"Come on, baby."
Screeee!

"Oh, you're so cute!"
Screee!

"I know. I know."
Screee!

"Now, now... calm down." Her soft voice chided the wriggly ball of tawny feathers in her hands. One hand clasped the taloned creature's legs, its dark eyes scarily alert. The other struggled to coax it into some form of cooperation. All that accomplished was a squawk of defiance that could be heard from a mile away. Its fluff ruffled as it tried its hardest to extend a wing and give her the metaphorical equivalent of a smack upside the head.

"You're okay... you're safe now, shhh..."

Pulling the barred owl into some semblance of a cradle, she smoothed its ruffled feathers. "There we go..." she continued. Finally, the feathered beast in her arms quieted. Not much else was said—except an occasional hiss or screech from the ornery creature in her hold, all the while she kept up her murmured encouragement. The crunch of gravel underfoot, the scrape of dead wood, and the quiet whisper of leaves were all the other noises that greeted her as she descended down the shoulder of the road and towards an open field.

"Ready?"

More ornery noises filled the air as she uncurled the creature from her arms and extended it out in a way for the creature to better gather the wing beneath its wingspan. More gently than before, it began to flap the strong muscles there, gaining momentum until she finally unclasped her hands and let it fly out into the overcast morning skies.

She clapped. A delighted grin lit up her tired face. Her hazel eyes looked on in delight as the small raptor twisted about, catching the updrafts effortlessly and gaining more speed. There was a slight wind blowing her long hair around—but she couldn't keep her eyes away. This was her pride. Her little orphan.

He had been her side project along all the while dealing with all her other responsibilities at Forever Wild, her waning reserves of money in savings, and trying to figure out just what in the world she was going to do with Randall.

Weeks had melted into a month, then nearly two with the damned gecko, and she still didn't know much about him aside from the things he'd let slip in moments of rumination and frustration. Even his name he denied divulging after a time—although, she called him all sorts of other nicknames. Her favorite was gecko, chameleon. Though those seemed to piss him off the most. She enjoyed calling him snake just for fun too. And he never took that one lightly. He usually avoided talking to her more times than not unless he really needed something or was bored.

There were days, however, that he let slip snippets here and there. From what she could deduce, Randall had come here very much against his will. However, the means were a little hazy outside of some "crazy old crone and her son" and "damn shovel." Her conversation with Chester weeks prior hinted at the possibility that they were humans—and the ones responsible for his injury. Perhaps they had assumed he was some type of gator and decided to beat him senseless.

The very thought that violence seemed to be the first answer to some people when dealing with animals sickened her. Violence was like a language in itself... It would solve a lot more problems to actually listen to the animal and discover the cause, rather than attacking everything without listening. She had come across quite a few such cases from the various calls she went to. That wasn't even going into the abuse of domestics.

Veering from those thoughts, she gathered up the shaded dog cage she'd used and headed back for her RV. She whistled loud, and a panting Blondie was at her side moments later. A few pats to his head, and he was off and ready to enter their motorized home. Trotting past the driver's seat and to the passenger side, his fluffy butt rested and was still in moments.

Wiping the sweat that beaded her brow, she released a drawn-out exhale. With a light heart, she shut the doors and climbed up the steps into her camper. She had the notion it was going to be a good day, considering how relaxed everything had been. That is, until her eyes caught something out of the corner of her vision, and then there it was: her notepad. It sat out on the table, open.

The same notepad that was filled with all matters of nonsense, theories, and even small doodles of Randall. Frankly, it looked more scrapbook than notebook, and it should be no surprise why. Her imagination was rampant—often crossing over the border of fanciful whimsy and downright crazy. Her mind, after all, was the source of her stress lately, which seemed to love manifesting storm clouds when she'd predicted sun.

Forever Wild had surmised that their care of Randall was less than satisfactory and, as a result, recommended the care of him to a much larger facility out of state that might have a better time identifying what he was and where he came from. Unfortunately, the reality was that he was no animal but a monster. Monsters didn't exactly fall into the realm of reality, so she'd never brought up the fact of his intelligence to anyone. The only one that knew the truth was her. And she couldn't exactly go screaming to the higher-ups. She'd only imagined that exact scenario so many times. And the results were all the same.

"Hey, boss, guess what. That big purple gecko in our enclosure? Yeah, seems his name is Randall. He's not from our world. He's basically the equivalent of a human but from a different dimension that we're just casually mistaking for an alligator and dehumanizing... demonsterizing...? by treating him like an animal. You know, also it turns out he's got one hell of a bite, has an attitude problem, and could turn invisible. Oh, and don't even get me started on this dude's problems with hygiene or manners. Think we could let him go? No? You want to know more about where he comes from? Wait... no—"

The soft lurch as she turned the ignition over and backed the vehicle up out of the dirt trail they were settled into made the RV's floor tremble just the smallest amount, chasing her thoughts away. She pressed the lever and threw the shift into drive. Then she pulled the radio dial and turned it to her favorite station—then pumped the music to life.

Even if her personal problems were steadily mounting, it was her policy to see the good in everything. No one was going to tell her different.

"Well," she said. "Gotta count our blessings, space cadet. Plenty of things to be thankful for. For now. At least until the phone starts ringing."

There was a wagging and yap in return. Blondie was still counting it. She chuckled and drummed her fingers to the beat of the music.

The sun peeked as the clock struck 2 PM. Rita and a small handful of others employed and volunteering at the rehab waved goodbye to a busload of kids and a teacher. They were from a local school, visiting as part of a tour, and were having the grand time of their lives seeing some of the animals the place had been caring for, as well as a small show put together to display their ambassadors at their finest. Rita hadn't been the one giving the presentation, thankfully—her boss had covered the main bulk. Which left her to simply stand there as a glorified perch for their barn owl, raccoon, and even a young three-legged alligator.

After waving goodbye, it wasn't until the vehicle had disappeared down the trail that led to the main highway that she felt like she had to remind herself to breathe. There had been no trouble; surprisingly, the small tour was handled without issue. The one thing that nearly blew up was her anger with a teacher and a chaperone who kept making slight remarks about the reptiles on display. Something about "the only good snake is a dead snake." And how someone's mother could take care of said animal and turn it into a nice pair of boots. She knew, in her heart, it was best not to react the moment someone voiced a particularly narrow view on anything, but that didn't mean she had to like it or wasn't at least irritated that she had to remain professional and silent as it happened.

Releasing the tension out of her chest with a low exhale, she continued back into the main lobby, where she was immediately distracted by the waving hand of Olivia.

"Rita, Rita!" Olivia whispered, shouting her name as her black bangs bounced to and fro as she stood in front of a large mural along the wall.

"What's up?" Rita called, her pace slowing as she cocked her head curiously.

"You've got a call. I transferred it to my extension. It's... your mom." Her brown eyes flicked from the painting to Rita and back again.

Mentally, Rita cringed. Outwardly, she sighed. There went her nice mood. "Right." It wasn't as if she hated her mother, but it wasn't as if she particularly liked her either. All she knew was that any phone call that came from her—especially here of all places—usually wasn't going to leave her in good spirits.

"Good luck?" Olivia responded, struggling whether to give her a thumbs up or down as she slunk away to the reception desk and back to her chunky desktop computer with the fuzzy screen and clacky keys.

Without replying further, Rita wove her way through the facility until she was back in an office-type area that was never used. The landline hung off the receiver, and she prayed to the gods above that this would end quickly. Or better yet, that she was just met with empty air or a dial tone, and she could get back to doing things the way she preferred.

Sucking air between her teeth, she swallowed her uncertainty and picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Margaret," came her mother's strong Jersey accent. A tense silence answered. A frustrated breath came from the line as the familiar voice continued, "Margaret?"

"... Yes. You've got me..." Rita said slowly, pinching the bridge of her nose. "...Hi..."

"Don't 'hi' me. Listen here," her mother began, "you better come around or I ain't helping your granny anymore!"

It wasn't the fact that she hadn't seen her grandmother that worried her, rather, it was that her mother was holding said grandmother's condition as leverage again. Rita didn't have to stand here for much longer before the guilt trip ensued, and the more that was said, the further Rita inched closer and closer to saying screw it and slamming the phone on the hook.

"Is granny okay? I mean—" she started.

"She needs to go to the damn doctor, and every time I have to listen to her moan about wanting to see 'Rita,' I've had to explain over and over—that—that," she began pacing, something that Rita could envision all too well. Her mother was probably turning about the kitchen in a circle like a damned robot, talking all the while. "It's 'Maggie,' not Rita! That her 'granddaughter' is a lousy bitch. A loser, living out somewhere out there. Somewhere that won't talk to me or pick up the damned phone ever. Because what does a mother give a child other than life?" She went off into another direction and began an entirely different tangent. Rita was three seconds from hanging up when a more coherent voice broke through the tirade. Her half-sister, Darlene.

"H-hey... Rita?" came her sister's voice, thick with a slight Jersey accent and broken from the static of the line. "You there?"

"Darla."

"Listen. Mom won't admit it, but Granny hasn't been feeling so good. And we think it's about time you start heading back home to see her." She began. "You haven't come home in almost a year, Rita."

Rita felt a flare of irritation but held it at bay. "Yeah, yeah, I know, I'm a terrible person and an awful daughter. Is there anything else? Otherwise, I've gotta get back to work here." She couldn't keep the sarcasm out of her words or the subtle cutting venom she couldn't care less about.

A long, drawn-out sigh filled the phone line. "... Do we have to be like this?" Darlene asked. "You always act as if there's nothing going on back here at home—is your life so glamorous out there?"

"It's not, but it's certainly more entertaining. Look... I'm not fighting here."

"I'm not trying to either, but..." Her younger sister's tone softened. "We do need you to come back."

"Why me?" Rita said, quirking her mouth into a frown.

"Look..." A pregnant pause grew between the two siblings. "Granny isn't doing so well. We all know how independent she is and won't say anything, but I don't think she's got that much time left."

That... she hadn't been expecting. Hearing that Granny wasn't doing so well hit Rita on a much more tender point, forcing her to shift from irritated to somber. There was a sharpness in her chest, and even the noise coming from the rest of the world seemed muted to an unpleasant hum. But no, her half-sister was no doctor.

"Why?"

"What do you mean 'why'? She's older than rocks, of course, she's not doing well!"

"But why is she suddenly unwell?" Rita replied, biting back a groan of frustration and picking at an imaginary fiber on the collar of her uniform.

"She's declining. That's the only answer I can give." Darlene said. Her tone indicated there was a very complicated answer underneath that.

Rita kept a straight face. An answer to what? Did it even matter now? Of course, it was the type of question that was going to needle her curiosity, but what did she honestly expect of herself in this situation? Family had always been such a hard subject for her. The dynamic was a little tough to keep up with.

"I'll..." Rita wasn't sure what she should say. Her heart lurched thinking of her grandmother, her last maternal figure. An elderly woman who had welcomed her to her home since birth. "Give me a few days, and I'll see."

"You'll see? A few days? Maggie, we need an answer now and—"

"Give me some damned time, please?!" Rita countered.

Darlene tried interjecting, "Just—"

"Three, days." Rita huffed, throwing out some random number. "I have things going on here... people that need help. I'm busy... Like always. So—"

Darla broke in. "Playing animal princess with those country bumkins of yours isn't going to bring you any brownie points and save Granny—"

"Will you shut up?" Rita's heart thudded. "I will come back, okay! Just... give me the chance to pull things together. I can't just drop everything and leave." She crammed down her hurt and indignation.

"Good. Keep in mind we'll need you here before next week." Darla concluded and clicked off the line.

Rita released the button and let it fall to the desk with a clatter. She rested both hands on the wooden surface, feeling the grain underneath her fingertips as she looked to the wall. Closing her eyes, she tried to pull together her wits. Of course, reality had to barge in. Of course, this would happen this week. The planned move for Randall. There were decisions to be made and very little time to make them.

How was she going to handle everything?

She had her job, waning money, her personal life, Randall, and now her family to consider in the equation. Not only that but in such a limited amount of time.

'Family...' she thought glumly. 'What a wonderful, lovely word.'

Another sigh escaped her as her head came to rest atop her clasped hands.

If she needed to get to her family in New Jersey from Louisiana and fast, that would typically call for a plane ticket in such a short amount of time. But money didn't just grow on trees. And a quick ticket would easily suck whatever meager funds she was sitting on. Not to mention Blondie and Randall.

With the pending transfer of his case to a larger facility looming over her, she could feel the clock ticking down the minutes until he was gone and off into some corner of the world she would never have the chance to hear from him again. And who knows what would happen to him? For all she knew, this was the last few days she'd ever speak with him or come across a monster in her lifetime. Which very much couldn't be the case. Sunk cost fallacy and all.

Okay, game plan. Think, Rita, think! 10 steps to fixing a giant train wreck? How are you going to possibly deal with that giant lump of emotion called 'family' and also rescue this monster's future from falling into complete disaster?

Step one: Prioritize immediate needs. Granny's health was up in the air, but preferably, the sooner she got home, the better. Randall's transfer was happening on Friday. This served as some form of deadline to get stuff done by, but as she had thought earlier, sooner the better.

Step two: Money was dwindling, and typically she would pick up jobs here and there to restock. Considering this was out of the blue, her limited money could tide her over until she got back home. Not like it would be the first time she had ever gone through something like this before. So long as Blondie had a full stomach and her tank was full, she could breathe.

Step three: She would speak with the higher-ups and mention she was leaving for a personal family emergency. There wasn't much else she could really do. Any other responsibilities she'd shouldered over the weeks at the rehab were being passed to others for the time she was away.

Step four: Randall... What was going to happen? Was she going to say goodbye or not? That, in truth, was the last thing she wanted. Perhaps the biggest elephant in the room she was struggling to face was the fact that a selfish, emotionally entangled part of her wanted to hold onto him just a bit longer.

Plus, she couldn't let the transfer happen. No. What she had to do was far more aligned with what he'd suggested weeks before. Opening his cage and letting him go. While at first, the idea had gone against her natural tendencies to protect and try to restore a life thrown so wildly askew, but in retrospect... it was the best solution. He would find a way to survive. It was just how nature worked. Adapt or die. He seemed smart enough to pick up the slack, and should he decide to go off into some dark hole and be forever a mysterious tale, so be it.

But that wasn't the finality of that thought, though. No, the true core of it was that once he was freed, there was no telling how the world would treat him. All it took was one frightened family or another trigger-happy asshole to decide it best to just take care of something without listening first. One misstep, a flash of his teeth, one misconstrued movement, and that was it. No, she had to help. She'd seen the worst and the best, and one mistake could change a person's life in the most damning of ways. She'd been a personal witness to such horrors and frankly, couldn't be complicit in seeing someone else deal with those pains. Not if she had a way to help. Even if it meant lying, thieving, and being selfish for a bit. She could weather any repercussions as long as that helped keep him safe.

She was willing to get herself into trouble in order to let him out.

The next few hours passed by in a blur. All the thoughts and ideas had plagued her to no end, but she had come to a decision: This was happening today. No questions, no doubts.

The first stop had been to explain that she was leaving. A curt nod from a co-worker here, a reassuring word, a wave there. And like that, her explanations were done. Time to set up the rest.

The next stop was Olivia, perched over her keyboard, still scrolling, typing, and muttering to herself. As usual, she was buried in work and data.

"Olivia..."

"Hmm?" was the soft response.

"Mind if I borrow the keys? Need to make some copies of the fire evacuation map. A volunteer asked for one earlier." Rita explained as she walked closer.

Brown eyes flicked up and scanned her, assessing and weighing her for a moment before shrugging lightly. "Go ahead." A metallic tinkering clatter sounded, and the keys were held out toward her with far less hesitation than she had anticipated.

Well, it wasn't as if they had that much reason to distrust her. Though she'd mentally kicked herself for that excuse, always finding the need to over-explain, which often led her towards more holes.

"Thanks, should only be a bit." Rita assured as her fingers wrapped around the ring of keys and made a hasty turn around the corner.

There was something that couldn't be named, the smell or feel of an incoming storm. To be honest, the stress of her situation was only making the usual problems she had a more prominent issue, leading her to believe the negative could actually be influencing reality. A lot of factors went into it, namely her thoughts that wouldn't quit.

The satisfying click of the keys inside the lock had her brow knit together as she checked her surroundings. No one.

Good.

Swinging the door open, she perused the filing cabinets until she found the copy of the map she was looking for and made just one copy at the xerox. After she was done and had the map and an envelope, she quickly slid two of the keys off of the already overloaded key ring, placing the backup to unlock the kennels and the other to unlock the back outside exit in her pocket. Then, a small informative note was written onto the map, laying out in almost cartoonish exaggeration for which direction Randall should go and meet her. Dotting a red line and an X, almost like a pirate map.

The room was promptly placed back in order, the map folded into the envelope, and then she returned to Olivia's workstation, carefully resting the keys in their respective place with as much subtlety as possible.

"I'll miss you."

Rita looked up as the filing cabinet clicked shut, holding a document against her chest.

"Huh?"

Olivia's brown eyes softened. "You've gotta come back eventually. Got your favorite iced tea waiting, k?"

A weak smile pulled at Rita's lips and she shrugged. "Eventually." Her heart was pounding, but at least the words weren't a lie. "After everything's taken care of, ya know."

Her friend gave a supportive smile before standing up to give Rita a hug. "I'm praying for everything to work out. Don't forget to relax!"

Rita awkwardly wrapped her arms around her petite coworker and squeezed a little more firmly than she had intended to. "... Yeah... me too. Praying, I mean. I'll come back to visit or maybe send a postcard once I get situated. Depends. Just not sure."

Olivia smiled and nodded before reluctantly stepping back. "Go say goodbye to all the animals. Take as long as you need. Be safe out there too." Her chin was tilted up just slightly before she added, "It's gonna be okay."

"... Thanks.." Rita was silently grateful that the concern came and went before she was left alone to fidget under the unwanted guilt of her actions. Then she was moving, as quickly as she could before any more small talk or interactions could tie her down. The door came open and she slipped into the large kennel area of the facility. Much to her relief, there were no other long-time residents back here aside from Randall.

Quickly she moved to his kennel, slipping the keys into the envelope. Inside, Randall was curled in a semi-looped position, laying there quite awkwardly and dozing while his tongue flicked at the air every so often.

He roused to a state of alertness once he sensed her approach. Green eyes dilated and expanded into a glowing orb. It took a second, but they focused enough to recognize her. The light of the twilight hour barely streamed through the windows, but what little did lit up her figure like a beacon and framed the sight of his kennel's door.

There wasn't much said between the two over the last few weeks. He knew as well as she did that any conversation was pointless and meaningless. She'd all but been sitting on her hands, wishing for some kind of reprieve as he counted the days till he was going to be pulled out from one hellhole and into another. Or more accurately, straight to a jail cell and put away. But seeing her here outside of her typical lunches and duties set off his caution. That, and there wasn't a notebook in her hand. A very important item he'd learned she was fond of carrying.

Warily, he slinked from his corner into the front, near the chainlink. She had a soft, sad smile on her lips, almost apologetic. It was a cross between an "I'm sorry for this and hope you'll forgive me" sort of look and "This is your best shot."

"Randall," she started quietly, "I'm getting you out of here."

Getting him... out of here? His eyes widened. Really? What was this, some fever dream born of hunger? Had she finally lost it? There was no way. No. This was a trap. It had to be. And yet here they both were: she, standing outside his cage, not wearing the usual uniform of blue button-up, tan vest, and khaki shorts. Merely wearing a green hoodie with a faded floral design, white shorts, and a casual pair of outdoor boots. And he... he was as confused as he was cautious. What game was she playing this time? It could've been anything, really—her sense of empathy? Boredom? No, no, it had to be something more elaborate than that. There had to be.

His eyes shifted, ever analyzing her. But perhaps his head had finally broken from the isolation. Maybe. Whatever it was, the cautious, calculating gears of his mind stopped clicking once she held out an envelope for him to see.

"This," she began, "has everything you need in it." A soft sigh, and she closed the gap between her and the chainlink. The paper crinkled between her fingertips. "This is a fire evacuation map of our facility. Just before midnight, I want you to use the large key, the silver one in here, to unlock your kennel. Follow the path on this map out the back, through the yard, and the back exit. Use the smaller bronze key to unlock the back. If you can, relock the back gate and toss the two keys back over the fence. Someone will find them eventually. I will be parked on the dirt road, right where I marked an X."

Randall blinked once in astonishment, then twice, and then thrice in absolute bafflement. She. Was letting him go.

"..." Silence lingered for several long moments until it was broken with a slow drawn-out hum from him. "This isn't some sick joke?"

She rolled her eyes. "Of course not." Her tone was mildly sharp.

"Why now?" His head tilted to the side, eyes narrowing. "Weeks of you dragging your feet, pushing this off, and now—what? The eleventh hour, and you suddenly find your sense of urgency? What changed?" He snorted, arms folding across his chest. "A guilty conscience? What's your angle?"

Rita pinched the bridge of her nose. "There's no angle. I just know I don't have another week. Things won't pan out like I originally hoped," she said. "But there's only one night left, so, either we try for this or nothing."

He snorted. "Convenient. Let's hope your planning skills have improved since you dragged your feet on this for weeks. Let me guess—you've got no backup plan if this goes south, right?"

"No," she admitted, frowning. "I don't. That's why we're doing this tonight."

Randall's remaining two fronds twitched in slight aggravation. He didn't like half-baked ideas. "So… why not now?" His tone was flat, pressing her for more. "Why risk waiting till midnight? Timing's everything in a breakout, and this? This screams bad planning."

"Because someone might come back here. I'm finishing up my end." Her face drew tight into a slight scowl as she eyed the wall clock.

There was a beat. He blinked, studying her expression, but it was brief and easily pushed off as unimportant.

"And where am I going once I meet up with you? I'm not some helpless puppy. Don't take this to heart or think too hard about it. I don't need you to take my hand and lead me on, toots."

"I'm not saying you're weak, but it doesn't hurt to play a little smarter than reckless. This world can't help you much anymore, can it? So be wise." Her mouth drew thin into a tight-lipped smile. "Besides, the place I'm taking you isn't a prison. I'm driving you to the closest town. Not sure if you've looked at those local brochures I got you a while ago, but the maps inside kinda show we're out in the sticks. Unless you can call being in the swampy parts the city?" She paused. "Monsters gotta come from somewhere, and from what I've picked up from you, that should be closets, yeah?"

Randall made a face and let one arm hang at his side while the other waved dismissively. "Why are you even offering this? Surely you realize your neck's going straight into a noose for this?"

"We'll cross that bridge if we get to it," she said with a shake of her head.

"So your career's dead. Fantastic." His voice dripped with sarcasm as he grabbed the envelope, "But hey, at least I'll be free. Guess I should send you a thank-you card if this actually works."

Rita sighed but otherwise shook her head, the knot in her stomach twisting. "Just wait here a bit more and follow the instructions. Understood?"

He wrinkled his snout. "Not a puppy," he muttered under his breath, but his gaze softened just enough to let her know he'd cooperate.

"Repeat it," she insisted.

"Midnight, kennel, follow map, back exit, toss keys, RV. Yeah. Simple," he replied..

She chuckled lightly despite herself. "Good. Just take care of yourself and, well, for what it's worth..." Rita hesitated, taking a breath before releasing it. "Sorry this took so long." With that, she walked off, leaving him to wait.