A/N: I came across a couple of sets of these while reading some Dark Angel fanfiction. The basic idea is that we writers try to come up with little sketches for each letter of the alphabet. They don't have to be in any sort of chronological order, or form part of a larger story: they can be entirely separate entities from each other. They must, however, include one or more of the characters from any episode of Primeval and have a central plot that circles around something beginning with one of the letters of the alphabet. The aim is 26 sketches or short stories, one for each letter, posted in alphabetical order.

Sound easy? Give it a go! Just open a thread in this forum, or, if you prefer, in the Primeval forum on
my board or on . Once it's up and running, why not post a link to it here, so that we can all go and read your work. Let's see who gets to Z first!

A is for Aardvark

(Rating K+ for language)

Sarah Page did not like camping.

She had never really considered herself a girly girl, except perhaps when Abby was around, but camping was definitely not her thing. Too much mud, too much cold, too little comfort and far too many bugs!

She pulled the sleeping bag round her and tried to get comfortable in her cramped, military issue, one woman tent, mentally cursing Lester for sending her on this mission and Becker for being the smug self-satisfied git that had handed her the tent and left her to put it up on her own while his men built an entire camp around her. It didn't help that she was the only woman on the team now. Abby was who knows where, along with Connor and Danny. At least she hoped they were all together still, wherever they were. Jenny had vanished off the face of the planet it seemed, and no matter how much wheedling and conniving Lester did down the phone he seemed unable to find even the slightest trace of her. Mysterious Eve had turned out to be the even more mysterious Helen, who had also disappeared, although that was probably a good thing in this case. Margo had been kept back in the ARC as the only person other than Connor who was apparently able to work the anomaly detector without making it crash or giving someone an electric shock. It wasn't as if Sarah knew the IT technician well - she had mainly faded into the background in the ARC and just got on with whatever needed doing - but even just a little bit of female company would have been nice. And she could have got to know her.

Sarah groaned and rolled over again. Pale light was forcing its way through her closed eyelids, reminding her that the sun rose early high up in the plateaus of southern Africa. Far too early for Sarah's liking. She hadn't slept a wink on the flight over, surrounded by snoring squaddies. Not that the view wasn't good, of course: sandwiched between a window and Becker's ever unruffled form. He didn't snore. Well he wouldn't, would he? Being the perfect man and God's gift to women and all. With his perfect body and perfect hair and perfect melting chocolate eyes that turned almost every woman he met into an incoherent mess within seconds. And he knew it. The prat!

Sarah thumped her pillow, remembered it was inflatable, and groaned again. She rolled onto her back and stared at the wall of the tent murderously as the sun rose on the other side of it. Well, that was it: she wouldn't get any sleep now. She sighed and rubbed a hand across her eyes.

A shadow fell across her and she blinked, wondering if one of Becker's men was about to sound the reveille right outside her tent. It was the sort of thing the chauvinistic sods would do too. She glared at the shadow, then froze. Her eyes grew wide as she scanned the monstrous form shadow-playing on her tent wall. She could feel the scream bubbling up inside her from right down in her guts.

"BECKER!"

An instant later, the captain's head was sticking into her tent. She looked round at hain and pointed wordlessly at the wall, only to see an amused expression on his face. Her fear disappeared instantly, replaced by rage.

"What?" Sarah snapped. "What stupid trick is it this time? Two of your men in a sleeping bag? A cardboard cutout? What?"

"It's none of that!" Becker laughed. "We haven't done anything! I promise! Just come out and look."

Sarah wrestled her way out of her sleeping bag and pulled a long jacket round her. She glared at Becker as she shoved her feet into the nearest pair of shoes and followed him out of the tent. When she looked at the source of her fearsome shadow, she crossed her arms and turned back to Becker, one eyebrow raised.

"You're really not an animal person, are you?" Becker smirked.

"Hence my many qualifications in Egyptology, Becker," she snapped back dryly.

Becker did his best to stifle a laugh, but, for once, his unbreakable facade failed him.

"Well?" Sarah sighed. "It looks to me like it belongs on the other side on an anomaly. Why aren't you worried about it?"

"That, Doctor Page, is an aardvark," said Becker smugly. "And I'm afraid they live here. Quite naturally!"