Crystal stumbled out of the bathroom, still feverous. There wan an illness going around the school that everyone had caught, even the teachers. Her Mom, for some reason, was the only one not sick. So, promising to get medicine, her mother had gone to the next town over, where they actually had a doctor. With no one she could trust to watch Crystal while she was gone Gwen had promised to hurry.

Crystal hoped that her mother returned soon; she felt awful and her head was swimming.

Using the wall for support Crystal went to the top of the stairs and knew that she would fall down them if she tried to descend them on her feet.

I'm hungry... She thought, knowing that she would have to go down those stairs if she wanted to make herself something to eat.

Her mother had told her to wait until after she'd had some medicine, but she was so hungry...

Making her decision, Crystal determined to make herself some bone broth. Crystal carefully sat herself down at the top of the stairs, clinging to the railing as hard as she could to avoid falling down to the ground floor and breaking her neck, or something else, in the process.

Her mother had made the broth from the deer she and Jacques had felled during the hunting season last fall. Normally it was Jacques helping her mother make the preserves, but he'd been called by the neighbours to help with something and Gwen had told him to go and help them; it was time for Crystal to start learning some self-sufficiency skills. It was also the easiest thing for Crystal to keep down whenever she was sick. All she needed to do was put on a full kettle and then mix two table spoons of broth into the boiling water in a mug.

That was all.

I can do this. I can be self-sufficient.

Her decision saved her life.

Crystal carefully shifted down to the next stair on her bum, still clinging to the railing. Getting to the bottom of the stairs proved to be more difficult than she had anticipated, so she took a moment to catch her breath on the second-to-last step. Once her breathing evened out again Crystal got up and cautiously, though single-mindedly, wobbled her way to the kitchen, taking the hallway kitchen entry, because her mother had just cleaned in that morning, so there was less to trip over.

It was while she opening the bottom cupboard to get the kettle that she caught the sound of unfamiliar voices outside. They were male and talking about looking for any survivors. One of them didn't think that it was likely.

“We were pretty thorough; water, food, everything. No one's getting away.” One of the voices said.

A creepy chill gave her goose bumps at those words, though she wasn't sure why.

“I don't care how thorough you think you are; look for any survivors and kill them.”

Crystal closed the cupboard silently upon hearing those words and went for the knife drawer, cautiously pulling it open without standing. With her head still spinning Crystal opened the wrong one and grabbed a butter knife instead of a kitchen knife by accident. Unaware of this, she hid behind the thick kitchen table. Jacques had made it sturdy enough for him to jump up and down on and she instinctively sought it's cover. Trying to keep her breathing steady and quiet through her raw throat she listened as they complained about the door being locked and then deciding to break a window. Her adrenaline started spiking as she continued to hear them, sharpening her senses and clearing her mind. She tracked their movement around the house through her hearing and shifted her position accordingly, butter knife gripped tightly.

As soon as she heard the sound of the window shattering it brought her attention to the kitchen window. Her grip reflexively loosened slightly on the bottom two fingers. A hand came through the window and she darted through the kitchen entry to her left, leading to living room. She hid behind the couch for cover. Jacques didn't like it because it wasn't sturdy. Another window broke, this one in the living room; they were entering the house from multiple vectors.

Jacques was away on 'vacation', but that, Crystal knew, was code for something else. It meant that he was doing something important that was far away and he would be gone for at least a week. Besides, he would go home, next door, first. Her mother, though, was only the next town over and would come home soon; Crystal knew that she just had to stay safe until then.

Fear began to transform into terror, adrenaline spiking as the glass was smashed again to make the hole bigger. She flicked her eyes around instinctively, trying to find a more secure place to hide as the Hunter in the kitchen finished climbing through the window, facing the way he had come; Crystal could see him from where she was. With no place to really hide, she darted back into the kitchen and jumped onto the intruder's back, legs locking around him, free hand on his forehead, pulling it back and exposing his neck.

She stabbed three times in rapid, terrified and desperate succession.

They fell to the ground and her legs became pinned as he gurgled and struggled. The other came into the living room and spotted them, froze for one moment, then drew his gun and started aiming. Everything slowed down to a crawl- the cat attacked him, a two hundred pound, densely muscled clawing and biting storm of protective feline fury. Crystal got free as the man with the gun flung the cat away so hard that it hit the wall and didn't move. He brought the gun back around, but she had already closed the distance. Grabbing his fixed blade knife she yanked out it out of it's sheath and stabbed him in the side, pulled it free, twisted her body as she hugged her body close to him and then cut the tendons in his elbow before flipping him over her shoulder, keeping hold of his arm and the knife – knicking her forearm with it – and bringing the limb that she was holding down on her knee, dislocating his elbow in the process. She quickly grabbed his gun and shot him. The kick from the heavy calibre knocked her arms straight up to the ceiling and her straight onto the floor on her back, but one shot was all that was needed.

Crystal panted, boarder-line panicking; she had just killed two people.

I killed them, I killed them, I killed them, I killed them,Ikilledthem,IkilledthemIkilledthemIkilledthemIkilled... I killed them. I just killed two people.

She vomited on her self and started crying.

Crystal Lovelace, bastard daughter of Gwen Lovelace. Ten years old. Kill count; two.

The cat got up and shook itself off, before limping over to the child curled up on the floor and tried to grab her by her shirt. A fear-induced surge of power had the cat flung, phased through the wall and straight out, deep into the forest, where they twisted mid-air to land on their feet, wide-eyed and ears flicking around at all the unexpected sounds. Completely shocked by what had just happened it took the cat a moment to realize that all their pain was subsiding.

The cat – Cici – decided that what Crystal had just done was kind of impressive and that she was also kind of proud of her ward for being able to that at such a young age. She put that aside and focused in on her most important task; orienting so that they could get back to Crystal.