Post by Deleted on Sept 4, 2017 22:57:59 GMT
Calista had been escorted away from the estate following the disaster at the ball. Marlon accompanied her to the remote area in the Smokey Mountains. It was old land, mostly untouched and more acreage to run as a panther than she could possibly hope to have back in Arkham. The guide tent was definitely not made of marble and Mahogany, but it seemed more like home than the monstrous estate controlled by her sister's vengeful spirit.
Dressed in jeans, hiking boots and a flannel, Calista sat atop a rise, the fog covered mountains appearing as if they wished to hide something. Good, she wanted to hide. She wanted to fade from view. Just a crazy green eyed woman, sometimes running the hills as a giant black cat. It helped with the bears, at least.
Grinding her teeth, Calista felt her jaw start to cramp. She was done trying to be nice, trying to be the "good guy". A day or so here and she would know what to do. The hunters were out. Rumors of an exotic black cougar on the loose drew every man with a rifle out to the area. She heard the dogs. Shifting, Calista bolted into the forest, heading back to camp.
Her hearing was still weakened from the shockwave that had rocked the estate and her wounds were sore. The hounds changed pitch as they locked onto her scent. Don't tree, don't tree, don't tree.
She kept thinking. Dodging around some limestone, Calista saw the camp ahead, Marlon sitting on the Adirondack chair by the fire, reading. He looked up and reacted to seeing Calista.
A crack rang out through the air as Calista crested the hill to head down to the camp. The giant black cat rolled down the hill and changed into Calista, her rumpled body landing at Marlons feet. Quickly rushing to Calista, he gathered her up and yelled at the hunters that soon appeared. "DAMN YOU! KNOW WHERE YOU ARE SHOOTING!" He yelled and took her into the canvas tent, telling them the cat had made a hard left. Two of the hunters rushed on, Calista knocked unconscious but not dead. Only a graze.
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Dressed in jeans, hiking boots and a flannel, Calista sat atop a rise, the fog covered mountains appearing as if they wished to hide something. Good, she wanted to hide. She wanted to fade from view. Just a crazy green eyed woman, sometimes running the hills as a giant black cat. It helped with the bears, at least.
Grinding her teeth, Calista felt her jaw start to cramp. She was done trying to be nice, trying to be the "good guy". A day or so here and she would know what to do. The hunters were out. Rumors of an exotic black cougar on the loose drew every man with a rifle out to the area. She heard the dogs. Shifting, Calista bolted into the forest, heading back to camp.
Her hearing was still weakened from the shockwave that had rocked the estate and her wounds were sore. The hounds changed pitch as they locked onto her scent. Don't tree, don't tree, don't tree.
She kept thinking. Dodging around some limestone, Calista saw the camp ahead, Marlon sitting on the Adirondack chair by the fire, reading. He looked up and reacted to seeing Calista.
A crack rang out through the air as Calista crested the hill to head down to the camp. The giant black cat rolled down the hill and changed into Calista, her rumpled body landing at Marlons feet. Quickly rushing to Calista, he gathered her up and yelled at the hunters that soon appeared. "DAMN YOU! KNOW WHERE YOU ARE SHOOTING!" He yelled and took her into the canvas tent, telling them the cat had made a hard left. Two of the hunters rushed on, Calista knocked unconscious but not dead. Only a graze.
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