Thirteen (Mono×OC)

Character Description and Prologue

Name: Thirteen.
Age: Well, thirteen. (Mono is 14, Six is 12. See if you can figure the "secret" as to why I chose the ages.)
Abilities: Advanced archery, gun, and knife skills. Supreme hearing and sense of smell, and forrokenetics, and an advanced knowledge of edible and medical plants.
Likes: Climbing, archery, Mono and Six.
Dislikes: Vegtables. And the doctor.

~Third person p.o.v.~

The Hunter trudged through the forest, the swamp-like mud created from the rain last night making smacking and suction sounds. Suddenly, he heard a pair of lighter, quicker footsteps. He climbed on the roots of trees as he approached the sound, tall grass swishing around his waist. He stopped when the sound stopped, accompanied by the tell tale clang and snap of one of his noose traps catching something.

When he got to the trap, he saw a woman in a torn and dirty dress, hanging dead in a trap. He grimaced. Recently, the signal tower had corrupted everyone's minds, but he still had just enough of himself left to hate the needless death of a human.

Then he jumped. Something was tugging on his trousers. He aimed his gun downward, and saw a little girl. Through his mask, melancholic purple eyes bore into his. The effect of the signal tower flooded his mind, prompting him to pull the trigger. The sun poked through the trees, showing the girls colors. Her red hair made him hesitate. He vaguely remembered a warm smile, a kind voice, and sun hitting long, red hair. The memory was fuzzy. The signal tower clouded the minds of its victims with a maddening static.

The toddler turned away from him, and went over to her mother. "Momma." She said in a condescending voice, tugging on the hand. "Gottgo to papi's." She tried to tell the corpse. "Gottgo! City is bad now! Gottgo!" She said, aggressively pulling the arm. On her leg, just below the knee, was a number. Thirteen.

The Hunter sighed before scooping up the toddler. "C'mon...." He paused. What to call this girl? He looked her over before staging at the tattoo. "Thirteen?" He tried in a husky, dry voice. She stopped chewing on her own shirt and looked up at him. She responded to it. "Thirteen it is." He said, going back to his cabin.

"How do I take care of a girl?" He asked himself once he set her down on the table. She crawled around the table as he thought... Maggie. The Teacher. She'd know what to do, right? He turned from the little girl and got his house phone, calling his giraffe friend. "Hello, Connor. To what do I owe the pleasure?" (His name is Connor here, just because he is a Hunter, doesn't mean his name is hunter.) A voice on the other side asked. "I found a kid in the woods. Her mom's dead. How do I take care of a kid?" He asked, receiving silence. "Hello?" "I'll be right over, try to keep her alive." Maggie said. "Easy. See you soon, Maggs." He said, hanging up the phone.

When he turned around the girl was on the other side of the table, a carving knife in her tiny hands, her mouth open to bite it.

"No." He said, making the girl look at him. She put the knife closer to her mouth, opening it wider. "No." Wider still, the tip of the blade just between her teeth. "No." Suddenly the knife was snatched away and put in the knifeblock, replaced with a rattle.

With a crack The Hunter whipped his head around and saw Margaret Everson, her hair just starting to gray, a large bag slung over her shoulder as she put all nearby weapons away from chubby hands reach.

"Maggie. That was quick." The Hunter said. "Yes, well, I can't in good conscience leave you with such a young child, knowing half your belongings can kill her." She said, "I brought toys and clothes for her, pull-ups, and some baby friendly foods." She said, stuffing for a second to pat the downy hair of the child. "What are you calling her?" She asked, her neck elongating and circling the redhead.

"Thirteen." He said, and the girl turned to him. "Hm. Well, anyway, we should get started child proofing this wreck." Margaret said.

After about an two hours of putting weapons in locked closets, putting socket plugs in electric sockets, setting up a crib, and the Teacher giving Connor several books on childcare and human development, she paused at the doorway, starring at the girl.

"Connor. When she turns five, try teaching her to read. She could be a brilliant student of mine someday. Try to keep her alive until then." The woman said as the girl clung to her long skirt. She left, her figure disappearing into the fog.