a bit that their conversation seemed to travel round robin style around the table, and at times it seemed three different threads were discussed while commenting on the one off odd items, and all this with Vicki filing her nails.

As I listened to their timeworn observations I became aware how far removed from the typical teenage behavior I was, and even more so from typical teenage female behavior. How much of that was due to carrying luggage across the gender divide I couldn’t guess. When the conversations turned to my drugging, capture, and escape my reply was typically reserved.

“I was lucky,” I explained at how I was able to escape my restraints, “I’m flexible and once I got my hands in front it was fairly easy to get loose. And then I just got into the heads of the guys and confused them,” I added, gently smiling. With that taciturn answer, they were soon on to toying with a new idea.

As they talked among themselves, I reflected back to yesterday when I had called Mom, wishing her a Merry Christmas. Talking to her I found out she was none the wiser about my Christmas Eve adventure. I’d keep quiet about it until I could tell her in person.

At my feet I had my duffel bag packed and I was ready for the trip back to the campus. Sam was due to arrive shortly in a school vehicle to drive me there, even though I protested I could find the way there.

“It is what else you’ll find that worries me,” she teased.

“You’re welcome in my home anytime Atalanta,” Eloise said after the girls left to go to their respective homes.

“You’re a glutton for punishment,” I returned dryly.

“No, not at all,” she laughed easily, “We’ve overcome bigger disasters than you.”

My reply was interrupted by Samantha knocking on the front door. Eloise rose from her seat to open the door, “You’re just in time,” she said to Sam.

“What has our hellion been up to now?” Sam responded, walking into the room where I was seated.

“Who, me?” I fluttered my eyes, “Somebody is telling lies on me.”

“Are you ready to go?”

I stood, turned to Eloise and embracing her whispered, “I’m sorry for the trouble.”

“Not your fault,” she assured me as I picked up my duffel to follow Sam outside. The school’s van was parked outside; ironically it looked to be the same one that was supposed to pick me up at the train depot almost two weeks ago.

“Can I drive?”

“That’s not funny, get in.”

“Shotgun,” I called out needlessly opening the sliding door and placing my duffel bag on the floor before latching the door. I opened the passenger door and got in closing the door. Pulling the seatbelt I latched it in place while Sam took her place behind the wheel.

As we pulled out onto the road towards Dunwich I looked at Sam and pointed towards the distant town.

“Home, James.”

Guys it has been a while since I've posted anything so hopefully everything goes smoothly. Once again I want to think those that encouraged me by pm asking about Atalanta. I also want to than Ashleigh for agreeing to edit and help me with it. Today is my birthday so at least I'll remember when I started posting this story.LOL!

To recap a bit; Atalanta is cataloguing the wildlife on the Medawihla reservation for Fish and Game to keep their secret,secret. Mrs. Carson is glad Atalanta is off campus from Friday to Monday. Atalanta is glad to make some extra cash and avoiding trouble. Of course if they only knew... but that would be giving the game away.

Hopefully you'll enjoy this story.

Katie

Chapter 1

Part One: Winter Solstice

The sun glistened from snow piled high on bare branches, evergreens bowed from their weight and from tufts of brown vegetation that peeked from lees and rock outcroppings. Keeping to the timber line two large canines with dark facial features trotted silently. Fanned out behind them four more of the huge animals raised their muzzles testing the air. Their shiny coats glistened as they moved quickly across the forest floor.

On the other side of the ridgeline two Elk emerged from hiding traveling towards a narrow protected valley that offered some vegetation, and on a direct tangent with the wolf pack.

Farther north, struggling to cling to the rocky face of a mountain two anthropoids figures were moving in an intersecting arc with prey and predator; they could become either.

To the south, smoke rose lazily into the crisp morning air as figures stirred moving briskly about to keep warm.

I lowered the camera having taken all the pictures I needed to document the wolf pack and the successful introduction of Eastern Elk. My lips tightened as I watched activity at the camp and then to the painfully slow descent from the duo.

Squinting, I considered the implications and my job. The Medawihla tribe had hired me to document and tag the wildlife for Fish and Game. They didn’t want it known to the government that they were a tribe of Weres.

Mrs. Carson was happy to lend me to the Reservation for three days a week. She wasn’t comfortable that I could resist the temptation to put some of the arrogant mutants down for the count. The days spent in the Reservation’s employ were counted as credits toward the school’s survival course. In lieu of self defense and martial art classes she allowed Manny to continue to personally train me. His emphasis now was on developing my emerging senses.

I chuckled at the report Manny turned in each Friday on my progress. By tacit agreement it was a boring report.

My classes consisted of those that met Tuesday through Thursday and those that I could study while away from class. I had one such textbook with me now. I moved quickly from the perch that I occupied with the wind whipping the leather duster about my legs, despite being tied at the waist. The wide brimmed hat shielded my eyes from sun’s glare that reflected off the icy surfaces.

“Easy girl,” I whispered to Gray lifting the flaps of the saddlebags and placing the camera inside. Implicit in my contract with Medawihla Indians was to keep out people who didn’t belong. The posse camped below qualified.

Holding the filly’s reins tight I led the animals from our vantage point to pick our way around icy boulders, across windswept mesas and finally to the tree line and relatively flat surface beneath the trees. Great clouds of vapor expelled shooting tufts of smoke like tendrils drifting skyward.

“Cold isn’t it girl,” I whispered to Gray.

Ahead were pockets of earth swept clean but there were also drifts deep enough to swallow a horse in one bite. I swung onto the horse’s back gently tapping her flanks, “Let’s go.”

I smelled the campfire before I heard the camp sounds. My horses’ ears twitched at anticipating equine company and shelter. “Sorry not today.”

We emerged perpendicular to the camp which was partially in the trees. Up close the group was larger than I saw from up on the ridge; at least a dozen men. And half that number of snowmobiles which was pretty useless in long stretches of terrain. A makeshift corral held a dozen horses and pack animals. Three military tents were erected on the frozen ground; one clearly designed to house 8-10 men, another that was smaller, and the third with smoke coming from the side indicated a supply and mess tent.

The steel from my horses’ hooves rang loudly in the brittle air and a half dozen pairs of eyes locked on to me. I studied them as well as I let my animals pick their way across. I eyed the evergreen boughs movement above the cook shack.

Not military. At least, not competent military or outdoorsmen.

The flap opened on the smaller tent and a man in his late 30’s emerged shrugging into a fur lined coat, his sleek pants tucked into Wellington boots. The glint of steel reflected briefly as he tightened his coat. Behind him another taller man appeared dressed similarly. He looked to be ten years younger and showing a full set of pearly whites.

My lips pulled tight into a feral smile as my pulse quickened the closer I got. Gray stopped inside the circle formed by the tents and corral.

“Who are you,” the older man demanded, “and what are you doing here?”

Hooking a leg across my saddle I let the silence build before answering; “government business.”

I watched a vein twitch in his throat. Amused I waited.

“We’re FBI and we’re on a manhunt for two escaped fugitives. I could charge you with obstruction. What kind of government business; you’re just a girl.”

I straightened up in the saddle, “You said manhunt and as you can plainly see I’m not a man so it is obvious that you’re not looking for me. As for obstruction I came here to warn you that you are getting close to a restricted area. Top secret stuff,” I finished leaning forward and lowering my voice.

“Yeah,” the younger man sneered, “What kind of top secret stuff.” His superior shot him a quick look.

“Duh what is it about Top-Secret you don’t understand,” I drawled.

The man-in-charge waved aside our conversation, “You have any proof; papers, ID?”

I grinned back at his scowling face, “A three letter agency is conducting tests on the Reservation.” Fish and Wildlife Services! “And they don’t like being interrupted,” I continued.

“I still haven’t seen any proof.”

Sighing I reached inside my coat and produced a federal Wildlife badge handing it over.

“A fucking game warden,” He guffawed.

“Are you that dense,” I returned mildly. “Yeah I guess you are,” I continued seeing as his face contorted. “Here,” I tossed him the satellite phone Mr. O’Reily had given me, “The head of DARPA is on speed dial.”

He caught the phone and turned on his back to use it while I swung off the back of Gray studying the other men in camp. There was a sudden shuffling of feet and the urgent need to secure gear by several of the men. Two pairs of eyes twinkled at me from brown leathery skin.

“Where can I get my horse fed and watered?”

One of the two men stepped forward, “I’ll look to it ma’am.”

“Atalanta,” I offered, “My name’s Atalanta.”

Holding Gray’s reins in one hand he pushed back his hat, “Atalanta…like the Greek goddess of the hunt.”

“I’m surprised…”

“Abe,” he supplied.

“I’m surprised Abe not many people know of her.”

The man-in-charge called out as he turned around, “Are you Atalanta?”

Duh!

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“He wants to talk to you,” he replied thrusting the phone to me with an outstretched arm.

Smiling I took the phone, “Hello Boss,” I greeted Nick loudly.

“Atalanta what the hell have you gotten yourself in the middle of now?”

“You know me Boss; toeing the company line,” I replied drawing out the words.

“Yeah I do know you,” the head of DARPA returned dryly, “I know you too well. You’ve made your point. Cut out the BS and tell me what is going on. Everything,” He warned.

“You know about my job at the Reservation,” I replied my tone crisp, “and why.”

“Yeah I know the Medawihla have their secrets. Go on,” he urged.

“The posse was about to stray onto their lands—“

“—they’re federal agents with federal warrants that allow them to go anywhere.”

“I know but I know where the fugitives are at and I can deliver them all without this lot setting foot on Indian land.”

I heard him sigh and I had a good idea of what he was thinking. Whateley Academy served a very important function to the government and the school leased their campus grounds from the Indians. That made the Medawihlaeans important too and keeping their secret; secret. And too, Nick’s daughter attended Whateley.

“Are you sure; are you absolutely sure?,” he repeated. “They’re armed and dangerous.”

Armed and desperate is more like it.

“I’m sure and I’m sure that they’ll be as docile as baby lambs.”

“Hand the phone back.” I did and after a brief conversation the man-in-charge handed it back with, “He wants to talk with you.” I took the phone and he turned and walked into his tent.

“Atalanta I’m sticking my neck out for you but, damnitalltohell, couldn’t you have just avoided this…somehow?.”

I knew he was just venting because he knew, like Manny knew, that I didn’t seek out confrontation; confrontation sought me out.

“Mr. O’Reily I was out here doing my job, then the feds shows up looking for the fugitives. The three of us was sure to meet up at some point. I figured it was better to choose the time and the place.”

“It was. Now I need you to listen to me very carefully and do what I say. The agent in charge is going to swear you in and give you a temporary field commission as a deputy US Marshal. Then you’re to call both the council and Mrs. Carson and fill them in. And lastly you’re going to keep me informed. Got it,” he demanded crisply.

“Yes sir!”

“And…. be careful.”

The agent-in-charge returned from inside his tent handing me a document and a badge, “Raise your right hand and repeat after me.” I did and just like that I was now a member of two government agencies; three if I counted the military and the MMID classification. I’d have a hard time disappearing if things went south I thought sourly.

Okay this was a short chapter hopefully to whet your appetite. I'll try and post the next one in a few days. I'll appreciate any comments and all kudos and will respond later. Today has been a long day and I'm read for a nap. Again I'm sorry

I found a copy I had saved to google at the last moment so here is chapter 2. Atalanta leaves camp with new responsibilities leading a small group to capture the fugitives. Thanks again to Ashleigh for her editing skills.

Chapter 2

“Director O’Reily suggested that we listen to what you have to say.”

The corners of my lips twitched, “I have no desire to interfere in your business, but sooner or later we’d have run into each other anyway. I’d rather it not be in the middle of the night,” I began gently, “but I have a decent idea of where your fugitives are or will be and getting any more than a couple of people in there will be a chore. Who here is familiar with this area?” I called out.

Abe had returned and was standing beside a man of similar age, the same sun weathered skin and twinkling eyes.

“You know where--,”I began and described the mesa with the ring of rocky sentinels where I camped the second night after getting off the train.

The one man with Abe whose name I hadn’t learned spoke, “I know the spot, it’s right where Stinking Creek joins the Miskatonic.”

“I assume you’re working out of Dunwich,” I continued at several affirmative nods, “that location is a couple of hours from Dunwich?”

“Pretty close,” agreed Abe, “but in this weather better figure three hours.”

“Cool, close enough for government work then,” I returned smiling and was greeted with a few knowing grins.

“And how long will it take to get there from here,” I asked Abe.

“With good luck about all day,” he replied.

“Okay,” I turned to speak to the group, “Where I think the guys you’re hunting are located will take us about that same amount of time to find and capture them as it will take y’all to find and set up camp beside Stinking Creek. The distance after we have them in custody is several hours shorter to that camp than this one is. And the distance from there to Dunwich is a lot shorter.”

“I still don’t see why we don’t all go together in one group,” the man-in-charge objected.

“There are at least four good reasons for us to do it this way,” I calmly began, “one is that smaller groups travel faster, two; fewer people make less noise, three; your group should be rested when we get there and we can relax, and four is the little matter of the research project going on at the Reservation.”

Even the man-in-charge couldn’t find any flaws in that logic but he tried. “These men are armed, dangerous, and likely to resist.”

“They are armed and were likely dangerous,” I conceded, “but right now they are cold, tired, hungry, and will most likely welcome us with open arms.” As if the matter was settled I turned and asked Abe, “Abe would you mind accompanying us on this grand
adventure?”

“Sure,” he grinned revealing a chipped tooth, “it’ll be a hoot.”

“And you,” I said to the man-in-charge, “pick out one of your men to go with us.”

Tight lipped he called out, “Drake,” and a man stepped forward a couple of inches taller than my six feet. I grinned at him; he was built like the proverbial brick outhouse; deep chest thick shoulders and neck to go with powerful arms tapering to washboard waist and compact hips. His blue eyes danced under thick brows emphasizing the broad square planes of his face. His three day stubble and carefree smile that was threatening to split his face screamed a bad-boy image used to impressing the ladies.
“—you go with them, but,” he added, “I still would like to have two agents go.”

“Huh,” I asked distracted.

“I’d rather have two agents on this trip,” he repeated.

I smiled back in control, the corners of my mouth tucked up, “Did you forget, you have two: Drake and your new deputy…me.” That declaration was followed by a shuffling of feet from some, a fit of coughing by others, and a sudden interest in gear by a few.

“Drake I’ll have a word with you,” the man-in-charge commanded leading the way into the tent. Drake let his gaze linger another second longer before following.

“Abe you eat yet?”

“Yeah, but Charley will probably have something hot,” he replied falling in beside me as we walked towards the cook tent.

“Abe,” I whispered from behind my hand, “What kind of guy is this Drake?”

“Personal or professional interest.”

Without breaking stride or turning my head, I fixed my gaze on him, “Professional.”

Chuckling he replied, “Good man, smart, tough, resilient, and keeps his mouth shut.”

The interior of the cook tent was roughly divided by a rectangular folding table; behind it was a square table holding a camp stove and covering a cooler. On one burner a coffee pot simmered. Charley manning the culinary duties resembled Abe and his companion. Half a dozen chairs were lazily placed along the table’s length.

“Charley meet Atalanta; reckon you could fix her something to eat?”

“If it’s not too much trouble,” I interjected.

“Or even if it is,” Abe added explaining, “She’s gonna save us traipsing around out here freezing our tails off.”

Charley turned lifting a covered tray from which he took out a couple of biscuits with thick chunks of side meat hanging out the sides and placed them on a paper towel. “Biscuits are not fresh but the meat is. Coffee or coffee,” he said pouring the steaming liquid into a stainless cup.

“Coffee is fine,” I replied sipping the strong brew washing down the spartan meal. Between bites I asked Charley to wrap me another biscuit to eat later.

“Say that’s a good idea,” exclaimed Abe, “Make that two.”

“Three,” echoed Drake who had just come from his meeting. He spun the chair around confidently straddling the chair folding his arms over the back. “You flummoxed the boss,” a lazy grin spread across his face, “I like strong women.”

Abe froze with a meat biscuit; his hand in his pocket. Charley handed Drake his sandwich. I finished chewing, placed the uneaten portion down, raised the cup to my lips, and then deliberately tore a paper sheet from the roll dabbing my lips.

Turning to face Drake I locked gazes with him, “I can outrun, out jump, outfight, and outgun you, though you can probably piss farther. Any questions!”

His pupils grew larger; a tic jumped momentarily under his right eye with his the smile washing out. To my right Abe sputtered his coffee going down the wrong way.

Immediately the smile returned, “I’m sorry; I had that coming.”

“Just so we understand each other,” I drawled.

“Understood,” Drake repeated.

“Good,” I replied turning to Abe who was struggling to catch his breath, “Abe you all right?”

“Yeah,” he replied between coughing fits. I resumed eating.

The minutes slowly ticked by.

Draining his cup Abe rose from his chair saying, “I’ll go get the horses.”

“I’ll go with you,” Drake offered following the older man out.

When the flap had settled into place Charley noted, “Drake was out of line but he’s a pretty good guy.”

“Hum-m,” I mumbled placing my elbows on the table holding the metal cup in my hands, “A group can’t have but one leader…and I’m it.”

He was pouring coffee in a thermos and after twisting the lid tight handed it to me; “It’s for the trail and keep in mind what I said about Drake.”

“Thanks for the coffee,” I replied as I walked outside to meet my crew. I nodded approval seeing the extra supplies were divvied between the five horses. Abe handed Gray’s reins to me and I swung up into the saddle.

Looking at my companions I nodded and we walked our horses to the command tent where Tom Wilcox, the man-in-charge waited. “We should see you sometime late tomorrow and we’ll let you know when they’re in custody.”

He nodded as his eyes narrowed and cheeks hollowed. After the camp had disappeared from view I called a halt, “We’ll be following my tracks for a bit yet, do y’all mind if I drop back and make a few calls?”

“Help yourself,” Abe and Drake chorused as they passed me on either side.

“Thanks guys,” I murmured as I dug out my other phone and called the Donners. Eloise answered on the second ring, “Atalanta?”
“Yes, how did you know?”

“Ve haf our vays,” she replied using a butchered German accent.

I chuckled at her attempt at humor, “Just reporting in Boss.”

“Anything to report?”

“A lot of traffic out today,”—and I filled her in on the escaped prisoners and the federal manhunt.

“I know we told you we didn’t want uninvited guests snooping around but that was mainly directed at concerted efforts and not the occasional trespasser.”

“I know but the way the hand was laid out I don’t think I could have avoided them. So I took the bull by the horns.”

“That sounds about right from you,” she replied dryly and I knew she was thinking of the moose bulldogging that happened right before last Christmas. “You want me to call Mrs. Carson?”

“If you want, but give me an hour or two first if you do.”

“Okay be careful,” she warned hanging up.

My next call went to Manny, “Atalanta,” I heard his gruff voice and I knew that he knew.

“Nick called you?”

“How did you get yourself in the middle of this one?”

I knocked the ball back into his court, “You said so yourself; that the opportunities would seek me out. This one did.”

“Yeah, I guess I did, but be careful and remember…..“

“…..Murphy; what can go wrong will.”

“Yeah but don’t get cocky. How many men have you got with you?”

“There’s three of us; one’s local.”

“What’s your plan?”

I hesitated about telling him. It was a good plan but I fully expected Manny to object.

“I don’t like it; you’re taking too much risk.”

“How would you do it differently?”

“That’s not the point Atalanta you’re just—.”

“—a girl is that what you were going to say?”

“No, yeah, well yeah maybe. More importantly though you’re an amateur.”

I chuckled at his confusion, “Not anymore; haven’t you heard I’m a deputy US Marshal.”

“Touché, but this is serious business and you need to have your head screwed on straight,” Manny reprimanded.

“I hear you.”

“Call me later,” Manny growled.

My next call was to Mrs. Carson. She had been a barrel of laughs ever since my first day on campus. She had been embarrassed by a security leak that almost resulted in my kidnapping and my over-the-top campus arrival three days later.

I think I made her nervous because she viewed me as a loose cannon. She’d point to the altercations with the New Olympians and the Were Moose dignitary as evidence. My designation of Natural and odd reactions to magic hadn’t help ease her mind and taken together with no clear cut power set designation with the possible exception of being an exemplar. The exemplar and BIT classification wasn’t set in stone and I felt sure Mrs. Carson was working behind the scenes to have my labeling change.

My lips pulled tight as the image of a can of soup on an assembly had a label slapped on it as it moved along the belt receiving appropriate grades. That image was fresh when Mrs. Carson answered the phone, “Yes?”

“It’s Atalanta. I’m calling to let you know I’m with the FBI in a manhunt for the prisoners that escaped last week.”

“I suppose you didn’t have a choice.”

“Not if I’m going to keep interlopers off reservation land and that was part of the job description.”

“Yes, I know. Are you going to make it back to school on time?”

“Sure, I’ll be there Sunday evening,” I replied cheerfully smiling.

“Call me when you do. We need to talk.”

I sighed as I punched in another number, “Hello Sam,” I said with a grin. Technically I didn’t need to call Sam, but she was my campus shadow; I liked her and she cut me some slack.

“Atalanta what’s up?”

“I’ve joined a federal manhunt.”

“Cool you need any help?”

“Nah I’m good. I just wanted to keep you in the loop.”

“I appreciate that, but you be careful and call me if you need help.”

That’s why I liked Sam; she took me at face value and we were both a bit uncontrolled. But Sam had a history and experience to account for hers.

I hope you guys enjoy this chapter and if you do please comment and give Atalanta a kudo. She and I will appreciate it.

I have a few minutes and I thought I'd post this chapter early while the posting procedure is fresh.I'm not sure what time I'll have going forward. As always Ashleigh thank you for your editing.

I thought I might try another image for this chapter. I'd appreciate if you all will tell me if you you'd rather I keep one image or change up occasionally to meet the action.

In this chapter Atalanta and her crew meet both the fugitives and the wolf pack.

Chapter 3

Abe and Drake had halted their horses for me at the place where I had dropped down from the mountains. I passed them and led the way skirting the rocky slopes to the north until we came to a lee where the boulders and trees met to form a fortress that buffered the elements. Looking at the sky I declared a halt.

“Let’s give our animals a breather and consider our plan to capture these fugitives.” After giving our animals water and a hatful of oats we sat down on rocky outcroppings that doubled as chairs. Munching my sandwich I watched Abe and Drake as they interacted with each other and the realization hit me; in a male dominated occupation being a female would limit friendships. Then again maybe it was more of an age related distinction.

“Coffee?” I asked producing the thermos that Charley had filled for me and passed it around to fill metal cups that were quickly produced.

“Guys I think we should go over a plan that I believe will work,” I stated, holding my cup in my palms.

“Well,” Drake interjected, “I don’t know how we can plan without knowing where the fugitives are holing up at.”

I spoke into my coffee cup, “They’re up there,” I indicated an area north and higher up.

“That’s a big area,” Abe noted.

I nodded. “I saw them this morning through my glasses. They’re on foot, moving slow, and they are close to exhaustion. They were up there,” I pointed higher up on the rocky face, “but moving lower. I think if we keep going in the direction we’re going we ought to intersect their trail this afternoon.”

Abe looked and up followed the terrain with his eyes, “It seems reasonable, but it’s still a big area to look in.”

“Not if we have them looking for us too and we’re advertising our location.” They both gave me looks like I had grown another head. I explained my plan.

Their objections were the same as the one that Manny had named.

“I don’t like being the bait either.”

“What about one of us,” Drake protested.

“I believe they’ll feel that they can intimidate a girl, where if it’s a man they might decide to shoot first. Besides,” I smiled evenly, “hearing manly voices from the forest to give up will have more force than mine would.”

They protested later as we broke camp and then intermittently later that afternoon as we were starting up an evening camp. Our camp was located at the edge of the forest backed up against the slope that led down from the mountain face. The camp looked out on three open sides leaving the forest as the only option with cover and a classic chokepoint.

The embers of daylight were quickly dying and shadows danced among the trees mixed with the flames leaping from the fire. The smell of food cooking, coming from a Dutch-oven suspended from its handle over a hastily made tripod, drifted on the wind carrying its aroma higher. The horses were contained by a makeshift corral with only one tent erected and the extra gear hoisted in the trees.
The guys were about ready to slip into the cover they had picked out during the day covering approaches to the camp.

“You guys know what to do?”

“Yeah we set the trip wires and come in if they haven’t shown by 10,” Drake replied wrinkling his nose. Abe studied the tree line.

“If it doesn’t work we’ll get a good night’s sleep and go hunting early,” I replied cheerfully.

I ambled over to where the horses were picketed speaking briefly to each and patting a neck or scratching an ear before lingering with Gray. “Sorry girl, I’ll bet you wished you were in a nice warm stall about now munching on some oats.” Turning her head she looked at me nodding her head in agreement.

I walked back to the fire lifted the lid on the pot of stew and ladled some into a bowl and then set it on a fallen tree to cool while I busied myself at gathering firewood and banking the fire. Gray stomped her foot and snorted. Her ears began to twitch. Moving deliberately I removed my wide brimmed hat and shook my head letting my red tresses fall free.

Dipping the ladle into the pot I made a production of smelling the steaming ingredients. Without looking around, I spoke softly my voice carrying in the sudden quiet, “If you boys are hungry put down your weapons and come on into the light.”

Silence greeted my announcement.

“Oh, come on boys speak up; I know you’re out there my horses have alerted me. You’re not afraid of a little girl, are you?”

I smiled as I heard slight rustling behind me, “You boys don’t listen too well. I said you could have some food for your weapons.”

A raspy voice answered, “And who’s going to make us missy, you?”

“I got good hot coffee too.”

Seconds ticked by as silence lengthened broken only by their soft shuffling footsteps drawing closer.

“Hunger and cold does a number on a person’s ability to think. Reflexes slow; vision becomes blurred and muscles weak,” I noted in a monotone as I turned from the fire, “and you boys make a fine target in the light.”

They stood shoulder-to-shoulder looking at each other then at me. They were dressed in dirty, torn clothing and sporting scraggly beards from days on the run. As I turned, my badge gleamed in the firelight through the opening in my duster. Their pistols were pointed in my general direction.

Opening my coat wider I place my hand on my pistol and called, “Abe! Drake!”

Their answers came seconds later, “Yeah.”

I nodded in satisfaction at their positions, “You guys are in a bad way,” I began looking at each one in the eye, “there’s a rifle lined on each one of you, but,” I grinned baring my teeth leaning forward feeling my eyes flashing, “I’ll kill you before they can pull the trigger. Now drop them damn weapons or use them.” The shock of my declaration moved like a living thing as I watched their eyes lose focus interrupting signals from the brain. Their pistols slipped from numbed fingers and fell to the ground.

Abe and Drake moved quickly to search and control the fugitives before allowing them to eat while I refilled my coffee cup and sat down on a stump beside my tent to watch while my companions lowered our gear and set up another tent.

Finishing their chores, Abe and Drake came and sat down beside me studying the men. Sensing an unspoken question, “Out with it; what is you want to know?”

“Would you,” Abe asked me.

I knew what he meant as I looked up and off into space seeking confirmation, “Yeah I would have killed them.”

Before they could respond a lone mournful wail lifted up into the air echoing against the bare rocks and timber. Seconds later another voiced joined and then a third lifting a chorus to the skies. At the timbers edge glowing eyes glittered across the open space at our camp.

A wolf pack had found our camp. We had nothing to fear from the wolves unless they were starving and if these were the same pack I had seen this morning they were well fed. Wolves were territorial so I doubted these wolves were strays. Despite being well-fed a pack of wolves wouldn’t pass up a tasty meal and a large pack could strip a horse clean leaving his carcass as a grim reminder.

“They’re after the animals,” Abe and I echoed. I walked to the horses making soothing sounds and began talking in a low tone to calm them. Abe followed me over to the corral to lend his efforts to mine. Horses were high strung and a natural prey of the wolf and if left unchecked the wolves would worry them until one broke loose. Then the wolves would stalk him until he was exhausted and easy prey.
They were becoming increasingly agitated as the howling increased. Besides, an the unspoken agreement existing between humans and their horses was that we needed them if we were to meet up tomorrow with the rest of the crew.

I peered into the darkness seeking the alpha leader of the pack. Suddenly outlined against my mind I saw her; set apart from her noisy mates on her haunches and calmly watching. Abe raised his rifle.

“No, not yet,” I turned to him placing my hand on his shoulder and calling back to Drake, “Watch the prisoners.”

“Well what are we going to do,” Abe wanted to know.

I grinned at him. “Negotiate a peace treaty. Watch my back but be sure and don’t shoot me if it goes south.”

Stepping away from the horses I began a measured walk across the icy patches of the meadow angling away from the barkers towards the large lone brindle colored body perched on a boulder. Her black muzzle turned and she fixed her glowing eyes on me. I stopped in the middle of the field and turned slowly to face the shadow that rose to her full height.

Wolves are fierce and deadly fighters but they are also cunning and prefer to hunt in packs tilting odds in their favor. The wily pack leader knew nature was a tough and relentless taskmaster and recklessly endangering her pack this early in the season wouldn’t bode well later on. She felt a common bond between form; transference of purpose between her and the human female. She climbed down from her perch to pad silently and stopping at a distance to study the human.

I watched the great black shadow of the wolf as she silently jumped from the rock to meet me at the center of the field. I ignored the menacing forms that lined the trees trusting that Abe had my back and the great she-wolf had control of her pack. I felt my eyes grow with intensity and purpose as we faced each other across an ancient battlefield. The choice was hers and she chose easier battles to fight and turned to her right to glide beneath the trees. The howling ceased as the wolves disappeared one at a time into the wilderness until one was left in a show of bravado before he too left.

I sauntered back into camp, “What the hell was that all about,” Abe shouted at me as I got to him and the horses.

“A truce,” I replied scratching Gray between her ears and then walking back to the fire warming my hands.

“What did you do out there; I’ve never seen anything as crazy as that.” Abe joined us at the fire adding his thoughts to Drake’s.

“We reached an understanding.”

“Yeah,” one of the prisoners sneered, “what understanding?”

“That they were free to leave and find easier prey,” I responded mildly.

“What do we do about them,” Drake jerked his thumb at the prisoners, “how do we divvy up watch?”

“You have leg irons,” I asked Drake and when he nodded added, “Get a pair and chain their inside legs together.”

When the task was finished I handed each a blanket and an assignment, “You boys keep the fire going or freeze and,” I warned, “don’t even think of any tricks; I’m a light sleeper and Gray will keep her eye on you too.” On cue the filly turned to look at us and whinny barring her teeth in the act.

“Are you serious?”

“Where are they going to go,” I asked with a sweep of my hand, “they wouldn’t get 10 feet without getting tangled up. Even if my horse would let them they can’t ride like that and if they want to stay warm they’ll keep the fire going.”

“But,” Drake protested, “They could jump us as we leave our tents.”

“They could,” I agreed. “It looks to me we have two choices; handcuff their hands behind their backs and one of us gets up every couple of hours to keep the fire going. That’s the hard way,” I warned. “The easy way is if you boys agree to play nice. So which is it going to be guys, the easy way,” I smiled, “or the hard way,” the smile left my face.

The two prisoners exchanged glances before the older man gulped, “We know when we’re licked: the easy way.”

“There you go.” I grinned turning cheerfully to my companions, “Straight from the horses’ mouth.”

“And you believe them!”

“They don’t have many options but if it makes you feel better sit up and watch them, or before you leave your tent have them give you a shout out.”

Drake grumbled but he relented seeing the truth.

“See you guys in the morning,” I called out opening the flap on my tent.

Hope you guys enjoy this chapter. I know I'm biased but I get excited every time I read this chapter.

I included two chapters since each was short. Again I want to thank Ashleigh to help my writing readable. And I hope you enjoy this installment enough to comment or send a kudo. And I went back to the original picture.

The prisoners are safely handed over, Atalanta learns what her commission actually says and means. Atalanta has a tense meeting late with Carson and later Carson and Delarose exchange ideas.

Chapter 4
The sun had passed its zenith as we followed our shadows towards the Miskatonic River and the meeting place. Abe was on the point followed by the prisoners, Drake, and then me and my animals.

“Atalanta mind if I ask you a question?” Drake slowed his mount until we were side-by-side.

“You already have,” I pointed out mildly adding, “but go ahead.”

“I’ve done a tour in ’Stan and now five years in this Service and I know the real deal when I see it. You’re the real deal. The question is how come. You’re too young.”

Shrugging I returned, “Lots of people start martial arts young.”

His gaze narrowed, “That is not what I meant…and I think you know it. I saw your eyes last night when you confronted those convicts. In a split second you turned into a human wolf from a Little Red Riding Hood.”

A thin smile played at the corners of my mouth; the government and Mrs. Carson apparently had good cover stories in place to explain mutant mayhem.

“It was just the light.”

His jaws bunched tightening the tendons in his neck. Finally he replied dryly, “On a need to know basis?”

Shifting in my saddle I turned to him, “Something like that.”

Abe calling out that he had spotted their camp interrupted any more conversation. Drake loosened the reins on his horse kicked his horse in the ribs overtaking Abe to breaking a trail through the snow.

Abe moved his horse to one side waiting for the caravan to pass before slapping the reins to move his horse beside mine.

“You had that figured out right,” he said jerking his head toward the campsite where smoke was drifting higher under the afternoon sun.

Nodding in agreement I silently waited.

“I was born here and lived most of my life around these parts and over the years I’ve heard rumors about Whateley Academy.”

I quirked an eyebrow and waited.

“I know the school has been around a long time and ceased operations for a few years but started back up in the 60s. And they had some serious backing to lease most of the campus grounds from the Indians.”

Interested to see what the locals think of the school and its students I nodded for him to continue.

“Indian Reservations are Federal and the Federal Government has the money and power to do what they want. So we…I figured it as a kind of spy school for the Cold-War or maybe experiments like MK-Ultra.”

Shocked I responded quickly, “You—they are partially correct. Both my parents are military and daddy was killed in the Middle East so I’m here on the military’s dime. And we don’t fit in with regular schools either because most of us are prodigies of some kind.”

“Ah,” he mumbled.

“But no CIA mind-fuck programs that I’m aware of and I seriously doubt there is any type of government agencies at play there. Many of the student’s parents have serious clout and the school is privately financed too.”

We rode in silence for a few minutes with images of Mrs. Carson in my mind. “Mrs. Carson values the school’s autonomy too much to risk it on sketchy or quickie fixes. No,” my eyes locked with his, “none of that stuff is going on out there but,” I smiled, “the lab students might accidentally blow up stuff.”

We stopped at the banks of the Miskatonic looking across the frigid waters to the camp ringed by the rocky sentinels where I had spent the night several months back.

Drake must’ve called ahead because Tom, the-man-in-charge, appeared from behind the rocky outcropping walking briskly towards us followed by two of his guys.

“Guys this is where I leave you all.”

“You’re not coming with us,” Drake asked.

“No I need to get back and if I get wet in that river it will take too long to dry out and then I’ll have repeat it crossing back.”

“Wait a minute,” Drake said retrieving his phone punching in a number and talking for a few minutes. “Tom’s going to call you,” he declared after disconnecting.

I found out that I needed a receipt from Tom for the prisoners to CYA and we exchanged the forms through our phones; electronically signing.

Turning away from the river I pointed Grey in the school’s direction and looking at the sky declared to the filly, “Step lively girl and you’ll be back in your warm stall eating oats by dark.”

She whinnied either in agreement or disbelief.

The weekend was drawing to a close as I stepped down out of the saddle at Whateley’s stables and opened the door, leading Gray and the packhorse inside.

“I see you made it in one piece,” Manny stepped from the shadows, and taking the reins of the pack horse began to strip the gear from him.

“It wasn’t too bad,” I agreed leading Gray into a stall, stripping off her saddle.

“You’re gaining quite the reputation,” Manny spoke from the adjoining stall stripping the packhorse.

“Oh,” I paused grooming Gray, “How so?”

“They’re calling you the wolf whisperer.”

I stopped currying Gray to look at Manny who was watching me across the back of the pack horse. Hugging Gray’s neck, “I couldn’t let them eat Gray, could I,” I asked in my best little girl voice.

Manny laughed, his teeth gleaming, “Don’t give me that brat routine; it won’t work with me.”

“You got me,” I agreed continuing to groom Gray and then feed and water her. “The pack would have worried the animals enough until one broke loose and run off. Either that or one of us would have had to have stayed up all night taking potshots.”

“I know,” Manny replied as he walked over to stand beside me. I reached inside my coat removing the concealed carry holster, and pressing a hidden button released a latch on a cover that opened revealing a locked metal box. I used a key attached to a lanyard around my neck to unlock it and place my weapon and magazines inside and then locking it back up, pushed the cover into place.

“Let’s see your new papers,” Manny drawled. From an inside pocket, I produced an ID wallet and opening it revealed the nickel star inside a circular design with words, ‘Special Deputy United States Marshal’ emblazoned on its circumference.

“The paperwork is behind it,” I added handing it over.

Manny after looking carefully at the badge dug out the folded paper, and opening it began to read. An amused smile erupted into loud guffaws as he bent over laughing.

A heavy chunk of cement settled in the pit of my stomach.

“I take it you didn’t read it,” Manny chortled holding up the paper.

“No why, what’s wrong with it?”

“This Tom Wilcox must have big brass ones.”

“Manny I swear I’m going to deck you,” I cried clenching my jaw, “if you don’t tell me what the hell is going on. It is a commission isn’t it.”

“Oh, it is a commission alright,” he replied amid another round of chuckles.

What did Manny mean by that comment? What had I signed? And what had Nick O’Reily signed off on?

“Then what’s so funny?”

Manny straightened up and using the back of his hand wiped the smile from his face, “I can just picture Wilcox as he wrote up this commission, and Nick’s reaction when it crosses his desk,” he replied a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“This,” he held up the paper shaking it, “is a permanent temporary reserve deputy status.”

“What does that mean,” I frowned wrinkling my forehead.

“It means that instead of being temporarily deputized for the manhunt you are a permanent member of the US Marshal Service in the reserves.”

“The reserves,” I replied tasting the word “doesn’t sound too bad.”

Manny stepped closer lowering his voice, “It means you can be called to active service at any time and for up to six months at a time.”

“For real?”

Manny nodded, “for real,” he echoed.

“What do I do,” I asked raising my hands.

“We’ll call Mr. O’Reily; he needs to know.”

Chapter 5

I looked past Mrs. Carson, focusing on a strand of her hair that curled around her ear. The security chief was sitting in the meeting as well. Mrs. Carson and Delarose had grilled me about the manhunt details; and then asked for more details. I knew the interrogation techniques used which began to annoy me. But they were designed for that purpose.

It had been a hard three days battling the weather and the elements. Being a girl had the advantage and disadvantage of being underestimated. Well if I was honest being a young girl was the bigger slight and I was more than willing to take that edge in a fight. But there were times when I’d like every interaction not to be a battle of wills like this weekend. I would have preferred to be at the other end of the reservation and not deal with any of it.

I was getting pissed off and needed a distraction to keep my mind otherwise focused. I looked closer at the earring in Mrs. Carson’s right ear. At the spiral’s design, at the juncture between metal post and flesh.

“I just need an accurate detailed report for my records,” the Chief of security was saying, “and the best time to get that is when it is fresh in your mind.”

As I zeroed in, a vein on Mrs. Carson’s ear began pulsating; I recalled all the images, sounds, smells, and words since I had sat down. Into that midst I began a countdown from a hundred by threes and fours recalling the earlier conversation with Mr. O’Reilly.

“Manny to what do I ascribe your call?” Manny had taken it upon himself to make the call we both knew had to be made—and the sooner the better.

“Wilcox has some big brass ones, he kind of screwed you over.”

“I’ve met him,” Nick replied dryly. “What did he do?”

He swore softly when Manny told him.

“Just so you know I’ve got you on speakerphone and Atalanta is beside me.”

“Sorry.”

I waved off the apology, “I don’t understand the problem.”

“It’s more of a case of working at cross purposes. I knew what Wilcox wanted and he knew what I wanted from him.”

“And that was what,” I interjected.

“Administrative cover; he hoped you’d fall through the cracks.”

Wilcox hoped that his duplicity wouldn’t become known and he’d have it to embarrass Nick with in the future. And I became another asset or liability to track.

Mrs. Carson paused and pulled at that ear lobe, “Incidents happen which frankly is why this school is isolated and located where it is; just so we can contain incidents that do happen, and, or, to distinct one-time events. I don’t want a repeat of last year with the Kimbas where Boston led to NY and with each garnering increasingly publicity.”

“I’m responsible for your safety as well as another 400 students and additional 200 instructors and support personnel. The best means to accomplish that goal is keeping a low profile and keeping quiet that this is an academy for mutants.”

She stopped to drink from a decorated mug on her desk, “Publicity—even good publicity—is something we can do without here. I see events happening with you, wildlife tagging leading to deputizing leading to…something else and each with more complexity. The only difference,” she smiled wryly, “between you and the Kimbas is that there is only one of you.”

“But I don’t see--.”

“—and that’s why we’re asking these questions and for the details, so you will see.”

“Ahh.”

The chief’s buzzer beeped interrupting the debriefing. Mrs. Carson checked her watch. “I think we’re done here,” clearly dismissing me. I remained seated causing her to look up.

“Did you have something to add?”

“Yes—yes I do,” I replied evenly. “I appreciate your position but I do feel the need to point out all that I’ve done to contain events in-house since I’ve landed here. My kidnapping attempt at the train depot in Dunwich was a failure on your end here which I did my best to keep quiet. The Christmas calamity happened in part because the school wasn’t equipped properly to meet my requirements; requirements that you determined. Again I declined to press charges to keep fallout localized and I’m recording and tagging wildlife as a favor to the school and to the Medawihla Tribe. And,” I paused taking a deep breath drawled, “This weekend I was where I was supposed to be doing what I was supposed to be doing and again I’ve kept the school and the tribe out of it.”

Silence settled over the room, Mrs. Carson’s ear reddened and another vein developed a tic, “Anything else,” she asked her voice rising.

“No,” I replied calmly, “I believe that’s all I can think of.”

“You may leave then.”

I nodded as I got out of my seat and walked to the door closing it softly.

The two adults watched the teenager as she left the room, the latch clicking loudly as the door slowly closed.

“She’s right you know,” The Chief observed after a minute’s silence.

“I know,” the Headmistress wearily agreed turning in her chair to pour coffee into an empty cup.

“Coffee,” She asked holding up the carafe.

Holding up his hands palms out the Chief replied, “No.”

“You’re right and she’s right; almost everything she has done has been accomplished with little fallout.”

“You’re concerned about her being a Natural,” the Chief ventured with a burst of insight.

“That’s part of it,” Mrs. Carson agreed, “another part is she’s due for a misstep.”

“You’re hoping she screws up?”

“No, not hoping,” she responded quickly, “I believe it is inevitable though.”

“The sooner the better,” Delarose prompted.

“I hate to say it but yeah; I feel the longer she lasts the bigger the fallout.”

“The school survived Team Kimba’s first year,” he reminded her. “But there is something else about Atalanta or her story that bothers you?”

“I do find it odd that as a military family her mother never gave mutation a thought when her son became her daughter and especially as a doctor. It also seems strange that designating Atalanta as intersex also served to obfuscate her possible mutant status. And then a Seal that doubles as a contractor for a project inspired by Atalanta’s change just happens to be on site to train her. And then the head of DARPA just happens to be in Utah where Atalanta is hospitalized and he just happens to know her Seal instructor.”

Stroking his chin Delarose replied, “That’s a lot of coincidences I admit, but to what end. Do you think the military has a secret project?”

“How valuable to the government would a process be that produces mutants…and yet not produce mutants?”

“Come again?” Delarose asked perplexed.

“I don’t have the details worked out yet but what if a two step process has been discovered with the second step erasing or masking mutant markers?”

“A process for activating the mutant gene complex and then masking that mutation,” Delarose squinted at his superior.

“Something along those lines, yes; but what if—“, she snapped her fingers, “they have discovered a way to control the BIT producing specific Exemplars.”

“Like Atalanta?”

“Like Atalanta,” she agreed.

“Nice theory but you need to be careful you don’t fall down a rabbit hole following it,” he warned frowning.

“I know,” she replied distracted then whirling around asked, “Can Sam be trusted?”

Delarose took a step back his pupils expanding, “Yes of course Sam can be trusted,” he returned firmly.

“I’m sorry that was a poor choice of words. I know she can be trusted; I’m not concerned that she’d betray the school no I was wondering if she can find out anything from Mr. Black.”

“I’m sure she would feel him out.”

“Mr. Black’s loyalties lie with Atalanta so I don’t expect you or I could pry any information from him, but Sam might; given their backgrounds.”

“I’ll ask her,” Delarose assured her.

“Keep me informed,” Mrs. Carson directed him ending the meeting.

Guys sorry about the spotty posting but my husband went into rehab on April 15th and I've been super busy. I'm not sure about my schedule going forward as on Friday I learned his Ins. Co won't talk to without his permission--every time. So I need to look into a legal/financial framework for us. That'll be fun--not. I have most of this story written; it is in two sections and I'm working on connecting them and adding finishing touches to the ending.

First I want to thank Ashleigh for her editing skills and making it readable. I've included 4 chapters as they're kind of short. Dr. Bellows wants Atalanta to do what? Mischief happens in the bathroom. Nikki has a theory about Atalanta's use or abuse of magic.

I hope you guys enjoy this offering.

Chapter 6

Leaving the administration building I strode quickly to Crystal Hall for a takeout meal; if I hurried I’d have time to eat it before the curfew at Poe. My footsteps echoed in the mostly empty cafeteria as I sought out leftovers from the buffet bar piling the food in the carryout box.

“You’re just in time,” the lady behind the counter said as I paid her.

“I’m late getting in,” I responded vaguely unsure of who knew of my routine.

Outside on the landing, I paused to look at the dimly lit walkway leading to Poe scanning the area for anything out of the ordinary. Knowing your operational area made tracking and tagging wildlife quicker and safer. After training with Manny, identifying choke points and ambush sites were second nature now and together with my owl birthmark activating a danger sense I strode confidently toward Poe.

The familiar bust greeted me from his perch in the foyer as I opened the door shutting it softly behind me.

Mrs. Horton must have a sixth sense, “Atalanta you have thirty minutes until lights out.”

“Thanks,” I replied walking toward Kimba Corner to eat my ‘take-out.’ The lounging area appeared deserted and I sat down balancing my tray to begin eating when a pile of clothing begins to take shape.

“Jinn,” I inquired mildly as I stabbed a bite of meat.

“Jade made me wait down here for you,” the various articles of clothing pouted at me.

“Want some,” I inquired amused extending a forkful of food.

“Eww!” The pile of clothes lost their shape falling flat on the sofa.

“Don’t go away mad,” I called after the spook taking another bite of food. Finishing quickly I placed the empty container in the trash and I hurried to my room where I gathered a change of clothing and toiletries to aim for the showers. Three days in the wilderness left me ripe and curfew or no I was washing off the grime.

I was rinsing off when the lights shut off. I should have another few minutes before the curfew.

I quickly changed my mind as my shoulder tingled. I slowly moved from under the showerhead letting the water mask any noise I might make. My eyesight shifted; droplets of water filled the stall splattering against the floor and pooling to swirl down the drain. The fine mist wrapped me in a wispy fog as I slowly reached for my towel and peered out at the sinks and beyond to the dressing area.

The stall and room design limited my view.

I didn’t see anyone but I knew there was someone else in here. Slowly I began twisting the towel into cordage to strike with and moved carefully from the stall’s confines to confront who waited. Movement and a slight sound alerted me as I swung my head around to see the outside door closing softly buffered by the hydraulic arm. Still I waited not convinced and I listened for any small sounds. I felt my low light vision kick in looking in every nook and corner for potential dangers.

Satisfied I walked over and flicked the light switch illuminating the room. In the corner my clothes were jumbled up. My smile vanished as I realized somebody’s idea of a prank wasn’t funny. I unwound the tied bundle my mind in high gear as I pulled on my underwear before holding up the remains of my flannel nightshirt. It looked like someone had used a dull knife to shred the back of the clothing. A cold dark fury rose from somewhere murky and deep, fighting me for control. Destructive images screamed at me. Calming breaths forced the beast back into his lair.

Stepping into a pair of sandals I held the tattered shirt to my chest opening the door to pad down the hall. In the darkened hallway in bra and panties and holding my shirt in a defensive gesture I felt vulnerable despite having faced greater danger this weekend.

Stopping in front of a familiar door I knocked and then entered to a muffled, “Yes.”

“Nikki, I need your help,” I said to the figure on the bed.

“Help!” Nikki cried mockingly, “Super girl needs help,” she added teasing, rising from the bed, “What’s…” Sensing my distress she stood up turning the light on then motioning me over to sit beside her, “What happened,” she asked softly.

I held up the tattered shirt, “Somebody sneaked in while I was showering,” I replied slowly.

Nikki was silent; everyone knew what my nightshirt meant to me.

“What can I do to help?”

“I am hoping you can work your magic on this flannel shirt and repair it.”

“Well it is a natural fiber,” Nikki mused gently removing it from my arms carrying it over to her desk laying it down and carefully arranging the strips of cloth. My jaw set I watched her hands move over the garment pausing often; chanting in unintelligible syllables. Time slowed watching Nikki activate her spell as individual threads began first wiggling like snakes before they began weaving into larger and larger patterns.

After several minutes of unraveling and retying efforts the cut strips of cloth began closing from the top down not unlike how a zipper works; knitting the damaged material cleanly. A couple of minutes passed before Nikki handed me my nightshirt back whole. I shivered running my fingers along the repaired shirt and slowly placed an arm through each sleeve wrapping myself in the checkered shirt deliberately latching the buttons.

My smile seemed to grow and grow; wider and wider tugging at my cheeks. “Thank you Nikki,” I croaked huskily then heartily hugging her.

Nikki, stepping back after the embrace with a smile that almost matched mine softly replied, “I’m glad I could help but who could’ve done this?”

I shook my head, “I don’t know but they have to be somebody from Poe; don’t they?”

“Why is that,” asked Nikki her brow tightening.

“I assume it is somebody that knows what that shirt means to me and it is pretty hard to get in here after the house is locked up.”

“There are other options,” Nikki countered, “like maybe you were supposed to be in that shirt.”

“Huh,” I asked my throat tightening.

“There are of course magic rituals but a rudimentary form of magic is using thought forms to create a servitor.”

“A servitor, what’s that?”

Nikki answered speaking quickly and softly, “I’ll explain tomorrow; if Mrs. Horton finds us up there will be hell to pay. Until then don’t lose sight of your hairbrush, toothbrush, or anything anyone can use as a personal link to you. Okay?”

“Okay,” I answered softly as Nikki ushered me into the hallway whispering in my ear, “We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

Gliding softly over the tiled floor hidden in shadows softly lit by lamps at each end of the hall I passed door after closed door before stopping in front of the door to my room. I paused with my hand on the door knob and listened intently. My room, just large enough to hold one person was literally hidden behind the broom closet and the stairway.

The location suited my needs, the room was goldilocks sized, and the lone window offered a commanding view of the central campus. The room was symbolic of my campus status out of sight, out of mind, and limiting my interactions with fellow students.

It was clear to me that I made Carson nervous. One part of me understood why. The motivations, triggers, pathologies; mutant profiles were well understood, studied, and classified. I fit none of their profiles and accordingly they saw me as unpredictable. Predictably their response was limiting as many variables as possible in my daily life.

They were more than happy to lend me to the Medawihla Tribe from Friday to Sunday to track, catalogue, and tag the Reservation’s various wildlife and population. They also were more than willing to allow Manny as my private tutor four days a week. Mondays were exclusively reserved for the private class with Manny with Mrs. Carson approving the class material. The classes for the other three days—Tuesday-Thursday—consisted of standard high school curriculum. I then received instruction in the mutant specific courses as distance learning—over the internet and semi-monthly private meetings with each instructor to gauge my progress.

The modified schedule was implemented after the Christmas break. Officially the reason given was what happened with the Donners over Christmas. Through the grapevine I heard the actual reason was the assignment Circe had given me to do during that week. Nikki had whispered to me that not long after I had returned Circe’s stones to her stories had circulated that she had emerged from her classroom muttering, her clothing smudged and eyebrows singed.

“First you blew up her door and then her classroom; do you blame her if she wants you to keep at a safe distance from her,” she had giggled in my ear.

I figured she was just teasing me.

But the schedule suited me fine. Each morning I met with most of Team Kimba—the gang as I came to know them—for exercises followed by my run and afterwards meeting up for breakfast and then each evening for dinner.

Evenings at Poe were usually spent in studying, online with an instructor or in turning assignments, and often cloistered with the Kimbas in their secluded corner. Sprinkled in were updates to the Medawihla spreadsheet and calls home to mom.

Even though they teased me mercilessly about blowing up Circe’s stuff and creating new tunnels for Mrs. Carson that she hadn’t requested we formed a genuine bond around being labeled as loose cannons. That and I had powers and traits in common with several members of the group. Hank and I shared growing up in a military environment and moving every two or three years. Like Chou I had an affinity for physicality and weaponry augmenting its effectiveness through channeling a spiritual life force. Unlike Nikki I apparently had no ability to gather store and use magic; rather I absorbed and redirected what was used against me. Jade and I used our stalking skills against each other

In many ways I was the forge they used to sharpen their skills against and vice-a-versa.

Satisfied I opened the door slipped inside closing and leaning against it extending my senses into the room’s farthest corners. Nodding and bending over the bed I quickly crawled under its covers still wrapped in the old flannel shirt that belonged to daddy.

Chapter 7

Laying there in the dark I cast my mind back. The sound of the knock on our front door echoed again.

School was about to let out for Christmas; Mom was busy wrapping gifts and putting up decorations. Dad’s tour had ended and he was coming home in time for Christmas. After years of moving from base to base as Daddy had advanced in rank he—and we had achieved stability with the likelihood being of remaining at one school long enough to make friends. And I was about to become a teenager—at that time on the threshold of becoming a man.

It had all changed with that knock. Daddy wasn’t coming home. Mom seeking distance from well meaning in-laws exerted her independence by moving us to a New Mexico spa owned by her college roommate becoming the business’s staff doctor. That move had once again necessitated a new school for the next year.

But wait, there’s more. A thin smile stretched my lips at recalling that commercial.

New Mexico; Land of Enchantment was more than a slogan as I found out. I traveled there as a skinny kid on the verge of puberty anticipating developing hair on my lip, a deepening voice, and the widening of my shoulders filling out my frame like my dad had.
Instead I had gone exploring and became separated from the group and came back changing into a girl. Instead of widening shoulders it was my hips that spread and the filling out occurred on my chest.

Yeah me!

We had a good father/son relationship. We had gone to some ball games together, a fishing trip once, canoeing another time. I remembered handing him tools as he did minor repairs on the family car. Mostly it was just hanging around with each other stuff.

Stuff.

My throat constricted remembering stuff. I remembered retreating to my room and not wanting to come out and talk with anybody. Finally I remembered wandering out to the garage and finding this shirt, this shirt that he often wore raking leaves, washing the car, or tinkering in the garage. Or, for when we did stuff together. I claimed it for me; it was mine.

I thought of that Christmas as the great sundering with the far canyon wall lying in the land of normalcy; 9 to 5 jobs, two parents, childhood and growing up; public schools and fairy tales.

On that far wall divided by a yawning chasm were memories of Alan, boyhood, and Dad. On this side of that line are me; Atalanta, girlhood, and Mom. That shirt represented a tangible reminder; a cherished memento of a different time; a bridge spanning the canyon and linking the two worlds.

Images of the ruined shirt flickered across my mind and I frowned in the dark wondering if the garment was baggage and not luggage. An admonishment I remembered hearing said something about putting away childish things as an adult. I wasn’t an adult but that idea needed further thought. Being careful I turned on my side snuggling deeper under the covers and soon fell asleep.

Chapter 8

“You want me to do what?”

Dr. Bellows sat behind his desk, elbows bent on the desk studying both his steepled fingers and my reaction. The afternoon sun streamed through the window at his back, his face half hidden in shadows. He was my academic advisor and I was squirming in my seat across from his desk the next day.

“I couldn’t get you in the drama class so I did the next best thing and you still get credit for it.”

I sharply narrowed my gaze looking for a twitch at the corners of his mouth or lights dancing in his eyes. When his face remained stoic and unlined I knew he was being serious.

“But why doctor; what do you hope that I learn from this…this project?”

Now he chuckled.

The bastard!

“Atalanta so far we haven’t really challenged you here at the school. No,” he held up a hand cutting off my response, “hear me out. Okay?”

Nodding I leaned back folding my arms across my chest and waited faintly smiling at his puffing cheeks. I liked pushing boundaries and thanks to Manny’s teaching I knew body language tells. I didn’t have much choice in curriculum but I did have complete freedom in how I responded.

Yes!

“Atalanta you’re an Exemplar and a Paragon at fighting…at warfare. You excel at Parkour and outdoor survival skills. As an Exemplar you’re intelligent and you came to us proficient in your high school subjects. I suspect you have ability as a gadgeteer if you applied yourself but you don’t test out high enough to qualify for that study area. And as far as the magic arts are concerned they are still undecided on a course of action to take with you. I believe Circe described you as a magic mangler.”

Inwardly I smiled at that bit of deception. Nikki had been working with me to increase the size and reserve of as she called it, “a well containing magic essence.’ Her theory was that the crazy boomerangs happened because I was so open to all types of magic and my store of essence was so low that I absorbed every type of magic equally. A lot like connecting a negative lead to a positive terminal result in a shower of sparks and explosions. But we had been working on me using natural magic as my foundation to create intentioned results like a servitor.

I liked the idea of holding something back having already learned the power of being underestimated. I wasn’t sure how long Nikki was going to allow that omission to continue.

He continued. “So we wanted to tap into your creative side to give you something to stretch your mind with. To help you grow in other directions and maybe discover a talent you didn’t know you have.”

“And you think a fairy tale is the solution,” I snorted.

“No,” he returned quickly, “it is how you apply the fairy tale to the context or to the parameters you’ve been given. That is the solution,” he firmly stated.

“So how I tell it is up to me?”

“As long as the story is recognizable and has a Whateley theme…yes.”

“I guess and when does it have to be ready?”

“You need to submit your paper to me to approve by March 14th and have the play ready after Spring Break and before finals, Sometime late in April or early May. I’ll have to work out the exact date with the theater group.”

“Okay.”

“And you can get help from anyone to help you with ideas.”

“I have a couple in mind already,” I replied stroking my throat.

“That’s all for now then,” Dr. Bellows swallowed, rising from his seat.

Nodding I climbed to my feet and walked to the exit.

Chapter 9

“You’re going to do what,” Nikki cried her eyes widening.

After leaving Dr. Bellows I had stopped by Kimba corner to say hi and mentioned the assignment to Nikki while I was perched on the sofa arm in a lounge area. I usually stopped by in the evenings to say hi to anyone that was present. Tonight I counted besides Nikki; Billie, Chou, Jade, and Hank.

“What’s she up to now,” Billy called out from her secluded cubicle in Kimba Corner.

“Dr. Bellows gave her, her literary assignment.”

“Oh? Shakespeare? Poe?”

“No,” Nikki responded her lips curling in a grin, “a fairy tale.”

“Really,” a high pitched squeal came from beneath a pile of clothing as Jade popped into view.

“See what you’ve done,” growled Chou rolling her eyes and to Jade, “No Hello Kitty is not a fairy tale.”

“You sure?” Jade questioned her eyes bright.

I remained quiet perched on my ledge watching the banter being served enjoying the easy flow of conversation until it round-robin style stopped in my lap.

“You have a fairy tale in mind,” Hank asked quietly.

I nodded, “Red Riding Hood.”

“Tell them the rest of it,” Nikki prompted from my elbow laugh lines peeking out from behind her hand.

“I’m supposed to adapt it to a one act screenplay that paints a story of Whateley and me.”

“Tell them the rest of it,” Nikki shrieked now openly giggling.

Blowing air between puffed cheeks, “I have to give a one woman performance—on stage.”

“She,” Nikki continued between squeals of laughter, “opens for the spring play.”

“Maybe you can find pieces of Circe’s door to bring onstage,” Billie teased from her space. What followed was five minutes of puns like; ‘raise the roof, set the stage on fire, bring the house down,’ and so on with good natured jabs.

“Humph,” I grumbled frowning and crossed my arms underneath my breasts. Rising from the sofa arm I looked at each of my tormenters one-by-one before drawling a response, “I appreciate the suggestions,” and turned to leave.

Stopping at the landing I turned back around my lips curling around my pearly-whites, “And I’ll make sure to get y’all front row seats where you won’t miss any of the fireworks.”

I turned on my heels my red hair spilling from under my hat and over the collar of my duster; my boots beating a rapid tattoo on the wooden floor as I strode across the floor.

I heard the words, “I feel sorry for the wolf,” hanging in the air behind me.

The next morning in the pre-dawn dark I warmed up; extending my senses and testing my balance and fine motor skills against the environment. This time was me competing against myself as I wrapped my forearms and legs in bubble wrap shimmying up and back down the wall of Poe Cottage using a close sapling tree as leverage. I smiled at not tearing the bubbles. This spiritual practice was intended for centering and grounding in preparation to meet each day fully engaged. The Kimba gang would soon join me in some light sparring before I ran my normal cross country five mile parkour-type run before classes.

But after lunch today I was scheduled to report for a testing session in the Sims lab.

Two figures watched from the apartment window at the tall red-haired girl warm up, stretching in the bitter cold morning air in the snow in front of Poe then practicing her forms dressed in her non school hours and non conforming clothing. Nothing or nobody was stirring this early and in this weather.

“Doesn’t she ever let up,” Sam asked her companion.

Manny holding a cup of coffee between his palms hooked a leg over the chair rung and studied the girl. “She’s one of a kind,” he agreed looking outside.

Sam nodded, “She doesn’t seem human at times.”

A tiny nerve under Manny’s eye twitched. “None of us are quite human.”

“That’s what I mean. For most people to do what we do they are changed by it. Naturals are different; they don’t change.”

Manny nodded remembering the few Naturals he had known. “They are the same before, during, and after.”

“Yeah,” Sam added quickly, “most of us feel an adrenaline surge at the threat of danger. Something clicks in our brains and it goes into overdrive. That rush can get addictive though.”

Manny remained silent watching Atalanta begin her morning run and disappear over the crown of the hill beyond Poe; the absurdity of the situation striking him as funny.

“What,” Sam asked looking from a corner of her eye at Manny.

“It just struck me as funny, you know the whole don’t judge a book by its cover thing. I look like I have the most experience but you have what, decade on me?”

“More probably,” Sam agreed.

“And yet you don’t look like you’re out of college let alone a crusty old codger in there somewhere.”

“Yeah,” Sam replied dryly straightening up.

“Yeah,” Manny echoed, “Atalanta doesn’t look old enough to drive—.”

“—She isn’t,” Sam smiled the tension past.

“—and yet she may have the most experience of all.”

“I wouldn’t use the term experience but I do get your point and you’re the one training her.”

“Ever lose your hearing or sight from an explosion or know of someone that did. Or amnesia from a concussion?”

Manny waited for Sam to nod her head before continuing, “In the case of extreme examples where they need remedial training did you ever think of them as inexperienced?”

“No, of course not but that was because I knew them and their history.”

“That is certainly part of it,” Manny agreed, “but you have to admit that they quickly scale up to their level of training.”

“That is true enough,” Sam agreed countering by adding, “But that’s mostly muscle memory coming into play.”

Manny grunted, “Subconscious memory?”

“I agree that is probably true.”

“I was with Atalanta for seven days a week over 14 months but within three months I saw her subconscious memory start to activate and she began connecting dots that you don’t connect unless you have experienced them.”

Sam’s mouth opened and she formed a silent ‘Oh’ with her lips as inspiration flooded her. She was tempted to ask for an example but instead drew on her own experience.

I appreciate any comments and will do my best to answer and of course I appreciate any kudos