Author's Note: To capture Darcie's hypersensitivity to being out in the wide world for the first time each chapter title includes a color seen, something felt, and something heard.

Chapter 16: Sepia, Wood, and Laughter

Two weeks. It had taken her two weeks. Hitch-hiking, trespassing, stowing away, walking, running, surviving and a bit of luck. That's what it had taken to get her tormentors off her trail. She was in the wilds of Canada, hoping that here she might find what she was looking for. Whatever that was.

Stormkrigeren closed her eyes tightly, trying to block out the rush of noises, men's voices, glasses clinking, guitar playing, and a radio blaring in the background. The forecaster on the little box was predicting more cold and possibly snow, though all she could hear was the constant squealing of what she assumed to be the radio waves, if that was even possible.

She opened her eyes for a moment and looked down at her soda and the shiny wooden bar. The place was in the middle of nowhere. She felt so alone, in the open and unprotected like everyone was looking at her. No one was really, and even if some dude was eyeing her, she knew she could floor him easily. Stormkrigeren adjusted her trucker cap to brush a stray strand of dark hair back behind her ear and took a sip from her pop, the intense flavor and bubbling sensation stronger than she was used to. Her eyes scrunched closed again, as she fought the urge to scream. She knew she shouldn't have chosen a place so full of people, but at least her hunters were less likely to look for her here. Various conversations filled the room, oblivious to the pain they were causing her. Trying to block out all the other voices and noises, Stormkrigeren focused on two lieutenants of the Canadian Armed Forces having dinner a few seats down the bar, naturally drawn to those who shared the same tactical instincts as her.

"-been a change in the plans." one was saying, popping a french fry in his mouth. "Somebody found something strange up on Ellesmere. AIRCOM's been making runs out there all week."

His friend snorted in disbelief. "That rat hole? You gotta be kidding me."

"I know! Crazy, right? And the Americans are there too, lots of them. They're calling it an 'anomalous object', whatever that means."

"Man, that's weird. Wonder what it is. Though it's probably just some-"

Stormkrigeren did not hear his last words as a waitress shouted on the far side of the room, causing her to wince at the loud voice. "Ludlow! Let me go!"

"C'mon, Chrissy, sit down." a rough trucker was saying sweetly, trying to calm her down and pull her into the seat beside him, but Stormkrigeren saw him pat her rear as she tried to turn away and immediately decided she disliked the man. Ludlow continued to harass poor Chrissy despite her protests, and Stormkrigeren was on the verge of going over to tell him off when a dark-haired waiter intervened.

"Hey, leave her alone, man," he said, putting his hand on the roughneck's shoulder.

Ludlow glanced up at him, eyeing the waiter angrily. Suddenly the trucker shoved back his chair as he stood up and threw off his hat, breaking something. The sound of glass shattering stopped all conversations in the room as everyone turned to look at the two men. Ludlow smiled confidently at the younger man, sizing him up.

"Or what, tough guy?" he asked, goading him. Stormkrigeren saw the waitress standing in the background, desperately hoping a fight wouldn't break out and the young man calmly refused to take the trucker's bait, replying evenly, "Or I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Ludlow just looked at him, an ugly grin forming at the corners of his rough stubble. "I've been coming here for over fifteen years, busboy. I think I'll leave when I'm good and ready."

He threw a punch at the young waiter, strong enough to have at least knocked a few teeth out, but it never reached its mark. Stormkrigeren held Ludlow's closed fist in her hand, looking at the man with a slight frown.

"I apologize for interrupting," she said politely in a thick French-Canadian accent, "but is there a problem here?"

The roughneck grunted, trying to pull his hand out of her grasp and failed. "Damn you, let go, freak!"

"Miss?" the busboy said, trying to draw her attention, but she ignored him, focusing her restrained wrath on the struggling Ludlow. Men were chuckling at the nearby tables, hoping a fight would ensue between the humiliated waiter and the trucker over the rogue gal. Stormkrigeren winced at their raucous mirth and unintentionally squeezed Ludlow's fist harder, causing him to yelp in pain and let out a string of foul words, earning a few cheers from the coarser diners.

"Thump 'm, girlie!" someone shouted from the far side of the room, banging on their table. Ludlow was trying to pull away while the busboy attempted to calm her down and convince her to release the injured teamster. Suddenly the world seemed to grow louder, the diners chuckles becoming high-pitched shrieks of laughter and every breath and heartbeat roaring in her ears. They were all clawing at her, fighting for her attention so they could drag her down and break her all over again. Ludlow's harsh shout joined the clamor as Stormkrigeren felt his ring finger snap beneath her grip and she panicked, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. All she wanted to do was escape and find somewhere quiet where she could be alone, but they wouldn't let her go, grasping at her mind.

"No no no no no no, please, just stop," she whispered, scrunching her eyes closed. "You're too loud, the world's too big-"

"Miss?"

One voice, softer than the others, reached out through the throng and touched her shoulder. She opened her eyes to look up at him beside her and saw the blue-eyed waiter, his hair in need of a good brush and maybe a shave, but his sad smile was beautiful all the same.

"It's quieter outside," he told her, his lips barely moving, yet she could hear him clearly above the din. Stormkrigeren nodded, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, and turned back to Ludlow, twisting his wrist violently as she shoved him up against the back wall. Suppressing the urge to kick him in the balls, she bared her teeth and growled. "If I hear you've been bothering her again, ohhh boy, you can guarantee I will be back for your hide! Got that?"

Despite the fear in his eyes, he had the audacity to grin back sweetly at her. "Whatever you say, doll. We can even discuss it at my place if you like."

The occupants of the pub roared with laughter at his smart comeback as she thrust him away in disgust before returning to the bar and sliding a few crumpled bills over the counter to the bartender to pay for her drink. He accepted them with a scowl, which she ignored as she headed for the door. A few whoops of 'Get outta here!', and 'You showed 'm!' rang out behind her and were immediately silenced as she grabbed a beer can off a nearby table and roundhouse kicked it straight across the room into the wall beside Ludlow's head. No one spoke when it didn't fall, partially embedded in the wood, and the rogue left without a backward glance.

The pub resumed its usual chatter as the dark-haired waiter approached the can, observing it curiously and found that the force of the young woman's kick had driven it almost an inch into the oak wall while the aluminum had barely been crushed. Ludlow had mostly recovered from his ordeal, already boasting that he had been in complete control the entire time and could have escaped if he'd wanted to, though he was still cradling his bad hand.

"She was just roaring for a fight, but my momma taught me to never hit a lady, so I didn't," he explained to the chuckling guitarist. "Though that girl was a bit of a bad bitch."

The busboy frowned. She had only been standing up for another person and if anything, that was to be admired. He took a step towards Ludlow, fists curling at his sides and a fiery glint burning in his eyes, but the trucker saw him coming, letting out a harsh laugh. "Hey, Weaver! I think your busboy's about to go postal over his girlfriend!"

Weaver shrugged from behind his bar and kept wiping glasses, mentally weighing the value of his too-polite busboy against a steady customer.

"You're fired, kid," he said casually, not even bothering to look up. The trucker grinned at the ex-waiter, hands in his pockets and shrugged. "Pity. Now get out!"