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Sara stood on the edge of another building, watching the flames. Officially Sara tried not to think a lot about the humans. Sure she had friends that were humans and sure she didn’t go after humans but officially she didn’t like sticking her neck out for others. Unofficially, Sara could hear a kid on the fourth floor, above the crowd cry out, and her heart gave a lurch.

Somehow, if Sara knew that there were no friends of hers in a burning building, she could ignore them. It was hard, but she could push the burning building out of her mind. Her mind couldn’t handle it when there were children involved.

One particular child had just managed to catch Sara’s eye. He couldn’t be more than five, and his eyes had just barely peered over the window sill looking out. Just long enough to catch Sara’s attention, before he disappeared in a thick curtain of smoke that kept him from Sara’s view, but she could still hear him. He had whimpered, and was now sniffling crying and coughing.

Sara backed up from the edge of the building. This wasn’t her first time entering a burning building. Still it was stupid, and yet there Sara was kneeling on an adjacent roof, digging her claws in and taking off at a run, to give herself better direction with her jump. Her clawed feet hit the edge of the roof, and she kicked off, practically diving off of the roof. If someone on the street were to look up they’d think that cats could fly like Superman.

Sara made it across the space between buildings, and landed well enough to grab a hold of the brick that stuck out to make the window sill, with her feet dangling and smacking into the wall. The bricks were hot enough they burned but Sara still managed to hold on. Gritting her teeth against the heat, and fighting to keep herself on the wall. Her body twisted as she kicked off of the side of the building, Her hands on the brick acted as a pivot point, and Sara’s body twisted so her feet smashed through the window.

Sara’s body landed light on it’s feet in a shower of glass. Instantly her sense of sight and smell were blocked by the smoke that made her eyes itch, and her nose cough. Sara pulled the collar of her long coat up around her nose and mouth, coughing.

Ok. Where was the kid?

Soonish… OK. So Sara had known what she was getting into, when she climbed into the jet. She was getting into a tiny space with no doors or windows that could be opened safely at the speed of what every the number of miles per hour that Sara really didn’t want to think know. Technically humans shouldn’t be flying. Only mutants who had been graced with wings should really attempt it but Here they were. Sam in the drivers seat, and Katrina next to her, and her tail was so fluffed it looked to be four times it’s normal thickness.

Sara’s heart was beating so hard, it drowned out most what ever else had been said during the flight. Once her body had adjusted to the G-force, Sara leaned forward. Focusing on the small bit of air space between her knees, and breathing deep. She didn’t want to see threw the windows, and used her hands to cradle her forehead. She really hated flying. It wasn’t till Sara was aware that Sam was moving around the jet, trusting the jet to just fly it’s self that Sara let her hearing work to pick up other sounds. Bad idea really because every slight sound that the jet made, caused her to be even more uncomfortable in it. However she did pick up the crinkle of the note left in Sam’s bag. Slowly she lifted her head to look back and try to see what Sam was reading.

“What do you teach again Sara because I am truly looking forward to the parent teacher conference.”

“Art and English.” Sara said simply. Her head returned to staring at the space between her knees before she could even lift an eye brow at his question.

Landing was unnerving to Sara but it wasn’t as disturbing for her as when Sam opened the hatch and the air that should have been fresh hit her nose. She knew that smell. It was an awful smell that made her thing back to when she was a child, and then to the registration camps 10 years ago. Her mouth went dry, and her eyes squeezed shut for a moment. One arm reached to gently grab Katrina’s wrist, to slow her down. “Katrina, you might want to take a minute before stepping out there.” Sara finally let her eyes ease back open and she leaned back in the chair to look up back into Katrina’s. Showing that the feline’s eyes were completely dilated from the mix of fear, then concern and regret.

It wasn’t that Sara was trying to baby Katrina, but that smell meant death. Sara felt that if they were going to do this war zone stuff, that they needed to focus and focusing was hard to do when you are, one, worried about someone you care about, and then, two, walk out of a jet, surrounded by death.

“Think I found the source of the smell…”

Sara stood and squeezed herself between Katrina and the seats, as if she’d done nothing but step around a table. Bumping neither Katrina or the other seats in her smooth, fluid, strides. She reached the back hatch and with a flick of her tail, was on the ground next to Sam looking out over the graves. “Thank you Sam.” She sighed and her eyes fell on the small set of bones that made up a hand. “There’s been entirely too many deaths already.” Please don’t let any of these be my students. Sara preyed silently.

(Kat. If I need to edit this, tell me and I will.)

The sound of the glass shaking caught Sara’s attention, and her right ear twitched. She was trying not to be annoyed by the sound but being that the high pitch of the glass and ice was close, it was hard to control emotions on that level. On the other hand, Sara found herself concerned about why the glass was shaking. Did the man she was talking to have a physical disability that her nose couldn’t smell? Was it the memory of what she asked? Or was it something else? Mutation related?

Slowly, Sara reached out, following the sound of the clacking and clicking glass to try to calmly steady it. That is if he let Sara put her paw like hand, gently over his fingers, and his glass. Her head tilted curiously the other way. “It’s alright. What you just said, Says enough. It’s been a war zone here too.” Maybe that’s how this other mutant dealt with the painful facts. Being vague.

So Sara decided not to push him further, but she thought she would tell him a little bit more about what went on here. “There has been a lot of things going on here too. I’ve told you about the different groups. A year ago the humans tried to issue out a mutant registration law. They had us locked up in concentration camps.” As Sara spoke she began to remove a thick leather band from her arm to show a circular scar that wrapped around her wrist from her wrist band she once was required to wear. “A lot of us died back then, and since then, things here have tried to improve but a lot of the hurt is still there.”

(Sara had gone to her own vision quest, and is now returning.)

The buildings of New York had disappeared from Sara’s view, and she came to exactly where she had sat down in the snow on the other side of the tents. She couldn’t really believe that the stuff had worked on her, and slowly she started to work out her own opinions out how she had been manipulated into the dream. But still manipulated nonetheless. Sara wasn’t exactly sure what to think of it yet.

Sara stood, stretched and watched the skyline for a moment as she heard the others waking on the other side of the tents. Sara came strolling around the tents, her tail flicking with every other step. “I’m here and fine.” She said to answer Luke’s question. Her amber eyes darted from Neveed, to Raina, then to Luke. They were missing someone and her nostrils flared to take in the current smells compared to the smells that had been there for a while and aged for the last 45 minutes to an hour. “Has Sam returned?” She asked wondering if her nose was off. “If I have to track him down, I won’t let him live it down.”

This was great. Just freaking great. The horse didn’t know what it wanted, obviously. Because just before it kicked Sara, it did want the food she had. Something in the horse knew that Sara wanted to help it, even though obviously Sara had the look of a predatory cat and the horse was, a horse.

Then again, Sara reminded herself that she knew what the horse was going through. What the horse had gone through. Proof made by all those scars. Someone had beaten this horse. Someone had tried to make her submit to a life that wasn’t natural for a horse to have. Sara reminded herself to be patient. Because this horse had grown up in captivity where humans probably were good to her, just long enough to get her close, before the bad things started. Bad things Sara remembered all too well. But at the same time, Sara wanted to move on from this stage she was at, with the mare. Because Surely a mare could not survive alone out here in the tundra, without a herd, or was a herd something that scared her two. Had she even ever seen her own kind?

Sara took one step forward, towards the white mare who’s head bobbed up and down snorting again. Making Sara freeze, so as not to scare the horse off, or send her back into flight. The two were still as statues for another moment, then like someone blew a horn, the mare gracefully wheeled around, dug her hooves into the ground, and took off. Her white coat of fur looked as though it disintegrated into the falling snow and Sara took off at a full run to catch up to her. Following the sounds of her hooves in the snow.

It was a moment before the mare came back into view. The snowy curtain had lifted away to reveal the horses lovely flowing movement that was only made into an odd beat, because of the limp on her right front leg. At the same time, Sara was forced to admire their speed as in a matter of moments the snow had been dusted away by the rays of the sun, and trees had seemed to sprout out of the landscape as the two of them got closer. Soon lush grass covered their path, and straw berry fields on either side of them, reminded Sara of her first meal as a free cat. Pilphered from crops that smelled as sweet as these. They must have run for hundreds of miles in the matter of time it took Sara to take a few breaths of air. Even Sara, with her healing abilities, should be exhausted, but still the horse pressed on.

The horse lead the way, through farm land, around barns that were so old they looked like only structural skeletons. Barbed wire fence pulled at Sara’s fur as she passed it. Remembering a close escape from a farmer who had nearly shot her with a bolt action rifle, while she ducked for cover with her chicken she had pilfered from his coop. Then the two animals plowed through a river that reminded Sara of the tiny clearing she had once learned how to fish like a cat.

Couldn’t this horse stop? She was injured and Sara truly wished to help. But the horse was incredibly bull headed. She very well might run herself to death before even chancing a glance behind her, at the predator that only meant to do her good. The thought made Sara push herself harder, and without looking back, the horse pushed harder as well.

Through tall grass where quail flew in Sara’s face, around the high ways, across empty bridges, till houses popped up faster than the trees had a moment ago. Then they were plowing through back yard after back yard, darting across empty streets, and dodging parked cars sitting in traffic lanes forever waiting for red lights. City after city popped back from Sara’s memories then faded away till Sara recognized the skyline of new York and she leaned back, letting her feet skid to a stop. It just felt like time to stop. This running after a stupid horse was ridiculous.

The funny thing is the horse stopped too. Standing 10 yards before Sara, the mare looked back and her, around her big white rump. Sara stared at her, and slowly started to approach her again. Making a wide circle around her back legs, then to her shoulder. The horse just watched. Head still held high and her right ear twitched. Sara was an inch away from touching her delicate nose, when she woke up, and found she’d never left the hunting camps in the Great White North.

Sara’s leg connected with Jenny’s and the girl was going down, but Sara felt a shock go through her body from that point. She was surprised from it and pulled her leg back staying in the crouch. Her ears flicked back against the back of her head and she paused, staying near the ground thinking threw what she just experienced.

Her amber eyes staid staring right a head of her, over to the left of Jenny. Her teeth were grit tightly against the shock but she didn’t like really backing down.

"What is your problem?"

“You started it.” Sara grumbled. She wasn’t all too happy about backing down, but with the last move she’d proven she wasn’t worthless. That she was still a force to be reckoned with. That she wasn’t a weakling. “What am I supposed to do? Let you hit me over the head?”

Sara was sitting cross legged near the fountain waiting patiently. She’d taken out her newly bought sketch pad, and pencils and had been trying to sneak glances at people as they either walked by, or chatted at tables, with out drawing a lot of attention to herself. The thing she had missed the most about her sight was her art. Even in the bad days, Sara’s art kept her sane. She’d taken her sight and ability to make art for granted up until her ‘Accident’ as Doc Prof had put it.

By the time Sara noticed Koga approaching, She had filled two pages will everything from loose sketches of people seated at tables, Mothers and children where normally Sara focused more on the details of the children leaving much of the mothers form to the imagination. There were gesture drawings of men and woman walking, each carrying a different sized load. Then there were a few children that had been drawn very realistically, and speed shaded as they stared at the werecat, with their little pudgy fingers, noses, and wide eyes peaking over chair backs around store advertisements, and over tables. Sara shut her sketch book before Koga reached where she had chosen to sit, and she hastily shoved it into the art store’s shopping bag. She immediately caught the mischievous look in Koga’s eye.

“I hope you like them!”

Sara took the bag, curiously, and peaked inside. “Stinker. You’re supposed to just shop for you.” Still she curiously peaked inside the bag and was met first by the words ‘Ms.Chievious.’ One eye brow quirked and she glanced sideways at Koga. Even more curious and maybe a little confused. Most of her shirts were rather cheep. She had one out fit that was really worthy of formal occasions and the rest of her shirts were cheep and did work to hide herself. Normally ranging in colors that were either deep red or black. Things that Sara didn’t mind getting holes in, seeing as she had a very bad habit of getting either shot or stabbed.

Careful not to hook a claw in the fabric, Sara pulled the first shirt out for inspection. Followed my ‘Sassy’, and then ‘Delicate’ with the barbed wire, that Sara decided was her favorite out of the three. The corners of her mouth pulled up into a small smile as she admired the design work and the colors. Even the typography was well thought out and subtly placed so that the letters were even. She’d admired shirts like these before, but at the same time she’d wondered if her mutation could pull off the way that they were cut. Even the other three, without images on them, form fitting. Sara had admired the style, but again, she hadn’t really imagined herself pulling off the look. When it came to cloths and models, people didn’t pick models with hair. Actually the choice of models was quite the opposite, with the exception of the hair on the head of course.

“Thank you.” What was it in Koga that made Sara let herself be pushed? Even when she resisted his encouragement about her sight, something in her welcomed it.

“Now lets see what else you go yourself.” Sara said as she carefully folded her new shirts away and moved so that she could peak in his other bags. She approved of his thinking a head and grabbing scarves, gloves, vests, and the coat. He’d found a good number of the pants, and a good number of shirts. Though Sara thought he could have paid a bit more on a few of them, to get himself something more dressy. Maybe even professional looking since he had mentioned getting a job. Something she still encouraged. Maybe he could use a tie too? And what else was missing? Sara double checked the bags really having her own sort of fun, now that she had her sight back to look. The things to look at in the bags were sort of like what Sara imagined looking in a trick or treat bag was like.

“I assume you need a new pair of shoes as well.” Her eyes flicked from the bags up to Koga’s to study his reaction. “I suggest a pair of skidsafe for professional, and a pair of sneakers you can get muddy.” Sara made a quick check around them to see if anyone was really listening to them. It didn’t seem like anyone was so she lowered her voice. Hardly moving her lips as she gathered their bags. “Did you still want to learn how to pick pockets?”