Play of Shadows

01.2 Old Friends

One child looked up, and happened to catch Ann's gaze. She stared at Ann with large, sparkling eyes, then tugged the hand of the little boy next to her. The little boy was busy weaving a wreath of flowers. He looked up too, his serious little face especially adorable. Ann waved. The little girl waved back, giggling happily.

"Doggie," the little boy said, his lips tucking up into a small smile.

Ann stiffened. She bid the grannies a hasty goodbye and set off again, doing her best not to run off like her tail was on fire. That pair of children – they couldn't possibly be players. Yet, they had seen her mask for what it was. Was her initial conjecture about the mask's appearance wrong, or was there something strange about the little boy and girl?

And why did Ann find them so familiar?

Ann didn't find an answer by the time she reached Old Murray's house. She called out a greeting at the gate, but did not receive an answer. The cow tied out front stared at her docilely as it munched on the grass growing wildly in the unkempt yard, acting the part of an energy-efficient lawnmower.

"Coming!" an exasperated voice called the second time Ann shouted a greeting.

A young woman came out of the house. She dried her hands on her apron as she walked, her pretty face wearing a layer of frost.

"Eggs?" she asked. When Ann nodded, she stretched out her hands over the low fence, "Give 'em here."

"Many thanks for the milk," Ann offered cautiously.

The woman was slightly shorter, her features delicate and sweet and entirely at odds with her attitude. She looked up at Ann through her full lashes and snorted.

"Nice mask. What's it supposed to be? A fairy?"

Ann blinked. She touched her mask, caught her finger over the dull edge of a wolf's tooth, and shrugged. "Don't know. It does what it wants."

The woman's eyes held a bit of interest. "How'd you sneak it in? All of my props got stripped by default."

Ann answered vaguely. The mask was an old gift from a fan and had never served a purpose other than hiding Ann's identity. Simple, featureless porcelain with slits for eyes and not a hint of personality.

"Is this your first hunt?" Ann asked, suppressing her excitement.

The woman examined Ann, her face unreadable.

"A little clumsy, but the logic is sound," she said at last.

Ann brightened. "So you are –"

"Sasha," the young woman interrupted. "When did you wake up?"

Ann caught herself before she could provide a compromising answer. If she said, last night, wasn't she as good as admitting to being a wolf? Ann crossed her arms, unimpressed with the woman's opportunism.

Sasha didn't look at all abashed. "Can't blame me for trying," she said.

"I can," Ann told her.

"Refusing to answer is also an answer," Sasha told her pointedly.

"I'll keep that in mind," Ann said.

The other woman arched a brow, a flash of amusement passing over her face. "You should go. We'll talk once this phase is through."

Ann nodded in agreement. It was too early in the game to formulate a sound strategy; the best course of action would be to lay low and collect more clues. Besides, she was having second thoughts about buddying up with this particular teammate.

There was a small commotion nearby. Sasha's brows came together and she turned on her heel, quickly disappearing into the house. Ann stared after her with some bemusement.

"Didn't you hear the system prompt?" a youth called from the yard across the street. "The Hunters are coming! Go home before you get your points deducted!"

Ann stared at the boy. She appeased him with a few words and only moved away once he went back inside. Down the street, dark-clothed men were knocking on doors in rapid succession.

Ann walked quickly. She passed many a hurried villager on the way, and overheard not a few conversations explicitly discussing the instance and its settings. Either every person she met happened to be a player, or –

Ann paused, hand on the gate leading into her yard. She recalled her earlier doubts about the unfair advantage werewolves had when it came to distinguishing NPCs from real players. However, if there was no way to tell the two apart...

The NPCs were programmed to act like players, Ann realized. She surveyed her surroundings with newfound unease.

The sun had long passed its zenith. Ann's shadow preceded her when she walked up the short path to the front door, growing longer and thinner with each step. Time was speeding by. It would be sunset soon, and another full moon.

"I'm back," Ann called, twisting the doorhandle. "Old Murray wasn't home –"

Her words faltered. The house was dark, the fire in the hearth throwing blades of light across the room. A man and a woman sat around the kitchen table amidst the flickering shadows. The woman looked at Ann, her eyes imploring.

The man smiled slowly. His booted feet thumped down from the table, the sound punctuated by a low, laughing voice.

"Found you."