theme: no wings
In the middle of the road across from the graveyard a woman appears in a flurry of smoke.
Her clothes are singed and her face is dirty. She looks lost and tense and a little bit feral. Her eyes dart around wildly, taking in her surroundings. Even as she determines that she is in no apparent danger, she does not relax. She just brushes off her clothes and checks her pockets.
She's carrying a battered digital watch, a still-warm Zippo lighter, car keys belonging to a Ford, and a driver's licence. The watch reads 2 January 1994, and the card shows her a face and a name: Rilen Brace. She cross checks what she sees in the image with her hair, black and braided, then her skin, a rich caramel.
"Rilen Brace," she tries, and coughs because there's ash in her throat. "Rilen Brace," she says again, only it comes out more as a question, because apparently she's Australian.
Satisfied with her identity for the time being, she starts to analyse where she is. The street is deserted with the exception of a single car, an older model Chevy. The license plate is American, but she can't see the state name on it. It's in front of a graveyard surrounded by trees, and although she can't see past them, she hears movement within.
Something black darts out between the iron gates, and the sudden movement sends her brain into overdrive. Mammalian. Order, carnivore, family, feline. Cat. It flies past her, too quick to catch.
Then the voices start. Rilen must have good ears, because she can hear almost every word. "Someone's got a dirty mouth."
And something clicks inside of her because she knows that voice. Everything comes rushing back, like it always does but usually hours later. She knows a lot, but right now all she can remember is that she has to rescue her. There's something wrong, and when the fighting starts, Rilen knows what she has to do. She unfurls her wings and flies.