She was alone, watching the last of her squad fade into the night, Mal catching one last look, her fingers raising in what had to be a wave. Monsters could be heard hissing in the background, still far enough away that they wouldn't see her fleeing pack, but Cat knew they could follow their scents. What scared Cat and saying that was a milestone in itself was their was another smell that filled the air, one she hadn't caught wind of since before she began her hunt for the Browncoats.

Her long fingers reached for the solid black cat suit she carried, like a second skin that would help her enhanced body blend into the darkness she called home. It would give her the advantage, though truly she didn't need it.

Reavers were stupid eating machines, not as smart as what they liked people to believe. They counted on fear and the knowledge that it didn't matter to them if they lived or died, as long as there was lots of blood shed in the wake. Although, the creatures coming weren't exactly your common variety. She had felt the control collar on the neck of the one she had killed and knew someone out there was on the other end of the box. In fact, it surprised her that the critter's head didn't exploded after it died. The Academy couldn't have anyone stumbling upon their failures, least of all the Alliance.

Maybe that was why Cat shooed away Mal. The Academy didn't want any survivors. Wouldn't they just shit when they learned one of their own was helping to keep this particular target alive and well.

Something to the east of her moved as she issued a hard growl, one that sounded more animal than human. Her long fangs fell from her mouth as well as the claws that had lay dormant for several months. It was high time for her beast to earn its bloody keep. Besides, wasn't this what the Academy had designed her for.

A Reaver emerged from the group of trees as her body twisted to face it. For a moment, the critter just stood there, something in its pee brain warning it to retreat, but nothing would convi