Sarah Home Alone

“Have we lost ‘em?”

“How the hell should I know?” Sam snapped. “I’m sure we’ve lost most of them.”

Jain snorted. “That’s because most sheriffs aren’t stupid enough to go into Forest Evernight.”

“Or smart enough,” Trent said, grinning ferally.

As usual, Taryn said nothing. He just led the band forward, constantly glancing from side to side as if expecting sheriffs to leap out from any bush.

“Yeah, well, we need to find a place to wait out the night, and make sure we’re not leading any lawmen to the camp, unless it’s only two or three we can make sure won’t escape.”

None of the four men were related, but in dim light—at least to another human—they might look nearly identical: all thin and wiry, dark-haired and unshaven, heights closely matched from five-eight to five-eleven. One might think, looking at them, at their ragged clothes and incongruously rich jewelry (including the emerald pendant necklace around Jain’s neck that made him look somewhat effeminate), the overstuffed bags no people in their rights minds would lug into the heart of a thick, legendarily dangerous forest, that one was looking at a bunch of thieves one step ahead of the law. That would be half right. Three of them were also murderers. Two of the murderers, and the one thief who wasn’t, were also rapists.

The light though, wasn’t nearly strong enough to be called dim. The heart of Evernight starkly defined the source of its name: the sun had not yet set, but the canopy, a good hundred feet overhead, weaved together so tightly that less light than that of a full moon reached the floor. The only small favor was that little undergrowth could survive in those conditions, making travel relatively easy.

After another five minutes’ trailblazing, Taryn suddenly put up his hand in a signal to stop. He glanced around, then up, and pointed.

They stood near the base of the fattest tree they’d seen, a good ten feet wide. Taryn’s finger pointed at a structure perhaps thirty feet up the tree, built into the branches—a tree house the size of a small cottage.

“What the hell?” Jain muttered.

“Shelter,” Trent said.

“Who would live fifty miles from nowhere, in Evernight, up a goddamn tree?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Sam said. “All we need is to find the ladder.”

“No ladder,” Taryn said, starting to shimmy the tree on his own.

“Shit,” Trent said. “He’s right.”

The three on the ground watched Taryn climb the tree like a bizarre crab, then stand up on the thin platform by the structure. Then disappear into it.

“Now what?”

“Wait for a signal.”

“Like?”

Sam shrugged. Another minute passed; by its end all three were glancing around at forest sounds the way Taryn had earlier. Then, a rustle from above, and a cloth rope fell down, end dangling about four feet off the forest floor.

“Let’s go.” Sam grabbed the rope as he spoke, climbing it expertly.

The building at the top of the rope—which proved to be fashioned of ripped curtains—was indeed a cottage, one room set up to serve as bedroom, kitchen and study. It was fashioned handsomely, if inexpertly, showing some slight water damage near the kitchen area from ceiling links. Beyond that, it was pleasant, the wood light-toned, with a red rug taking up much of the floor space and matching curtains on the one window.

If this wasn’t curious enough, though, the bedroom appeared to be that of a young girl’s. The open closet contained a small number of dresses, all slightly dirty, and the bed had many pillows and several stuffed animals strewn about it.

“This place isn’t gonna be a treasure trove,” Jain muttered, pulling up the makeshift rope and tossing it into the bed—which, he noted, was now partially sheetless.

Sam grinned. “That depends on what the owner looks like.” Trent chuckled in dark agreement.

Taryn began expertly rummaging through the room, pulling out the drawers from the single dresser, overturning the chests in the closet. His displeasure with the results of his search became evident as his scowl deepened with each passing moment.

“Relax,” Jain said, sitting down on the bed. “It’s not like we don’t got enough already from the last haul.”

Taryn dropped one of the stuffed animals onto the floor, grunting.

A thump sounded from outside. Jain and Taryn froze. Trent and Sam moved, cat-silent, to either side of the treehouse’s door.

The door swung open. Before it started its swing back, Trent grabbed the person who’d just entered and pulled her against him.

“What the hell?” Sam said. His words were drowned out by the girl’s startled scream, but even Taryn looked surprised. She wasn’t human.

Take a young girl, somewhere around sixteen—to the mature side of physical maturity—then make her look like a fox squirrel: covered with reddish-brown fur, shading to white in the front and to black over her hands and feet, a shock of shoulder-length curly humanlike red hair framing a face that managed to be delicate even with a pronounced muzzle, and a huge, bushy tail. She barely stood five feet high, and the tail curled over her head, partially obscuring Trent’s face.

Jain rose to his feet. “Well, well. What the hell are you supposed to be? A squirrel changeling?” He reached out and touched the girl’s cheek. She gasped, squirming in Trent’s grip, huge green eyes wide with fear. “Can you speak? You got a name?”

She squirmed more, starting to hyperventilate. The clothes she wore matched the ones in the closet—a slightly dirty yellow blouse and a short dark green skirt. She might have had them a good three years, for the blouse had definitely been tailored to her figure when she was still more child than woman. Her quick breathing put a noticeable strain on the cloth, even with its top two buttons undone. Jain, Sam and Trent all focused on that chest a few moments. Then Jain casually flicked open a stiletto and held its point to the furry cheek. “I said, you got a name?”

“S-Sarah,” she gasped.

Taryn, who’d been watching this with marked disinterest, sighed and turned his back on the affair, facing the kitchen.

“Well, aren’t you the cute little freak, Sarah?” Jain lowered the blade, and brushed two fingers along her blouse, then thrust them into the fur of her cleavage. She gasped again and writhed; Trent just held her tighter. “I’ve never felt something like that. Usually girls are just furlined in… other strategic places.”

Sam stepped back from the door, surveying her with narrowed eyes. “You’re a sick bastard, Jain. It’s an animal.”

Sarah caught her breath, closing her eyes.

“It’s a girl.” Jain stepped back, putting away the knife and crossing his arms over his chest. “And I think a pretty damn cute one, and exotic to boot. What do you think, Trent?”

Trent sniffed at Sarah’s hair. “She smells like a girl, too. A dirty girl. You ever had a man, little girl?”

Sarah didn’t react to this, other than flinching.

“Not dirty yet,” Jain said. “Well, have you had one?”

She shook her head once.

“Tonight she’ll be a dirty girl.” Jain grinned. “And we’ll make her a dirty woman. You like that idea, little girl?”

Sarah opened her eyes again, but didn’t respond. She just looked at Jain, still wide-eyed, shivering, but keeping her gaze steady.

“Just kill her, for God’s sake,” Sam spat.

“We’re a brave little freak, huh?” Jain grinned nastily.

“I’m not a freak,” Sarah said. Her voice was a girlish alto, the sort that could be made sultry in an older woman. Then she took a deep breath and flattened her tone. “I’m half-faerie.”

Taryn turned around abruptly, locking his gaze on Sarah.

“La-de-da. What’s that…” Jain caught Taryn’s look, and turned away from the squirrel, looking back over his shoulder. “…mean?”

Trent started to yell, for a half-second. Then the noise became shockingly shrill. Jain whirled around. Sarah stood alone. Before Jain reacted, she took his hand. The world shimmered white and, for a half-second, it felt like every nerve in his body had ice water running through it.

“It means,” Sarah’s voice came from somewhere far above him, “I can do a little magic.”

Jain looked up, trying to focus. All he saw was a wall of fur, a flag above… no, her skirt. He looked straight ahead, and realized he stood eye-level with the top of her black-furred ankle.

“Oh, shit,” he said. Then he—and the equally small Trent—both fell down as the squirrel-girl bounded toward Sam, the force of her leap knocking them off their feet. Sam bolted through the door. The squirrel stepped partway out, then stepped back in a moment later, her fist closed, Sam’s screaming voice coming from within her fingers. She closed the door and hooked it, then knelt down and opened her hand, letting Sam tumble roughly out onto the floor.

She stood. “If you move,” she said, with the tone a child might take with an errant dog, “you’ll probably get underfoot.” She raised one foot into the air, holding it over them long enough for all three to turn their heads and gape at the smooth, seemingly endless pawpad, then stamped it down next to them. All three screamed, and she giggled, then turned toward Taryn.

He’d spent too much of the thirty seconds it’d taken her to deal with his men just staring. Now, though, he’d recovered, and crouched in a defensive posture by the sink, one of Sarah’s own kitchen knives clutched in his left hand. He waved her toward him.

Sarah’s tail frizzed out, and she took a step backward, ignoring the set of frantic screams the motion caused around her ankles—she could tell her foot was still firmly on hard wood. She’d need not only to remain calm enough to do her magic, but get close enough to touch the man. Fighting wasn’t at all her forte—after all, with her magic she didn’t usually need to. But there were times, like now, she dearly wished her magic hadn’t been “backward,” as her mother had always annoyingly put it—that she’d been able to change her own size. Mom said she should’ve been able to do that and shapeshift to boot. She’d never gotten any of that, and could only vary her own height by about an inch in either direction. Otherwise she’d just leap back out of the treehouse, down onto the ground, shift up and reach in and grab the little bastard.

“I’m not moving toward you, and you’re gonna have to come through me if you wanna get out,” she said, managing to keep her voice level.

Taryn grinned, then suddenly threw the knife at her.

Sarah shrieked, leaping to the side. She executed the move faster than a human could; if she hadn’t, it’d have at least sunk into her shoulder, if not her chest. Instead it just glanced off her shoulder’s edge.

She hit the ground and rolled once, Trent nearly under her heel when she came to rest. The little man stared at the huge pad, less than a foot away from his face, and fainted dead away.

Taryn bolted toward the door.

Sarah sat up, her movements missing the shrunken humans by what seemed—to them—sheer luck. They scrambled to their feet and started scattering as the squirrel-girl swung at the fleeing human, and missed. Taryn managed to unhook the door and flee outside as Sarah staggered to her feet. She rested on the door frame, watching the man make an incredible leap to the forest floor—and keep moving, even though he was profoundly limping.

“Poop,” she said, stamping one foot. Then she shrieked after him. “When I catch you I’m going to—to step—I’m going—I’m going to swallow you whole!”

She spun around on her heel and slammed the door behind her. The other three humans had disappeared. “Oh, no you don’t,” she growled, narrowing her eyes. She put her hands on her hips, tail curling over her head, and scanned the room.

“Oh God,” Trent muttered. He, and the other two, cowered under the bed, against the wall. “Oh God.”

“Shut up,” Jain hissed. “You want her to hear us?”

Suddenly a huge, clawed hand rushed toward them, fingers caging them against the wall. “No,” Sarah’s voice came with a giggle, “you don’t.” She closed her hand around them, squeezing until she was sure all three were screaming, then pulled her hand out and sat up. “Or she’ll catch you, just like this.” She stood up and dropped them on the mattress, between two pillows, and sat down.

“Taryn’ll come back and kill you, bitch,” Sam snarled, looking up at her. “You don’t scare us.”

Sarah leaned over, slowly, placing her hands on the pillows, until her pink nose was a half-foot over them. “You’re the one who just wanted to kill me outright,” she said, eyes on Sam. Her gaze flicked to Trent. “You’re the one who wanted me to have a man.” She looked at Jain. “And you, too, after you felt me up.”

She sat up, moving forward a bit, and bringing her hands to rest on the edges of the pillows, just over her prisoners. “You know why I live out here in Forest Evernight?”

Sarah smiled, and continued. “‘Cause when I was smaller, living at home, I sometimes got… angry. When you can do what I do, and you get angry, you can do a lot of damage to people.” She took a deep breath, and smiled wanly. “Fortunately, I never really did… but I didn’t want to wait until it did happen. So I just left.

“And do you know what usually got me really angry?”

Sam cursed, and looked around, trying to find some way out. To either side were the pillow and Sarah’s fingers; ahead was Sarah herself, and behind was just wall.

“What?” Sam said hoarsely.

“People… calling… me… freak.” Lightning-quick, her thumb and forefinger closed around Sam, hauling him up into the air above her muzzle.

“Put me down!” Sam shrieked.

Sarah narrowed her eyes. “You’re mine!” she snarled. “If you give me an order again you’re dead!”

Sam kicked. “I’m dead anyway,” he gasped, looking into one of her eyes.

“Not yet.” Her eyes flicked down to Trent and Jain. “Neither of you move. I mean it.” She looked back up at Sam. “You. Apologize to me.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” Sarah dropped him into her other palm, then placed a fingertip on his chest, ebon clawtip resting on his sternum. “Apologize.”

She pressed down, very slightly, with her finger. Sam shrieked again. “I’m sorry!”

“Like you mean it.”

“Please… Sarah? Sarah… I’m sorry.” Sam braced his hand on her claw and pushed up, with all his strength, to absolutely no effect. “God. You’re not a freak. You’re beautiful.”

“No, that’s what the others thought. Pretty enough to rape.”

Sam focused on her muzzle, his terror increasing at its expressionless state.

“Isn’t that right?” The pressure increased fractionally.

“Yes! I’m sorry! God, please don’t kill me!”

“What’s your name?”

“Sam… it’s Sam.”

Sarah lowered her muzzle enough that her breath washed over him as she spoke. “Do I scare you now, Sam?”

“Yes!”

The squirrel smiled in a way that showed her young age again. “Good.”

She moved the finger off his chest, straightened up, and brushed back her hair. “Now, this is the part I never let myself do, back when I was living with mom, Sam.”

“Sarah… don’t do anything—”

“Is that an order, Sam?”

“No!” he yelled.

Sarah grinned. “Too late, Sam. I know what I’m gonna do. The other two are gonna get their shot at me, so I’ll give you the opportunity to get yours, too.” She tilted her hand and dropped him. He screamed all the way down to the pillow, where he landed and rolled to a stop with a moan, wondering if anything was broken.

“What—what—what—” Jain began repeating.

“Oh, you know,” Sarah said, her voice becoming a lower purr. “You’re right. I’ve never had a man. And now… I have three.” She began unbuttoning her blouse, then shrugged it off. Her skirt followed, leaving her dressed just in bra and underpants.

“We’re barely three inches tall!” Trent shrieked.

“That’s right,” Sarah said, scooping up both Trent and Jain, one in each hand. “Now. You liked the feel of being right… here.” She thrust Jain headfirst into the thick fur of her cleavage, then spent a moment just giggling at the sight of his furiously kicking feet. “Mmmm.”

“Now, you… .” She pulled back the edge of her underpants with her free hand, and lowered Trent toward the opening.

“No, no—you can’t—”

“Yes,” Sarah giggled, dropping him in. “I can.”

She leaned back, lying prone on the mattress, head on one pillow. “Now, Sam, you get to see if you can kill me before your friends,” she started rubbing a hand between her legs, “take merciless advantage of me.”

Then Sarah bucked suddenly on the bed, and chrrred, drowning out the renewed yelling from between her thighs. “Evil man, entering me suddenly like that.” She brought her hands up to her breasts and started rubbing them together, and the yelling between them increased, too. “Ohhh… .”

Sam sat up, blinking dumbly. “You’re hurting them,” he muttered.

Sarah chrrred, closing her eyes, and rolled onto her side, facing away from the free human. In a few moments she began panting.

“You’ll kill them!” Sam yelled, standing up and starting to pound on Sarah’s neck.

“Mmmmm… stop me, then… ohhhh!” Her tail started swishing erratically, and she slowly started rolling further away from Sam, breasts beginning to mash together—which caused a new set of moans from her as Jain’s struggles became frantically desperate.

“Oh, Sarah, please! This is…” He trailed off, and cursed under his breath. Barbaric? Undoubtedly, but even were he still in control, she’d probably laugh if he tried to argue anything from the moral high ground.

“It’s… awful…” she murmured, shuddering. “He’s completely inside… brute…” She rolled over completely onto her stomach. A piercing scream and a sickening crunch came from under her chest, and she shuddered violently again, arching her back.

Sam gaped. Earlier she may have been a cute teen squirrel. At this moment she was a terrible, beautiful goddess of sex and death. There was some honor among thieves, but her two—two—sex toys were getting a more appropriate execution than anything the law could possibly administer.

And she’d told him to stop her?

The giantess—for that’s all he could think of her as at this moment—shuddered more violently, and her panting became quicker. Sam started to back away as the smell of her arousal became nearly overpowering, the sound of her breathing drowning out the increasingly higher-pitched screams of her surviving playmate.

“God, Sarah,” Sam said.

“Ohhh—-“

“Sarah!” he said, raising his voice as he backed to the edge of the bed, although he wasn’t sure why he even called her.

“Ohhhhh—yes—”

“Sarah! No!”

Sarah swung a hand toward him, clutching him tightly enough he could feel a rib snap, and brought him right up to her face as she panted. “Don’t—give—me—me—orderrrrr… .” Her hips bucked again. “—ord—ohhhhhhh!”

She screamed, rolling onto her back and clenching her hips. “Ohhhh! Yes—little man—-nnnnhhhh…” She grunted, squeezing hard, until she felt the crack between her legs and the frantic struggling stopped abruptly.

The squirrel-girl rolled back onto her side, panting, and opened the hand holding Sam, letting him tumble back to the mattress. He let out a soft moan, amazed he had survived, and didn’t move as she slowly caught her breath.

Then she sat up, and fished around in her garments, removing Jain first, then taking off her underpants to get to Trent.

“Yuck,” she said, standing up and walking into the kitchen with them. Sam stared dumbly, watching the casual sexiness in her walk, the lines of her body—even, oddly, the curl of her tail.

After a moment, she turned around, still breathing heavily. “Where’d the fourth one go?” she said.

“Don’t you have any… remorse?” Sam forced out.

Sarah walked back to the bed, and gently picked Sam up, setting him on the floor by her foot. She put her hands on her hips and looked down. “Do you want to live?” she said softly.

“Yes,” Sam whispered.

Sarah raised her foot. “I didn’t hear that.”

“Yes!” he shrieked.

The squirrel lowered her foot, pushing him down with her toe, until he was trapped prone under it, the fierce claw partially blocking his view. She rested her heel on the floor, and rocked the toe a little, pinning him firmly. “Tomorrow I might look back on tonight and go, ‘Gosh, how could I ever have done something like that?’” she said. Sam watched the rise and fall of her chest; she was still breathing heavily. “But right now? Right now, I just killed two rapists and I have a third one literally under my paw and I feel real, real good about myself and I can either slam my foot down or bring it down very… very… slowly.” She leaned forward and smiled beatifically. “Tell me where the fourth guy is, little man. Now.”

“At a camp. It should be about… thirty miles north-northeast. Closer to the edge of the forest, but not too close, you know?”

“Tell me about the camp.”

“About a dozen other men.”

“All criminals, like you.”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.” She fell silent a few moments, then looked back down at him intently. “Like I promised, this’ll be quick.” She raised her foot.

“Sarah—you can’t just—kill people like this—”

“Yes, I can,” she said, her voice reasonable. “And you’re bad people. So I think I should.”

“Don’t step on me!” he yelled at the top of his lungs.

“All right,” Sarah said abruptly, setting her foot back down next to him.

“Thank you,” he wheezed. “Oh, thank you…”

Sarah planted a foot to either side of him, and crouched down. “That was an order you just gave me, wasn’t it?” She centered her left cheek over him as she spoke.

Sam blinked dumbly a moment.

“Goodbye,” Sarah said cheerfully, and sat down. Sam didn’t even have enough time to gather breath for a scream.

Sarah sat up again quickly, while the body was still intact, then brought it into the kitchen and put it by the others. “Maybe if I lacquer them and make them into a windchime,” she said aloud, “and leave them by the door, it’ll warn other bad men not to come in here.”

She sat back on the bed, and sighed. If the fourth man got to his camp—which he might not, given how injured he was—they might come here, to take revenge on the presumed deaths of their crime partners.

Sarah swished her tail, thinking, then washed the wound on her arm and got dressed again. She tossed the bodies in a glass and put them in the icebox, then went outside and scurried down the tree trunk.

The sentry sprang to his feet, incredulous, when the squirrel-girl walked up to the edge of camp, knapsack in hand.

“I’m lost,” she said. “Do you have any idea where I am?”

“I don’t have any idea what the hell you are,” he spat. The other bandits started rising to their feet. “But where you are is a pretty dangerous place for a cute little animal girl. Grab her.”

Instantly three men sprang on her, and dragged her toward the center of the group.

Taryn, sitting in the center of the knot of bandits, one leg splinted, looked at her uncomprehendingly. Sarah grinned at him, then pantomimed an exaggerated swallow.

“Look what we found,” the leader said.

“Kill her,” Taryn said hoarsely, eyes widening with fear.

Sarah started to giggle. “Too late,” she said, and it was.