Danica/Rorschach

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I suddenly remember why I don't use guns. Too mechanized. Too much me- Walter stopped. He closed his eyes. A pinch to the spot between his eyebrows, above his nose, hoping for relief. The spot that still throbbed from pain. He knew he should have gone to the clinic to get it properly fixed. But he didn't and he wouldn't.

tal. Too muc- he stopped

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[vvdanicavv]

Stubborn as Danica was, she would never admit she was lost. What had started as a nosy wander from hut to hut, further and further from the Compound, had since turned into an aimless search for a pathway. About a half hour back she had slipped into her default foul mood, especially when she was rudely re-reminded that stilettos and wood growth didn't make a good match.

A single hut came into view and it wasn't long before Danica was peering inside, all sense of privacy lost on her. If someone was living here, civilisation couldn't be that far away. Her suspicions were proved right when she left and spotted the track of trodden down grass, heading through the trees. The reverberating sounds around her weren't exactly welcome but since the trail was the only sign of life, she followed.

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None of the surroundings suggested anything different. He expected to see some massive sign that there were large dinosaurs around but didn't. But he had heard them. Through the night, their screams would wake him up. They shook the tree his hut was built in.

For added protection, Walter pulled out a sharpened piece of wood that he had made earlier. Gun in right. Steak in left. He'd be ok.

Then there was a noise. Knowing the dinosaurs weren't particularly sneaky beasts, Walter turned slowly, in case it was something else. Nothing. The wind blew through the grass. It changed colors as the moonlight hit it.

His skin was a bit tighter now. He frowned at his own tense muscles and continued looking for anything that might be game for hunting.

[vvdanicavv]

Stomping was Danica's chosen method to make her way through the trees. Stomping and cursing and trying to keep her dress from catching on anything that looked even remotely natural. Her senses were pathetically weak, she still wasn't used them; the darkness dulled her sight, her nose couldn't pick up the scent of human to follow and the only thing she could hear was--

Her hair caught in a branch when she dropped into a silent crouch, glancing quickly around her when another roar shook the air. The dinosaurs didn't scare her - as far as she was concerned they had brains smaller than Grimwood's so they wouldn't be any trouble. Ripping her dress, now that was another matter. The black material kept her hidden as she continued on, watching for the trail, and she even kept her blasphemous tongue silent just in case.

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He saw the small dinosaur out of the corner of his eye. Over to the right. Chewing on the meat of some dead carcass. Probably one of its own family members. It was the nature of things.

Walter couldn't help but be marveled. The roars at night. The dinosaur calls. They weren't manufactured somehow. They were real and this proved it. He remained still, watching.

The beast's skin looked like a rock in the moonlight. Brown. Rough. Walter tightened the grip on his weapons. Just in case.

Crunch.....crunch. His elevator shoes killed the plants underneath him as he slowly stepped towards the creature.