| They had continued to argue as I slowly began to ease myself out of my sleeping position. It'd been great for not falling out of the tree, but it had not been suited for defense. A twig fell from the branch I'd been on, and had landed behind one of the soldiers. I'd held my breath, blood pounding in my ears, praying that they hadn't seen it. The soldier it fell behind gave a loud sniff, and started to circle around his partner. He moved right under me, and I fought not to breathe. He'd started to move on, and I'd begun to relax, when he'd whipped around and shot at the limb I was on. I lept off as the branch fell, and tried to slow my own fall by grabbing other branches on the tree. I'd ended up crouched, but on my feet, on the ground with a pulse rifle pointed at my face. I slowly straightened up, my hands in the air, as the other soldier had begun to move off; looking, I suppose, for anyone else who might have been hiding with me. He gave a loud barking sound, and the one with a rifle in my face answered him. In that second, I'd made my move. I brought my hands together on his gun-hand, snapping his wrist and forcing him to drop his gun. As I started to reach for it, his partner had shot at me, and I'd bolted. I'd ran through the trees, and my shorter stature helped me, as I'd been able to duck under branches that those pursuing me couldn't. I could hear them tearing through the branches behind me, as my lungs had begun to feel like they were on fire, and my legs started to threaten to give out on me. I don't know how it happened, but one of them got in front of me, and had tried to hit me. As I fell to the ground and rolled away, the thought flashed through my mind that they were trying to capture, not to kill, me, and I knew that I had the upper hand. I'd grabbed my scythes as I came out of my roll, and the alien tried again to hit me. I slashed his hand, and took off running again. He tackled me, and I'd known it was the one I had marked; blue blood trickled into the ground as he'd used his superior body weight to hold me prone. And it'd very definitely been a "he". His legs had pinned mine; his lower body had held most of mine tight to the ground as he'd used his hands to force my arms out. Though I'd struggled, he'd managed to wrest my scythes away from me, handing them to his slower partner. When he'd reared back to tie my hands together, I'd tried to buck him off of me, and he smacked the back of my head, not too hard, but hard enough to have made me kiss the ground. He'd tied my hands behind my back, and had then paused: I'd cursed internally as I'd felt his hand curl around my right wrist; and as he pulled the sleeve of my jacket back, I knew that he'd felt the knife. He'd ripped the sheath from my arm, and had handed that to his partner as well. He'd then given me as thorough a patdown as he could manage while he was still sitting on me. He hadn't lingered over anything, though; if he'd been human, I wouldn't have had anything to complain about. He'd placed my tied hands as high up on my back as they would go, and had pushed my head down so that my chin was flush to the ground. I could also see, quite clearly, the pulse rifle his partner had trained on me. A subtle warning, that, but a warning nonetheless. He had eased off of my back, slowly, and then continued to pat me down. He'd skimmed my legs, and had ran his hands over the uppers of my boots; I'd had to suppress a sigh of relief when he didn't go after my boot knife. I'd had a sheath for each of them specially built into the back of my boots; the leather gradually thinned as it moved away from my Achilles tendon. If I was only carrying one knife, I had usually slipped a strip of wood into the empty sheath; anyone who patted me down wouldn't have noticed a difference in the leather's thickness. Patdown of my back done, he'd flipped me over, gently pushing my chin up so that I was still forced to look at his partner. The sight hadn't been improved by being upside down. It really wasn't improved when I'd felt his hands go inside my jacket. He had slipped it off of my shoulders, and got it far enough down on my arms that the ends of my T-shirt's sleeves had been exposed. He had run his hands up my sleeves, along my bare skin, and I'd had to suppress a shiver. His hands had been cold! His partner barked at him, and I could've sworn that that bark was a laugh. He barked back, sounding gruff, and pulled his hands out of my sleeves. He ran his hands along my shoulders, and then made a pass over my chest and abs. I started to twitch my head up when his hands ran over my breasts, but the look on his partner's face had made me force the back of my head back to the ground. His hands slipped down my ribs, and he untucked my shirt, and had slid it up, I assume, to make sure that I didn't have any surprises tucked away. His fingers had slid under my waistband, and I had really felt like complaining, but almost as soon as he had started, he'd pulled his hands back out. He'd ran his hands over my hips, and down the outsides of my legs; then, starting again at my waist, he ran his hands over my groin and down the front of my legs. If he had been human, I would have been complaining. He had started to skim the inside of my legs, moving from ankles up, and as he'd skimmed, he'd gradually pushed my legs apart, until when he'd gotten to my hip joints, he'd only used his thumbs to slowly go over my groin. Again. Thankfully, though, whatever he hadn't found had made him happy, because he'd moved my jacket so that it was once again covering me, and did a quick search of the jacket itself. Other than my house keys, he hadn't seemed to find anything threatening. I hadn't really cared that he'd taken them; it'd looked like I wasn't going to need them anymore, anyway. He'd stood back up, and had then reached down and grabbed me by my jacket, and used it to haul me back up onto my feet. His partner hadn't been too happy; I'd gotten my first good look at him, and one of his hands had been cradled against his chest while the other'd held his pulse rifle. My scythes had been in his boots, and my knife had decorated his belt. From the way he'd barked and gestured with the gun, I'd say that it was me that he hadn't been happy about. From the way the two had begun to argue, I'd have to say that he had been very unhappy about me, and had probably been pissed because his partner wouldn't let him shoot me right then and there. Finally, the alien with my stuff had huffed and turned around, and the alien who had caught me pushed me forward. He pushed a little too hard; I ended up on my knees, my head swimming as I tried not to retch. Apparently, he'd hit me harder than I'd thought when he'd first had me on the ground. What I had eaten the night before had decided to evacuate my stomach, and my head had been pounding. The soldier that had hit me had used his sleeve to wipe my mouth off, and had then picked me up and had thrown me over his shoulder. I'd fallen into unconsciousness as my body had bumped against his back. |
| ~ Entry One Continued ~ |