4:00pm

She wasn't mad about hiking up the trail in her slides and socks or stubbing her toe over a hundred times on twigs and rocks embedded into the trail floor. She wasn't even mad about Patrick anymore, the one who made her go all the way up this dumb ass trail with no breaks besides the one he made to flirt with the two hiker girls and completely ditch her. She wasn't mad at how he left her to find the waterfall all by herself, two-thirds of the way there to wander off with the two girls. All she felt at this moment was exhausted relief. She could finally hear the waterfall fully and knew that she had reached her destination.

Cassandra finally made it. She sighed and picked up the pace slightly of her tired shuffled steps and half smiled as much as her strained body allowed her to.

The lush mountain smoothed out into a long flat plane of greenery and trees before going out onto another trail going even higher to somewhere she did not even dare to think about. She had enough inclines to fill her regimen for a whole month, maybe two.

She stopped to take a break and guzzle down the last of her water canteen and take a breather before continuing up the path. She emptied all her other bottles just on the way up.

Now she could finally go up and work on her project.

Except...

Upon seeing the signs, she was still another 15 minutes away from site 307. She took a deep inhale and screamed.

"I hate boys, I hate whoever paved this damn Forrest trail and I hate Patrick. Patrick, wherever the fuck you are I hope you get stomach cramps and embarrass yourself in front of your hot new friends, you greasy little backstabber pleb of a man"

"What was that...?" An older man walking down the trail caught her by surprise as he looked at her with a worried expression.

"Oh! Um...boyfriend trouble." She lies with a nervous smiling chuckle. It was reasons like this her dad always told her not to think aloud.

"Ah, I see. I was young once too." He simply said and after what seemed to be him eying her art bag continued trekking down the mountain.

It would be time for her to continue up as well she sat up from her short break, still tired but relieved that someone she didn't know didn't think she was batshit crazy for angrily muttering to herself. As much as she'd like to not care about what others think. There will always be people in the status quo worth not looking a certain way towards.

Like making a joke about being suicidal after a bad day at work in front of a doctor that loves his paycheck. Stuff like that can lead you in a mental ward with a shot up your ass. At least that's what her dad used to say back when she used to explain her homework to the doorframe in high school to make sure it made sense.

"Everyone talks to themselves, it's a way of self-reflection, just make sure you don't go saying random things about being a sheep when you're secretly surrounded by thousands of wolves," she remembers his words plain as when he first said them six months ago before the semester started.

What if that was campus security or who knows what who was walking down that path.

"Maybe that's just me being flakey." She mumbled to herself, safely now that she was alone yet again.

Or so she thought.

—-

Gilliard Motzsario was a name you'd expect right outta a teen fiction generator, even so, it was his.

Gill was closing in on 57. But he immortalized his brain at about 38. Old habits die hard, he supposed. Going up here on his and his wife Rosie's 32nd anniversary, only for the wrong right reasons.

He already called his wife from a nearby cell tower that he had walked miles to let her know that he had gotten jumbled and would be back at the cabin before nightfall.

That gave him the perfect amount of time to meet his favorite person in the world. Roxanne Carter, a young, foxy, chocolate-colored minx with the wildest hair he has ever seen in his life. He had fetched a good price for her attention. Without his wife's knowledge had taken her to Italy, Paris, and the big apple. Immense shopping trips included.

He suspected that if Rosalina had any idea of the true nature of his disappearances and long work trips out of town, she kept it to herself; for the sake of her comfortable wine on the porch and fancy clothes life.

He could always divorce her, but then half of the estate would be divided and the funding, even their kids and their conflicts.

Life would be so much easier if there were more foxy Roxannes to go around.

He jumped with a start as his dreams came true in the scariest way.

An angry curvaceous doe cursed to herself so loudly he almost had a heart attack.

They had to exchange glances. More like stares of awkwardness.

She was no Roxanne, but if she was willing, he would probably take her to Paris for some long shopping trips to end with an even longer night in one of several luxury hotels.

although he was still stunned he heard "Boyfriend troubles." And he realized that she was no Roxanne, and she was not available for weeks of weekend flights.

She was an artist, just like his Rosie, upon taking a look at her supplies.

Artists freak him out. The lot of them have dreams of real life, a love that money could not buy, and goals he could not satisfy.

He smiled at her, took one last look at her appetizing shorts, and bid her goodbye.

If only she was a sheep to be made into the perfect lamb stew.

'That's okay though,'

he thought, continuing his jog.

He was already planning a hearty meal of Roxanne Carter, 28, part-time camp security.

That is until he heard a loud snap below him and the crinkling of leaves.

He slowed his jog down to a walk and took out his one copper-colored air pods to listen out.

Campus security may be lurking, or more freaky artists?

Maybe it was Rosalina herself, taking the initiative to figure out why it would take him so long when the trail home is only a half an hour away.

Upon looking back into the path behind him it was void of any joggers or campers or even wildlife.

He had to wonder if he was just making the noise himself.

Except the sound came again and then once more before he could even continue the eager jog to Roxanne's cabin.

Again he turned around, this time with his whole body.

"Hello? who's there?" He called out.

He waited a moment in an eerie silence.

"Roxanne...?" He called out flirtatiously.

"Rosalina? Rosie is that you?"

The silence continues.

He gets ready to make a run for it when the noise is heard again, this time right in front of him.

He slowly turned his head to look.

But It was too late.

Shana perked up her head from her charcoal drawing of an elaborate piece of what seemed to be driftwood she found by the stream.

"Did you hear that?"

Angela was drawing from a zoomed-in photo she took of a leafy tree branch.

She looked up from her sketch pad and at Shana's long legs only to see that they were now pointed towards her and her sketchbook was lowered.

She looks up at the skinny blonde and pulls out an earbud.

"What?" She said, annoyed that her groove had just been interrupted.

"I said did you hear that?" Shana repeated.

"Hear what?" She groaned.

"I thought I heard a scream." her voice was soft but serious.

Angela just rolled her eyes. "It's probably just some people being kinky out in the woods. Just ignore it and hurry up on your stupid piece of wood. Mr. Aldeirez is grilling and I am so ready to see him "raise the steaks."

Shana didn't know whether to take her seriously or not. But she did remember what Crabby Cassandra had said earlier. Some of these men don't care how they get it as long as they get it regardless.

"You think it's Eric?" She started finishing her piece of driftwood.

"Oh please, Shana-bo-nana. The only tail Eric will ever be getting is when someone finally breaks their foot up his ass."

Although Angela wasn't the nicest teammate, she did have jokes.

Shana chuckled and sipped from her watermelon infused water canteen.

"That's the unfortunate truth, isn't it."

—-

If Cassie had heard something echoing from the mountains below it was easily drowned out by the loud sound and the sight on the beautiful waterfall. There was the large stream that gushed down a long drop. Thankfully the waterfall was gated up with oak wood so campers wouldn't fall over and hurt themselves. Even prettier than that was an even larger waterfall across route 307 and on a different mountain.

She took videos, selfies, with and without filters, mostly because there was only one bar of signal available. It was better than the lack of service at all by the campsite or on the trails but it left too much hope to be desired.

She would post them after the four-day trip and make sure to tag the rising art club and stunt on all those art hags. Patrick, dunk. Angela and her cult of followers, Stephanie and Samantha, dunk on them too. And at the top of her shit list, was Christian yummy-boi-buyers. Extremely dunked on.

She pictured herself oddly enough as a 7ft tall basketball player hooping in five balls with all their annoying faces on it. Dunking in Christian buyers would shatter the backboard, end the petty war and leave her hanging off the rim now back at a comfortably normal five feet two, with the buzzer sounding off that it had been, in fact; Game Over.

But first, she needs to find those flowers.

He growled in annoyance.

He was too late.

The walker had already deposited its seed into its human prey and its infant promptly exited through the ribcage.

He kneeled to analyze the body.

Usually, the hatchling process took at least half of an hour of human time or more. But from scanning the carcass he had seen a new trace of chemical left in the man. It was some type of acceleration serum, mainly used to rush a queen to come of age in the emergency of all the queens available before the trial of the unblooded could begin. He flipped open his gauntlet pad abruptly.

X'ol. I have news.

The Yautja growled in annoyance.

What was found, brother? X'ol clicked quietly over the com, still on the hunt.

Bad Bloods are feeding hard meats queen serum. He grunted.

Is it female? X'ol growls anxiously.

No, the hard meat is born male.

Bad Bloods are making their hunt in the middle of an Ooman population while we hunt them? Salvak chimes in

Not brave, those are the actions of a Yautja that begs for death. X'ol remarks

This is getting dangerous, we need new intel on what sexes were stolen and how many hatchlings in total. The nameless yautia warns.

He stands up and pulls out a blue serum from his belt and poured a small drop over the body, waiting for it to dissolve before chasing after what little tracks the infant would make, returning to the trees was the fastest route.

Cass could stare at the falls for hours if she let herself. But she couldn't. She needed to find those flowers. She saw them, sprouting from the moss on the large rocks guiding the waterfall. It was mostly covering the side closest to her. She could zoom in and take a picture but there would be no chance it would be detailed enough to please the professor.

She needed to work hard, she already embarrassed herself in front of him by falling in front of the first waterfall.

'Hey, the first trail and waterfall can be seen from up here'

She leaned over the dark oak gates to crane her neck. From here she could see the other waterfall from very far away.

That must be where the trails were over by the bus stop. It seems lightyears away. Only being a little bigger than the shiny speck of light that broke her concentration.

She decided to go off-trail in search of the flowers, it would have to be closer to moisture so it should be somewhere up the mountain, closer up towards the 307 route waterfalls source stream, it would be more like a river though with its size, holy shit.

There was no going back, the slides were already creased and stained to shit, now it was time to make this trip worth it, and get that easy A. Technically going off-trail was technically not allowed and could get her in trouble with the teachers, not to mention it is possibly dangerous. But what the professor didn't know definitely wouldn't hurt 'em.

She chuckled to herself softly

"Get ready to eat shit, Patrick."

s'yuit-de! You fool!

The larger Yautja threw his fist into a tree beside his brother, just missing him as he cocked its head to look at him and his short dreads whipped in the direction of His teammates.

You had one job! He roared, It was so simple a cub could've done it!

Brother, please! he hissed, the strain causing his wound to reopen.

Katalik extended dual blades from his gauntlet.

If you will beg like weak prey I will put you out of your misery myself.

No, DaTaln shoved his teammate with a hiss.

It will take ALL of us to kill the Elder's pawns and take them and the hatchlings to the lab. Even little Qeltac

Qeltac huffed and growled, climbing up to a safe hiding spot to repair himself.

Kalatak, Go find and retrieve the escaped specimen. Qeltac, go south loudly and deter any Ooman or Yujta from coming close to the base.

Qeltac nodded once his wounds were patched up.

Yes, my brother, I will not let you down.

You had better not,

DaTaln growled lowly before taking the remainder of the hatchlings with him.