Chương 26: Delineation

Shrike is curled by the fire, sleeping soundly against the crackles of the burning wood. Martin is cooking dinner for three, made to Shrike's specific taste. The doorbell rings, a four-tone dinging that doesn't wake Shrike up. Damn, Martin thinks, she's early. He walks over to Shrike, nudging her with his foot. She wakes up, but before she can chew him out for waking her up in her least favorite way, she sees Martin open the door. Marissa holds a bottle of wine.

She wasn't sure how much to spend, so she bought one at random. The kynde can't get drunk, but apparently likes the taste. She tersely smiles.

"Hey, Martin." She watches Shrike rub her eyes as she comes to the door.

"And hello, Shrike." Shrike turns away from Marissa, looking over at her nest of blankets, until Martin squeezes her hand. Marissa takes a first step into the house. It's... normal. Very normal. There's a strange mound of blankets with a pelican plush in it, and a fire going despite the tepid weather, but its so... average. She expected weaponry lying around, cages, traps, the whole nine yards. The only weapon she can see is the kynde, who thankfully seems more resigned that agitated.

"Thanks for letting me come over. I wanted to apologize for a few days ago. I felt like a jerk, and wanted to make up for it." Shrike's eyes stay pointed at the bottle of wine.

"I assume this was arranged without my knowledge to keep me from declining. That was a fair choice, as I would have." Marissa watches as Martin flicks Shrike in the forehead, making Shrike's irritation more obvious. The kynde takes a few calm breaths.

"I apologize. Would you enjoy a tour of our home as Martin finishes preparing?" The Counter-Magic soldier glances at Martin, but doesn't let him respond to it.

"Yes, please. That sounds lovely." Shrike takes her to the living room, explaining her need for heat, and the pelican toy given to her as a Christmas present. She makes brief mention of several items on the mantle, and a warning against touching them, before taking her upstairs to the bedroom.

"This is our bed. It was custom built for more enjoyable nights asleep together." Shrike points it out like it's nothing, before moving on to the closet. Marissa's whiplash nearly triggers a migraine.

"Slow down, you sleep in the same bed?"

"Yes. It is not unusual for romantic couples to share sleeping arrangements." The migraine is definitely happening, Marissa thinks, taking a couple pills she keeps with her.

"I... you two..."

"Yes, we are a couple. Our next location on the tour is the basement. I'll allow you a moment to come to terms with the new information." Shrike giggles softly, walking down the steps behind Marissa. Marissa, holding her head, follows Shrike to the basement. Marissa sees the armory and workshop immediately, though the kynde insists on introducing them anyway. She shows a few particularly interesting objects, as Martin calls to say dinner is ready.

"Right..." Marissa says, "I need to wash my hands." Shrike directs her to the bathroom on the main floor, before sitting down next to Martin. Marissa closes the bathroom door behind her, and looks into the mirror, trying to stay cool. That has to be the biggest bombshell tonight, she thinks. She hopes. Martin passes around the simple pasta dish, as Shrike waits patiently to eat while chatting briefly with her partner about firewood quality.

As Martin sits down, Marissa sits up straighter, getting the attention of the hunters before speaking.

"I apologize for being disrespectful, Shrike. Ignorance is no excuse."

"Okay." Shrike goes back to her conversation without another word, and after a moment, asks Marissa what her favorite firewood smell is. Marissa holds her head as she watches Shrike twirls the pasta around the fork, waiting expectantly for an answer. Marissa snaps herself out of her funk.

"Right, uhh... I mostly just use cedar." Shrike smiles, swallowing fully before speaking.

"I believe it is my current favorite as well. Cedar smells familiar and comfortable." Her partner takes a long sip of the water he set out.

"I can't believe you have a favorite firewood, Marissa."

"So?" Marissa asks, more defensively than intended.

"Nothing wrong with that." She realizes she hasn't eaten anything yet, and awkwardly forces the topic to change.

"So... Shrike tells me that you two are close." Martin leans over, kissing Shrike on the forehead, and making her start to turn a little red.

"Yep," Martin confirms.

"'Close' is one way to put it." Marissa can't help herself, despite mentally trying to resist the urge.

"Isn't that weird?" Shrike's expressions starts regressing to how she looked in the canteen, Marissa spots, as Martin tries to reframe the question for her.

"What, because of the age gap? Shrike's thirteen thousand or so years older than me, but she wasn't awake for most of that time. Besides, we're both adults." Marissa blinks a few times.

"So those things on the mantle-""-are precious keepsakes not to be handled." Shrike confirms.

"Huh." This is far less normal than she thought at first, Marissa thinks. Is Martin insane? Is Shrike? Are they both? She pushes the thoughts from her head.

"So, read any good books lately?" A nearly imperceptible nod from Martin as Shrike starts dumping the entire storyline of a recent novel onto Marissa, a tidal wave of names and terminology she can't hope to swim through. All she can do is hang on. Martin thankfully rescues her from the flood by taking a lull in the conversation to ask if Marissa is from Utah. She explains that she's actually from Nevada, as Shrike pours her a half-full glass of wine, and a glass that's nearly to the top for herself.

"How about you, Shrike? Where are you from?" She takes a long drink of the wine.

"I am unsure. I am researching the answer." Marissa grimaces.

"I'm sorry, didn't mean to hit a nerve."

"You did not. I apologize for not having a better answer for you. If it helps, my oldest clear memory at the moment is being an Aztec warrior."

"No way," Marissa laughs.

"That's impossible, for a lot of reasons." The night wears on, and as Marissa gets a bit more alcohol in her, she loosens up considerably. By the end of the night, Shrike is actually enjoying talking to her. She even offers to let Marissa spend the night on the couch to keep from driving drunk, which she takes her up on, crashing on the couch as though she's lived there for years. Martin and Shrike go to bed as well, lying next to each other as always.

Their brief bedtime conversation notably excludes Marissa entirely. Marissa checks the time. 6 am. She takes another couple migraine pills to make sure the hangover headache doesn't evolve. She rises with a low grunt to get a glass of water, her eyes drawn to the mantle. She goes over and looks at the menagerie, appreciating each one in turn. She instinctively goes to pick up the obsidian, but shoves her hand forcefully back into her pocket before touching it.

"I appreciate your restraint." Marissa jumps, startled by hearing Shrike speak while sitting on the stairs behind her.

"Sorry, I was just looking, I promise!"

"I know. I have been observing, which is why I am grateful for you limiting your curiosity to your eyes."

"Well, yeah, you told me not to. This is your house, so it's your rules." Marissa thinks that Shrike's eyes briefly narrow, but it could have been the hangover. She's really damn hard difficult to read. Then again, maybe she doesn't have to.

"Sorry to be blunt, but I hope you're not too pissed with me." The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"In regards to the mementos?"

"I mean about me being a jackass. I'm used to seeing magical beasts as an obstacle, not a person."

"I had already forgiven you over dinner. One human quirk I gratefully lack is the desire to hide negative emotions. This is true with your apology. I do not give false forgiveness." Marissa rattles her brain to find a new topic, trying to level out the tone.

"Actually, can you put some rumors to bed that have been circulating around the barracks?" Shrike shrugs. That's a yes, Marissa hopes.

"Okay, so is the 2nd Lieutenant part of your relationship?"" Norwood?" Shrike asks with incredulity.

"Even the thought is repugnant. Loathsome man." Marissa laughs.

"Oh, also, apparently you've been eating human hearts." Shrike thinks for a moment.

"As for that, I haven't recently." Marissa's eyes glaze over. Yeah, this is getting too weird. - Martin checks his phone as he wakes up. One voicemail from the contact: Jess from Maintenance. He winces. That's the number for big assignments, handed out specifically to teams most qualified. How fun. He listens to the voicemail, and downloads the relevant file. Shit. Shrike is going to be furious. - Shrike reads and rereads the printout Martin gave her.

Besides the printer needing new ink, it's clear as crystal, but her eyes can only focus on one thing: the location of the mission. Peter Sinks, the second coldest place in continental US, with temperatures having dipped below -69°F on occasion.

"Martin." Shrike's tone is perfectly level.

"We can't decline it." He rips the bandage off. No point in dragging it out. This is what they have to do, like it or not. Martin watches Shrike look through the paper one more time, before setting it down. She takes a long breath, eyes closed.

"I believe I am resigning."

"Shrike-""This is a farce. Patently ridiculous. What is even the purpose of sending me? I am a warm-weather creature." There's a frustrated mania in her eyes, rapidly looking around for anything to blame the assignment on.

"Martin, explain their thought process here! Human minds are an enigma!" He clenches his teeth for a moment.

"They thought since you're used to working in relative cold all the time, and have heated clothing already-""Absurd! Completely absurd! Damnable MBR, deploying us both to the hell that froze over!" She stomps her foot onto the ground once, punctuating her point. Martin grimaces. He can count the time he's seen Shrike genuinely angry on one hand, and it was never caused by the job before.

"It's going to suck for both of us."

"I am unsure if I would even survive down there! Are they intending to kill me? Am I simply expendable, or is it an assassination?" Shrike takes the piece of paper, and shoves it into her pocket, cursing as she storms down the step.

"A grand return of my layers of pants and jackets! Bastardshit!" She swings open the closet door, looking through it for her clothes. It could be worse, Martin thinks. He expected her to try and fight with the MBR director. Shrike starts collecting gear from the basement after putting on her coat and jacket over her already heated clothing. Martin takes the hint and gets ready himself. Looks like they're going now. IR: i hate jobs outside my field. CZ: you as well?

IR: they're sending me to somewhere cold because I can't feel cold. very annoying. CZ: i believe we are working together. you are at peter sinks? IR: yeah! CZ: imagine SC out there IR: lmao SC: My gods damnable life, I am being sent to the most frigid place imaginable due to supposedly knowing how to survive 'relative cold', whatever in the hells that means! SC: I have read the text above me. This is nightmarish.

IR: this is going to suck for you CZ: consider that if you accidentally shoot yourself in the foot, you are unlikely to be sent out. SC: I intend to impale someone for this, I swear upon my past lives. Shrike stews in the back seat of the car, intentionally overheating herself to hopefully survive for a bit longer. Her favorite music has been playing on the entire long drive there, which Martin hopes is helping a bit.

Shrike has been quiet the entire time, while Martin has been suffering with the heater on full blast despite the relatively warm temperature outside the mountains. He hopes he doesn't get heat stroke before he arrives. Isopod touches down at the end of the sinkhole, lighting a flare with his stone hands. He sticks it into the ground, and waits patiently for the others to arrive. As a gargoyle, waiting is his specialty. A beat to hell pickup is next to arrive, following the flare's smoke trail.

A warm looking Elk steps out from the driver's seat, and from the passenger seat comes Caribou, in its typical shorts and t-shirt. Caribou looks at the sun briefly.

"We have plenty of time, and the snow is good quality. Fortunately for you all, I know how to build igloos." Elk groans through mirrored ski goggles.

"I don't think we need to build a snow fort. Let's just go in and get out." Caribou walks over and looks through Elk's truck bed, taking out a few saws, two machetes, and a plastic sled before dumping them at their feet.

"When the hell did you put those in my truck..?" Elk asks, looking back at the vehicle in concern. Caribou ignores the question.

"Did you know that the temperature inside a properly constructed igloo can be nearly one hundred degrees Farenheit warmer than the outside?"

"Bullshit." Elk says.

"That's..." Caribou's tense jaws make Elk stop talking instantly. Immediately, Caribou starts giving orders to Elk and Isopod. They need at least two done in the next few hours. Fortunately for them, Caribou thinks, an actual caribou is significantly stronger than a human.

"What the hell is that..." Martin says, looking at the site of the flair. Some kind of big deer? Small moose? He catches a glimpse of its bright red eyes. God damn it. Martin pulls alongside the pickup, looking at the current situation. They're building shelters, probably for Shrike's benefit. Hopefully that's enough for her. Still, something catches the corner of his eye.

"Shrike, is that a baby moose or something?" He tries to get a better look, and the animal briefly glances at him. God damn it. Martin looks around the campsite.

"Shrike, you even get the feeling like you've forgotten the last few minutes?"

"Caribou is present in the form of a living caribou. You looked at its eyes."

"Oh. That tracks. Wait, Caribou is out here too?"

"Yes, along with Elk and Isopod." Shrike walks over, nearly burning alive, to pull a joke she has been thinking about on Caribou. Seeing Shrike out of the truck, Caribou shifts back to its natural form, and takes its glasses back, sliding them on. It sees Shrike walking cumbersomely through the snow. Caribou easily wades through it, meeting up with her.

"Shrike."

"Caribou!" She offers Caribou a handshake, which it takes. Caribou flinches, retracting its hand immediately. That had to have been near the boiling point. His hand is red, and not from cold.

"Shrike, do you have a fever?"

"No, I have been overheating myself the entire ride here. I am absolutely miserable currently. I did not know I could be too warm, outside of sticking my hand in a fire." Shrike slips her glove back on.

"Your life is a cavalcade of misery. You should rest alongside me tonight. I can be a variety of soft and warm animals," Caribou says, hoping the unfortunate implication is either missed or ignored by Shrike. Shrike is too distracted with the main issue at hand.

"I would appreciate that. The low temperature on the rim was twelve degrees yesterday. The low in the sink was minus twenty-five. I admit, I am unsure that I will survive." Caribou's teeth scrape against each other.

"Something has been bothering me about this entire affair. Should we not have been informed we were working with other teams?" Shrike's mouth suddenly purses.

"Yes. That is typical protocol. Have you checked with MBR to confirm?"

"I have." Caribou looks down at the sink, a massive, half-mile long gulch that drops far below the lip of the ice.

"They confirmed it was a real assignment, but were cagey about who assigned it, and even what we are looking for. I advise you to be on guard at all times here, Shrike. As a creature of deception, I know when there is something being hidden from me. What concerns me is that I cannot figure out what their goal is." As the temperature begins to drop in tandem with the sun, Shrike enters into the igloo. She's already down to her normal temperature.

Unfortunately, overheating herself didn't do anything beyond making her uncomfortable. She waits patiently in the igloo. She wonders briefly why its so spacious, but the question is answered almost immediately as a red eyed polar bear stomps in, curling around Shrike. Shrike says nothing. Caribou is incredibly warm. Shrike falls asleep in under a minute. Good, Caribou thinks. She isn't suspicious of the form. There were other, warmer options it could have been, but none so dangerous.

The ijiraq doesn't sleep, its red eyes peering out of the igloo all night. Elk and Martin are fascinated by the heat inside the igloo. Elk reminds himself to apologize to Caribou, feeling stupid for arguing with an ijiraq on snow. This is borderline comfortable. Isopod does not need sleep, and as such takes watch over the sinkhole for the night. For a moment, something massive catches his eye. A huge... gust of snow? It was nearly perfectly clear, but he swears he saw something break up from the ground.

No time to be chasing ghosts, he must remain on watch. As soon as morning arrives, the team gets to work. Isopod starts carrying the camp equipment into the sinkhole, including a pair of generators, extra layers, tools, flares, and the like. Caribou once again starts directing the construction of igloos about a fourth of the way into the valley, right on the edge of the absolute lowest point.

Shrike stays in the car at the lip of the sinkhole, until Isopod gives the all clear, and flies her down into one of the newly constructed igloos, complete with a charging cable from the generator plugged into her suit.

"The princess is secure, at least." Isopod jokes, making Caribou let out hoarse, squirming laughs. Isopod reveals a last piece of equipment recommended by his partner: seismography equipment. Woodlouse isn't much for fieldwork, but he's a damn good agent. If he says they need seismography equipment, they probably will. He plants a half dozen into the ground all around the sinkhole, which feed into a cold-proofed equipment station. From here, Elk monitors all of the seismographs, with Woodlouse watching remotely.

It's a clear basin, so the only logical place the threat could be is underground. The day passes slowly. Elk and Martin take 20 minute shifts on the seismographs before retreating to the warm igloo, while Isopod spends his time observing the beauty of the sinkhole. Caribou, as a caribou, does patrol laps. It notices one thing during the laps: a massive hole, not filled with snow. It can't be fresh, as there is nothing remotely that size left on the continent. Perhaps a missile test? Whatever it is, its ominous.

As the sun sets and the deadly freeze starts to come over, Caribou takes over watching the monitors as an arctic fox. Isopod remains on watch, holding a button what would sound a klaxon alarm across the camp. It's incredibly peaceful up here, Caribou thinks. The sky is just like in the spirit world. Completely untarnished by man and clogged atmosphere. A beautiful thing... Caribou's fox ears involuntarily twitch, and it turns to the seismographs.

The equipment has gone from relatively still, to the needles oscillating at a ridiculous speed. Caribou doesn't quite understand what it's supposed to look like, but it can't be that. Caribou's head turns to Isopod, who looks back at the ijiraq as he hits the alarm. - Norwood watches the monitor carefully. The untamable ijiraq, the dangerous kynde, and the partner of his least favorite hunter. All three of his biggest headaches with plausible deniability.

As long as everyone keeps their mouths shut, every possible outcome here benefits the country.