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This can't be happening.. What is it?

Mark's heart stopped as the thoughts rolled through his mind. Disbelief and utter fear at what he was seeing and what it might mean. He stared into the face of a creature that he had never imagined existing outside of some children's show. The fur was a deep reddish brown that shown with good health along the curve of the broad head and the ears were tapered up to tufts at the very tip. The eyes were a deep dark brown, almost black, and stared at him urgently as the creature repeated its words from large white buck teeth. They were words, not sound. He couldn't call the noises that were coming out of the creature sounds. They weren't animalistic enough. He clung to the back of tree and sucked in a breath as the arrow never wavered from his chest.

"I don't know what you want." He tried to reason and kept his voice slow as he made sure not to move his hands to anywhere that might be conceived of threatening. "Please, if this is your home I didn't mean to come here."

"Naddya chet-tet!" The squirrel clacked its teeth together in a sharp chattering noise that made him jerk a little bit.

With a grace that he could barely believe, the beast dropped down from the branch above him and landed lightly on what he had been sitting on. The legs were bent, much like a regular squirrel's. In fact, the creature looked like a regular squirrel except for the fact that it was the size of a small human and the legs and forepaws, arms?, were strangely extended outwards. They weren't short and useless, or weak, or even really that slender. The red-brown and white fur rippled over muscles as well as a hint of softness along the hips and back. But it was definitely masculine, not feminine. Something about the body shape made him think male, but he couldn't really see for sure. And all of it was framed by a truly large, thick soft tail that flicked behind it restlessly.

The beast wore a loose loin cloth that was held up with what looked like finely made rope. Small pouches, a dagger, and a bit of metal that looked like a horn hung from it, while another band of the rope ran across his chest. A quiver full of arrows was balanced expertly on the slender seeming back. That, more than anything else, made him wonder just where he really was. The wolves were strange, but it was obvious that this creature was trying to communicate, nearly human style communication that came verbally instead of through visuals and signals. He swallowed roughly as the squirrel advanced; the arrow lifting higher to point at his throat and it nudged the blade to almost push against Mark's throat, forcing him to either lift his head higher or get stabbed.

Well, at least some words. What does it want me to say? He thought frantically as he felt the sharp tip brush his bare, unprotected skin.

"Tachya, tachya chet-tet?" The words came out as close to a growl as a creature that looked like something out a Disney movie could manage.

Mark just gave blank eyes. He had no idea how to answer. It was obvious that he was being questioned, but he had no idea for what or what he should be answering. Did he apologize? Was he being accused of a crime? Or was the creature simply trying to get him to go away? He'd be glad to leave if he could. He looked down in an exaggerated fashion towards the ground. He tried to show with his eyes why he was up here, but the creature didn't bother looking down. The hard eyes remained focused on him.

"UNGAAR ET FRENKI!" A voice snarled up at them, loud enough that Mark flinched and cut himself on the tip of the arrow.

The squirrel blinked slowly and pulled the arrow back before looking down at the base of the tree. His ears flattened down and his lips pulled back to show his teeth before he chattered them down at the wolves that circled restlessly at the base. The large lupine forms suddenly lunged upwards, but not the way they had before. This time the smallest went first and the light grey wolf set his claws into the wood before one of his pack members pushed beneath him and forced him up higher. The wolf clung to the wood before clamping his claws down. The push from his pack member got him high enough that he was able to snag at a lower branch and drag himself upwards.

"Etcha!" The squirrel spit out and suddenly turned to him. "Etta et lonki. Etta!"

The words spilled out in a stream after the first few, but none of them meant a thing to Mark. He gave his head a shake and carefully lifted his hands and tried to look confused. The red squirrel gave his head a shake and leapt upwards to the branch he had been perched on and gestured towards him. The dark eyes were rimmed with white as it looked down and gestured again, this time a bit more frantically. Mark dared a glance behind him and realized that there was a reason he was being summoned. The wolves were managing to climb up the tree with slow movements, but were being aided by the fact one of them had a rope weighted down with stones that they could use to help climb by launching it over a branch above them.

"Shit.. shit shit.. Okay I'm coming!" He stood up and got his balance before clambering up to the branch with the squirrel on it. "I don't know if I can keep up."

The squirrel, what he supposed was his new friend, gave him a grin that showed a swift baring of the large front teeth before making exaggerated motions that he should follow.

"Not like I got any other choice." He muttered to himself and heard a sudden snarl from beneath him. "Shit, go go go, they're going to get up here!"

The wolves moved slowly, but efficiently. It was terrifying to see the way they helped each other move up the tree. The pace was faster then what he'd done to climb it and that made his heart hammer against his chest with a rush of fear. The last thing he wanted was to be left behind because the squirrel could run faster than him, but it wasn't like he had any other choice. He turned back around and scrambled after his new found 'friend' and watched as the creature slipped the bow over its chest and leapt upwards towards the next branch in a smooth practiced motion. The powerful muscles rippled along the curve of the haunches. Mark could do nothing else but follow if he wanted to live.

The squirrel didn't bolt away from him, instead it leaned down and extended a paw for him to clasp and hauled him upwards into the tree. The trees were massive, large enough that he had doubts on what was going on. They pushed up through three sets of branches, one after another. Some were large enough that it was a struggle to get up, but eventually he dragged himself over the bark. The final one he made the leap himself and he glance down to see the wolves moving clumsily behind them. Only two wolves followed, the rest spread out around the tree and started to circle around the tree with their eyes flashing as they peered upwards, trying to see them through the growth.

He hauled himself up past three more branches and found himself almost dizzy at how high up they were. The world spread out beneath them and they were barely near the mid-point of the giant. The squirrel seemed more at east. The red creature stopped and leaned down over the branch before drawing out an arrow. It was a smooth motion and it was obvious that the creature was no stranger to weaponry. It was almost bizarre to see an herbivore with anything meant for killing. The wolves weren't shocking, after all, they were wolves, they ate other animals. But a squirrel ate nuts or something else. He couldn't even remember. His mind was running in circles.

_Calm down, just calm the fuck down. Claire knows the Field, she can get the thing set up again and I can get out of this place. _ He thought to himself as he watched his savior firing an arrow down through the growth.

One of the wolves yelped, but when Mark leaned over he saw that it wasn't hit. The rope had been broken and it was clambering up to grab the other end so it could fasten it together. He blinked a little bit and frowned. Why hadn't the creature just gone ahead and shot the wolf? At least they were slowed down. The squirrel dropped the bow over its chest and flashed him large teeth again, but this time it almost looked like a smile. He nervously tried to return the gesture and got a broader smile in return before the squirrel beckoned to him to step back towards the base of the tree.

"I don't think that's going to stop them for long." He offered and the creature gave its head a shake back and forth before launching forward.

For the run, it dropped down to all fours so that it looked entirely like a feral squirrel might, save the arms were just shaped differently. The claws cut against the bark as it launched itself to the end of the branch and threw itself out into the air. Mark cried out before he could stop himself, but the creature didn't fall. Instead it landed on another tree branch and scrambled along it to make sure that its momentum wouldn't carry it too far. The human stared with his jaw gaped as he tried to understand exactly what he was seeing.

"ETTA! ETTA!!!!" The beast gestured with a hand wildly, an obvious beckoning gesture.

I cannot jump like that. _ Despair rolled through his belly and he swallowed roughly as he looked at the fifteen foot gape between the branches. _I'll fall and die!

_ _

He leaned back against the bark as the squirrel kept waving at him and he shook his head roughly side to side. The squirrel yelled 'etta' at him, which must mean come on or something similar. At least, he assumed it did. Whatever it meant, he made a gesture with his fingers showing him jumping and falling. The squirrel gave him wide eyes and shook his head back and forth before calling again and gesturing down below him. Mark swallowed and glanced to one side to see the wolves that were dragging themselves higher. The rope had been repaired.

He'd never been involved in the military aspects of his job. He'd never gone out on the field and worked out with the rest of them when they were out in full force and running through all sorts of unpleasant weather conditions. He wasn't weak, but he wasn't honed for large jumps or climbing or anything of that sort. No normal human was. He drew in a breath and looked at the jump critically. He tried to see it as a math problem instead of a fear of falling. The other branch was a bit lower than the one he was currently on and it even was set with enough space that he wouldn't risk getting tangled up in leaves. The leaves from the other branch were below the first one. The other tree's branch should just be in reach of a regular jump.

"Oh god damn it all." He spit out in a rare curse and leapt forward blindly. He'd have to make it.

He ran as fast as he could along the broad branch as he heard the wolves below him setting up a wavering howl. He ignored it and got all the way to the end before flinging himself out into the air. He tried to push off of his legs as hard as he possibly could, which was harder than he expected. He flew over the branch a good ways and dropped down grasping wildly for anything solid that would hold him. He expected to barely make it and be forced to crawl onto the branch. Instead, he hit a broad part and nearly hit his chin on the hard bark. He let out a short bark of pain, but that was all he got out, because the squirrel moved to grip his arm and gave it a rough pull that forced him up onto his feet.

This time his strange savior didn't wait for him, but launched away. He could do nothing else but run after him as the squirrel launched himself to another branch and took off like a red blur. He dared to glance behind him and saw the wolves closing in. They'd made the jump too, from their lower point. Their jaws gleamed with a hint of saliva and he saw flashing amber eyes. They were only a dozen feet away from him. He let out a yelp and this time he didn't care to wait and gauge the distance. He threw himself after the squirrel in a rush of terror and trusted his guide to keep him safe. He trusted a creature that he had never known existed with his very life. He had no other choice.

The squirrel was fast, but seemed to slow itself down so that he could keep up with him. He could barely move fast enough to keep the tail in sight, but whenever he lost the view the creature would return chattering and chittering at him in that strange language. At first, he was confused on why on earth the squirrel was terrified of the wolves. He knew, at least in part, that they were predators and in the trees, but the tree dweller moved with an easy grace that left the enemy behind. It had a bow and arrow that could take down the creatures while they were still slipping and sliding along the trees. It had a chance to get away if it just took it.

Instead, it only used the bow three times as they went tree to tree through the forest. Driven on by the wolves that had separated and seemed to move from two different sides. Once it had nearly hit the wolf as the creature tried to snag Mark's ankle and another time it fired one to the ground where the wolves continued to follow their pack mates. Neither shot was a killing blow, but more of a warning. He wanted to take the bow and was tempted to use it himself[I1] , but he had no idea how to use a bow. He had no idea what he would have to do to make it work or keep it working or even aim it. Hell, it was made for a squirrel, he might not even be able to draw it without breaking it if it was too weak, or maybe he'd be unable to draw it if the squirrel happened to be stronger.

His savior led him towards the edge of the forest and he realized that the flashes of blue he saw weren't from the leaves parting or a hole where a forest giant once was, but the end of the forest itself. The creature led him to the edge of a branch with its chest rising and falling with harsh pants and Mark came up behind him. The field was spread out before them in a wide arc. He could see thick waving grasses and a glimpse of flowers. His new friend moved a hand out to catch his own and gave him a smile that looked slightly sly. The hand felt strange in his larger one; warm, furred, and dry. As soft as a bit of velvet with the fur that grew over the back of the hand.

"Ina, Ina cachet." The squirrel gestured and gave him a bright wink before gripping his hand a bit harder.

Mark wanted to ask what it was saying or what it meant. They were trapped! The wolves were behind them, he could hear them howling from somewhere below. The squirrel didn't give him a chance to think, instead the creature launched itself out into air with nothing to catch it and took Mark with him. The human yelped out in a rush of terror as the world opened around him and the wind wiped by him. The only solid grip that he had in the world was by the hand that held his own as they tumbled down from the trees like a pair of injured animals.

Well, he tumbled. The squirrel tipped backwards so that it was rump first and the thick tail was rushing up behind it. They dropped towards the grass when suddenly they spilled through the waving grass tips and sent them whipping away. The long strands caught along his face and one scratched his upper cheek with a sharp edge as they were thrown down into the field. And onto something thick, soft, and heavy enough that it drove the breath from his chest as he fell chest first onto it. He heard the squirrel fall next to him and felt the furred body tumble over him as the human panted shallowly and he tried to suck enough air into his lungs that he was able to speak. What had happened? What on earth had happened?!

"Cachet!" The squirrel chattered as Mark struggled to push himself up. The creature grinned brightly at him and patted something that was thick, soft and almost felt like foam. "Cachet!"

"Cachet?" Mark repeated the word, but it fell strangely from his human lips. He patted the material and repeated the word only to see the Squirrel grin a bit more.

The material that had caught them was woven grasses and something softer beneath it. It was roughly the size of a football field, but it was strange. It wasn't just that it was sitting in the field, it was camouflaged. Grasses were worked between the weave so that they waved with their fellows as if the place didn't exist at all. He hadn't seen it from above, not that he'd had a chance, but the mat was dirt colored so he doubted that he would have seen it. He pushed a hand down into the material and it dimpled easily at first, but rapidly became harder as he tried to put more pressure against it. He was distracted by the furred paw touching his shoulders and realized that his companion was staring at him intently.

"Kitch!" The squirrel pointed at his chest firmly. "Kitch!"

_Kitch is either its name or its species. Well, can't go wrong calling him either. _ Mark thought ruefully and nodded his head.

"Kitch." He moved his hand to touch his own chest lightly. "Mark."

"Marrrrck?" The words drawled out from the short muzzle and the squirrel's whiskers bristled as if amused. "Marrck."

"Mark." He tried again, clipping the 'k' to try and get Kitch to say it right. The moment he did he burst out laughing to himself.

_Oh god, as if it matters what he calls me! _ He laughed harder at the thought of sitting in the middle of god knows where trying to get a squirrel to say my name right.

"Marrk?" Kitch tried again and wrinkled his lips up as he did so, as if the sound was harder than it should have been.

"Marrck." He spoke it drawled out like Kitch had and gave a smile. His new friend grinned back and bobbed his head happily before standing up with a shake to settle his fur.

Mark was nearly on his feet when he heard a sudden lonely howl rising up from the midst of the forest. No, not the forest, it was rolling around them. The wolves. Kitch spat out a series of words that would be curse words in any language. They were sharp and angry as he turned about and snagged Mark's wrist firmly and gave it a pull.

"You've got me this far, Kitch." He bobbed his head and the squirrel gave a flash of a smile at the sound of his name before dropping his wrist and bolting.

Mark followed behind, blind to what lay ahead, but there was no way he could stay here. The sound of the hunting wolves was wild and rose up in the air mournfully before trilling down again. The sound ran down the line of his spine and sent primal fear through him. He'd heard that sound in a hundred movies and shows. He'd heard it and not thought a thing about it. Now it was real and alive. Now it was a thing of terror and confusion. Now he wanted to run as far and fast from it as he could possibly get. It meant that he was food and the wolves would kill him if they could. [I2]

The only thing he had to follow was the flash of the thick red tail in front of him, but it called to him like a beacon as Kitch dropped effortlessly to all fours and ran in a blur. Mark couldn't keep up, he wasn't as fast as a squirrel, but he stretched his legs until his muscles were screaming with pain. He mentally promised himself that he would go to the gym every day, he would run laps, he would do anything if only he would be allowed to get out of this alive. If only he could walk away from this without being food for hungry wolves. His lungs burned and each breath was a fast gasp as Kitch slowed so he could keep up. The squirrel kept jerking his head back to look at their pursuers before speeding up a bit more.

"Marrck! ETTA ETTA MARRCK!" Kitch cried back and put on a burst of speed that made the grasses ripple around them.

_Oh god, it's not him making the grass move! _

Mark saw a flash of dark black to one side before ivory fangs flashed and the wolf snapped towards him. He found a reserve he didn't think he had and launched himself forward. It didn't matter that he was hurting or his lungs were aching for breath. It didn't matter because that was all he had. His wonderful lungs and the body that moved in answer to every drop of his feet. That was all that carried him forward and would continue to do so. He'd never appreciated how wonderful his body was until he realized that it could be torn apart. That claws and fangs could rip through it and destroy the beautiful mechanism that was his body.

"MARRCK!!!" Kitch's voice was a squeal and Mark dropped his head and blindly barreled forward after the last spot he'd seen the squirrel....

And nearly tumbled over the edge of a roaring river that nearly deafened him. The very edge of a water fall was in front of him, next to a stunted tree and featuring a bare patch of thick soil. Kitch darted along the bank as if to run away from the water fall end and further up, but then darted back with a squeal. Mark dropped his hands on his knees and gulped in great breaths of air as he stared at his companion and saw the black eyes rimmed white. He knew why. He'd known why the moment he'd seen the river side and the roaring riverside. The wolves had flanked them. They had trailed them through the grasses and spread out like a net to drive them onwards until they were well and truly caught in a trap.

Mark stumbled on shaking legs towards the river and stared out at the white roiling water that tumbled over the edge. It was falling down towards dark sharp rocks below that jutted up into the air. Rocks that would easily pierce fur or naked skin with little problem. Kitch chattered angrily and backed up with his bow drawn. He pushed backwards towards Mark and threw him a desperate look as the wolves stepped out of the grasses growling. He'd seen them, he'd even seen them quite close, but now he saw the pack of massive wolves for what they were. They were killers and hunters.

Some of the wolves were on four legs and stalked forward with their teeth bared and eyes fixed on the squirrel. They snapped their teeth and flashed bright red maws as they advanced. The wolves that stood on two legs stood behind the ones that had dropped to all fours and had taken out weapons. Some had axes and others had daggers, but all of them looked sharp and dangerous to Mark's untrained eye. There were more now. Nearly fifteen of them formed a broad circle that kept them trapped on the edge of the river. Kitch notched an arrow and let out a soft noise before glancing up at Mark and then upriver with an air of desperation.

The moment he glanced up Mark cursed and understood why Kitch had been so adamant about getting through the grasses and to this point. Just three hundred feet away a bridge stood firm and proud. It crossed the raging river that formed rapids and twisted around sharp looking rocks. No one could hope to swim that. Not if they wanted to live. They'd be smashed up against the rocks or sucked down the waterfall. There wasn't enough room to hope to have time to struggle to the other side of the shore and it was too wide to cross without aid.

"Laar-et, et harrulf.." The leader of the wolves growled out the words as he stepped forward between two of his crouched pack mates. His eyes glittered slightly and focused on Mark.

_Oh god, he wants to eat me. I can't end this way. I can't. Kitch can't end this way. He wouldn't even be here if he hadn't helped me! _ Mark thought and swallowed roughly. He felt a lump in his throat.

Kitch answered back in a sharp series of words that were too swift for him to catch. The squirrel drew his bow and aimed towards the leader as he stepped backwards one step at a time. The wolf let out a sharp cracking snarl and turned his eyes back to Mark before lowering his voice. The bass rumbled words were an obvious threat and the wolves around him made a show of licking their muzzles with impossibly long tongues. Mark felt a rush of frustration and anger that he couldn't understand what they were saying or why. He just knew that they were talking about him by the way their eyes looked at him.

He looked back at the river and wild rush of the river that ran behind them. The froth roiled and twisted around the rocks. They were only a few feet away from where the drop off for the waterfall was. There was no way they could make it. They'd die. They'd go tumbling off. The cold water would suck them down and that would be the end.

_Better a clean death then at the wolves. I don't want to be eaten. I'm not meant to be eaten, damnit! _ He snarled the words to himself before turning back towards Kitch and touched the squirrel's shoulder lightly.

"Kitch." He spoke softly and one of the tapered ears twitched towards him before the dark eye glanced his way. "Let's at least get the hell outta this world with a shred of dignity."

He spoke with a bit of humor in his voice, but the smile he gave was more a flashing of his teeth then a real smile. He tugged the arm and tilted his head towards the river with a meaningful glance over at the edge of the waterfall. He tried to be subtle to make sure that the wolves didn't pick up on his idea. It wasn't terribly effective as some of the wolves started to creep forward, but Kitch's eyes widened and gave his own smile. It was fierce and feral on the animalistic face and he bobbed his head in a short jerking nod.

"Marrck." He let out a chittering laugh and dropped the arrow he had drawn as well as the bow.

Mark had vague ideas of just jumping over the waterfall and into the air; at least that would mean a swift end to it all. Kitch had other ideas. The squirrel gripped his upper arm and suddenly turned him around away from the wolves. He didn't fight the hold as the creature ran forward the few steps towards the river and suddenly the world was filled with two different roaring voices. The river roared in front of him and the wolves erupted behind them as they realized what was going on. He didn't care about either. He was going to go out on his own terms if he had to go out at all. And that would be with whatever dignity he could muster.

Mark screamed out his own defiance to the world before launching himself up and over the river. He threw himself into the movement as if he really did intend to try and reach the shore on the other side. Kitch followed him, he saw a flash of red before the river was beneath them and he felt teeth slicing down along his leg. He didn't have time to give into the pain of the glancing blow. He saw the river briefly below him before his jump came up short. Just the way he knew it would. He hit the cold water with a sharp cry and his chest hit something hard. Something hard just beneath the water and nearly as wide as his body! His knees pushed up and his head popped out of the water as barely two inches of water rushed over his palms and knees.

He scrambled over stone that cut along the palms of his hands and his fingers just as red streak rushed by him along the waves. Mark didn't think about what it was, he reacted out of instinct. His hand shot out and caught something thick, wet and heavy. He wrapped his hand around it and yanked just before Kitch's head shot out with a yelping cry. The squirrel's eyes bulged slightly as he fought against the current, but he didn't have to fight it. Mark just had to keep his grip on the tail. He moved his other hand up to grip right at the base and tugged backwards carefully. He pulled against the current and even the struggles of the squirrel in his grip.

He heard, dimly, the wolves snarling at them. The words sharp and rage filled, but that didn't matter now. All that mattered was pulling Kitch onto the safety of the rock. He gave a yank that nearly unbalanced him and suddenly a sodden, shivering body clambered up beside him on their refuge. Mark's heart pounded against his chest and his breath came in ragged gasps as Kitch huddled down and kept himself as close to the rock as he could. The wolves were well past the half way mark of the river and glaring at them. Their teeth flashed in wicked snarls as they padded back and forth and yelled out what could only be threats.

"We made it.." Mark panted and glanced towards the squirrel. His lips stretched into a smile so wide that his cheeks nearly ached. "WE MADE IT!"

"Made it." Kitch echoed and grinned, "Marrck."

One of the wet furred hands touched his wrist and the squirrel looked backwards with a fierce smile. The shore was only three feet away. It was barely anything at all after their head long flight through the forest and trees. And, more importantly, he turned back to see the wolves retreating. He'd assumed that they'd go for the bridge, but they left with snapping snarls. Their legs stiff and tails dropped down low against their legs.

"We made it..." He breathed out and licked his upper lip. "We're alive."

And, at that moment, that's all that seemed to matter.