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his place even, that I would take it in a heartbeat." The father had lapsed into silence, which could mean he understood, or that he would be trouble. The price for surviving is too high if this is what has to be done. Forgive me .  
     
     
     

MINION  
     
    The trip was supposed to last five days. She had gone during fall break because going to Europe was something she had always wanted to do, and she had recently won money in a contest. It was all planned out. She would leave Saturday morning, get there sometime around Sunday morning, possibly as late as lunch local time, spend the next five days taking in local culture, buying useless knickknacks, and otherwise enjoy herself, then come back on the following Saturday so that she could try readjusting to normalcy Sunday before going back to school. It had been a good plan. She knew the local languages, had a list of things she wanted to see and do that had enough wiggle room built in for the unexpected she was surely to encounter, and she was more than capable, at least according to her kick-boxing instructor, of handling most people that didn't have a gun pointed at her.  
    Naturally this means that something monumentally wrong is going to happen to ruin this, you do realize that right? Sod's law pretty much ensures that when everything is planned, running smoothly, and otherwise worry free something, anything, will happen.  
    This unfortunate bump in this woman's life happened while she was skiing. Normally when people ski they do so with at least one other person, after all one could break a leg, arm, or worse out there. The woman we're following decided that a short trip wouldn't hurt, and that she was familiar enough with the path between where she was and where she was headed to feel that she was perfectly fine going alone. In her defense it was a clear day, with no hint of inclement weather, and the path she had intended to travel was one well known and well traveled. Ordinarily if something were to happen to her in all likelihood someone would have been along within five or ten minutes of her hitting her suit's distress beacon, which would have alerted the main desk at the resort she was renting her cabin from both who she was and her position.  
    Her first and last warning that something was amiss was a low growling from somewhere ahead of her in a nearby bunch of trees. Fears of rabid, or at least hungry, wolves entered her head which caused her to attempt to scurry along as fast as her skis would allow like a sensible person would. Because her back was turned she did not see what attacked her. Instead she felt herself get tackled, hot breath against her ear, animal growling, and pain. Oh yes she hurt. You try getting pounced by something that weighs as much as a linebacker and not hurt. Thankfully for this poor woman she either hit her head on a root, rock, or something to cause her to pass out. I shan't clarify what exactly happened, save that it likely isn't what you believe and that she's safe and sound.  
    When next this woman opened her eyes she found herself laying on something much like a doctor's examination table and without her outer wear, those thick layers of material protecting her clothes from the snow, and her body from the cold. She was dressed warmly, and in spite of feeling somewhat weak and a little sore here and there she felt reasonably well.. While she took stock of how she felt she made the very reasonable assumption that she had been carried off to be treated by medical professionals. This belief was reinforced by the fact that she was in a clean impersonal room filled with the sorts of things one might find in a doctor's office. The man wearing the white lab coat looking her over seemed to further enhance this notion, because he spoke like a doctor, gentle reassurances that everything was alright and that he was just giving her a quick look over. No worries, just a little blood, you'll barely feel it.  
    So they thought whatever