Sarah Here. I begin this story with a little bit of trepidation. I am writing this one, knowing that the character is a little odd. Tara James is a bit of my nature lover. If you read my little essay at the end of Faith's story, you know I have an intense love of nature. That is who Tara is. Tara is my love of Nature, and as such, will have (I hope) a much more organic atmosphere than the previous two stories. Also be warned, that I have a lot of ideas for this one, and it could very well turn out to be the longest of the three so far.

As previously mentioned the original concept for these stories came from an RP session between _AmyJo and Mage_Sarah. While the original characters, on the most part, are only mentioned in passing, the original impetus still stands in that RP session. There are allusions to the previous chapters, and future chapters. Some of the story, starting at around page 25 is inspired by an RP session with Karasoth. While I have totally raped and destroyed the original intent of that RP. I am one to give credit where credit is due. So Congrats to Kara and Amy, for both getting immortalized in my work, I may not be Shakespeare, but I am better than a trained chimp... at least marginally!

The following story may contain Adult-oriented material. If this bothers you, leave the story now; I'm sure Nickelodeon is showing a Spongebob Squarepants Marathon right now, there seems to be at least 20 of them every day. If you are under 18, also leave. I'm sure Nickelodeon wouldn't mind you watching Spongebob either*.

For those of you who have not already left, also note that there may be moments of violence, people may die, bad stuff may happen. I think that on page 22 a cat just might be dead. You don't actually see the cat, nor is it even implied, however, there is probably, in all likelihood a dead cat in the scenery somewhere. If that is not to your liking, then please head on over with the others and rot your brain with Spongebob.

This is to an anonymous reviewer who shall remain nameless. Apparently this reviewer had read my story (Sarah Dallas Women's Studies Professor) on Sapphire's Place, and had the nerve to call it trash because their was a child killed. There are absolutely no children killed in this story. In all seriousness however, I don't care. All I ask in reviews, is constructive criticism. Tell me what worked; tell me what didn't work. Tell me what I should fix; tell me what should remain in its current form. Do not go and call the story "trash" because of just a few words in the middle of the story. Ok? I appreciate reviews, but please make them constructive. I want to improve and make a much better reading experience for those of you who actually read this.

There will be four letter words used...so if you are offended by language, Well... I am done plugging that show...so just suffice it to say, do not go listening to any hardcore rap any time soon. There are points with blood. Don't like blood? Well, Stop reading it, and watch something like paint drying, there is no blood in drying paint.

There will be no gratuitous sex in this story, I think there are plenty of other sources for smut on the Internet. I am writing to at least have some vague semblance of literary accomplishment. If works with serious motives, and a lack of sex annoys you, I'd recommend that you head out, and seek another place to get your jollies.

At one point, I had toyed with using the Tara/James relationship, to mock the Hollywood standard of two people in a crisis, falling desperately and madly in love, approximately 5.623 seconds after they lay eyes on one another. The idea fell through, when I realized that that would lead to me hating myself with a passion. Also, given Hollywood's particular tastes and beliefs, that relationship would eventually turn into roughly 32 random and totally pointless sexual encounters. So, rather than that, rather cliche-ridden approach, I tried for a more natural relationship. Especially considering that the one character isn't exactly human, and interspecies sex, might be frowned on by a few people in the audience, at least those not already off watching Spongebob, and steadfastly avoiding hardcore rap, as per my previous suggestions.

The character of Tara is also rooted in my own Job. So I am trying to convey what it is like, for me anyway, to work in a pharmacy. Most of the situations I describe are dumbed down versions of things I have actually experienced. Details changed, so that the Damnable HIPPA goons don't come and assess me with a large fine.

For those of you who love Flashbacks, and have only read my previous work because of the flashbacks, I apologize. This is going to be a no Flashback story, which is a new concept for me, to be sure.

The T'Gra portion of the story, takes place at the same time as the main storyline, in case you are wondering, and I know you weren't. Go ahead, admit it.

Please try to enjoy the story, and if that fails at least act like you did enjoy it!

Sarah

(And for the sake of explanation, the character's name is Tara pronounced Tar-a. and does not rhyme with Sarah. Also, for those wondering T'Gra is pronounced as Tee-Gruh.... OK? Hopefully that clears up a couple burning questions)

  

Tara James: The Cat's Outta the Bag

by Mage_Girl_Sarah

 

-----Prologue: Of Ebontower and Dreams-----

The darkness was never ending. From sunup to sundown a never-ending shroud of ebony cloaked T'Gra, and held him tight within its icy confines. The sounds of the rest of the prisoners reached his ears in echoing cries. It seemed to him that almost all of the other inmates had gone stark raving mad. Their screams of terror and assorted other insane gibberish raked at T'Gra's delicate ears, but he kept his peace, biding his time. There was no rush, after all. Why rush, when the world would fall apart when his plan came to fruition?

He had survived the ceaseless night, and he had endured the mad ravings of the other inmates. He had not spoken to anyone or uttered a noise, since the guards had placed him in this cell 2 years prior. Even when the guards had come to him not too long ago, to gloat about the dissolution of Guild Anima, he had met the news with a stoic silence.

It would seem that the new Head of Guild Anima, a young Mage named Jasper Crowley, had attempted to free T'Gra, by breaking into Ebontower. Foolishly, Jasper had attempted to use Magic to try and shatter the walls, and had been fried to a crisp when the magical wards kicked in, causing his weaves to backfire, and subsequently frying him to a crisp. It had saddened T'Gra that the Guild he had worked so hard to build up, had been lost due to an idiotic mess up such as that. He knew, however, that something like that was bound to happen, and that he had no control over others. Jasper's stupidity struck a chord with T'Gra, who had trained the young mage when he had first entered the Hall. Still, he kept his anger to himself.

Sleeping was not a problem for T'Gra, the constant night he now resided in left little to disturb him should he choose to slumber. Not to mention, that after the first year cloaked in the ebony blanket, the screams of insane inmates became like a sweet lullaby.

What did pose a problem, however, was food. Since the guards rarely came by, whatever food T'Gra got, he had to catch himself. Because of this, his diet consisted mainly of bugs and small rodents, which were in abundance in Ebontower. While this was an entirely unpleasant turn of events for T'Gra, who had learned to enjoy the sumptuous decor, and scrumptious delicacies he had been afforded as the head of Guild Anima, he recognized it as a necessary evil, if he wished to live. In the two years since he had arrived in the tower prison, he had lost a great deal of weight, due to malnourishment. He was particularly happy, though, that the builders of Ebontower had seen fit to accommodate the cells with a water supply, so he did not have to resort to unsavory means to slake his thirst.

Small rat skeletons littered the floor, and T'gra soon learned that throwing his refuse from his various meals anywhere soon posed quite the threat to his feet. The bones broke easily, and embedded themselves into the fleshy portions of his feet. He had howled in pain numerous times, before he had finally began opening small portals, like the one he had used for the book, and depositing the remains elsewhere. Small rodent skeletons soon began randomly appearing in every reality.

He learned there were very few things that one can do while incarcerated in a pitch-black room. Most of the things he could do involve going totally insane. Ebontower was not designed to be a particularly accommodating place. It was built to house a variety of dissidents, malcontents, and traitors. So when confronted with the eternal blackness of Ebontower, he had two choices if he wished to keep some semblance of sanity. Basically, if he wasn't eating he slept. Sleep brought welcome relief from the tedium of black, and placed him once more into a vibrant world of colors and lights.

In his dreams he stood on the plains of Ferat, looking out at the waving grasses, basking in the glow of the large bonfire formerly known as the Hall of Mages. Screams of pain echoed in the night sky, and an intense heat nearly singed his fur. He stood there, waiting for the screams to die down, enjoying the almost musical quality of human agony. The crescendo to the symphony of screams came, and then slowly died out, leaving T'Gra in a state of almost orgasmic bliss. It felt good to see the utter destruction of those that had locked him away to rot. If he could turn back time, he could almost guarantee that he would burn the building down again, the screams were just to musical. He quenched the flames with a simple weave of water, and proceeded to run loose across the plains.

The dreams always continued in the same fashion, as if they were all following a script. He ran loose on the plains, heading further and further from the pile of ashes. After running for what seemed like hours, he found a house on the plains, a house he somehow knew to be his. A house he shared, with his wife, and children. He opened up the door, and laughed as his eldest kitten pounced on him, glad to see his father home. From her crib, his daughter cooed and yelled for him. He grinned and walked over to pick her up, swinging her around, which caused her to scream out in joy, and caused his son to ask for the same treatment. T'Gra gladly obliged. His wife always came out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on an old dishrag. She always smiled a smile that filled his heart with an indescribable joy.

"T'Gra, where have you been? The kids have been worried." She would ask, her smile fading slightly, as she rubbed absently at her pregnant belly. "You look worn out, what have you been doing? T'Gra?"

And every time, he would reply with a grin of pure joy, "Tara...."

-----Part One. Why Pill Counting Sucks-----

"Tara," The voice urged, as a hand shook her. "Tara! Wake up!"

Tara James shook her head, and looked down once more at the tray of Valium, her spatula pushing along another set of five. "Sorry about that, Rick, I must have zoned out a bit. I didn't get very much sleep last night, I must be a little more tired, than I thought I was. I'll try not to let it happen again."

"Tara, I know what you are talking about, but if Bill catches you zoning out like that..." Rick made a cutting motion across his throat with his fingers. A small grin stretching the corners of his mouth, as he patted her lightly on the back. "Now finish that script, and take your lunch, OK? I think you could use the rest"

Tara nodded, as she dumped the pills she had been counting into a vial. She dumped the vial back onto the tray, and began counting again. Her spatula moved back and forth, back and forth, the motion reminding her not of serious work, but of the metronomes she had seen in movies. Maybe it was more like a hypnotist's watch; she couldn't quite figure which analogy was more appropriate. To her, it was a wonder that anyone ever actually took this crappy job. The pill counting was pointless, count one script, five more invariably appeared. The customers were rude, the pay stunk; All in all it was a horribly depressing job, but it was all she had.

However it paid most of the bills, and no other jobs were forthcoming. So basically, she could sit through and bide her time in the Pharmacy, or she could go home, and let the bill collectors repossess everything she owned. As the days went by the latter option seemed more and more viable. Hell, once they kicked her out of her apartment, she'd have nothing left to lose. She could just take her collection of Daniel Quinn novels, and go live in a cave or something.

Rick was the pharmacy manager. While it was not very likely that anything could make the job in the least bit enjoyable, Rick strived daily to bring at least some semblance of joy into the small confines of their pharmacy. He was generally a good guy to talk to, and Tara wouldn't have minded hanging out with him to get a beer or something.

She finished double counting the pills, and headed towards the office to clock out for lunch. The hope of a speedy egress however was destroyed by the arrival of another patient at the counter.

With a shaky voice, flavored by old age, and filled with what smelt vaguely of bourbon the man spoke, "I'm here to pick up my subscription."

"A prescription, sir? What is your name?" Tara asked, in a robotic tone, reciting lines that felt more than just rehearsed, they felt ingrained into her very soul, an integral part of her very being. She tried to remember the names of all of her patients, but she was bad with names, and still needed to ask them occasionally what their name was.

"My name is Ken." The man replied. The look in his eyes was infuriatingly blank and mildly glazed. Any hope she may have harbored of finding intelligence in those eyes was lost. Tara braced herself for what she knew was going to be a bad encounter.

"What is your last name, sir?" Tara asked through gritted teeth. She tried hard, as she always did, to keep her calm amidst the teeming masses of undereducated imbeciles that populated the planet. Too many people, and not enough intelligence to go around. It was a curse she had to live with.

"Hardley." He replied, his voice rasping slightly as he grew more impatient. "Ken Hardley. I want to pick up my subscription."

"Ken Hardley, let me look for that" Tara said, and she began to rifle through the large bins of scripts, finally grabbing out one, and bringing it to the register. "Ok Mr. Hardley, the total for your prescription will be twenty-five dollars"

"Twenty-five dollars!" Mr. Hardley shouted, as he pulled out his insurance card, "I ain't never had to pay that much for my subscriptions! Doesn't my insurance pay for that? Don't you have a genetic? I have a god-damned medical card!"

Tara groaned inwardly, it appeared as if it was going to be another battle with Mr. Hardley, it always was. "Mr. Hardley, your PRESCRIPTION, is priced by your insurance, we have nothing to do with what you are charged. All we do is submit the claim electronically to the insurance company and they send us the copay. If there is a dispute about the price, they are the ones to call; we have absolutely no control over the prices. If you want I can tell you how much this would cost without your insurance. I will guarantee you it will be at least four times as costly."

"You are always messing up my Subscriptions," He looked at her, his wrinkly old face looked more pathetic then it looked threatening and, in a less trying situation, might have inspired feelings of pity for the man. "I think that I should take all my subscriptions to another drugstore, where the pharmist won't be fucking me over."

Rick stepped in at this point shooing Tara away, as he took over the battle. Tara walked woodenly out of the pharmacy, anger about the encounter flaring within her like a flame. She hated that particular aspect of pharmacy work, as well. The people she dealt with were so often about as intelligent as a rock. Of course, she always felt bad about making that particular comparison. She felt that on some fundamental level, she was insulting the rock. She was not, in any means demanding geniuses; she just wanted customers that would not be perfect candidates to have their picture put in the dictionary next to the word idiot. It was as if none of the people she dealt with had ever passed a 1^st grade reading level, nor had they managed to get past a 1^st grade education. The older people were worse than most of the young ones, too. They seemed to want everyone to bow down and kiss their collective asses, just because they were older than dirt.

She moved back into the break room, and took a seat. She never actually ate anything on her lunch breaks, she instead used the time to read a book, or write in her journal. Today, was a day for writing. She found it an amusing diversion to write up what the customers said, keeping a journal, of sorts. Sometimes, she just used the writing as a chance to rant, since she had no one to rant to, except for her journal. The various entries, while at the time served only to infuriate her, now brought her great amusement. Laughter was sometimes the only way she was able to get up in the morning. Maybe one day she would be able to incorporate them into a novel. Maybe even use her pain to gain some level of fame.

At one time she had held aspirations of something more, something spectacular, of actually amounting to something in life. Reality had crushed the dreams from her, leaving her just a slave to the soul-crushing routine of her life. Why was it that she could not find enjoyment in what she was doing? Why couldn't she just be happy where she was? She asked herself these questions constantly, but never came up with an answer that satisfied her. Life was just no longer full of the fun and wonder she had experienced in her youth. No, life was just what happens in between birth and death, to make you yearn for the time before the former, and wait for the latter

She looked at her journal, the pen quivered in her hand, as she thought back to Mr. Hardley's rant. Why did that old man always have to be such an incredible asshole? He never was nice to any of the techs in the pharmacy, nor any of the store associates. He had a tendency of using language that was unbecoming of a human being, in lengthy rants, that would have made a sailor blush. He pissed off the management, he pissed off the staff, and yet he continued to come to their pharmacy. As much as everyone wanted the old buzzard banned from the store, management refused. The amount of money his prescriptions brought in each month, was enough to pay each employee a week's pay. So Mr. Hardley was allowed to stay, and everyone had to grit his or her teeth and hope for the day that the cantankerous old man would die. Today, when she wrote in her journal, she did not write out Mr. Hardley's rant, rather she once more just exercised her ability to rant;

"I know it is wrong to wish death on an old man, I was taught to have compassion, to love my neighbor. Yet I find myself daily wishing that Mr. Hardley would die, or leave, or any of a million other horrible things.

I imagine my mom would tell me to forgive and forget. I also imagine that forgiving and forgetting will do nothing, except encourage him to continue to be a mean and all together awful human being. It leaves me wondering, if there is any redeeming quality about the man at all, or if he is mean just because he can.

Is it too much, to wish that people who come to the pharmacy would have a little more than a 2^nd grade education. Mr. Hardley is just the latest in a stream of idiots in the pharmacy. I am left to wonder if there might be some kind of classes they take to be this stupid. No mere human could be this stupid without actually doing it willfully. And what is worse, when they act stupid, and screw things up, they get rude and start yelling at me. As if I am at fault, when they call in the wrong prescription. As if I came over to their house, and held a gun to their head and told them to double the six and drop the five. Is it my fault, that they can't read, and end up calling in the number for a patient who died three years ago? It angers me greatly, even though I know it shouldn't."

Tara paused there, wondering if she should go on with that line of thought, or if maybe she should revisit her favorite topic of rants, the drive-thru. She lifted her head, and pushed some of her straight black hair out of her face, looping it behind her ear. She chewed thoughtfully on her pen cap, as she stared at the blank white walls of the break room. The decision as to whether or not to continue was made for her however, when Brian joined her in the break room. Brian, as always, took the seat right across from Tara, and smiled that goofy grin of his. His eyes held the same glassy brown that she saw in many of her patients. She had known from the beginning, that Brian was not a particularly sharp cookie, but she tolerated him. He annoyed her on a consistent basis, with his consistent banter about professional wrestling and what not, but in his case, if he pissed her off enough, she could vent on him. In the end, that was what set him apart from the hundreds of other idiots she dealt with daily. Also, it was what made her able to actually stand his presence.

"Hello Tara," He kept on with his smiling, a slightly flirtatious tone invading his regular slurred speech. "How are you doing today?"

Tara took on the most honey sweet smile she could muster, finding sanctuary in one of her most time-honored masks. "Hello Brian. I'm doing about as fine as can be expected, I suppose. How about yourself?"

"I'm doing just fine," Brian grinned, then noticed the notebook in Tara's hands "So, you are writing in that book of yours again? What do you write in there anyway?"

Tara got up and threw the notebook into her locker with a resounding clank, as the metallic spiral hit the walls of the locker. "Nothing. Just notes."

"Why do you need to keep notes?" Brian asked, and then took on a conspiratorial whisper, yet still managed to keep that bothersome flirtatious tone "Are you planning something?"

Tara was beginning to get annoyed by the inquisition, and even more so by his tone. She turned around and glared at Brian, "No. I am not planning anything."

Brian sighed, slightly crestfallen that this was not going to be his day to be involved in something intriguing with Tara. He finally pulled out his lunch and began to eat, as Tara looked at her watch, and realized it was time to head back into the trenches. She clocked back in, and headed back towards the pharmacy. She was not even half way there, when she noticed the line of people. 8 people stood in line, all taping their feet angrily. Rick was running around frantically, as was Heidi, the other Tech there this morning. Phones were ringing off the hook, and the man in the drive-thru was shouting his head off. Tara was tempted at that moment to just turn around and head home. Duty called however, and she ducked back into the fray, only to be assailed by the never-ending barrage of complaints from the assembled masses. Ah, the joy of working in a pharmacy..

"Some days, it just doesn't pay to take a lunch," Tara growled to herself, as she plastered the company's standard phony smile onto her pretty face. Anyone who looked closely would notice that there was no life or joy left in her gray eyes. The spark of joy no longer found its home in her.

The day continued on, the usual assortment of druggies and idiots paraded themselves through the pharmacy, complaining, cursing, and generally making asses of themselves. They hit on her, the yelled at her, they made veiled sexual innuendos, and they made less veiled threats of physical violence. Through it all, the fake smile remained plastered on Tara's face. She always had to smile. At times, she imagined that she must look like a madwoman with that large toothy smile plastered on her face all the time as it was.

When Tom Jenkins came in and told her she was a "stupid bitch", because she refused to give him his Vicodin three weeks early, she smiled. When Maria Kyle came in, and demanded to get her Percocet in 5 minutes, and then proceeded to stand at the counter unmoving until she got her medication, Tara continued to smile. When Jared Freeman came in and insisted that they had filled his prescription wrong, claiming that the pharmacy was trying to poison him, Tara grinned even wider. She even managed to keep her smile when Tina Bell got so mad she started to throw anything and everything she could grab at Tara, just because Tara told her that there were no prescriptions ready for her. Tara was the poster child for the fake smile.

The smile was her shield, a piss poor shield to be sure, but it was the only defense she had against the slings and arrows of the pharmaceutical business. There were truthfully no real reasons to smile, at least not in this line of work. If she were the pharmacist, maybe she might make enough to compensate for the grief she went through daily. Instead she was lucky to make 8 dollars an hour, and had to struggle to pull together 40 hours of work every week. She had to worry on a daily basis about fines associated with fraud, or the possibility of a HIPPA violation. The constant threat of being robbed at gunpoint for their Oxycontin and Percocet stood over her. Violent patients, snippy nurses, idiotic doctors, incompetent co-workers, life was a fairly frightening experience when you are a pharmacy technician.

The day ended, as they have a tendency of doing, and Tara began her slow walk home. One of the most convenient parts about working in this particular pharmacy was that she could walk home without a problem, and since she didn't drive, that was very convenient. She lived almost directly behind the pharmacy in a small apartment complex, and the walk was short, taking about 5 minutes, 10 if she dragged her feet. The warm summer breeze blew her hair around her head, in gentle ebony waves. There was little she enjoyed more than walking, and today was a wonderful day for a walk. The sun was shining, and she took her time walking. While the day may have been bad, while people may have made her want to pull her hair out, there was always a supremely calming effect in a good long walk.

The warm air helped to ease her mind, and return her to a nice calm state. The simple joys in life, were all she had left, slow walks, and nature hikes. Between the two of those actions, Tara found release, and an inner peace that she knew that no amount of new age meditation would ever help her achieve. Time however, was not on her side, and in fact seemed to conspire against her. There were not enough hours in the day for her to go to work, and still manage to get in a decent days walk. With her job the way it was, and her co-workers total lack of job ethics, she was booked almost all the time. The concept of a social life went out the door the day she left high school and entered into what is commonly referred to as "the real world". She found absolutely no joy in toiling away for up to fourteen hours a day in the Pharmacy, just so she could keep up with her various bills. Not to mention, that the insane hours made it almost impossible to even think about getting a second job to help her get out of the red.

Tara heaved a heavy sigh, as she reached the door to her apartment. The small white portal did not look at all inviting, as it should. It looked, to her, like the door to a prison, and not a particularly nice prison. She thought that she should hear the screams of angry prisoners emanating from the door. Instead, what she heard, was her cat Minx mewling softly from the other side of the door. The sound of Minx's plaintive cries, brought a smile to her face, it felt good to have someone to welcome you home, even if that someone was a slightly overweight black house cat. Minx was a stray she had found in the woods a few years back. The poor animal had had a broken paw, and was crying, when she found her. Tara had grabbed the animal, and rushed to the veterinarian's office as fast as possible. When no one claimed the cat within a month, Tara took her in as a family member. They had been together ever since that day.

Tara opened the door, and immediately Minx rushed out to rub against her leg. Tara scooped up the black mass of fur, and stroked her back. Minx purred and arched her back to better meet Tara's hand. Tara moved towards the couch, where she had left the mail before work that morning. Placing Minx down beside her, Tara rifled through the mail, hoping for some kind of good news, a notice of some great inheritance or something. No good new awaited her, just the usual assortment of bills, bills and more bills, and another letter saying she may have already won absolutely nothing. She sighed and tossed the entire stack at the wall, they never made it, as the entire stack exploded in a mass of envelopes in mid-flight. Minx jumped off the couch, and began to swat at the various envelopes, ripping a few, but most just harmlessly got swatted to the floor.

Tara stifled a chuckle, as she lay down on the couch. Tomorrow was Saturday, which for her was always a day of rest, even if the rest she took meant a leisurely stroll through the woods behind the apartment. That was actually one of the reasons she had chose to live in this particular complex. There was a vast wooded landscape right outside her backdoor. Nearly thirty square miles of oak and pine and maple, all wait for her just twenty feet away. Fortunately the area was a protected nature reserve, and as such barred all developers from coming in and raping the woods.

"Hey Minx?" Tara said, turning her head to face her cat, which still had not gotten tired of the envelopes that she was happily swatting.

Minx turned to stare at Tara, and mewled softly as if to ask, "Whataya want now? I was busy here!"

"Do you want to go walking with me tomorrow?" Tara asked, when she decided she had as much of the Cat's attention as she was going to get, "Who knows, maybe we will get lucky and find you a playmate. What do you think about that?"

Minx turned away, gave another soft mewl, before returning to playing with the various envelopes that now laid scattered across the floor. Her answer to Tara's question was very obvious, even to one who did not speak the language of the cats. "Who cares?"

Tara sighed, and used the time at hand to take a quick nap. A fitful slumber befell her, a lot of which was due to her horribly uncomfortable choice of lounging places. Flashes of tidbits of dreams spun through her head. Nothing in these flashes was discernable, and left no real impression on her, except for a faint feeling of confusion. She was roused from the dream by Minx, who had positioned herself on top of Tara's breasts, and had decided to start pawing at Tara's nose. Tara lifted the mischievous feline off of her, and placed her neatly down on the floor, as she herself sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"Minx, I'm sure you're hungry, lets get some food" Tara asked, and received a very eager mewl in response. Sometimes Tara could almost imagine that Minx understood what she was saying. It was impossible, of course, since cats did not have a developed enough brain to recognize human speech. Either way however, it was fairly amusing when Minx did things like that. Tara stood, and made her way to the kitchen, idly planning whether tonight was going to be another TV dinner night, or not.

She started dinner preparations by opening a can of tuna for Minx. It was an odd trait of Minx's; she refused to eat any regular cat food. Any time Tara tried to give her some, Minx refused to even touch it. Tara had learned fairly fast, that if she didn't want Minx starving, she was going to have to keep a fairly large stock of Bumblebee tuna, which just happened to be Minx's favorite. Still at a loss, Tara looked through her various cupboards, while Minx happily devoured the contents of the small tin. Tara pulled out a Pasta Anytime product, another thing she kept a ready supply of, and popped it into the microwave. As she prepared the Pasta, she gave Minx yet another can of tuna, which instantly placated the hungry feline.

Dinner, came and went, as it normally did, and left both Tara and Minx fairly content, and with very full bellies. Tara went and slipped into her customary nightshirt, and curled up in her bed. She turned on the TV and began to flip through the channels hoping for something to be on that was worth watching for a change. However, as was the norm anymore, Friday night television left something to be desired. Tara decided to relieve her boredom by popping in one of her CD's. She listened to the harsh rhythms with minimal interest, as she drifted into another night of fitful slumber. The night passed into nothingness, as The Offspring played over and over.

   

-----Part Two: Nature Hike-----

Tara woke up the next morning around 11 in the morning, with Minx curled up on her stomach. Tara had to move slowly to avoid waking her, so that she could hit the power button on the CD player. Tara stretched a little, and looked down at the furry ball that now resided on her stomach. While she was loath to disturb her companion, the urgency in her bladder made her decision for her. She picked Minx up, and placed her very carefully on the floor, as she made a mad dash for the bathroom.

Having relieved herself, Tara returned to the bedroom to get ready for her morning shower, another one of the small joys that Tara still had. Minx lay curled up on top of Tara's pillow, mewling softly, as she watched Tara gather her things for a shower. Tara and Minx shared a quick glance, before Tara finally disappeared into the bathroom and the water began running.

A few minutes later, Tara emerged from the bathroom, amidst a dense cloud of steam. She wore her red bathrobe, and her hair was wrapped around her head with her favorite towel. She shed the robe, like a snake sheds its skin, and lay down upon her bed, with Minx purring away next to her head. She let out a long sigh, and grinned. Yet another of life's small joys remembered. She found it odd, that the small joys in life were usually only remembered, when she was far away, relatively speaking, from the pharmacy.

"Minx, you know something?" Tara said, as her cat stared intently at her. "There are some small joys to living alone, you know?"

Minx mewed softly, with obvious disinterest, but Tara refused to be stopped.

"I can take showers that are as long as I want, and no one will come knocking on the bathroom door. I can take them as hot as I desire, and no one will bother me about wasting all of the hot water." Tara grinned, remembering fondly the wonderful shower, "I can walk around naked, without anyone saying anything. Not that I think they would, mind you."

Tara had always been particularly proud of her body and strove to keep it in shape. Only a small part of that was the daily walks she took. It was a shame that she had yet to get a chance to show off her body for someone, other than the rare trip out of state, to go to the beach. The scant few times that she roamed her apartment in her natural state, were probably some of the nicest times in her life. It always felt good to her to be free of the numerous synthetic fibers that she was subject to everyday. Something just felt entirely wrong about them.

Time stood still for no one, and Tara knew that if she was going to do her nature walk today, she was going to have to get dressed. She picked through her dresser, pulling out her customary walking gear; a green sports bra, and a pair of green sweat pants. As she got dressed, Minx finally began to stir, stretching, and bristling the black fur on her back. Tara slid into her walking shoes, and began to work her way over to the kitchen.

She packed a small backpack with some bottled water, and a few snacks, for later in the day. She knew very well, that if this walk turned out like her other ones she wouldn't be back until after dark, so a snack or two was a necessity. She also packed a few cans of tuna for Minx. She couldn't forget Minx, even if she tried. With her bag packed, she went about getting something for breakfast.

She grabbed her regular breakfast, which consisted of a Nutrigrain bar, and a mug of her favorite orange herbal tea. Meanwhile, she gave Minx another can of tuna. Once Minx finished her tuna, Tara poured the remainder of her tea into a thermos cup, and headed for the back door. She opened it wide, and Minx bounded out into the back yard. Tara closed the door, and followed after Minx, as they both headed towards the woods.

When the dense wooded canopy finally blocked out the sun, Tara began to get the "at home" feeling she always felt when she was alone and in communion with nature. She roamed through the dense foliage, with Minx only a few steps behind her. Looking around from tree to tree, Tara felt at peace amidst the smell of pine and oak, with faint undertones of maple, and some indescribable earthy aroma. She fell into a sort of daze, hypnotized by the myriad trees, as well as the woodsy smells. She couldn't help but grin widely as she wondered contentedly deeper and deeper into the woods.

She broke into a clearing several hours later, with a small pond in the middle, and decided that this would be a good place to take a break. She leaned up against a tree on the edge of the clearing, and stared out at the clear blue pond, thinking briefly about taking a nice dip. She let her mind wonder, as she pulled out another Nutrigrain bar, and a bottle of water. The wind blew through the leaves causing a sweet susurration, almost like a lullaby. Minx curled up next to her, and together, they took a nice long break.

Between the relaxing atmosphere, the lulling tones of the wind in the leaves, and the intense feeling of contentment, Tara managed to spend several long hours in that clearing. Her mind wandered loose, flitting from one subject to the next, never remaining on the same concept for too long. When she finally broke out of her trance, she noticed that it was getting dark, and she still had to make it back home.

She turned to Minx, who was curled up in a small ball, and obviously napping contentedly. "Minx. We have to get back home, lets get moving!"

She packed up the bag with all the garbage, stood, and then waited for Minx to follow suit. When Minx had done her customary stand and stretch, Tara bolted off into the bushes, trusting in her sense of direction to get her where she was going. She didn't take time to look at the woods as she passed, even though she found the woods at night to be almost more beautiful then the woods during the day. Now, however, she needed to get home. The deeper portions of the woods were not terribly safe at night, and she had no intention of losing her life in the middle of them.

Suddenly, as she was beginning to see the lights of nearby housing units, she tripped on some unseen object. She pitched forward, smashing her face into a nearby tree and dragging her face through the rough bark.. An immediate map of the entire universe erupted in front of her face. She did not even have a chance to register the pain, as consciousness fled her.

She slowly rose from the depths of unconsciousness, and the darkened sky told her it was well past midnight. Blood was caked around her nose and mouth, and a painful throbbing in her nose, invited a quick exploratory poke. Upon touching her nose, a searing pain shot through her body, accompanied by a wave of violent nausea. She emptied her stomach, and turned around to try and see what had tripped her. She found a small book, half-wedged under the roots of a tree. She grabbed it, and thumbed through the pages, as her nose began a steady dripping once again.

A page caught her eyes, and she read it out loud, slightly delirious from all of the blood loss. "Bathed in blood, I am Reborn. Bathed in blood, I am Reborn. Bathed in blood I am Reborn. What the hell kind of book is this?"

She paused and looked at the pages, which we now stained by the dripping of blood from her injured nose. She cursed loudly, and flung the book away. She tried to struggle to her feet, but vertigo dictated that a sitting position was much more feasible, and probably much better for her health. She leaned against the trunk of a nearby oak tree. As black flecks began to dance across her vision. She rubbed her eyes, and the flecks began to glow. She rubbed her eyes again, and the glowing flecks began to merge, growing into larger specks. The specks flowed together into larger dots. The dots merged and flowed, forming shapes, similar to human limbs. The limbs of light merged together, and formed a glowing woman.

"Why have you summoned me Mortal?" The glowing creature spoke, "and why did you use such tainted blood? I ask for the blood of an innocent. You my dear, are far from innocent."

Tara rubbed her eyes, convinced that she was hallucinating, "Holy crap! What the heck are you? Am I dying or something?"

"I am Rantar. Goddess of Chaos. You are not dying; you just have a broken nose, hardly a fatal wound, unless your kind has gotten more fragile in my absence. Now why did you summon me?" Rantar spoke, her words bearing untold amounts of venom, yet were delivered with a sugary sweetness that masked much of the venom. "Speak quickly mortal, lest you raise my ire. And mark my words, you do not want to see me angry."

"How did I summon you? Last time I checked, I wasn't able to summon gods or goddesses" Tara mumbled, through the haze of pain.

"You performed the Rite. You spoke the words, you shed the blood, and you have summoned me. Now make your request, so I can return to my realm and wait for someone else to summon me." Rantar's anger filled her voice, the overlying sweetness eroding slowly, and caused Tara to flinch.

"A request?" Tara asked, as she stared at the glowing form before her, "What kind of request?"

"Anything your heart may desire," Rantar breathed, a hint of anticipation in her voice, "You could ask for anything. Maybe you desire love? Or power? Maybe you desire gold and jewels, enough to fill a thousand treasuries? Make your request, and it shall be granted, or stall, and face the anger of Rantar!"

Tara thought a moment, before replying, "I want to be free of the crapfest I call a job. I want to be able to roam the woods whenever I want to."

"Ah, a simple request. Most unusual from your species. I find it odd that you did not wish for an end to the pain. Either way, your request is granted. You will however be punished for using tainted blood. Goodbye mortal, until we meet again" Rantar spoke this last part, and then vanished into a black hole in the air.

Tara sat there, and shook her head, which sent her long hair twirling about her head in a black halo. She shrugged off the odd hallucination, and got on her hands and knees, and began to head for the edge of the woods, and home. Tara managed to crawl her way out of the woods, and found herself in her neighbor's back yard. She struggled her way to the door, fresh spurts of blood leaving a trail behind her, and knocked on it, trying to rouse the neighbors. A light in the kitchen, and hurried footsteps told Tara that they had heard her. Just as Mr. Hinkle opened the door, Tara passed out once more, even as a loud scream pierced the night.

 

-----Part 3: On Dr.'s and such-----

Tara awoke hours later, in what looked like a hospital room. She tried to move her hands to check her nose, but found that they were strapped down, as were her legs. A strange lump under her back moved unpleasantly. She stared up at the fluorescent lights, and listened for any signs of life in the area. She heard people walking down the hall, and caught snippets of their conversations.

"...the most fucked up thing I have ever..."

"Where do you think it came from?"

"...looks kinda humanoid..."

"...we should try dissecting it..."

"...shouldn't we just kill it..."

"...See what it did to those..."

A faint clicking of footsteps approached the door, stopping outside it. The doorknob turned, and she waited as the clicking steps approached her. A tall gray-haired man stood over her; a weak smile played across his lips, but never touched his blue eyes, which remained like chips of ice. "I see you are awake. Good, good. Now maybe you can answer some questions for us."

Tara stared at the man. When she spoke her words were heated with an anger she never realized she possessed. "Why the hell am I tied down? What the fuck kind of hospital is this, anyway? When I get out of here, you guys are getting sued for everything you've got."

"Oh, a little spitfire, aren't you?" The man said, chuckling to himself, a dry humorless sound. "I am Dr. Drey, and this is no hospital, my little friend. This is a government research lab, and I am the director. You, my dear, are the subject of quite a bit of concern amongst my staff. You see, we have never encountered anything like you in all of our years, and many of us have been all over this world."

Tara groaned inwardly, "are you telling me you've never seen a woman before? Wow. You scientific guys really do live in caves. I mean, I know you guys have no social life, but to have never seen a woman is a little extreme. Were you raised by your fathers or something?"

Dr. Drey shook his head. Then fixed his icy gaze on Tara once more. "No. We have seen women before. You however, are like no woman we have ever seen. Your unique physiology sets you far apart from what we call women, which is why I have some questions for you."

"Fuck you! Let me go, and then maybe we'll talk." Tara spat at him, her acidic tone fueled by her fiery rage.

"I can't do that. You see, the last time you were free, you clawed up two guards before we managed to sedate you. The guards are recovering, but will have horribly scarred faces for the rest of their lives. You are dangerous, letting you roam free is a mistake we will not soon be repeating. Now would you please answer my questions?"

Tara glared at him, her eyes shot daggers, "You're lying. I could never have done anything like that." Even as she said it images flashed through her head, Quick flashes of claws, blood, and screams. She held her eyes shut tightly, trying to banish the offending images.

"Well you could or not is not up for debate," Dr. Drey replied. "You did it, plain and simple. Two guards are dead, and so you will remain strapped down, until such time as we deem you safe to be released. Now, does your species have a name for itself, or will I get to make one up for you?"

"My species?" Tara puzzled, "What do you mean? I'm a human you dolt! Don't tell me you've never seen a human being before."

"My dear girl, I have seen many a human in my day," Dr. Drey stated flatly, "And I can unequivocally state, that you are no human."

"What are you talking about?" Tara asked, her voice flavored by more than a little annoyance. "I've been human since the day I was born."

Dr. Drey pulled a small mirror over the bed that Tara was strapped to. Tara blinked as she stared into the reflective surface, and screamed. The face that presented itself to her, was not her own, bared no resemblance to her own. It was hairy, making it look like she had fur. She saw was a tiger-striped pattern in black and white, covering all of the flesh she could see and she presumed it covered her entire body. Her teeth were pointed, and small whiskers jutted out around her mouth and nose. Her eyes, were no longer the gray beauties she had grown to love, instead they were now cat's eyes that glowed with a soft amber light. Her ears were now perched on the top of her head, and were pointed, sticking out from the black mane, which was the only recognizable feature.

"What have you done to me?" Tara shrieked, terror filling her voice. "What have you done to my face? Turn me back you bastard!"

Dr. Drey seemed at a loss, "We did absolutely nothing to your face, except maybe washing the blood out of your fur. So you were serious about being born human? I mean I had guessed as much, especially after finding that ID on you, but still it is rather astonishing. How can that be possible, the technology for that is years off. I must speak to my colleagues immediately. Good day, ma'am."

He made a hasty retreat out the door, his shoes clapping heavily against the tile floor, as Tara began to scream for help. Her shouts roused no help, and only managed to leave her throat feeling dry and scratchy. She tried to examine her surroundings, but her head was held tightly in place. She tried once more to pull her arms free, but the straps held firm. She was stuck, and in all likely hood would never again see the light of day.

She struggled in her bonds for some time, pulling and shaking, but to no avail. They would not budge, and her exertions did nothing but cause her wrists and ankles to ache. She had long since given up on screaming, and now was reduced to nothing more then a series of grunts and moans. Fear consumed her, a cold wave of panic seized her, and for a long while she lost all hope

A noise in the corner, made her stop her remorseful contemplation. She listened, and heard soft footsteps moving toward her. The foot falls were muffled, as if the feet were covered in slippers. Tara slowed her breathing, and tried to act like she was asleep. She closed her eyes to add to the illusion. Finger pokes in her side irritated her to the point that she growled at the person who was in the corner, causing him to jump backwards in alarm.

"It is truly a surprise to find one of the Cathan outside their home dimension," A voice spoke, his words low, and tinged with an indistinct accent. It was a calming voice, however, and had a very soothing quality to it. Tara could not quite place the age of the voice, "You've done well to make it to this dimension, young Cathan, but your luck seems to have run out. It seems you were caught, and in all likelihood, you will probably be dissected. Now, doesn't that sound like fun?"

"Who's there? What do you want?" Tara asked, trying to keep her voice as calm as she could. "What the hell is a Cathan?"

"Even more impressive. " The man stated, clearly impressed, and still keeping the same calming tone in his voice. "A Cathan that speaks English. I've only met two in my life that understood English. K'hara and T'Gra Spire. You aren't by chance a relation of theirs?" When Tara shook her head slightly within her restraints, the man continued. "To answer your queries, I am Paris Tam, Guild Master of Guild Terra, Beloved son of Rikell, god of the Earth. I am here to bring you with me to the Hall of Mages, where I will seek to gain you tutelage in my guild. As far as what a Cathan is, suffice it to say, that a look in the mirror should answer that particular quandary. Now, if I may be so bold, what is your name young Cathan?"

"My name is Tara James, if you must know." She growled, as she struggle against the bonds that held her down. "And if you can get me out of these restraints, it will be greatly appreciated."

She heard a sound, like someone snapping their fingers, and suddenly, she was free. She looked at her hands, and noticed that they, too, were covered in a thick layer of hair. Each of her fingers were capped by a wicked looking claw. She leapt from the bed, and landed gracefully on her feet. Immediately, she ran for the full length mirror in the corner. A quick glance revealed that her entire body had undergone the metamorphosis. She was head to foot a half cat creature, complete with a long flexible tail. On top of all of that, however, she also was not wearing a stitch of clothing. Her wallet, and all her belongings were gone. She had no time for embarrassment, however, she needed to escape.

Paris walked up behind her, and placed a hand on her shoulder, causing her to jump in surprise, "Is there something wrong? Did they color your fur? You seem just normal."

"I... I'm..." Tara stammered, one clawed hand caressing her cheek, "I'm a monster! What have the done to me? What have they done to my beautiful face."

The rest of her words were lost amidst a violent outburst of heavy sobbing. Paris just stood back, confused by the spectacle he was seeing. In all of his years with the council, nothing had prepared him for an occurrence like this. A Cathan that was ashamed of her fur? That was unheard of. The Cathan cherished their fur. Perhaps Ruby would be able to shed some light on this unusual development.

"Ms. Tara, was it? Maybe you would like to come with me, before the people who tied you up, come back to check on you." Paris said, worriedly looking both ways. "I may have strong magic, but if they come in here with guns, you and I both going to be in a lot of trouble. Not to mention the hard time I am going to have explaining my own presence here.. So now, if you don't mind, shall we flee this place, while we still have a chance to?"

Tara nodded her head slowly. She was reluctant to go along with this man she had just met, but seemed less than willing to stay in this prison. "Yes, I personally have no interest in getting a more intimate knowledge of the other side today. I hope you know what you are doing."

Paris smiled, and wove a portal, as Tara watched in rapt fascination, memorizing every single strand of the weave. The portal opened onto the Plains of Ferat, and when Paris motioned for Tara to go through, she did so with little hesitation. Paris soon followed and closed the portal. When the guards came by to check on her hours later, they found the bed empty. The alert was sounded immediately. A panic filled the air, as everyone was prepared for what could potentially be a very dangerous situation. Red lights filled the hallways, as security personnel ran about in search of the missing subject.

The head of security sat behind the security terminal, staring at the screens with a look of total bafflement. His hand shakily reached for the phone, missing it twice before finally latching on to the phone and bringing it clumsily to his ear. His meaty fingers tapped the number to Dr. Drey's office.

"S-s-sir this is Garret Rutger, chief of security." He began when he heard the other end connect, "We have a...well, I don't know how to explain it. Subject 613 has disappeared."

"Disappeared? Disappeared how, those restraints could have held anyone." Dr. Drey curtly replied.

"Well, um, it seems that she had an accomplice, who somehow popped into the room through a...hole of some kind, and popped back out, with 613 in tow." Garret's voice shook as he spoke, still not quite believing what he was saying.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dr. Drey demanded, anger filling his voice. "That just isn't possible."

"Sir. I have it on tape, sir." Garret insisted, his voice still shaky, "You should see this, it is insane."

"Send me the tape." Dr. Drey roared, "In the meantime, send out security to find that girl. I want her back within the hour, or you and your entire staff are CANNED."

Dr Drey hung up the phone with a resounding bang, then picked it up again. He dialed up the elite forces unit, and asked them to prepare for a search and capture mission.

"Felix is out of the bag," Dr Drey intoned, "Felix is out of the Bag."

 

-----Part 4: The Plains revisited-----

The Plains of Ferat seemed to stretch out infinitely in all directions. Long grasses blew in the wind, and large cat creatures prowled the night. A butterfly took flight, and Tara found herself having to fight the urge to chase after it. Tara looked at everything, doing her best to take in as many sites and sounds as she could, and loving the natural feel that seemed to exude from everything. She watched large cats roamed the plains, keeping their distance from their location.

Further off in the distance, a black tower rose into the purplish sky. The mere sight of the tower caused her to shiver involuntarily. Nearer to their location, she could see the rotunda of a shorter, but much wider structure curving gently. The building looked larger than a football stadium, and reminded her simultaneously of a cathedral, and a museum. This hybrid building seemed to be the destination Paris had in mind.

"What is this place?" Tara asked, awestruck by its beauty, "It is gorgeous. How come I didn't know a place like this existed?"

Paris chuckled lightly at the question, "You know, that is something that all of the new initiates ask, I keep telling the council they need to put a sign along the path. Something to the effect of 'Welcome to the Plains of Ferat. You are here.' with a big red X marking your spot."

Tara grinned at his attempt at being witty, and looked over at him. For the first time she looked at him objectively, and realized that he was not an unattractive man, although that might be augmented slightly by the fact that she viewed him as her savior. He stood maybe six foot two, and had fairly broad shoulders. His hair was moderately long, and sent strawberry blond streamers behind him in the wind. He seemed to have a decent enough build, from what Tara could see. If circumstances were just a little different she might have considered trying to get a date with him, even if he did look about 30. She followed him, watching his earthy brown robe move around him.

The walk was a relatively short one, and was filled with a multitude of sights and sounds that had Tara grinning like a school girl. The plains had some sort of magnetism about them, that just riveted Tara's attention. The animals that roamed the plain were of such an odd variety, that they could not help but draw her eye. She found herself laughing happily at everything, and wished that she could just roam free on these plains until the end of her days.

The trip however, could not last forever, and soon they stood at the entrance to the large building she had seen. Up close it seemed even larger than it had seemed at first. The large front door had an imposing look to it. She shivered slightly as she watched Paris swing the doors inward. They swung slowly, as if they weighed multiple tons a piece. Inside, a welcoming light shone brightly over everything, illuminating the room, and giving it a pleasant golden glow. Shadows danced as the torches flickered, and Tara couldn't help but imagine she was about to enter some sort of medieval castle.

When he stepped through the great doors of the Hall of Mages, Paris turned to look at Tara, a wide grin splitting his handsome face. "I would like to welcome you Tara, to the Hall of Mages. For the next few years, this will be your home, so I hope you enjoy the scenery. If not, give it time, it will grow on you."

"Wait a minute, 'the next few years'?" Tara choked on the words. "I can't do that. I need to go back home. I have people waiting for me, they will come looking for me. What about my family? What will they think when I disappear for a few years?"

"I'm truly sorry Tara," Paris continued, in a tone of very sincere remorse, " Unfortunately I can not allow you to leave. The council must train all mages. If we fail in our sacred mission then the world, all worlds, will be in danger. In your case, it would be even more dangerous. We can not allow an Aberrant to remain free without proper training. I am sorry, but you are here for the next few years, whether you like it or not."

"Well, what if I get away? What about that?" Tara growled at the man who was no longer her savior. He had instead become her jailor, no better then the government scientists that had abducted her. "What will you and your council do then?"

"Please calm down, Tara." Paris implored, "It won't be so bad, there are a lot of people here, you'll make friends quickly. Just give us a chance. We don't want to harm you, we just need to train you, please."

"Not a chance of that." Tara growled, as she turned and bolted off into the night, leaving Paris standing there dumbfounded.

"There is no way I am going to be able to explain this." Paris groaned, as he headed up to Ruby's chamber. He walked slowly, trying to avoid the confrontation he knew was coming "Ruby is going to have my head."

He knocked softly on the door to Ruby's reception area, before opening the door, and walking up to Janice Klein, Ruby's secretary. He flashed her his most handsome smile. "Janice, is Ruby in?"

Janice just nodded, her silver eyes sparkling. "Yes, she is expecting you, in fact."

Paris had been hoping to get a chance to talk to Janice a little more. The woman had quite a lot going for her, in Paris' eyes. She was smart, smarter than most gave her credit for. She had the most amazing eyes he had ever seen, pools of silver that reflected light in tantalizing ways. She had a very pretty face, one he had more than once thought about kissing. He could not make much of a guess, at the rest of her body, since she always wore the loose-fitting robes that were standards in the Hall.

"Oh, I'm sure there is some time to talk, isn't there Janice?" Paris asked, trying to stall for time. He wanted to put off the inevitable confrontation off as long as possible.

Janice shook her head, "I'm sorry Mr. Tam. Ruby has instructed me to send you directly to her office." Paris sighed heavily, and Janice continued, "Maybe we can talk after your meeting?"

Paris sensed more than a little bit of a suggestion there, and gave her another smile. Then he turned towards Ruby's Chamber. Paris just swallowed hard, and nodded, stepping up to the door to Ruby's chamber. His unobtrusive knock was met with an entreaty to enter, and he complied. He found himself once more in the chamber that Ruby called her office. He was again amazed by the lavish decoration, and intricate stonework that lined the room. Small brass lanterns burned in the corners, banishing a small amount of the darkness, but still left enough shadow to make the room feel slightly oppressive. Ruby sat calmly at her desk, a large mahogany monstrosity, with her hands folded neatly on the top.

"Where is she?" Ruby asked, getting straight to the point, and cutting out all the small talk that usually accompanied meetings. "Where is the new girl you were sent to recover? Where is the Aberrant?"

Paris lowered his head in shame, and began an earnest study of the blood red carpet he now stood on. "She ran off before she even set foot in the hall. I was shocked, and unable to subdue her, she managed to get away. She was nowhere near as cooperative as Ms. Dallas has been."

Ruby raised an eyebrow, "So you mean she did not wish to be trained? She chose rather to run from our sanctuary?" Paris nodded, and she continued. "We will have to rectify the problem if we run across any more Aberrants. For now however, gather your finest mages, and prepare a search party. This girl must be found, before she gets too far. We can not afford any mistakes. Now go bring her back, so she can be trained."

Paris bowed his head, and murmured a few indistinguishable words, and retreated from the office. Once back outside, he looked at Janice, "Janice, can you get a message out to my Guild?"

Janice nodded as she smiled sweetly at her would be paramour, "Yes sir, Mr. Tam. I can do that"

"Good. Send a message to the Hunters. Tell them 'We have a runner, and need her caught. Meet me in the courtyard in at 17:30 ' Can you do that?"

"Sure I can, Mr. Tam. I take it that means our talk is going to have to be rescheduled?" She said, pouting a bit.

"Unfortunately so Janice. Can I get a rain check on the talk? I am sure we can talk later, in private, maybe over dinner?" Paris flirted more, even though he felt like he had lead in his belly.

Janice nodded, smiling at Paris' request. As Paris left the room he sighed heavily, and reminded himself that work comes before pleasure, as was always the case. Pleasure would have to wait for another day, but for now however, the hunt was on.

Meanwhile, on the Plains of Ferat, Tara was still running, looking for a suitable place to hide. She found some small sanctuary, in a little house, nearly 30 miles away from the Hall. She opened the door, and rushed inside. The interior was dusty, but furnished, and it was obvious that the previous occupants were long gone. She set to work dusting some things off, making a place to rest. She found a small cedar chest filled with blankets and afghans all of which were relatively dust free. She draped the coverings over a small couch, and used the couch as a bed, where she took the opportunity to get some much needed sleep. It also afforded her to escape reality, and visit briefly the world that was her subconscious.

She awoke some hours later feeling refreshed, and was momentarily disoriented by the odd surroundings. She vaguely remembered an odd dream, involving cats, and mages, but she laughed it off, as she swung off the couch. A quick flick of her tail, brought reality crashing back in on her. She was, in fact, no longer human. She now was closer to Minx, her beloved Minx, then she was to her own mother. She was as good as jobless now, and it would only be a matter of time before her apartment was cleared of her stuff by the management. She was as good as dead.

She knew that the Mages would have people looking for her in this world, and that she would have government lapdogs looking for her in her own. She was hunted, and her only safety was in running. So run she did. She bounded out of the house, and ran once more across the plains, trying to remember once more the way that Paris had made the gate to get here.

A tingle of premonition caused her to swerve to the right, as an arrow of light flew past her head, singeing a few of the hairs on her head, and exploded into a nearby outcropping of rock. The resulting shower of semi-molten rock burned, and cut her, but still she ran. They had found her, and by all appearances, they seemed intent on blood. She veered quickly to the left this time, as the ground before her exploded upwards forming bars, an earthen cage appearing were she would have stood. Maybe her life was not what they were after, after all. The gave her an idea.

She turned on the spot, and broke into a run towards her pursuers. She saw three men on horseback, galloping along at full tilt. When they saw her they pulled back on the reins, and stared at her, before they each began to gesture. She watched the weaves they were performing, memorizing them. The first one let loose his weave, and again the earth before her began to tremble. She stopped running, and then sprinted off to the right, as another earthen cage formed. The second one let loose his weave, shaking the ground beneath Tara. Tara leapt out of the way, before a large whole opened up beneath where she had stood.

The third performed a quick weave, that sent small balls of wet plaster-like material at her. Tara jumped out of the way, as the plaster balls hit the ground harmlessly. Tara grinned a toothy grin, as she started running towards them again. The trio hurried to prepare new weaves. Their preparations were cut short, when Tara slammed into the side of the second mage's mount. A startled cry erupted from his lips, as he flew into the first rider. The two riders fell , leaving just the third rider, to stare dumbfounded, at the spectacle before him. Tara quickly wove the together one of the weaves she had seen the mages attempt. The ground rumbled, and a great schism opened in the ground, swallowing the three horses, and their riders.

As the bodies fell screaming into the abyss, Tara stood at lip of the steep precipice staring down into the vast, seemingly bottomless blackness. She grinned, a humorless grin, and spat into the darkness, cursing her pursuers, and letting out a mirthless laugh. She walked away from the hole, and returned to the house, looking for some food, anything to fill her grumbling stomach, before she set off for home. The house's cupboards were empty, save for the odd assortment of cobwebs and dead insects. The closets as well were empty, and offered no sustenance for the ever-weakening Tara. In a fit of desperation, Tara started the weave she had seen Paris do when he brought her to this place, all the time thinking of her kitchen. When a hole opened in the air before her, and showed her kitchen in plain view, she was ecstatic. She dove through the hole, and began to ravage the refrigerator, grabbing anything and everything she could.

Her gorging session was interrupted by a knock on the door. With a piece of cold pizza still in hand, she moved to the door, and looked out the peep hole. Two men stood at the door, dressed almost exclusively in black, with guns at the ready. She dropped the pizza, and ran to the back door, only to see more men on her back porch, she was surrounded. How had they known she was here? What did they want? She ran up the stairs to the upper rooms, looking for sanctuary. She had just left the first landing, when the front door was unceremoniously kicked in. Sending a sound of splintering wood and a loud bang echoing throughout the apartment.

"Move out, and search the apartment." A voice whispered quietly. When he apparently saw the pizza on the ground, he paused, "It looks like there may still be someone in here. Spread out, find and immobilize. Do not use lethal force. Now Go."

The apartment was filled with the sound of footsteps, some of which began heading up the stairs. Tara fled into the relative safety of her bedroom, closing and locking the door as she entered. She looked around, hoping to find a place to hide. When nothing presented itself, she turned towards the window. She looked outside, to see that there were still a few of the men in the back yard, although they seemed intent on the back door. If she could get out the window, and down to the ground safely, she might have a chance to make it to the woods.

A voice in the hallway outside her door spoke in a gruff whisper, "Tara. We know you are here, we just want to help you. Come back with us to the lab. The Dr. believes that we can help you. We just need you to cooperate."

Tara tried to wriggle the window open, but to no avail, it was stuck. She Frantically looked around, trying to find some way to get the window open. She heard the door knob jiggle.

The same gruff voice she had heard before shouted, "I've found her she is on the second floor. Open the door ma'am. We are not here to hurt you. Now please come out so we can help you."

She turned to the door and shouted out, "Fuck you!" Then she ran, and jumped through the window, her arms held in front of her face, to protect herself. The impact sent shards of glass like a fountain before her. Some of the shards stuck into her flesh, other pieces got caught in her fur. She didn't care, she heard the door behind her explode open, and soft noises, as tranquillizer darts were fired at her. The darts went wide slamming into the window frame, or flying out into the night. The ground came up quickly to meet her, and she hit it hard, rolling to try and dampen the impact. She rose to her feet with a fluid grace, and began to run swiftly towards the woods, keeping low to the ground to minimize the target. She made it into the woods, and began to dodge between trees, as more darts were fired at her.

She knew that escape was first priority, she had to make it away from the men, before they could take her back to the lab. At this point, the thought of trying the weaves she had seen the mages use did not even cross her mind, as she ran in a panic amidst the oak, and maple, and pine. The scent of rot, and pine filled her nose, along with faint traces of blood, her blood. A louder report then the tranquillizer guns filled the air, and a searing pain in her shoulder told her that this one had not missed. The smell of burning fur added itself to the miasma of scents, and only urged Tara to move that much faster.

She ran for hours, even after she was sure she had lost the men that were pursuing her. She however had no idea how long it would be until they found her, and so she continued, until her strength began to wane. She slowed down, and looked frantically for a refuge. None was in sight. She struggled onward, staggering, before she finally passed out on the side of a small path through the woods.

James Stevens stumbled across her helpless form, when he was on one of his daily jogs. He found her lying there, and couldn't help but check to see if she was alright. His shock at seeing such an unusual creature, was over-ridden by his desire to help. He knelt down beside her, and checked her pulse. Her pulse was steady, if not just a little weak. He lifted her into a sitting position, and tried to rouse her from her unconsciousness, with a few light taps to the face, causing her to stir slightly. She woke slowly, her eyes fluttering. Those eyes took on a wild look, as she felt once more the pain in her shoulder, and saw the person holding her up. She jumped from the man's arms, and backed against a tree, eliciting a slight wince as she hit her shoulder on the rough bark.

 

Tara looked at him, an almost feral look in her eyes. When she spoke, her voice was high, and more than a little fear was evident in her tone. "Get away from me! Don't come any closer! I don't want to have to hurt you, but I will!"

James paused in shock for a moment, her reaction seemed perfectly normal if not a little overly frightened. What shocked him was the fact that she spoke English, not to mention the vehemence in her voice. He spoke in soft comforting tones, trying to get her to calm down before he tried anything else. "You're hurt, and you're just going to be worse off if you don't let me help you out. Now come here and let me look at that wound. I promise I won't do anything to hurt you."

"I don't need your help." Tara cried, the pain causing hot tears to form in her eyes, "I'm just fine. Now leave me alone. I don't need anyone else's so-called help."

James sighed heavily, as he looked at the odd girl before him. He kept his voice tempered, hoping that the calming tones would have the desired effect, and save him from potential injury. "Your shoulder would seem to suggest otherwise. You need medical attention or that is going to get infected, and you really don't want that. I'm sure you can imagine what would happen if a hospital got their hands on you. Just come with me to my house, and we can get that cleaned up for you."

Tara cried out, as she placed her hand roughly over the exit wound. "I-I'll be just fine. Now go away, and leave me alone. I know how to take care of myself, I don't need your help."

James looked at her critically, her shoulder was crusted over, and bits of grass and dirt stuck out of the wound. "Look, at least let me clean up that wound a little? I will feel better knowing you aren't going to die of infection. Please?"

James reached forward with a towel and his water bottle in hand. Tara, seeing the approaching hands, swatted at them, and gave him a few superficial scratches across the back of his hand, but nothing deep. "I said get away. I don't want your help, I will be fine on my own. Leave me alone!"

James grimaced, and winced at the slight burning pain coming from the back of his hand, "Look, I'm only trying to help, let me clean off the wound, and we can get you on your way."

Tara tried once more to back away, but the tree blocked any chance of egress. James finally manages to get close enough, as Tara cowered against the tree. He worked quickly, cleaning the wound, and wrapping it in the towel. He sat back, and moved away from her, to try and prove he was not a threat.

James sat there, and smiled at her, as she quickly investigated the quick bandaging job, poking and prodding it with a small look of wonderment gracing her feline features. "Ma'am if you will let me, I can help you with your shoulder, I have a first aid kit back at the house, but if you want to run off into the woods to die, then, so be it, I won't stop you."

"Why?" Tara asked, as she stared at him. "Why should I trust you to give me the help you promise? You just want to hurt me, and lock me up, like everyone else. How can I trust you."

"I cleaned up that wound of yours. Doesn't that count for something?" James queried a hopeful look in his eyes.

"Yes? So what?" Tara growled, "Paris said he wanted to help me, all he did was take me from one cage to another! I'm not falling for anymore tricks, you just want to lock me up like the rest of them!"

James sighed again, this was going to be a difficult task indeed. "I don't want anyone to imprison you. You need to be free, and I am here to try and ensure that you stay free for as long as I can."

Tara hissed slightly, "So how are you going to help me? Tell me that?"

James saw that he may have a chance at helping her. "I can bandage up your arm. Hopefully you're not going to need any major medical attention for that. I imagine getting any would be extremely difficult to do. However, you're going to have to let me help you. I can help keep you away from the people who did this to you."

"I don't know." Tara said, a tone of puzzlement in her voice. "How do I know I can trust you?"

James smiled warmly, "You're not very big on other options right now. Besides, I did take the effort to clean that wound of yours"

"That does not necessarily inspire trust." Tara muttered, "You could just want to study me. How do I know you aren't going to sell me?"

James' smile faded, "No it doesn't necessarily inspire trust. But face the facts here, right now I'm all you have. I'm going to have to earn the rest."

"You may be right," Tara said, as she brandished her claws "But do not think for a moment that I won't rip your throat out if you try and hurt me"

James nodded, and reached out his hand to her. "I think that is a valid claim. Now let me help you up."

Tara grabbed his hand with her bad arm, and in doing so she strained her shoulder. She screamed out, as a fresh blossom of blood formed on the makeshift bandage.

"Careful," James urged, "You don't want to use that arm, remember?"

"How far do we have to go?" Tara asked, her voice weakening from a mixture of blood loss, and pure exhaustion.

James looked at her, as her eyes drooped "Not very far. See that house over there? That is where we are going. I have a whole bedroom you can stay in to rest up while you heal. Once your shoulder is healed up you can leave, and never have to see me again."

Tara nodded, reluctant to go to the unfamiliar house. She moved along with James with a great deal of trepidation. James opened the porch door and lead Tara into his kitchen. He made sure to close the door, and all of the curtains as well.

James looked at her worriedly, "Was some one actively following you? Do you think they may still be following you?"

Tara nodded her head weakly, the world was beginning to lose focus. James sighed and offered her a chair near the kitchen table. James looked under the kitchen sink and pulled out some orange antibacterial liquid soap. He then rushed into the nearby bathroom, and pulled out some random bandages and antiseptic creams. Tara once more tried to back away, hoping to get free, and looking longingly out the window. James began to fill a small bowl with warm water, and walked over to Tara. He removed the towel, and began to scrub lightly at the wound, making Tara cry out in pain.

"So, where are you from?" James asked trying to start a conversation, to calm her down some.

Tara closed her eyes, and grabbed a hold of her tail. "I live in the Forest Glen apartments. At least I used to."

James grinned, "So I take it you haven't you always been like this?"

"No. Until just a few days ago, I was a pharmacy technician. I was human" Tara began to cry, tears escaping her tightly closed eyes.

"So," James began, anxious to keep the conversation going, hoping to keep her calm. "What is your name?"

Tara opened her eyes, and looked at him, "Tara. Tara James." James chuckled lightly at this, and caused Tara to get angry, "What is so funny about my name?"

Still chuckling James stuck out his hand, and answered, "My name is James Stevens. Pleased to meet you Tara."

Tara looked at the out stretched hand for a moment, before she took it. The tentative shake was, in James' mind, a step forward, but in no means any indication of actual trust. He just smiled back at her, and shook her arm gently, hoping to inspire just a small bit of something other than fear. Tara finally pulled her hand back, and timidly touched the bandaged area. She winced, but noted that it felt better than it had.

"Thank you." She finally whispered, averting her eyes slightly.

"Was that a hint of something pleasant?" James joked, grinning widely, "Or do my ears deceive me?"

"Can't you just accept my gratitude without snide side comments?" Tara's voce once more rose in anger.

"I'm sorry." James said, lowering his head slightly in a display of shame. "It is a chronic fault of mine. I am told that I crack jokes at the most inappropriate times. I'll try and hold off on it."

"See that you do." Tara's voice was filled with an icy chill that sent shivers down her spine, and James' as well.

"So," James began, looking at her intently, and trying to change the subject "why all the anger and hostility earlier? Or would you rather not talk about it?"

Tare heaved a heavy sigh, and turned to face him, "I suppose I can tell you. As I said, just two days ago, I was a Pharmacy technician. While I wasn't exactly thrilled about my job, I was still, at that point classified as human. Anyway, yesterday, I had gone on a walk through these woods, as I often do on my days off. I sort of lost track of ran to try and get home. I slipped fell, and smashed my nose. I don't remember much after that, until I found myself strapped down in a government facility. I got away from that with the 'help' of a man named Paris Tam. He..." She paused, biting at her lower lip.

"Go on," James urged, intent on hearing her story. He needed on some level to understand exactly what he had managed to get himself into. "What did he do?"

"You are going to think I am crazy." Tara stated, looking at him nervously "Maybe I should stop."

"Now why would I think a cat lady was crazy?" James quipped, trying to coax her on again, "If I can believe that I am carrying on a conversation with a woman who at this point looks like something only found in some Anime Fanboy's wet dream, I think I can believe anything, don't you?"

Tara chuckled a little at his comment, and nodded, "He opened some sort of hole in the air in front of him, and we went through. I found myself on a vast plain, with a large black tower in the distance, and a slightly closer temple-like building. We got to the temple, and I was told, in no uncertain terms, that I was as good as a prisoner there." She laughed slightly at this point. "Out of one prison, and into another. I was not very enamored with that particular idea, so I ran. I grabbed a couple hours of sleep in a house I found. Then some people attacked me. They used what I can only describe as magic to try and subdue me. I eventually fought back, and by mimicking their magic, I stopped them. Then I escaped through another hole, like the one Paris had used, to get back to my apartment. Some men in black were there, and stormed my apartment, shooting at me. I ran away from them, too. I got away, but not before one of them got me in the shoulder. I imagine you know the rest of the story."

James stared at her with amazement, "So you are being pursued, not only by government agents, but also by insane magic users?" He rubbed a hand down his face, in a gesture of exasperation. "What the hell have I gotten myself into. My brother always told me 'James, all that Good Samaritan shit you do is going to get you killed one day.' By the sound of things, that may not have just been just an idle comment. Now it is sounding more like a premonition."

"I'm sorry." Tara said softly, placing her hand on his arm. Then her tone took on a more biting quality, "However I never asked for your help. The fact that you are involved in any of this, is strictly your fault. Remember that."

"I know, I know." James sighed, and turned to look her in the eyes. "One thing is for sure, however."

Tara raised an eyebrow, as she looked at him, a quizzical expression knotting up her features, "And what might that be?"

James grinned. "You're no longer in this alone." Tara smiled briefly, and they headed out into the living room, where the discussed what to do from here.

Elsewhere, in the Hall of Mages, work continued late into the night. Pale moonlight shone through the high windows in the office of the Council Head, lending their eerie light to the room. The torches had long since been extinguished, leaving the room fairly dark Without the moonlight, the room would have been black as pitch, a fitting color, considering the circumstances.

Ruby sat at her desk, holding up her head and contemplating the current state of the council. She smiled slightly at the thought of the training of the Aberrant, Sarah Dallas. It was proceeding nicely, and the girl had a mind like a sponge, soaking up everything that her teachers gave her. Ruby noted that, if things continued along this track, Sarah may be a candidate for the council. Possibly even one day she might be a candidate for Council Head. She couldn't be more pleased to know that one of her students was doing so well. She would swell with pride, if it weren't for recent events.

The incident involving Tara James, however was not quite as nice and simple. The very fact that Tara had run off was something that Ruby had never imagined. In all the years she had been a mage, she had only seen one run, and never before receiving at least minimal training. Now she was faced with a rogue mage, and a particularly strong one, who apparently already was learning weaves. Getting Tara in for proper training was getting more and more urgent.

A rogue mage was probably one of the most dangerous things in existence. If things were not brought under control soon, there would be blood shed, and very likely a lot of it. Ruby prayed to Pyria, praying for guidance. She hoped her prayer would be answered, she needed an answer. She did not wish to see a mage's blood fall. Now she was responsible for every mage, and she would be damned if any more were going to die.

Despite the dissolution of Guild Anima, there had been relatively little bloodshed during the time since she had accepted her position as the Council Head. The dissolution had been fairly peaceful. Other than Mage Crowley's accident, there had been only two deaths resulting from the dissolution, both of them mages fairly close to T'Gra.

T'Gra. That was another problematic enigma she could not solve. Until that day 2 years ago, T'Gra had been a very promising mage. He was strong, he worked hard, and seemed to have a definite future. What had happened to him to cause him to go insane like that, to attack her. Ruby could still feel the wound he had inflicted, even to this day. Even after the multiple attempts to heal it, it still burned in her chest. No one, not even the greatest healers of Guild Blanco, could figure out what was happening. All Ruby knew, was that it was somehow tied to T'Gra, and that confounded dagger. Eventually she was going to have to confront T'Gra about it, but for now she had something much bigger to worry about. Her own personal health and well being would have to wait, for now.

"Janice. Send for Paris Tam, It is time we try something a little bit different." Ruby called out, eliciting a small gasp, when the pain in her wound flared up yet again.

She decided that tomorrow, she would once again visit the Healers of guild Blanco, and hope for some small level of relief from the burning. Until then, she would have to suffer through it. She was not fond of that option, but it was the only option open to her. She began to meditate, while she waited for Paris to arrive. The two of them had quite a bit they needed to discuss.

  

  

  

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