Nicey and Barin watch the session from a distance.
Face down on the wooden surface of the table, heat burning her face, she could get face splinters, but at this moment she does not care, with the arrival of her period, she is sweaty, bloated, cramping and prone to overshare.
She needs to stop.
This is how she stops.
Feeling like trash and looking disgusting, she sits up to adjust her dry breaking hair into a bun.
Viviali decided to go for a walk, just needed to be alone for awhile.
He was on the phone with his children most of the early morning.
"Daddy is so happy you and Christoph are having a good time...Wow! You saw sharks at the aquarium? Big sharks? So cool! Yeah... Aha...oh dear! That was so nice of grandma, I hope you remembered to say 'thank you.'..You did? Good...oh you have to go? Yes...Daddy is having fun with Uncle Reston...Love you too...Kiss Christoph for me...bye bye..."
After the call, he was emotional, Nicey could tell.
Staring off, eyes wet, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
He does not engage the other two meditation slackers feet away from him, the forest calls, Viviali rushes off to answer it.
Barin waits to check on his stew for lunch.
Spicy red curry, with chicken.
Nicey decides, it is best to liberate her guitar from the car trunk, slink off into some trees. Choose somewhere close enough to alert the others, in case of trouble. Far away enough to play the instrument lightly and sing out of the hearing range of the others.
She had been playing for a year, knew she was terrible sounding still and did not want to embarrass herself more than she already had.
The pond around the corner of the farthest path use to be her favorite spot to play, until Fort warned her that bears may be near.
She chooses the non forested path leading to the entrance.
The field stretches between two sections of ancient trees, this way she only has to look left and right, in case something moves in the bush.
Her chronic stress keeps her on guard , not fully comfortable.
Looking around to see the eyes on her.
Seated in the middle of the field, she strums her royal blue Ibanez AEG50 IBH guitar.
Chords B minor, D major, E minor, G major.
"Hitchhiker, hitchhiker or driver, who will win who will lose, who will be the last survivor. Some say it's a test of will...the choice between...kill or be killed. Others claim some do it for the thrill, while some argue others are just morally ill...illness sometimes kills..."
Branches break in the distance.
Nicey looks around wildly. Nothing for miles. Nothing coming out of the trees.
Why is she so paranoid?
Torn, not wanting to return to the table or stay to find out the source of the breaking branches.
Hugging her knees.
She is paralysis.
These sessions where pointless.
Spirituality, mantras...all mean nothing once she returned to the condo.
Burying her head into her knees, she weeps.
No one can hear her.
No one cares.
The hairy creature collects branches for their shelter, nearby. The trees in this section have the best branches for tools. The creature rotates yearly how each of the sections of forest will be used to counter the tree cutting of Pale Midnight fur.
Trying to maintain the integrity of the forest.
The creature listens to the sounds the dark skinned woman is making.
Humans love their own sounds.
How lonely they were, when the sounds of the surroundings were not enough, they could not help but make noise to remind themselves of their own existence.
Even when alone.
She is extremely unhappy, her sadness is puzzling, but enticing.
The creature understands that this woman is the mate of the second oldest male of the group.
He looks through her, he does not seem to regard her as much, resent her even, the creature could feel the force of the anger.
No, the creature pauses.
It is not resentment that this man felt for her, not all of time, there was often contempt.
There was worry, a strange type of affection and a questionable need to dominate her.
Humble her.
There she was humbled in a field.
Feeling that she may leave, how he would stop her. How if she left he would not care, but cause her to suffer...then replace her.
The creature wondered why he would hold on to her when he truly found her replaceable?
She was suffering, when they arrived, he did not comfort her then he left her alone with the younger men, who had no mates.
He was a defective mate.
And his mate would continue to suffer when they left.
The creature then remembers the men who had been riding in their metal beasts three days past.
Chaos for chaos sake!
Riding past the line of the land that signifies to other humans that the territory is the home of another human.
Those men wanted to inflict harm to this pack of humans.
From what the creature could tell, their motives were not utilitarian, as they wanted not for food, water, nor resources.
Disinterested in possessing the metal beasts, no thought of the woman either, for reasons the creature did not yet understand. The woman had been missed somehow and therefore, not included in their nefarious agenda for tonight.
The creature understood the universe, the rules, its guidelines. If this hairy creature was to intervene it would have to be for a good reason.
Doctor Fearsome, sits cross-legged on his mat.
"Every decision, every event. The desired results whether by skill or luck, the disappointments...all a set of sequences. Whether they are pros or cons ...depends on whether the outcome aligns with what we want...am I right?"
Fort and Reston agree, gently nodding, closing their eyes.
Peppering the doctor's pauses with,
"Wows..."
and
"So trues."
The way a congregation displays how in tune they are with the messages of the leader.
Doctor Fearsome understands that his words do not reach the psyche of either men, but he will continue to try, for the health of their energy.
"Gooooooo, gooooo..."
He ignores.
The creature has been warning the doctor since dawn.
How could he even explain what was set to occur at dusk?
Would he start be telling the others that a Bigfoot roams the land and had warned him about a pair of misanthropic hedonistic fiends about to infiltrate the land for their own reasons?
The creature had summarized to him in a dream what the intentions of the attacks were.
Not for war or theft, but rather a feeling of climax, not for each other, though it was clear they were bonded by a force. Actually, by a gift that only they understood. A gift that they had not been guided through.
As a result it had warped their minds. Now they were on a twisted ritualistic binge of violence. The current pack would be the target.
Fearsome could have told the group that he felt ill and needed to leave early, offering to return a portion of money paid, then Fearsome would be on his way.
An idea that crossed his mind once or twice.
A thought based in fear and survival, it was not a personality flaw, it was just instinct.
However, he knew it was up to him to reject instinct during a crisis.
As the groups' spiritual leader, if he could not warn the group, alert Reston that the alarm system was compromised, tear the men away from the ATVs or reason with a severely depressed woman...
The group would be weirded out and remain on the property.
He could already read their hearts and knew they could barely listen to themselves or take ownership of much.
All he could do was stay and bear witness to whatever was to happen.
Remain calm, perhaps even reason with the intruders.
If not...
Then it would be his responsibility to lead the youngsters towards the light.
Later in the day, after all the sessions have been completed the men gather near the cars, promising to leave, before another topic of conversation is brought up.
Nicey decided to clean the shared spaces of the cottage during the remainder of the session, earlier.
Barin had mentioned he was hoping to leave as early as he could.
Promised his girlfriend that he would accompany her to a formal dinner that night.
Nicey wanted him to reach the city with enough time to get ready with ease.
Even though he may or may not have been hinting to her that she needed her own life.
The puppy that tailed him; the impression Fort conveyed to others. A "lovey dovey ," couple, where Nicey portrayed the role of the clingy girlfriend who could not let men have their time together.
She wish she could explain to tell Barin, he would probably interpret her info dump as gross disloyalty to Fort.
She would have to save her humiliating disclosure of information for a therapist, when she could afford one.
After cleaning she grew concerned that she had overstepped again, annoying Reston.
Maybe have him scowl at her or worse flash her an angry warning smile.
Fort had mentioned to her once, that Reston was a talented tactical performer, but deep down he was even more devious than Fort.
The idea of a pleasant presenting socially aware Fort with funds frightened her.
As the men continued to "shoot the shit."
Nicey was standing under the lights in the dark, covered from view by the bushes, dancing slowly.
Missing dancing with her girlfriends at a chalet, like she use to.
Fort had caused a lot of friction between her and them after a long weekend retreat.
They hated him.
She was embarrassed.
He was the first partner she had ever introduced to her friend Anya and Anya's friends.
Their presence had ruined the entire weekend, apparently.
At the time, their rejection of Fort felt like a rejection of her.
She had endured all of the idiots they had dated, even married...
Realizing they were not wrong and she could not face them.
Now she and her friend, since university, were estranged.
That was on her.
Listening to the a cover of "Firestarter," by Torre Florim on a single earbud, its partner currently resided at the bottom of an elevator shaft.
A love story.
The best ones always ended in separation by circumstance, ones that remained idolized but never confirmed.
It felt so satisfying to move her body for her own needs.
Arguably, a strange thing to do in the bushes where she knew the men pissed in.
She would gain no "sound of mind," points from them if they caught her, arms stretched upward swaying in the air to imitate the flicker of the flames.
Nicey wanted to reach for the light for as long as she could.
"Crack"
There it was again, the branches snapping under the feet of an animal...
On their hind legs?
Nicey decides, at this moment, whatever.
If an animal wanted her to drag her away for consumption, so be it.
A decade of being feasted upon mentally, would it even be that bad?
Physically painful, yes.
Surely her body would lapse into shock.
A swift bite through her flesh, a shake or some then...over.
Finite.
She wants to forget what she saw after lunch.
While cleaning the bathroom, during the afternoon session, she heard a tree fall to the ground.
Another one?
It sounded close by.
Had it fallen on the anyone?
Bolting past a cooking Barin and through the door, she attempts to locate the source.
Expecting the worse, she spies the meditation group, on their knees, backs straight, heads high, at attention.
Not a fallen tree in sight.
As she slows down her pace.
"Thwack!"
Nicey and Viviali collide, falling back onto the ground.
" Almost hit me, the tree!"
Snapping up to a sitting position Nicey stares in disbelief.
Speechless.
Was that a gorilla?
She swears she saw one, a flash of one.
Did it push the tree?
She says nothing, there is still a few hours of light then it will be home time.
Doctor Fearsome is resigned, he sees the outline of the creature, grounding the large baby tree.
No desire to harm a passing Viviali, a warning in vain.
Attuning oneself to the forces of nature takes belief and years to accomplish.
Hopefully they would, if they survived this.
He was doubtful.
The men continue to chat in the dark, ignoring the doctors subtle pleas to leave, but they are out of time.
"Get down to the fucking ground, ya fuckin' cattle!"
Back in urine soaked bushes of the night.
Nicey freezes.
She swears her blood has halted in her veins.
The voice is unfamiliar, the tone is voluminous, snarly, evil.
The only person she has heard speak like that was Fort, but this was not him, she knew this.
She could recognize Fort's voice anywhere.
Even at six floors up, with the rumble of the cars driving on the highway and all the noises of the city below, she had heard him voice his displeasure loudly in the streets, it carried all the way up and blasted through the open balcony door.
Meaning she would have roughly fifteen minutes.
Twenty maybe if the elevators were busy, before he would burst through the door launching into a tirade.
Admittedly she had become numb to this, he did not scare her with his voice anymore, it was only mildly upsetting.
The voice on the other side of the bush was not the same.
Fort's outburst stemmed from shame.
This man had none.
It was not the voice of a desperate man externalizing his internal demons, but the voice of a person who was in complete control.
Hidden behind the bushes, her muscles were in a continuous cycle of ceasing, then shaking uncontrollably.
Refusing to move her feet for fear of alerting the man with the voice of her existence.
She can make out his figure through the small spaces of the the branches, praying that he will not turn around and spot her.
He is average height.
5'7?
5'9?
Solid in stature.
He has a gun.
No idea what kind of weapon, but it looks as if it could break open an entire face at close range.
Create a perfectly rounded nautical window sized hole in a body if needed. If any of the men decided to dart off before reaching an of the forest openings, that would be their fate.
Her heart beats loud in her chest, she is convinced he might hear it.
She could have been at Anya's beach party today.
Oh my God! If she could have just stood her ground with Fort, demand ...no tell him to his face that she was going to the party and he could go ape the steps of healing by himself.
No one even wanted her 'rass' here!
So enthralled by the idea of him he had originally presented to her, the idea she had wanted to believe so badly.
Many opportunities to leave.
So many warnings, in his own unconscious way, he had straight up told her that taking him on would be taking on his burdens, his violence and brokenness.
It became her lifestyle.
Now she would die for her folly and his.
The men kneel around the the fire pit, the scene is a nightmarish recreation of the tranquil scene of the day.
Keeping their helps down, arms up, the nature of the situation washing over them all.
All silent, knees glued to the earth, another man emerges from the dark, he is carrying logs from the pile.
Broad shouldered and taller than the other, he cracks his neck before throwing the logs on the pit.
"Greetings my good men, I'm about to start this fire up, hope you don't you mind gentleman."
His calmness upstages the terrifying tone of the other man's voice.
"Fellas, I am asking you a question. We declare this to be a polite society and in such a space, when you are asked a question, you answer...Brains?"
The burlier man gives each man a turn to be the focus of his gun.
"Do you mind if I start a bonfire?"
He asks again, he sounds like a nanny reminding her naughty charges to say "thank you," for receiving a balloon at a county fair.
Clasping one hand over her mouth and the other over her heart, she knows she cannot stay here. She could hide in those bushes all she liked, but they were only a fifty meter dash away, which was not far away at all, they would find her, even if the men did not expose her.
She would be found.
Fort and company needed her assistance.
But how?
What if she ran into a wild animal out there?
But she knew if she too ended up kneeling by the fire pit, she would curse her existence for not trying.
Fort would be glad that if he had to die then at least she did not get to live.
Viviali and Barin would judge her for her inaction.
Doctor Fearsome would pity her.
Reston would roll his eyes.
The string of lights blow in the wind, illuminating the bush she hides behind.
Revealing her figure momentarily.
Nicey bolts in the opposite direction, she needs to sprint through the spaces between the overgrown bushes.
Breaking every twig , rustling leaves with each landing of a foot on the ground.
She does not think about the likeliness she has given her position away, such thoughts do not penetrate her mind.
In fact she her only goal is to reach the mouth of the forest, let it and the night swallow her whole.
Thorns catch her, tear her flesh, but all she can do is lash the branches away with conviction, she refuses to haunt the forest property with five people who do not even know her.
To be memorized in a fleeting headline; "Six found dead on a the Luxurious Cottage Property."
Secondary headline: "The unconfirmed bodies of Acclaimed Inventor Reston Machion, Renowned Doctor of Meditation Doctor Sorin Fearsome, Visual Artist Fort Sternwise , Designer Viviali Tortavis, and Personal Chef Barin Vella."
Any mention of her as an "unknown woman," found in the carnage would be sprinkled somewhere in the article.
Finally at the forest mouth she breaks through the last gate of thorns, she thinks she hears wolves hollowing and a shot being fired into the air.
Sprinting onto the path she keeps close to the bushes guiding her to along the turn of the path.
Keeping her knees high as she runs, she cannot afford to fall.
When she reaches the end of the bushes, she continues on near a line of trees, in case she needs to hide, but when the path veers from the trees she finds herself in an open space.
She can hear a frog jump into water.
The opening leads to the pond, the full moon reflects light on the surface.
Nicey has not run like this for years, her life had become so stagnant she has barely moved her body.
She is all adrenaline, the boast is leaving her, as she runs past the pond into the deeper portion of the forest, a location she has only ventured twice riding at the back of the ATV with Fort.
Full of hills and pokey branches, she is doubtful she can continue at this pace.
Nausea sets in, cramps return.
She has not changed her pad yet.
Her blood announces to the wild that she is here.
The land spreads for miles and she has barely put a dent of distance she needs to create between the murderers and herself.
Running is no longer an option as she claws her way up a hill of the many protruding bumps on all fours, using her hands to lead.
Dirt breaking away, falling under her feet, her body expelling loose excrement, throat dry, too dehydrated to shed tears.
Nicey has one prime directive.
Get far far away.
Get help.
When she has reached the top on the dirt hill she lays on the cold dirt like a chalk outline.
Defeated.
She has to keep going, but she cannot.
Body wet with sweat going cold, she turns her body from ninety degrees to one hundred eighty.
With the rest of her energy she begins to roll slowly.
"Keep moving, keep moving."
She repeats in her mind, until she feels a pair of strong enormous sand paper rough hands scoop her up into the warmth of a hairy chest.
Too exhausted to resist, her thorn scratched face is grazed by arm fur with each powerful step, it is cradling her high above the ground, her legs dangle.
Perplexed by the calmness taking over her in the darkness.
Her last thought before she passes out from fatigue,
"I guess I am dead."