The Civilized Tribe IC.

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Sammael9216, Jul 9, 2015.

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  1. John was seated at his desk, doing exactly what he always does at five in the morning. Hovering over a fresh cup of coffee. He sipped from his cup lightly giving it time to cool between sips. John looked around his office, his desk was a clutter of papers, to his left were a row of cabinets along the wall, to his right a closed window overlooking the parking lot, and below it was the couch that served as his bed last night. Tourist season had always been the busiest part of the year for him, most nights were spent at the office. That could be the reason why Sam’s so distant? He reflected. He glanced at his watch as he took another sip from his cup, soon his coworkers would be lazily staggering into work. John took a pin from his desk and scribbled a note on one of the papers about his desk, it read “Remind Rione to clean my office today.” John allowed a smile to form on his face, he so did like to shove his work load on other people.

    Today marked the first of November, tourist season would be coming to an end with the coming cold, and his work load would dramatically decrease. Rising from his chair he made for the door just opposite from his desk. He stopped a moment to grab his jacket from the coat rack before heading out, when suddenly his phone rang. John sighed and closed the door, if someone was calling his personal office number at this hour it must be pretty important. Heading back to his desk he began searching for the phone buried under mounds of paper and empty coffee cups. Most of the mess fell to the floor as he pushed them aside. When he finally found the phone he cursed aloud before answering the line. “Hello, John’s office.”
    “John, I’ve been trying to reach you all night. It’s Barnes. I’ve been calling your house all night.” Jacob Barnes was a sheriff from a few counties over. John had known Jacob most of his career, they had even worked together a few times. “Yeah, I was working late yester-” John began. “Never mind that John, listen. You’ve got trouble heading your way.”
    John maneuvered around his desk so he could sit back down in his chair. “What Kind of trouble?”
    “The kind that gets placed on the front page of paper.” Jacob began. “A few weeks ago a band of bikers rode into town. I didn’t think much of it considering the amount of traffic that passes through the town during this time of the year. Well, no sooner did they arrive did people’s pets and livestock start going missing. Then shortly after we started getting missing people reports right after the other.” John knew at once what Jacob was talking about, even if the old man didn’t truly know himself.

    “First we did what we’re supposed to do, ask question and investigate. I began to turn my attention to the bikers. They took to camping on the outskirts of town during the evening, so I dove out to one of their older sites and started rummaging around… and I found something.” Jacob’s voice began to sound desolate and hollow. It sounded like something was weighing him down. John knew the old man well enough to know that he didn’t get emotional easy. “I found charred bones, a lot of them. I’m having my men dig up the ground around their more recent camps, and we’ve been finding a lot more bones John.”
    “And you say their heading my way?” John asked. “Yes, I believe so. They lit out yesterday morning before I started digging around. John, I hate to put this on you, but some of them people missing are kids. We’re going through the remains we’ve found, but as of yet none of them appear human. But I can’t shake this sick feeling in my gut.”
    “Don’t worry Jacob, if they’re headed here I’ll be waiting for them.” John ended. As John hung up the phone he took a long breath and scratched at the back of his neck. The sun was beginning to rise over the mountains to flood the valley below with light. He steadily rose from his chair and walked over to the couch he had slept on. Along the arm rest lay his holster, and his firearm. He had never before had to use it, not in the small town he lived in. Although now he feared he might have too.
  2. Beeep! Beeep! Beeep! The alarm clock on Aly's endtable went off promptly at five in the morning. She groaned and smacked it off. She rolled out of bed and went to her closet and grabbed her Park Ranger uniform and headed to the bathroom for a shower. Getting out of the shower, a thought struck her. "Is it my turn to open the station or is it Sam's?" She asked herself, drying and getting dressed. Walking towards the stairs, she caught the scent of her mother making a big breakfast as she always does. Aly woukd have liked to like in her place, but her dad had insisted she live at home for a while longer, like until she was married. Her dad was old fashioned that way. She went to grab the phone to call Sam to ask whose turn it was to open when her mother took it and handed ger a plate instead. "Eat first, Aly. Or you'll never eat." Her mother scolded. Aly sighed but sat down and ate. "Now can I make my call? It's work related." She asked. Her mom handed her tge phone and she dialed the number she had for Sam.
  3. Nathan's radio switched on, and he rolled over with a groan. He liked being up early but he hated getting out of bed. But a Michael Bolton song had just come on and he couldn't go back to sleep with that playing. Reaching over he started flipping channels until he found the weather, then rolled out of bed.

    "...Cloudy skies today, with a slight possibility of rain," it rambled as he brushed his teeth, dressed, and assembled a bowl of cereal for himself. He knew he should probably eat better, he was a doctor after all, but cereal was cheap, kept for a while and tasted good any time of day so that was what he had. It was only just six now, and he cleaned up everything and headed for the car. The clinic was maybe fifteen, twenty minutes from his apartment. Nobody would be in at this time but he did have a shift, so off he went.
  4. While Nathan's assumptions of an empty clinic were well within reason (indeed neither he or Dr. Weston started at this time), emergencies happened and the doctor had to be called out of bed every now and then.

    Willy Fisher, one of the younger members of a family pack sat on one of the hospital beds in the clinic with his shirt off and a blood speckled steel tray on the bed next to him. Dr. Weston stood directly behind the young man with a towel and a pair of tweezers picking out the last few bits of buckshot from Willy's back.

    "Ow, Doc! Take it easy! Thi- arrgh, this hurts!"
    "Mm-hmm. Two more, you're almost done."

    The doctor produced a tiny metal pellet from Willy's back and placed it on the tray with the others.

    "That's four with this one, just one more."

    Willy Fisher liked to hunt at night as wolf. Lots of the young men his age liked to do it and the sheriff let them so long as they stuck to wildlife. Thing is, looking like a wolf means you get mistaken for a wolf. The shotgun pellets in Willy's back came from Carl Sturk's gun, one of the local residents who happened to live in the congregation of trailers on the outskirts of town. Mr. Sturk was mostly harmless, but he was notorious for his itchy trigger finger and his nightly hunting expeditions always being a little too close to town. He'd already received citations for shooting at wildlife within the city limits and the sheriff had told him time and time again to get a hunting license and to stay in the hunting zones. In other words, Mr. Sturk was well known as a trigger-happy redneck.

    Willy had happened to wander a little too close to Carl Sturk's trailer and Sturk did what Sturk did best. Shoot 'em good. Willy got lucky, between his natural abilities and Carl Sturk's inaccuracy with a shotgun at a distance, the shot was a glancing shot at best. This would be the second time Mr. Sturk unknowingly shot a lycanthrope in the last six months, but with cases like these there wasn't much anyone could do except give Carl another citation.

    "Alright, and you're done. Just need to disinfect and bandage you up." Dr. Weston said as he placed the last pellet on the bloody tray. At the same time, he could hear the sounds of someone coming into the clinic. Probably Nathan.

    "Ah, come on Doc. I'll just heal up on my own, with my powers."

    Doctor Weston had begun to wash his hands in the sink behind him, "Don't care. You're not leaving this office without proper treatment," he dried his hands with a towel and threw it in a bin as he walked out of the room, "even if you are what you are. Be right back."

    Now that his hands were dry, Daniel Weston was finally able to adjust his glasses as he walked into the clinic lobby. He smiled and nodded at Nathan as he came in, "Morning Nate."

    Daniel filled a cup of coffee for himself at the small coffee maker next to the reception desk, and then one for Nathan. The lobby was small, like the rest of the clinic, consisting of a desk, a pair of couches, and a small table with the coffee machine and paper cups. They didn't get many customers, but the ones they did get were the kind no one else could take. He offered the cup to Nathan.

    "Coffee?" Daniel took a sip of his own cup, "Do me a favor. I've got Willy Fisher in Room One, he's got some open wounds on his back. Carl Sturk shot him last night while he was out hunting. He'll be fine," Daniel hastily added that last part for reassurance, "Just need to clean and disinfect them before you bandage them up; can you do that for me?"
  5. Nathan locked the car doors as he got out--force of habit from his days as a Lost Boy--and walked up to the clinic. As he came in he got a whiff of coffee, which itself was enough to help rouse him.

    "Exactly what I was hoping for," he said, taking the proffered cup and having a sip. "Carl shot someone again? Glad it's not serious. If that Sturk was anywhere near as good at shooting as he liked to talk we'd have trouble. I can handle the wounds for you."

    He might have asked why Dr. Weston was handing off a task to him when there was nobody else to see, but Nathan guessed it was another learning experience for him. Or rather an application: he'd had to handle buckshot wounds before among the Lost Boys. They could get messy. Thankfully this one didn't sound so bad. Finishing his coffee he paused to wash his hands, then headed into the exam room.

    "Morning, Willy, got too close to Sturk's place?"
  6. Sam was out in the back country of the State Park, he had been for weeks now. It had fallen to him to record and observe the habits of the recently reintroduced Elk population. Near ten years ago a large number of Elk were tagged and set loose into the park in an effort to bring the species back into the area. Decades ago, before the Park was a Park, Elk used to cover the area up. Environmentalist claim it was habitat loss and over hunting that wiped them out of the area. Simple truth is Lycanthropes need to eat... a lot. During the great depression the wildlife population suffered greatly, especially the native Elk. So here he was working a shit job no one else would want, and loving every minute of it. Most people would hate this job, but Sam was unique like that. He didn't care that he had to spend weeks at a time alone in a one room cabin. He didn't care that the pay was terrible. He liked the solitude of being alone, he liked the wilderness, and he felt it was necessary to do his part to rectify a wrong his ancestors committed. He was watching the Herd grazing in an open field through a scope lens, every once in a while he would scribble down some notes and continue to observe.

    Sudenly the phone in his pack started to ring, although it was muffled the ring was more than enough to spook the herd. "Shit!" He called out from behind his blind. Quickly he dumped the contents of his pack on the ground in an attempt to quickly find the ringing phone. He found it quickly enough, but it was far to late. The herd had all but vanished into the thick woods and Sam's face flushed red with anger.
    "What?!" he spat bitterly when he answered the call. "Jesus Aly. No everything is fine. Yes of course it's your turn to open the station, don't you remember I was moved to observe Herd 3B. Yes Like two weeks ago." Aly was a bit of a scatter brain at times but Sam liked her well enough. The more he talked the less angry he became, Aly had that effect on him. "Don't worry about the station, I can handle it until you get there. Yes I know I'm life savor. This is the last time, I mean it."

    Sam took a long sigh. This is the third time in a month he had to fill in for Aly. I wonder if she is just taking advantage of me to get a few extra hours of sleep? He pushed the thought aside not wanting to think ill of a friend. Sam gathered his gear and began his long hike back to his jeep, then a long drive back to the station. All in all he would get there a lot quicker than Aly, considering she had to fight her way through town and traffic to get to the station, while all he needed to do was casually drive down a dirt road. A few minutes of backtracking through the brush and he was back at his jeep. He was about to open the door to his vehicle when a sensation took over him. The air was still, silent as a grave. The birds and wildlife had dispersed, it was just him alone in the woods. But he wasn't alone. He could sense someone watching him from behind. A light breeze pushed a scent across his path. The breeze carried with it the scent of dried blood. The feeling he had could only be described as sheer terror. His hands shook and his feet felt like stone. Gathering his courage he turned swiftly to face the stranger behind him.

    There was nothing, no trace or sign that anyone had been there. The terror that took him so abrupt was starting to subside. Did I imagine that? No there was definitely someone there. Sam wasted no time in getting into his jeep and making his way down the dirt road to the station. For the first time in his entire life he wanted to get as far from the woods as possible.
  7. Aly's face flushed red as shd spoke to Sam on the phone. She knew she was forgetful, and she really did try to remember the important things, but sometimes it was hard. "Sorry. I thought you were back from that by now." She apologized. "I hope I didn't spook them." She said sheepishly, figuring she probably had spooked the herd, judging from Sam's tone. After she hung up with Sam she put the phone back on the stand. Grabbing her keys off the hook by the door, whe went out to start the tempermental Bronco her dad gave her after he bought his new truck two years ago. It took a few tries to start it, the truck was at least ten years old.

    After battling the traffic in town and weaving down the service roads, she finally made it to the station. Parking next to Sam's Jeep,she prepared herself to the lecture she might receive and walked through the doors of the station.
  8. "He'll be fine, Mrs. Fisher. Yes, it was nothing major; he came straight to me right after it happened."

    Daniel Weston had a lot of confidence in Nathan. He was quite capable and his hands were good hands. While he let him finish up with Willy, the doctor had given the young man's mother a call. He still lived with his parents; one of the families under the old George Cropland's pack. They were good folk, but boys will always be boys. Daniel took another sip of coffee as he listened to Mrs. Fisher. He had to lean against the wall as he did so; the wall-mounted phone had a short cord.

    "Well, Mrs. Fisher, you can pick him up once we're done with him. Carl? Yes, I'll call the sheriff, but I don't think he'll get anything more than just another ticket; Sturk probably thinks he just shot a wolf. I know, I'll tell him. Alright. Okay, bye."

    Daniel hung up the phone, but picked it back up almost immediately and began to dial the number to the Sheriff's office. They'd probably send someone over to tell Sturk to stop shooting wildlife in the middle of the night. Even if they were on his property. Daniel took another sip while the call completed.

    "Hello? This Dr. Weston. Wanted to tell you that we had another Carl Sturk incident. You know Sarah and Brett Fisher's boy? Well, he was out hunting last night and Sturk must've mistaken him for a wolf and shot at him. The kid's fine, Nathan's finishing up with him now; just thought you'd want to know about it."
  9. Samuel

    Sam never noticed Aly walking into the station, for the most part he was too deep in thought. He sat by the radio listening to static and twirling a pencil between is fingers. The Lycan that spooked him earlier seemed unnatural. No one can sneak up on me, no one is THAT quiet. He thought about contacting his dad, but decided his dad would probably just chalk it up to his imagination. Sam finally got wind of Aly as she began to maneuver behind him, likely in an effort to slip by without a lecture. He swiveled around in his chair to face her, "Sleep well?" Sam glanced at his wrist watch, "Half an hour late... again. You know if you keep this up they'll fire you right?" Sam was teasing her more than he was scolding her. Sam began to rub the back of his neck; a habit he picked up from his dad. "Listen," Sam said in a low whisper. "I think there is a rouge wolf hunting in the park. No I didn't see anyone, but I know they were watching me. I'm going to head back out and see if I can track them. If you want you can tag along; safety in numbers you know?" Leaving it at that Sam rose from his chair and to the far corner of the room. He stood in front of a gun cabinet that appeared to be locked. It was all for show, the lock was default and didn't work like it should and so he simply snapped it loose and opened the cabinet. He grabbed a hunting rifle and a box of cartridges before closing the cabinet. Sam began to load the rifle till its capacity and chambered a round before looking at Aly. "I smelt dried blood last time I was up there. This rogue has fed recently, so he should be easier to track. Another thing; the blood I smelt on him smelt human."

  10. Aly cursed under her breath as Sam caught her. She could never sneak past him, even as kids. She sighed. "I know. I swear, this time it was Mom. She made eat two heaping plates. I have granola bars in the glove box." She opened a drawer in her desk. "Plus my stash here. I tell her I eat at work, but she cooks anyway." It was a lame excuse, but it was true. "A rogue?" She asked, surprised. "Are you sure?" Then he said something about going after the rogue. "I was about to say, are you sure it's a good idea to go after thdm yourself?" Aly went back out to the Bronco and grabbed the pistol in her glove box abd her bow abd quiver. It was old school, but still deadly. "Why carry a heavy rifle? Travel light." She said, slinging the bow and quiver over her shoulder. "And it sounds like you need a Tracker." Aky smiled. She was one of the best trackers in the town.
  11. "So just what were you doing so close to Sturk's property in the first place?" Nathan asked, as he cleaned out the wounds with little strokes. Willy, not being old enough to not see pain as a weakness. was gritting his teeth and trying to be stoic.

    "Wasn't on purpose. Followed a deer."

    "Did you get it?" Nathan asked.

    "No. It ran away."

    "Shame." Nathan started bandaging up the wounds, noting the tension go out of Willy's shoulders as he realized the painful cleaning was over. "But then we kind of need more deer."

    "I wasn't breaking any rules!" Willy said at once, twisting around to look Nathan in the eye. "It was lame, it was going to die anyway--"

    Nathan put up his hands. "Hey, relax, wasn't accusing you of anything."
  12. Elora wrapped her robe tightly around herself as she stepped out into the chill morning air. A fog hung over the area, adding weight to every breath. She reached out to grab the rail before descending the old wooden steps off the back porch. The fog carried with it the scent of blood and it was too close for comfort. The older woman took her time getting around the house and through a small thatch of trees to the clearing. She didn't need to unlatch and pull back the tall gate to know what had happened. Her goats huddled by the shelter, three of them. She would say seven of them had walked off, but one lay eviscerated on the other side of the yard. Blood splattered the hut wall and the grass and fence. The gate had remained locked. They hadn't just walked off.

    The Haights made their home high up in the mountain, somewhat remote from Immokalee. Goats disappeared. Goats were eaten. Seven goats were not dragged off into the wilderness at once, not by wolves or any other hungry creature. But she knew the smell of lycan when she got a whiff of it. Anger flowed through her. If she found out it was some young prankster from their own tribe...well she'd have her goats replaced and some yardwork for pay. She worried more that it wasn't the tribe.

    With that on her mind, she returned to the house settled between the trees and tall rocks. Within the hour she was climbing into the old truck and heading down into town. Elora drove calmly past her usual stops. Delivering preserves or dried venison to lycan and human alike, stopping by the community center. She went instead to the sheriff's office.

    "John, you tell me some boys got into my goat pen last night or I've got bad news," she called into the station before she could see him. Her voice flew firm and sure. She wasn't angry. If she lost one or two to a pack of wolves, that was one thing. All of them spelled a different story. There was little evidence, but she had smelled it, the goats smelled it and the numbers added up.
  13. John

    No sooner did John hang up the phone did it start to ring again. Shit... With a sigh he reluctantly picked up the phone again, "Hello. Oh, Dr. Weston... ugh! Again?" John began to pinch his nose with his forefinger and thumb. Today was turning out to be a rather piss poor day for him. "I tell ya DR. I'm getting about sick and tired of this... does no one listen to me anymore?" John began to hold the phone against his shoulder so he could free his hands up in order to buckle his holster around his waist. "Well, did you go ahead and notify the parents? Oh good, then I'll handle Sturk." John began to trail off the subject as his mind drifted to greater concerns. "Weston, I need to let you in the loop. Things are going to get pretty hairy in the next couple days."
    John began to fill Weston in on everything Jacob had informed him moments ago. Weston listened diligently throughout the conversation. "After I settle things at Sturks I'm going to see about finding this Nomads. What I need you to do is inform the Council, get the Elders together and see how they want to handle this mess. Right, alright goodbye.” John hung up the phone and darted out the door before the damn thing could ring again. The sound of co-workers going about their day flooded the little station. “Mornin Sheriff,” They would say as he passed by. John was too much in a rush to reply, instead he simply nodded his head as he passed them by.
    As John rounded the corner Elora Haight caught his attention. She had just walked into the station the moment he rounded the corner. Elora and her tribe kept to themselves, she was a bit of a hermit really. God in heaven, what now? John knew Elora well enough to know that she wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for a damn good reason.
    "John, you tell me some boys got into my goat pen last night or I've got bad news," Elora called out once firmly inside the station. “I’m right here Elora,” he sighed as he moved from around the corner to greet her. “You say something got into your goats last night?” he asked puzzled. John took Elora aside and out of ear shot from the others in the station. “Now let’s hear what happened.”
    As John listened to Elora and her plight and quickly put two and two together. The Nomads had arrived sooner than he expected, and wasted no time stirring up a hornets nest. “Elora, what I’m about to tell you can’t spread around; not right now at least.” John rubbed the back of his neck as he searched for the words. “Do you remember a couple years ago when my Dad had that spit of trouble with those packs that came down from Canada? He called them Nomads; always moving from one territory to the next.” Elora gazed up at him with unflinching eyes, still as vivid and full of light as ever. John asked her this because his old man used to be sweet on her back in the day, and although John never knew if their relationship blossomed into anything other than casual flirtation, Elora did know his father well and played a key role during that time. John was just a young foolish boy when the Nomads arrived then, he couldn’t remember the details of the event very well, but he remembered the hills ran red and funerals occurred weekly.


    “What can I say? The rifle makes me feel better.” Sam smirked as he moved back to his jeep, Aly choosing to take the passenger seat. The drive back to the spot he first encountered the rouge was a bit nerve racking for him. His instincts told him to leave it alone, but he had a responsibility to protect their territory. In his mind he played out a dozen different scenarios, most of which he imagined himself in a fierce battle. He wouldn’t say it aloud but he did want to prove to his father he could handle himself, and this might just do the trick.
    Sam parked the jeep off the dirt road near the spot he encountered the Rogue. “From here we walk,” Sam said as he hopped out of the jeep. He grabbed his rifle from the back seat and slung it over his shoulder. “Think you can keep up Aly?” Sam was teasing her of course. Aly may be a scatterbrain but she could track with the best of them. Together the two marched up the road a ways before cutting through some brush, and finding the spot where Sam imagined the Rogue stood. They looked around a bit, turning over leaves and searching for prints but Sam couldn’t find any. He sniffed at the air but all he could smell where the familiar scents of the forest. He was about to give up before turning to Aly. Suddenly he noticed something out of place; some grass flatted oddly and a few over turned pebbles. “Hey I think I found something,” he said suddenly. He looked over the tracks and followed them a short distance. Every so often he would lose the subtle trail and have to search for it again. It was difficult trying to pick out the miniscule disturbed pieces the Rogue left behind. A single over turned stone, a snapped twig, or a torn stem. Whomever they were tracking had experience staying undetected. As Sam followed the trail a realization hit him. This Rogue wasn’t simply wandering through the woods. This trail they followed was leading to a familiar place. He turned to face Aly who was trailing behind him. “This trail is taking us straight to the Haight’s place, we need to hurry Aly.” After that Sam ignored the trail altogether. The Haights were the only ones who lived way up in these hills, and for a Rogue they made easy targets.
  14. Aly slid into the passenger seat of Sam's Jeep. She kept alert for any signs of anything out of the ordinary. When Same said that they would have to continue on foot, she nodded and hopped out. She searched the ground and scented the air almost immediately. When Sam called over that he had gotten something, Aly jogged right over. She crouched down beside Sam and studied the tracks and blood. "It's goat blood." She said, relieved it was not human. A human death was the last thing the Pack wanted. Aly followed Sam as he followed the trail. Hr often lost the trail. "Do you want me to take over?" She offered. "This trail is faint, like they went through the trouble of hiding." Then she saw where the trail led. She started jogging toward the Haight residence.
  15. elora

    Elora listened dutifully and nodded, "I remember - and that's what I'm afraid of." Blood trailed in the wake of the last Nomad visit. Some of the losses were still being grieved over. John was the best man for the position of Alpha after his father. Elora missed the old man in many ways, but John filled his shoes well.

    "I lost seven," she added, ignoring the activity going on around them, "It's not impossible, but I don't think one rogue wolf would stock six goats for winter." Nomads didn't work that way. They went from location to location, staying until the supply exhausted. Of course, this was all information John knew and knew well. Elora always made sure to be clear, however.

    "I'm going back to check on the family," she said with a change of tone. It was time to move on to a solution, after finding out exactly who was to blame of course. She remembered she had left in such a hurry, without telling the other Haights or seeing if they had had similar problems. There were two other cabins within a quarter mile of her own, which housed distant Haights - cousins and her husband's sister's family. They were a small family in the pack, but they had been living in the mountains for generations.

    "I'll let you know what we do or find. You'll be the first and only," she added to hinder his worries that word may get out prematurely. "If it is a Nomad pack, " she continued in low tones, "We may come down for winter." She leveled her gaze with his, quietly agreeing on the potential severity of the situation. They were too vulnerable up in the mountains.


    Lia sat in the kitchen, head on her shoulder with her arm outstretched. She tipped the salt over and pulled it back, over and back, in a daze. The small white pile grew and grains spread further on the table. It was only her first day off after a long trek out in the park. She'd made the long loop around the backwoods of backwoods, making sure everything was as it should be before the colder weather rolled in. As usual, she got a few days off to recuperate before going back to the boring part of the job. It was only her first day and she already had less to do at home. Grandmother hadn't noticed her return early that morning and left before she got up. The woman needed to work less. In Lia's opinion, those with whom Elora spent her time could take care of themselves.

    She stopped her never-ending game at the sound of movement. Going to the window, she saw two approaching figures in the morning light. The fog had mostly lifted, but visibility wasn't crystal quite yet.

    "You two lost?" she asked once out of the house and within sight. She didn't laugh at her own joke, or even smile, but they all knew each of them were capable of finding their way through the forest blind folded. Lia flipped her short blonde hair off her forehead with a hand, waiting for her coworkers to state their business. The shriek of a goat came first, followed by the steady bleating of the bunch. Lia had turned her head to the pen, but looked back at Sam and Aly as if they would had all the answers to the questions that ran through her mind.
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