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Five - Tati

She heard them, the sound of blades from aircraft moving overhead as she lurched out of her makeshift bed. Sweat clung to her skin as the sun brought through the filthy windows into the building that she made her home.

Tati could hear them talking, muffled voices as they moved around two floors over her head. Someone was here, and they didn't use the front doors or a window to get inside. They came from the roof, which meant they must have had a plane of some sort.

A jet or a helicopter. She'd seen a few in her time here, though they looked like those in her world, on her planet, up close. They weren't exactly the same.

As quiet as she could manage, Tati crawled to her feet, her bare feet padding over the dirty carpet. At one time, it might have been a blue and cream speckled color but now was a filthy gray color with. Some of them were yellowish. Others, a reddish brown and Tati, could pick up the lingering scent of blood, piss, and shit in those places. This was the cleanest office she had found, which was why she chose it as her new home.

She picked up her bag, careful the metal zippers didn't jingle, and stuffed her still wet clothes from the night before inside. Tati had to leave. It would have been better if she'd left the night before, but with the rain and being so tired and hungry. She thought she had at least until noon to get out of this place and hide somewhere else.

Straightening, she swung the backpack over her shoulders as she shoved her feet into the worn tennis shoes she found behind a dumpster. She hated the idea of wearing them on her bare feet, but she didn't have a choice. Tati counted herself lucky they fit and tried not to think about who they used to belong to. Or why they were stashed behind the dumpster. Or what had crawled through them while they were back there.

Every time she thought of them, a chill ran down her spine, and her stomach lurched. No, no time to stop and throw up now. They were her shoes, and she'd put her feet in them a hundred times or more at this point. Tati didn't have time to be grossed out.

Muffled footsteps on the carpeted stairs made her ears prickle as the door to the stairwell was pushed open, the hinges creaking. She was halfway to the window when she stopped.

That smell.

It was like...cinnamon. Warm. Spicy.

Tati's fingers stopped on the windowsill. The smell reminded her of Christmas morning, when her mom would sit her down at the kitchen table. They would make cinnamon sugar toast after the tornado of wrapping paper ended. That was before her dad had passed away. He was a big rig driver; he was almost always gone, but he was always home at Christmas.

The back of her throat tightened while her mind spun.

What was she doing? She needed to get out the window and get down the fire escape. There wasn't time to investigate that smell.

For all she knew, the fat ass cop had some sugary sweet pastry this morning. Any second he would come barreling around that corner, ready to open fire on her. Tati didn't have time for this, but she couldn't force herself to move.

The body that moved around the corner wasn't anything like the short, plump, balding and likely middle-aged cop she envisioned.

The male Wolfeen was the reason for the smell of cinnamon invading her senses, was tall. He was over six feet. Not as tall as the bull man, but Tati had noticed the Wolfeen men weren't as tall as some of the other species that lived here.

His jaw was covered in a thin sprinkling of facial hair, while a mustache covered his top lip. The heavy brow and ridges along his forehead were more prominent. It made him look like he had a permanent scowl on his face. His eyes softened when he saw her. The gun in his hands lowered.