Clara held one hand tight, then released the other, reaching further, needing to eventually reach the edge of the overhang. She found a hold then repeated the process. If there wasn’t a sufficient handhold, Clara would use her rock climbing claw to create one. The further she climbed, the more ice there was to contend with. This naturally made each successive grasp a more difficult proposition than the last.

Her arms burned and her fingers were going numb, but still she climbed. Finally she reached the edge of the overhang, claw embedded in ice and rock, fingers bloodied and bruised.

Clara began to scale the rock face, her body stocking, makeup, and solid contacts now a dark gray to better reflect her surroundings.

She placed her other hand higher and pushed off with one foot, finding a hold for the second higher up. Hand, foot, hand, foot, Clara methodically made her way up the face of the rock. Eventually she came to the point where the face of the rock was starting to arch further and further away the higher she went. She held her hands fast and just let go with her legs, allowing them to dangle beneath her.

Instead, Clara took her rock climbing claw from her sack, attaching it to her waist, and made her way deeper into the cavern to the base of the rock. Being sheltered from some of the elements, there was not an excessive buildup of ice on the face of the rock. This was good and would make climbing easier.

The ninja placed one handhold. The photosensitive threading in her body stocking faded to a dark gray to better match her darker surroundings. Then she placed a foothold on the same side. The makeup around her eyes also changed to dark gray.

Clara had to reach the top of the outcropping, sixty feet in the air. Going up from the outside would be significantly easier, but also potentially deadly with the aerial scans. If a scan caught her, that could be the end. No, it was safer beneath the outcropping, so she wouldn’t reveal her position until she absolutely had to.

Clara had avoided bringing most technological devices with her, at least motor driven in nature or satellite communicating, for fear of having the signal detected or intercepted. Now what she wouldn’t give for some simple device assistance. But no use complaining.

She was under the outcropping. Carefully, Clara pushed her head through the top of the snow. She was cold, obviously, but not stupid. The area was clear. Clara pushed the rest of the way through the snow, still scanning the area, wanting to make sure there were no extra surprises. There was nothing. It was clear.

Clara stood in snow over her knees, drifting in from the wind. Around her was a large, shallow cave, the outcropping sixty feet above her. Now she had to get to the top of that outcropping, to finish what needed to first be done.

Whenever Clara’s gut said to wait, she did, assuming some detector was in closer proximity. Then when she felt safe again, she assumed the scan had passed and resumed pushing forward through the snow, checking the compass occasionally to verify her location and direction. Just a little further in this snow, just a little further before she rounded the corner and was beneath the outcropping, hidden from view from above.

She pushed the pain and cold away, willing herself to not feel them, and just kept pushing forward. Finally the snow above her grew darker as she rounded the corner.

There was no telling if another plane would pass overhead or not. Her instincts could only get her so far, and now was not the time to start pressing her luck. Without the tree cover, it would be nearly impossible to get past.

There was only one course of action. Clara began to tunnel her way through the snow, making her way just below the outcropping. This was extremely slow going and extremely cold. But Clara did not hesitate; she continued to push her way through the snow, careful to avoid disturbing the snow above her as much as possible.

Clara knew the prison was just a little further up and around an outcropping ahead of her. Very soon she should see the place.

The ninja froze again. Something wasn’t right. She plunged into the snow, hiding herself below snow level. A motion sensor scanning the area. Clara lay flat, waiting for the device to sweep past. Then another sense. Another detection device, this one an unmanned aircraft above, about to pass overhead. This one could be motion or heat tracking. Clara quickly dug down and forward, hiding herself in the snow mound as the automatic miniature aircraft flew overhead.

She continued her climb toward the prison, now a patch of snow and sunlight after her body stocking’s change to better camouflage the new surroundings.

Clara’s pace eventually slowed as more and more detection devices had to be neutralized or avoided. Plodding her way through deeper and deeper snow, the evergreens were giving way to more and more barren patches.

The sun slowly arched overhead and was already on its descent.

Clara eyed the area, now completely free of trees. She verified her compass, double checking readings and comparing them to the elevation map Sprite had pulled and Clara memorized.

Clara ate more dried strips of possum and drank more water, resting her tired body. She closed her eyes, leaning back to face the slowly rising sun. There she pushed her weariness away from her, telling her body not to feel tired.

It was only a few minutes longer before Clara felt well rested and the photosensitive threading in her body stocking had turned the warm outfit from black to white. Even her face makeup had changed. And when she opened her eyes, it took only a few blinks before these two had changed from darkest black to brightest white.

Clara got off the dead deer, scanned the area briefly, and continued to climb the mountain at a jog.

As Clara continued to gain altitude, she saw more and more patches of snow, trees changing from hardy sort to tall, majestic evergreens. Still Clara continued to climb. The sun began to rise and Clara slowed her pace, now looking for a sunny spot to rest.

She found one in a small clearing among the evergreens and sat down on the hard ground. It was very cold, but this area was at least cleared of snow due to the direct sunlight.

Then the ninja jumped, pouncing on the back of the animal. The deer reared, its head snapping back, its front hooves kicking the air. Clara grasped the back of the buck’s head with one hand, the other flashing around the animal’s muzzle. The deer tried to shake free, whipping its head frantically about. The front hooves came down and it lurched to take off into the woods. But the ninja gave the animal’s head a swift, hard snap to the right. The creature fell forward, face hitting the hard ground, tongue lolled out one side of its mouth, eyes empty.

There were no immediate sensors, she could tell by the breeze in the air, the feel of the ground beneath her feet. She just knew. But if she spooked the buck, he may trigger something that lead to suspicions. Perhaps it would be seen as nothing, a deer sprinting through the woods. But if the patterns of the deer, or even more dangerously, the patterns of this specific deer, were known, then a spooked deer may lead to real suspicions. Suspicions she couldn’t have just yet.

She walked up silently. The deer continued to drink from the ice cold water.

Clara slowly made her up way up the steep rock face, one hand over the next, each foot or handhold wedged carefully into the rock before continuing, using the climbing pick when necessary, always looking for the next step to make, the next ledge to grab. Half an hour later, the ninja had gained another 40 feet up, completing her climb.

She continued on her way, stealthily running through the woods, ever climbing in altitude, Clara suddenly came upon a buck, drinking from a stream. The creature was magnificent, but Clara did not know how closely the wildlife was monitored.

Clara quickly swapped connections among the three cut wires, twisting them back together in a different order. She placed the panel back on, the device now sending a safe, empty signal that shouldn’t be spotted for days.

The ninja continued on her way.

Climbing a small ridge and getting out from beneath tree cover, Clara found a sheer rock face in front of her. She stopped, stepping back and looking for a way around. But there was no obvious path and forward was still the quickest rout.

Adjusting her pack, Clara removed a pick and began to scale the rock.

An hour later, Clara pulled the food she had purchased from the Eskiman tradesman, gnawing on dried possum, the salt igniting her taste buds. She drank from her water skin and put these things back into her pack.

It wasn’t long before Clara found another scanner in the trees with her. This one she carefully opened and examined the wires. Sprite had shown her how to disable a few of the devices in use here without it being detected, and this was one of them. She slowly pulled out three of the wires, snipping all three and exposing the wires.

There it was! An area scanner, slowly sweeping across the area. But there was a reason she wore the body stocking, and the ninja remained frozen. The scanner panned over and past her, the black stocking material absorbing the necessary spectrum, essentially reflecting back an empty signal. After the scanner swept past, Clara immediately leapt into the trees, climbing a nearby branch and examining the forest floor around her. No other devices appeared to be nearby, but Clara refused to take any chances. Instead, she continued to advance up the mountain but stayed in the trees for the time being.

The ninja returned to climbing toward the prison where Ran was held. Clara didn’t have any sophisticated instruments with her, fearing the signal may be intercepted. But she did have a compass. She checked it periodically, verifying the direction she was traveling and testing the latitude and longitude of her destination.

Making her way swiftly through the forest, expertly avoiding possible snares or dangers, the ninja suddenly froze, her instincts telling her not to move. Clara rarely questioned her instincts as they had saved her life more times than she could recall. Clara moved only her dark eyes, looking around.

Clara removed her weapons and stripped out of the local garb, her skin prickling against the cold. She removed a black, thermal body stocking from her backpack and pulled the tight, warm synthetic fiber over her cold body. With this suit, she would stay warm and retain full mobility, not to mention its camouflaging capabilities. Then she painted black circles around her eyes and pulled the body stocking’s hood up and around her face, nothing visible in the darkness but the whites of her eyes. To solve this, Clara inserted black, absorption contacts, effectively turning herself into a walking shadow.

Clara also asked the mute trader to burn the body of her faithful donkey in twenty-four hours time, once the spirit had truly left the beast. The Eskiman nodded solemnly, agreeing with her use of the old customs, and gladly agreed to lay the creature to rest among its distant brethren, the wild creatures of the mountain.

She left the shop after an hour’s rest and a hot meal from the fireplace, first heading back down the path to Rancher, before rounding a corner and quickly vanishing into the forest, leaving the pelts and her poncho beneath a rotting log.

Clara dragged the dead donkey the remaining distance. It was the least she could do for a creature who had given its life to save Ran.

She left the animal outside of the rustic trading post, and there she approached the mute Eskiman tradesman who ran the place. Furs hung on several of the walls and a warm fire burned in the fireplace. She purchased more food and drink, her own supply now gone. Then she delivered his monthly supply of peyote grown in Rancher. The Eskiman’s eyes lit up, and he gladly handed over thirty animal pelts in exchange.

Clara’s donkey was coming down off its medicated rush, the animal’s hooves stumbling forward uncontrolled. Clara took the next syringe, this one just pure fluid hard candy for her beast. She injected it, this time not caring about the animal being able to repair damage faster, only caring that it got her near the trading post. She donned a warm pullover from her pack and a heavy woolen cap.

A few hours later, the beast was foaming and its eyes bulged, but it had nearly gotten Clara to the trading post. The donkey shuddered and collapsed two hundred yards away.

Riding the donkey further, Clara slowly zigzagged her way up the mountain path, trees and undergrowth on both sides, the ultramax prison ever growing closer. As her donkey grew weary, she stuck him with some roid upper combo mix that Helen had prepared. The animal continued to attack the path with a renewed vigor, and Clara kept watch for some of the prison’s detection devices. There was nothing yet, but her intel said it would be soon. Her instincts as a Red Ninja told her they would be even sooner.

By mid afternoon, the air was getting colder and thinner.

Clara ate a large meal and rested at the mayor-lord’s home. It was quaint and capable, lots of rough wood and a few elegant draperies. Then at dusk, she took a donkey she had also purchased and the monthly supply of the Eskiman tribe’s favorite peyote grown in the fields outside Rancher, and headed into the hill country, climbing toward Rocky Pen.

She rode the surefooted donkey as long as possible, before stopping to make camp for the night. Clara fed the donkey from her pack and removed a thermal blanket. She rested for three hours and awoke at dawn.

Clara had purchased a horse with cash creds at Other Town. She spent the night there, paying cash for a room of little consequence. Not bad, exactly, but just unnoticed. The next morning, Clara rode west, in the general direction of Rocky, but also in the direction of a village called Rancher.

It was there that Clara had purchased a favor from the village’s mayor-lord with some small number of arms the day before. Clara left her horse with the mayor-lord’s people, expecting it to be well taken care of and to have it and another available in 24 hours.

Preparations made, Clara knew when to make her move. The ninja strapped equipment to her body and put more in a large backpack, leaving her rotocoptor in a vacant field, hidden in a large hay stack and well out of range of the electromagnetic pulse generator, fifty miles from Ultramax Rocky Pen.

Backpack donned, Clara wore flexible climbing shoes on her feet, weapons hidden but accessible beneath a handmade poncho and drawstring pants, both common in the vicinity and purchased from a different tri-quad earlier that day. Clara walked the four miles to Other Town where her new horse waited.

Four hours later and preparations were complete. The darts were ready, equipment settled, plans in motion. They said their goodbyes to each other and to Hawk who then locked up the compound tight, kicking on their auto securities, manning cameras and various equipment from what T affectionately referred to as the control center.

The remaining darts departed in various directions, looking to capture their betrayer, Claude Revel. They wanted to learn what he told Giresun, why he made this move, and how he hoped to get away with it.

And then they would enact their revenge as they saw fit.

When the water was ready, he soaked a hot towel, and placed it on his head. It felt good, both the ritual and the nearly shocking heat before entering the cold of battle. His hair was already a short stubble, but it had grown out a week or two, and Turtle began to shave his head with a straight razor.

It felt good. With each slow, methodic slide of the blade, Turtle said another prayer to his Savior.

A minute later he dressed with thin body armor beneath, geared up, and went back outside to join his team, his family.

Turtle went into his room. He turned on the hot water so it could warm up, and he removed his shirt. While the water ran, he briefly examined old battle wounds in the mirror on his chest and stomach. Nothing new: each had its own story. Most he remembered; some were long forgotten.

And around his neck hung a silver crucifix. He held the tiny crucifix, a treasured family heirloom, between his meaty thumb and forefinger. Turtle said a prayer for safety for his team, including Clara on her own mission, and especially for Randal, in the midst of trial.

She logged on through her glasses as a casual access point and briefly monitored her own black mark. No change. News was scarce. Bounty hunters weren’t ones to share information, fearing a loss any advantage over the competition. There were rumors of her surfacing briefly the other day, but most disregarded them, the details of her escape so unlikely as to be unbelievable.

Sprite clicked off, chuckling to herself, then switched her glasses over to test her fairies signals. Strong and clear with little interference here. She hoped the signal would be just as good a few hours from now.