FMJ
Technical Senior
Runner’s Moon
FMJ
“You know perfectly well what I mean. It’s just not a very bright idea to run at night,” Andrea stated the obvious blocking the doorway with her arms tightly crossed. “Why take the risk? Aren’t you the least bit concerned about your own safety?”
“Andrea, I already told you that I can push my limits farther at night when the temps are lower. I can set my own pace because there’s nobody else on the trails,” Sandy explained for the third time.
“I still think you’re taking an unnecessary risk. At least do me a favor and take my pepper spray with you. It’s small but it really packs a punch if you need it. I already know you won’t bring your cell so just humor me, alright?”
“Sure, sure,” Sandy agreed absentmindedly as she dressed.
“You know, I just don’t get you,” Andrea continued. “You don’t run marathons so why do you think you need to push your limits? You have got to be the single most fit and athletic person I know but this ‘late night run’ thing seems to have become an obsession for you. Sandy, I wouldn’t be being honest if I didn’t say I was a little worried.”
“Stop fretting already. Look, I’m bringing the pepper spray with me like you wanted, aren’t I? I’ll be perfectly safe, Andrea. See you in a couple hours,” Sandy called over her shoulder as she stuffed a water bottle into her shoulder bag and walked out the door.
The short drive to the trail head through the deserted streets was quiet and uneventful. The parking area was empty except for one other car, it’s windows steamed with condensation. Visually sweeping the small public area for obvious threats, she parked comfortably close to the entrance of the jogging trail. She grabbed the shoulder bag and stood in the open door for one final look around before walking to the rear of the car and opening the trunk.
Sandy pulled the water bottle from the useless shoulder bag and tossed it into the trunk. Feeling next to the spare in the dark, she found the familiar handles of the stashed tiger-stripe camouflage gear bag and pulled it out. She pitched the bag under a picnic table and started a series of warm-ups with hip flexor stretches using the table for support while switching up every three reps. She moved easily through her leg flexors and extensors adding a plantar flexor to help avoid fasciitis in the future and finished with a series of hip extensor stretches.
The car with the steamed-up windows started, backed up and left the parking lot quietly for places unknown. Sandy stood behind a tree as the headlights swept across but she doubted the driver could see much through those fogged up windows anyway.
Sandy pulled the camouflage gear bag from under the table and opened it, dumping the contents on the table top. Quickly stripping to her underwear, she pulled on a black form-fitting bodysuit. Next, she slipped on and laced up a pair of black track shoes fitted with sharp spikes.
She then selected hard black elbow pads and knee pads purchased from the Army/Navy surplus store identical to the plastic stuff the police use for riot gear, except made from light weight carbon fiber and pulled on a pair of Kevlar shin guards to match.
Bright moonlight filtered through the dense canopy overhead, glittering off the titanium chainmail neck gaiter she ordered custom-made from a craftsman who specialized in Medieval recreations. The look on the craftsman’s face was worth the price he quoted when she explained it was for protection from a very large house pet that liked to “play” rough. The fine titanium chainmail was silky soft, lightweight and cool to the touch covering her entire neck and fastening behind with black leather straps.
A black balaclava topped with runner’s goggles and a matte black rock climbing helmet secured with a chin strap finished the unusual ensemble.
A pair of supple, black leather, fingerless biker’s gloves served to protect the palms of her hands with strips of dark blue gymnast’s tape to protect her exposed fingers without compromising her ability to grip.
Satisfied with the result, she hid the empty camouflage bag under the picnic table for safe keeping once more.
Flexing her arms and legs experimentally, she did a few jumping jacks and then a cart-wheel, mentally making note of any tight, loose or shifting components to be readjusted later.
From a short running start, she executed a forward somersault and landed in her Jiu-Jitsu fighting stance, dropped to the ground with a fast leg sweep and rolled sideways into a crouch. Sandy desperately wished she could carry her short sword or at least a pair of fighting knives, but she had agreed to the conditions and ‘prey’ by definition must be unarmed in the ‘challenge’.
Sandy continued to stretch lightly and run in-place at the jogging trail entrance to hold her level of preparation until she heard a long low howl in the far distance that spiked her adrenaline levels way up in anticipation.
“Time,” she thought as she quickly jogged into the trail. As soon as she found a thickly shaded area to step off the path, she crouched and waited for her night vision to fully recover because she couldn’t rely on her hearing alone to warn her of danger.
Rising to slowly scan the dark woods, she returned to the path and set off at her best distance pace till she arrived at the trail markers identifying difficulty levels and loped down into the highest difficulty, double diamond trail.
Even though the trail was deceptively moderate at first and well maintained for a double diamond, it quickly wound around a thickly wooded crest before a sudden descent landed in a steep walled wooded valley with a fast-flowing creek.
Crossing the creek at the bottom presented her with the choice of taking the low ground by following the creek and using it to mask her scent and the sound of her movements or the high ground by scaling the opposite wall for a better tactical viewpoint.
Because she thought ‘prey’ would most likely follow the easier route along the creek that would incidentally provide multiple ambush opportunities, she opted for higher ground. The air temperature was falling also making it easier to choose between cold with wet feet and cold with dry feet.
Picking her way carefully along the top of the wooded ridge in the dappled moonlight, she stopped often to listen to the faint sounds of the night. The range and sensitivity of her hearing was slowly improving with the silence, but it still was no match for her adversaries.
The adrenaline made her heart race, urging her forward, but Sandy forced herself into the slow rhythm of taking less than a dozen steps and then stopping to listen from available cover for several minutes, on occasion while staying completely motionless. Since she had no specific distance to cover, her slow progress made little difference anyway.
During one of these pauses, she distinctly heard the muffled crack of a stick breaking close by. It was the type of sound you would imagine coming from a branch lying flat on the ground being broken under the weight of a heavy foot. The proximity was so close she froze in place hardly daring to breathe. After hearing nothing else, she very slowly crouched low to the ground. Several minutes later, she heard a low growl and stealthy movements in the underbrush scant feet to her left and she held her breath, waiting till the sound completely died away before daring to continue.
When the ridge she was following unexpectedly narrowed and dropped into a draw, she was forced to cross the small steep walled valley and creek again to reach the high ground on the opposite side. Moving quickly from the tree line to the bank of the creek, she stopped to listen and scan the valley before wading across. Standing ankle deep in the cold swiftly flowing water, she scanned the valley again for movement but a splash in the creek behind her was the only warning she received. The thudding foot falls of the heavy predator sounded unnaturally loud in the silent valley as a huge gray wolf-like creature charged towards her in full on attack.
Sandy shifted her feet, digging in her spikes to gain secure footing in the rocky creek bottom while managing to appear frozen in fear. When the heavy animal was only scant yards away, it leaped into the air planning to lunge upon her with jaws open wide in the anticipation of an easy kill.
Only Sandy wasn’t there anymore. When the animal launched itself into midair and was unable to alter its path, Sandy simply dropped flat in the creek and avoided the ravenous attack that passed harmlessly through the air above her.
By the time the surprised animal crash-landed in the cold water of the shallow creek beyond, Sandy had shifted to high sprint and was already half way to the cover of the opposite wooded ridge. Soaking wet and howling with rage, the animal rose from the cold creek only to catch sight of Sandy as she topped the ridge and escaped into the sheltering trees.
Keenly aware of the risk of blind fear driven flight, Sandy sought cover quickly and centered her thoughts to calm her fear and catch her breath from the short wind-sprint up the steep valley face. By her best estimate of the moon’s position, she was still only halfway through this challenge. She knew, as time grew short, her challengers would become less careless and more driven.
Abandoning the pretense of stealth and howling in its frustration, the enraged creature forced its way up the valley face in pursuit making slow progress through the thick brush. Sandy listened to the continuous crackle and snap of breaking branches signaling the deliberate approach of the heavy creature with apprehension.
Standing to better determine location and direction, Sandy took advantage of the noise to move quickly and positioned herself in the middle of a small clearing. Mentally balancing distance and time with tactics, she sought the best footing and position as the creature topped the ridge.
It’s eyes glowing in the moonlight, the maddened creature broke into a run when it saw Sandy standing in plain sight with her eyes downcast, as though in surrender.
Holding the ruse till the last possible moment, she dropped into a fighting stance as the creature leaped to the attack, fanged jaws open wide. With split second timing, Sandra fell backwards and using her muscular legs, pushed upward with all her strength driving sharp spiked shoes into the creature’s exposed midsection triggering a startled and uncharacteristic yelp of pain.
Sandra’s kick altered the creature’s trajectory enough to cause it to miss its intended victim and crash headlong into a tree instead where it groaned in pain as it slid to the ground apparently stunned.
She vaulted to her feet in a kick-up and sprinted across the ridge top and back down into the valley to put distance between her and the injured adversary. When she reached the creek, she stopped to scan the valley floor, listening intently to detect any sound of pursuit. After an anxious, silent moment, she knelt and tugged the strap tighter on her rock-climbing helmet and repositioned her goggles snugly over her eyes.
Quickly catching her breath upon reaching the valley floor, she noted with relief the wind direction had changed to carry her scent away from her direction of travel. Instinctively, she set off into the wind at her best long-distance runner’s gait in the attempt to reach the cover of the maze of rocky outcrops at the far end of the valley before the challenge could overtake her.
A high pitched urgent howl was quickly answered from the top of the distant ridge telling her that her challenger had not only regained consciousness but alerted the rest of the advancing pack as well.
Glimpsing the first of the granite outcrops in the distance, she was tempted to throw caution to the wind and sprint with her nose in the wind. She could lose herself in the dark mazes of the caves anchored to the valley wall and the safety provided by their rocky formations.
The mind-numbing urge to run in blind panic was so ingrained within her psyche, she had difficulty restraining the impulse and moving slowly. The mental image of huge animals with long white teeth in the night drove her onward.
Picking her footing with care while forcibly holding back the almost irresistible urge to run and constantly surveying the ground around her for sign ultimately saved her from being herded into the carefully orchestrated ambush.
Sandy froze at the sight of water gathering to glisten wetly in the shallow depressions left by a large pawprint in the mud of the soft creekbank.
She suspected this was no rank amateur; unlike the reckless young ones so eager to prove their dominance in a challenge, this one had planned and waited.
Mentally turning the tables, she searched for the perfect combination of cover and ambush she herself would have chosen for an attack.
When her gaze fell on a large flat stone lodged in the opposite creekbank with a large darker shadow lying hidden in wait beside it, she fought down a rising panic. Already too close to escape or even stay motionless for longer than a moment without springing the trap prematurely, she elected to deliberately look away while taking a single hesitant step forward.
Six more steps would have brought her to the exact position she would have selected for her own ambush had their roles been reversed. A narrow choke point formed by a pair of huge rocks jutting from her side of the creek bank would allow her to pass only by stepping into the creek taking uncertain footing less than a yard from the fearsome shadow beside the stone.
On a sudden impulse, she looked up at the opposite creek bank in the act of taking another uncertain step forward and froze in an outward show of fright with an exaggerated intake of breath. A low growl and a sudden movement within that dark shadow told Sandy her feint had successfully cast a sliver of doubt into the outcome of the carefully laid ambush as she leaped across the creek to land nimbly on the opposite bank in a crouch.
Wasting no time, Sandy scaled the creek bank silently to gain the open valley floor where she shifted back to sprint and didn’t stop till she reached the first of the granite outcrops with their caves and narrow sheltering fissures with roots buried deep in the valley walls.
Squeezing into the first of the deep clefts in the granite face wide enough to admit her, she wormed her way back into the narrow fissure till she was out of reach and could catch her breath.
In seconds, the rest of the pack caught up eagerly following the intoxicating scent of her fear on the wind as she ran in full flight. But when the narrow crevice denied them their quarry, they could but tear at the unyielding rock and howl with frustration as a lowering sky finally opened to deliver a cold drenching downpour upon the valley.
Safe and dry beyond their reach within her rocky haven, Sandy waited patiently for dawn and the end of the challenge. When the first tendrils of rose appeared above the sawtooth mountain peaks in the east, the remaining primal howls around her burrow began to change, sounding more guttural, still not quite human and definitely in the throes of some agony.
When the anguished cries of pain eventually subsided, she waited another half hour before she dared to begin working her way slowly from the sheltering rock. Peering from the sanctuary of the deep crevice and blinking in the unaccustomed light, she was surprised to find a man completely dressed in black waiting for her to emerge.
His long black hair tied back in a casual manner suggesting utility rather than fashion. When he at last caught sight of her peeking from her makeshift burrow, he quietly stated,
“This challenge has now ended in a draw and my brothers have left the field save for myself. You will only be allowed to leave unharmed if you agree to certain conditions...”
“HOLD!” an authoritative voice called out from a place beyond Sandra’s field of view within the crevice. The man dressed in black immediately dropped to one knee holding his eyes downcast.
“My lord...,” he whispered.
Sandra ducked her head to squirm deeper within the narrow crevice.
“Sandra, it is quite safe for you to come out now,” the authoritative voice spoke again quietly. “This challenge has truly ended and you are free to leave the field without conditions.”
Sandy peeked from her burrow again and beheld an older man with long gray hair dressed smartly in a Scottish kilt of green and blue tartan, a pure white shirt with a black waistcoat and a leather belt and fur sporran standing patiently waiting for her.
Addressing the sky, he intoned with a flourish and a bow, “Be it known from this day forward that this celebrated ‘Prey’ has not only managed to successfully escape and elude the hunters but drew first blood in the process. Without claw or fang, she has bested the full pack on what they thought their own turf.” Offering his arm to help her stand he added, “Clan Hunter shall not belittle such an accomplishment with conditions.”
Suddenly remembering the events of the night as she hesitantly took the proffered arm, she inquired, “The one I kicked, I hope he wasn’t seriously hurt?”
Shaking his head in amazement, the gray-haired hunter gazed upwards and recited ancient verse from memory, “Though she be harried and hunted in rightful challenge, the wee beastie sought the wellbeing of her tormentors.”
“I thought he was going to kill me,” Sandy added quietly in defense.
Aye Lassie, taken by the bloodlust he was. Your blow would have felled a lesser creature, but his body healed almost instantly, his pride though, not so much. Methinks it was a needful thing you did in the end; hard lessons are seldom learned easily and overconfidence is one of the hardest.”
“You said I could still leave though, right?” Sandy asked the gray-haired hunter apprehensively.
“Stay just a moment more, Lassie,” the old hunter said in soothing tones as he turned to the man still kneeling beside them. “The boon. She has earned it.”
“But Sire, she has beheld us,” pleaded the kneeling man looking up in shock and disbelief. “Surely we must not permit...”
“THE BOON!” the gray-haired hunter roared, flashing unnaturally large white pointed teeth.
The kneeling man obediently scuttled forward to produce a parcel wrapped in white linen tied with a crimson leather thong and placed it on the ground at Sandy’s feet before obediently returning to the knee.
“I..., I don’t understand what this means...,” Sandy trailed off in confusion.
“I salute you, my lady. You have won the challenge and these are now yours.”
Reverently opening the parcel, Sandy discovered a beautiful green and blue tartan kilt and a silver dagger whose hilt was inlaid with precious stones in the colors of water and earth.
“This kilt woven in our clan colours, I present to you in the fervent hope you might do us the honor of wearing it with pride. That keen edged argent dagger once graced the hand of another lassie in ages past. Though long since crossed beyond the veil, I know she would have approved of you."
“I don’t know what to say, unless..., thank you, I guess. I..., I’m honored? I’m sorry, but after everything that’s happened, this feels a little surreal. I’m glad there aren’t any hard feelings, though...”
The distant blast of a ram’s horn echoed across the valley capturing her attention and she turned to listen to the clear sound. Confused, she turned back to ask a question and discovered she was alone. The hunters had disappeared from whence they came. If not for the ancient tartan kilt and dagger she held close, there would be a temptation to call it all some kind of hallucination, a fevered dream under a full moon.
But Sandy no longer runs at night and the dagger is never far from her hand.
