The lake was still as glass, the sunshine warming Krissa's back as she stood idle upon her little boat, staring off in the direction of the Simian Forest. Water pooled in the corner of the wooden floor, the shadows of fish beneath the murky depths occasionally distracting her. She had taken to her own, becoming a bit of a black sheep within the group of survivors. There were perhaps fifteen others, all working together in order to sustain themselves. Winter would be around soon, meaning snow, as well as a lack in natural resources such as water and food. Nic always seemed so busy, although he always made time for her at the end of each night, coming to visit her within her makeshift home in an old rickety two-story dock-side house. The walls felt hollow and almost suffocating in comparison to the woven walls of Poppy and Slate's house.

Each morning she would rise before the sun and listen to see if she could hear their distant calls. The faint aroma of wood-smoke would occasionally drift through her windows, stirring memories that still remained fresh within Krissa's mind. The once disturbing cries and hoots that drifted over the surface of the lake in the evening and during the wee hours were welcomed by her and her alone, seeing as the rest of the survivors on the island were horribly eerie in their opinion. Krissa was often left alone because of how backwards they viewed her, but this did not bother her in the slightest. She could disappear and return from the back-country whenever she felt like it, all the while going unnoticed. The terrain was new and thus sparked her curiosity, evidently giving her a home away from, well, "home."

Home. It was a foreign word to her now; she missed the mountains, she missed the woods, she missed their warmth and their intimacy. Krissa would often reflect on her own wistfulness toward San Francisco and her father, and couldn't help but feel... incomplete. Her world had been torn apart, twice now. The ravenette was up in the air, hovering. Where was she to land now? Her teeth sank into the soft flesh of one of the last pears of the season and she began to chew on the supple meat within. It was tart and sweet. She took a deep breath and shifted, legs crossed as she kept her eyes upon the shoreline. An alarm call. Were they hunting? Most likely. It sounded as if they were excited. It was that time of year, she assumed, that they would be stocking up on food just as they were.

Taking a deep breath, Krissa tilted her head up to the sky above. She had a boat, so why not just head back home? That was a very good question. Here, with her kind, she was welded to the ground with Nic at her side. She no longer travelled with a bow, she carried a pistol. She wore clothes which were not her own, although kept her old hunting clothes... and best of all, she had stopped keeping her hair short. Krissa's dark curls had grown an inch since she had last been around the ape tribe, their ends now reaching her shoulders. Life was routine. Wake up, sit outside, wander through the trees and miss the thick emerald moss; then she would head back for dinner, spend some time with Nic on the porch, listening to the ways, say goodnight and head in to bed. She had taught the man the basics of sign, which helped with their language barrier- it made it all the more better with his amount of patience.

Pulling her sweater up over her head, she set down her snack and shimmed out of her shorts, socks and boots. Refusing to bother with her father's arrowhead and stone that hung from the twine around her neck, she stood up on the edge of the boat, took a deep breath, and then dove beneath the water. Her entire body stiffened, the air held within her lungs punching at her wounded throat. The stitches were still there, an obvious scab left from where Pine's spear had severed the skin, but she was beginning to grow accustomed to the pain.

The ravenette dove down to the bottom, feeling her finger brush the gooey sand, a fish darting away from her in sudden alarm. Nothing but water weeds and rocks were visible, yet it was nonetheless serene and tranquil beneath. If she weren't holding her breath, Krissa would have smiled. Her lungs began to urge her up to the surface, and although reluctant, she complied. Kicking up, she made a quick ascent and then broke through, gasping softly for the air she so urgently needed. Krissa began to tread water, pushing herself further and further from her boat with no fear of the depths growing deeper and deeper beneath her. The cold air nipped at her moist skin, her teeth chattering softly.

If Molly found out about her swimming, she would skin her alive. She always implored that she stay on land, that she stay as still as possible and remain cautious while healing, but Krissa knew that she would be fine. The wound was healing nicely. Her legs and arms pumped vigorously, every instinct within her driving her in the direction of the main land, and yet... as she made it out into middle of the span of water, she stopped. Would she even be welcomed back? Of course she would... yet something deep down told her that she did not belong there, among a different species, treated like their own kin and living like a literal wild animal. Once again, for the fifth time in the past month, she turned herself back around and headed back for the boat.

Pulling herself up, she wrapped herself in her old ratty towel and gazed off across the water, the buoyant vessel bobbing softly on the waves. She then finished her snack and climbed back into her clothes, picking up her oars and paddling back to the rocky shore. Krissa slithered into her backpack and then tucked the boat back up on the beach, being sure to hide it with a few stray branches. She did not know when she would have to finally make a decision, seeing as the weather was unpredictable, but for now, while there was no snow, she would slowly make it further and further out across the water, yet still remain unsure.

The woodlands were quiet, aside from the occasional lark that sang off in the distance, communicating with another. Dapples of honeyed sun sprayed across the gravel path, her boots crunching beneath her as she wound through the trees and headed on her way, wandering aimlessly yet nonetheless slowly making her way back to camp.

She paused for a moment to inhale the cool, earthy air, then turned back to the long path ahead of her, traipsing along until she finally came to a stop. The meadow before her was flat and filled with towering birch trees, empty and as motionless as a painting. The survivor turned herself on a whim and began to cut through, enjoying the feeling of the bark of the trees she passed by brushing along her fingertips. Krissa hadn't the faintest idea of where she was going, but she trusted her own memory to get her back. It was strange, how much she had blossomed since her days before she had met Slate. A bolt of sorrow cut through her and she shut her eyes, shaking her head as she rounded the trunk of a singular poplar.

Thwack!

Her entire body jolted in surprise. What was that?

Twack! Whacckk!

Slowly, Krissa grew curious and began to search for the source of the sound, stepping out onto a long-since used path, searching through the ferns with chartreuse eyes alight. It had been the first bought of drive she had had in such a long time, that she could feel how her heart quivered within her ribs. The sound grew more and more frequent, drawing her closer and closer with each wooden strike, until she stepped around the nearest bush, eyes falling upon a black-haired body. The female was no older than a yearling. Her head twisted around to look upon her with both fear and surprise in her large emerald gems.

What did Krissa feel? She was startled, yet felt no fear, taking one step back. The chimp, on the other hand, stared at her, much like a bear would when confronted. She seemed to be at a crossroads, her lips parting and her teeth flashing anxiously. A chirrup escaped her lips, her soft pant-hoot of warning telling her to stay back. Krissa did as advised, but crouched to her level, raising her hands. The simian's nose wrinkled and her hair began to rise, setting her blunt object down from where she had been trying to crack a rather tough-skinned nut.

'It's okay,' the ravenette signed quickly, resting back on her legs. 'I won't hurt you.' The primate young visibly stiffened, eyes flitting across Krissa's face. She was not of Cornelius's tribe- how interesting! How long had she been living around here? Was she from the zoo or the lab? Perhaps she was a pet? The reticence between the two was uncomfortable and awkward. Dubious, the female shot a fleeting look over her shoulder, pacing back another beat. She was uncomfortable and showing definite traits of her wild ancestors, yet she still remained within Krissa's presence rather than fleeing. 'Do you understand?'

"Yes," came her voice, breathy and fragrant, delicate like a tiny aster. It reminded her of Poppy's, although... perhaps not as powerful. It sounded as if she could barely speak, much like Krissa herself. How many words did she know? Judging by how she struggled to convey to her what she wished, not too many. "Understand..."

Krissa felt relief wash over her. 'Alone?' she signed in response.

Her head bobbed. 'Just me. Mother die month ago.' She had had a family at one point? For how long? The ravenette smiled softly and slowly crawled forward, reaching a hand out as a peace offering. Shying away still, the chimp remaining cautious even despite their conversation. 'Others across water.'

'I know, they were my friends,' she replied, hoping that the female would feel a bit more comfortable. Removing her backpack, she unlatched her weapon that the chimp had been eyeing, sliding it away and off to the side in a completely trusting gesture. If she wanted to attack, she could at any moment now without trouble. Even a small female of her size would be able to snap her neck like a twig. 'They helped me when I was sick.'

'Human,' the chimp intoned, gesturing toward her. She seemed doubtful.

Krissa's head bobbed. 'Friend,' she replied just as simply. The chimpanzee's heavy brow rose slightly, her weight returning to her knuckles as she edged closer. 'Got hurt, other humans helped me. I won't hurt you.'

Although she was as still as stone for a moment, contemplating on her next action, Krissa remained relaxed and welcoming. Patience was key with these creatures. Finally, she side-shuffled closer and reached a hand out, cautiously finding the ravenette's own.

"Human name?" she asked shyly, looking into her face with curiosity.

'Krissa,' the human replied, nodding her head and mouthing her own name.

"Liepa." The word was unique on one's tongue, especially coming from an almost alien creature. Her eyes fell away to her throat, frowning gently. Although slightly weary, the chimpanzee reached out and feathered a finger over the tender, cinched flesh. 'What hurt?'

Now that was a whole different question. What was she supposed to say to that? Should she tell the truth? Tell a lie? Shrug it off and leave that question unanswered? Liepa seemed to see that this was a touchy subject and tilted her head, panting softly. 'Another ape,' she finally answered, refusing to leave any secrets between her and this trusting creature. 'Not a friendly one. Something wrong with him.'

"Bad ape," echoed the chimpanzee, growing rather defiant. One of her lengthy fingers came to rest upon the faint scar upon her cheek before coiling her fingers in a few locks of her dark hair. Krissa giggled softly. Yes, Pine was far from good. Just like humans, there were bad and there were good. Species made no difference these days. 'Good. People.' Her dialect was limited, she could tell, but it wasn't hard to understand that she had just been complimented. Dipping her head, she remained still and allowed the creature to examine her bag, then her clothes, before coming to hover over the pistol tucked in the open front compartment.

'Bad stick,' the chimp remarked.

'To protect me,' Krissa quickly explained. 'I don't use much.'

'Loud.'

'Yes, loud. Dangerous.'

'Dangerous,' echoed Liepa, the word sloppy upon her expressive hands. Krissa couldn't help but laugh again, earning a fond smile from the yearling.

It was then that their moment lost its lustre, a voice calling her name out into the woods cutting into the birdsong and the peaceful halcyon. Liepa flinched and scampered away, racing off for safety within the bushes and abandoning her. Speechless and admittedly frustrated, the young woman rose to her feet, collected her gun and bag, and began her jog back to the small clump of cottages. When she finally pushed her way through the boarded-up fence, pushing one of the loose materials out of her way and slinking beneath, she found that Nic was standing at the very edge of the field, a pair of binoculars falling down.

"Was beginnin' to wonder where you got to," he remarked halfheartedly, although she could tell he had been nervous. One of his arms wrapped around her shoulders and he pressed a chaste kiss to the top of her head. The feeling went unwelcome, but so was any sort of human touch. The two humans spent the rest of their walk back in silence, the man offering her some of the almonds he had been munching on, which she politely took, popping two into her mouth and enjoying their subtle, creamy taste. "You out in that boat again?"

Oh, right. Her hair was damp. She shrugged her shoulders, her thoughts more drawn toward the thought of seeing one of Slate's kind once more after months of them being illusive. 'Swim,' she signed, then plugged her nose, as if jumping into water.

"Swimming? In this weather?!" he exclaimed, barking out a laugh. Humans are so loud, she thought, even despite how endearing his mirth had become to her. She smiled as he continued to praise her for her strange taking to swimming in cold conditions. "You must be insane, girlie. You and your thick skin..."

Clicking her tongue, she rolled her eyes and jogged ahead, trying to quicken the walk back to the small community for once in her life. She never took her time anymore; not unless it were out in the wilderness. The sound of him clambering after her caused her heart to speed up, and she would have squealed if she could have, but all that came out was a breathy laugh. 'Slowpoke!' she signed over her head, although her hands were moving too quickly to really be legible.

They finally made it into the backyards and out onto the street, the man catching up with her only as she slowed her pace. His arms wrapped around her waist with a growl, earning another hushed shriek from her, struggling to get away from his tickling fingers. Finally, they fell into a breathy fit of laughter, the man's mouth coming to her own. Their lips brushed and then they parted, heading down toward the medic station. Molly was outside, having a smoke, when she saw that Krissa and Nic were approaching hand-in-hand. With a suspicious simper, the woman welcomed them, causing the ravenette's ears to turn pink.

Disentangling her hand from the man's, she pulled away and allowed herself to be guided inside, sitting down in the kitchen and pushing her hair back so the woman could examine her wound, poking and prodding at it. The next bit was the worst: the tongue compressor. Molly's flashlight burned down her throat, allowing her to examine the inside of her pink mouth as per usual. "You're honestly making the quickest recovery I've ever seen," remarked the nurse, her smile giving her a burst of courage. "Have you tried speaking at all yet?"

Krissa's head shook, then she cleared her tender vocal chords and straightened herself out. Taking a deep breath, she hummed softly, the sound breaking within her voice box and sending an arrow of pain through her entire larynx. She had so many questions, even in her state of agony, the most prominent being as to whether she would ever speak again. It had not been the sickness that had taken her voice, nor was it the fault of a primate. It had been her best friend's brother. Wilting, she felt Molly's comforting hand upon her shoulder, giving it a squeeze of reassurance. "You'll get to it eventually. Don't worry..."

Then, as always, she was handed a palmful of vitamins and painkillers, taking them two at a time until she had finished them off. Krissa could feel them hit her stomach hard and grew restless, rising and moving to her usual place in the little window seat, gazing out into the woods. The survivor nestled into her usual nook and tilted her head back, pulling the old sketch book out from where she usually hid it beneath a few throw-pillows that Molly had tried to use to brighten up the little sill. The book was full of plant species she had drawn and described, quoting them from those she had learned them from. Salt, Dakota, Ilam, Rocket... although the vast majority were specifically taken from Slate's teachings. As she had grown more and more focused on the idea of the male outcross, her mind wandering, Krissa understood that it had been only natural that she sketch him, seeing as she had been in such a delicate state so long ago.

They weren't professional, but they were pleasing enough to the eye. His amber pools had been what she had mostly been focused on: their shape and colour and depth. Beside one of the quick drawings, she took note of the skunk weed he had been teaching her at the time, as well as her little journal entry. His expression was as disgruntled as it always was, or at least how she remembered it to be, which still warmed her heart despite his bitter mask. The drawing had originally just been an impulse sketch, but each time she had revisited it, she had added on more and more detail. Krissa felt Nic step up behind her, peering over her shoulder, yet felt no reason to hide these drawings from the man.

"Were you an art major or somethin' before all this?" he joked tenderly, coming to sit across from her. She shook her head, forcing a gentle smile as she looked up from her drawings. "I can't even draw a stick figure." Although his remark was amusing, the young woman couldn't shake the heaviness in her heart and how it beat so slowly within her chest. Her body felt so tight as she held the book, carefully illustrating the shoulders on another partially drawn mugshot with her pencil. He was leaning forward, listening to something, his expression as cool and calm as stone. She was attempting to make his coat look slightly damp, but she was unsure if she could do so without seeing it again. Taking in a deep, shaking breath, she relaxed against the cold glass. "You miss them?"

Her head rose and she gave him a look of question.

"The apes?" Nic continued, giving a solemn look as he glanced toward her sketch book.

Her fingers tightened around her utensil. She understood what he was saying and allowed her head to fall, refusing to give him a response. Swallowing hard, she shrugged her shoulder indifferently and traced the quill within the sketch's helix. Krissa glanced back out at the greying sky, slightly more depressed now that the sun was sinking below the sky. She could have crossed the water. She could have faced Pine down, all in order to see her best friend again. Her teacher, her protector. He was the wild in her heart and now it was being snuffed out by everyone that suffocated her: the probing eyes, the faint whispers, the mention of diseased creatures.

"It's okay to miss them," he murmured, offering a gentle brush of his hand upon her leg as he scooted closer. "But you're safe now, Krissa. You don't have to worry about Pine or Slate, or when your next meal will be, or when you'll bathe next. You have medicine and shelter here."

But it isn't home, she thought helplessly.

Rising, she sighed and closed her book, keeping it at her side. Eventually she tucked it inside of her bag and passed by Molly, who had been watching their little interaction with sad brown eyes. Padding across the floor, she found her boots. Krissa then headed for the door. "Aren't you stayin' for dinner, girl?" he called after her, to which she attempted to ignore but was unsuccessful.

Her head turned and she straightened up, offering a pleading look. He had made her uncomfortable, and he knew that now, judging by the apologetic expression on his face. Krissa shook her head and reached over, pressing a kiss upon his cheek before drawing away. His hand found her own and he pulled her back, turning her around and capturing her lips in his own. The two shared a long, hard embrace until he pulled away. She took a deep breath of fresh air, seeing as the man had stolen her own from her lungs in that moment. 'I'm sorry,' he signed.

'It's okay,' she lied.

Nic's hand gripped her own tighter. "I love you, Krissa..."

Her lungs hitched and she looked at him, startled by his sudden declaration. Lips parting, the words begged to be held within, yet her own morals attempted to force them from her mouth. Before the ravenette could make any sort of decision, there was the sound of an inhuman shriek, along with two bellowing voices. A child was wailing somewhere. Her heart leapt. The two bolted off the front step and raced in the direction of the cries, only for her eyes to find a small frame, trapped back in a series of garbage cans. A tall blonde man with a side-shave and a nose ring held a rifle in his hands, the other a worried father, holding his sobbing son.

"C'mere you filthy thing!" the man thundered.

"Daddy, don't hurt it!"

No, she wanted to scream. No, leave her alone. At any other moment she was thankful for her inability to speak, but right now the sounds were tearing through her throat, unable to form words, her mouth and voice-box both broken from her injury. Liepa! The pain was white-hot and burning down into her lungs. Krissa felt as if she were vibrating from how hard she was shaking, but she still darted in between the man with the gun and the primate with little fear. Her hands flew to a nearby fallen branch, flying up and colliding violently with the stranger's gun, causing a shot to ring out.

People were beginning to come out of their homes, their porch lights illuminating their bodies as they curiously sought out the source of the drama. "Get out of the way! That thing is out contaminating our gardens, probably stealing our foot!" hissed the stranger, his icy gaze biting into her. She took a step back, one arm out as she tried to coax Liepa out from her shelter.

'It's okay. I'm here. Human protect,' she signed, pleading that she come to her for safety.

The man made to grab her and shove her away just as Liepa began to reveal herself, but Nic intervened. "Woah, woah, woah! Don't touch her. She ain't doing any harm," he protested, getting in his face and shoving him back. "Krissa can lead it away or relocate it or something-"

"Are you blind? They can understand us, you know that!" The armed man was quick to retaliate, trying to appeal to Nic's human nature. The other survivor shrank back slightly, although remained in front of Krissa as she knelt in front of Liepa. "It'll just follow us back if we don't destroy it on sight!"

"I know what you're saying, Jonas. I just-" Nic shook his head, gritting his teeth. The ravenette could practically smell his growing anxiety coming off him in wafts. One of his hands came to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Maybe- maybe she can talk to it and it'll listen."

Jonas only grew angrier, turning to the father and his child. "Go home, Gregory." He then returned his attention to Nic, sighing heavily and shaking his head. "Nic, I'm not going to put my faith in a woman who lived with those things for half the goddamn apocalypse. She might think that she has control over them, but she is wrong. They're disease riddled and we're doin' them a favour by blasting their heads off!" His gun came up and he shoved past her human shield. "Now move!"

Krissa felt Liepa's hand brush her own for a brief moment before she wheeled around and pressed the barrel of her pistol to his jaw, watching the determination die from his eyes as soon as he was confronted with the young woman's weapon. "She," the ravenette rasped softly, struggling to speak. "She... is a.. living cre-creature. Just like... you."

The man by the name of Jonas hovered, swallowing thick in his throat. There was something unmentioned behind his eyes, and as she brought the glock down from where it was protruding into the scruff of his jaw, they darkened. Krissa held Liepa close and stepped back, keeping her attention trained on those surrounding her with each pace.

Then, altogether, she turned on her heels and raced into the brush, ignoring Nic's cries.