Omega
The Woman

There had always been a contrast in height between Sierra and Ryan. There was, perhaps, one day that no one remembered, when their height was matched – after Sierra had been taller, but before a growth spurt of Ryan's that set him in a permanent lead. The difference was something that drove the woman insane, but Ryan pretended not to notice.

To compensate, Sierra would occasionally draw herself up on her toes; but it was a futile, dying habit. Even now, she only did it when she wanted something.

"There's a bonfire up near the third junction tonight, you wanna go check it out?"

And Ryan was sorry he asked.

"Sounds illegal," he sidestepped the girl, intent on getting the last few steps home behind him. Dropping to her heels, Sierra followed doggedly.

"But it'll be fun!"

"What's my mother going to think if I keep staying out all night?" Really, it had been two days, and it didn't seem long enough.

"It's with me, remember?" the young man snickered, prompting severe retaliation. Unfortunately for her, Sierra couldn't come up with anything serious enough that wasn't of a physical nature, "Come on Ryan; don't I look like an angel to you?"

Thankful that he was home before he had to answer such an absurd question – he imagined Sierra as the devil in a shoddy disguise – and she was equally distracted in the presence of the woman in question.

"Ma'am."

With both Sierra and his mother distracted, Ryan seized the opportunity to whip a roll of hard candy at his little sister before leaving the scene with only a bottle of cough medicine from the bounty of groceries he'd returned home with.

---

The metallic white cold was not the same as the white cold of the territory.

This was definitely not the territory. Humans rarely came near the place, and they surely didn't dwell there.

The wolf cringed in the corner of the room. A semi-circle of confused scientists surrounded her, as though they could stop her from escaping. Maybe they could; humans were tricky creatures.

But, in their hearts, they were as fearful as she was.

A door cracked open across the room. It was a slim chance, but it was the only one she had.

---

There were no more dark nights, but there were still dark rooms, dark windows, and dark alleys.

Ryan still wanted to know how he'd been swindled into this.

Sierra insisted it was close by, but he spent his leisure sauntering along. He did it to spite her, really. She shouldn't have minded; they were friends after all.

There was something else buzzing at the back of his mind. It only seemed louder the further along the promenade they went. The world seemed to fade to blacks and dark grays. He had to stop, lest he get lost amidst the shadows.

In the darkness, a star appeared. White, almost silver became a focus point; he began to see form in the snowy abyss.

The woman, for it was a woman, met his stare with cold eyes – something he didn't take into account, as he was slightly distracted by other facets of the being. White hair matched a near-albino skin tone, which was mostly noticeable because she wore nothing else.

"What the hell?" Sierra wondered aloud. She was somewhere beside him, he knew, but for a moment she had been forgotten.

Suddenly, as though sound had broken through the mystique, the world snapped back into place – they were in a dark alley, same as before. Only, the woman was still there, crouched on her knees and staring at them with big, blue eyes.

Ignoring the warning glare from Sierra, Ryan stepped forward cautiously.

"Are you all right, miss?" The stranger grimaced, and the man couldn't figure out if she'd understood or not. He smiled, holding out a hand for goodwill's sake.

In an instant, the odd woman lunged. Ryan stumbled back, startled, even as Sierra got between them. She had the stranger on the ground before he could blink a third time. Soon after, the other seemed to have given up, her head turned at an odd angle and eyes closed tight. Sierra, not noticing, or not caring, huffed angrily, not ready to relent on potentially false confidence.

Ryan caught her fist as she drew it back; anyone wandering onto the scene now might have suspected Sierra, as helpless as the stranger looked. She yielded, only for him.

The woman crawled a short distance away, not swiftly, and when she looked back at them there was no horror, no hatred on her face… Ryan felt an acceptance of the simple fact, almost as though she was used to this.

It scared him.

"Sierra, give me your vest," he spoke slowly, not to scare the stranger; if that were possible, so far he hadn't felt any external fear.

Sierra, not granted the same insights, stared at her friend. While she understood why he wanted it, two parts territoriality and rationalism mixed to form an all too analytic, if misplaced conclusion.

"Ry, this vest won't cover shit," to be met by that irritated look she was forced to stand if she wanted her own right.

"It's better than nothing, isn't it?"

Shrugging out of the sleeveless jacket, she handed it, crumpled, to Ryan, who approached the stranger for a second time.

---

Getting home was never such a nightmare. Somehow, the dread of being blamed for something they hadn't done was far worse than that of being blamed for something they could admit to, and they weren't even sure if they'd done anything wrong.

Momentary distraction arrived in the form of a boundary to be overcome. For a few minutes, they were able to replace the old problem with the new one.

"Son of a bitch," getting herself over the balcony railing was easy compared to hauling Ryan over after her; she doubted she could have done it if he hadn't worked to help himself, "Ryan, most yearlings lose weight at the Academy."

"I did," not a defensive snap, the factual statement irked Sierra more than having to haul her best friend off the alleyway to get him home.

"Like…" the syllabic was cut short as Ryan muffled the woman with a hand.

"You feel like we're being watched?" The mere suggestion caused them both to look around, and Sierra looked up while Ryan peered over the balcony, "Oh."

Having flanked Sierra most of the way, the strange woman clutched at the vest as though it were a security blanket – Ryan hadn't been able to get it on her after all – as she gazed up at them with the pathetic eyes of a lost puppy. It took some effort to get her the ten feet up to the balcony porch; she was light, but she struggled. On the tedious trip up, past many neighbors' porches, it became obvious that the girl didn't like heights.

Home never looked so good. The window perpendicular off the balcony was open for specific reasons – it wasn't much of a view to the other side of the alley, but it was Ryan's room, after all.

"Get her started on a bath or something; I'll go find some clothes."

Sierra, concentrating instead on the three foot by two transverse over and up through the window, barely seized the opportunity to complain.

"Wait a second – why do I have to help her bathe?"

"I didn't say you had to help her, just make sure she gets clean."

"Why?"

The stranger stared back and forth, wide-eyed as the hushed argument ran its course.

"She's covered in dirt, is why," as though that didn't make enough sense, "And I'm not putting her in clean clothes if the clean isn't going to help."

"Well… can't we just wrap her in a blanket, or something?"

"Please, Sierra?" While they both begged one another the opposite, there was an endearment quality Sierra never could kick. She yielded to it, even as she vowed revenge. Without the instilled power of the cadet body to back her, she finally realized it was going to be a long summer.

"You are so dead when we get back, you know that?"

"Thanks Sierra," even as he escaped, she regretted it.

Ryan, meanwhile, soberly went about his side of the task. He had considered asking one of the neighbors, until he found Jane leaning over the counter and into the kitchen sink. Despite her memorable fall into his care, he'd forgotten she even existed.

"Hey," the girl lifted her head from the basin, paying respect as he tapped a cupboard above the counter lightly, "We do have glasses, you know?"

A muffled mmph was her reply as she returned to drinking from the faucet.

"What are you doing up?" Months earlier, Ryan had resolved that, if all babysitting was thus – to keep a loose on watch on the a who had proven more than able to care for herself – he might have taken it up as a spare job years ago.

"It's four-thirty," his fellow yearling replied around the water, as though accused of under sleeping by an over sleeper.

"Some way to enjoy your summer, kiddo." She shrugged, and he recalled she wasn't interested in the break to begin with… something he still hoped to change even as the reprieve ticked away, "Feeling better?"

"A little," she turned off the water to face him, and he had to admit that she did look better, at least… a great deal so.

"That's good," Ryan smiled, trying to pluck up the courage for his suddenly remembered initial purpose of his house-wandering, "I suppose you'd mind if I were to borrow some of your clothes for a few hours or so…"

"What for?" Jane blinked at him, perplexed by the request.

"It's a long story, but-"

A sudden yell resounded through the apartment, drawing the attention away from Ryan's explanation. He led the way as they moved to investigate, with Sierra as his prime suspect.

He found her, shaken and leaning heavy against the closed bathroom door. She grit her teeth as her fellows approached, an unusual grimace – or smile – flickering before she sought to let them in on the problem.

"Hey," she focused on Ryan, a confidante to the secret behind the door, "This look familiar t'ya, at all?"

She twisted the handle, opening the door without turning around. Instead, she watched for the man's reaction as he saw her little surprise.

A white canid, tense to a breaking point, yet sopping wet, growled menacingly, ready to make a last stand between them and the bathtub.