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The Woods are Lovely, Deep and Dark

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Ariadne knows this is a dream. She's a dreamweaver after all. Oh, Cobb calls her an architect, but Eames tells the truth like only a liar can. Ariadne is a girl with a ball of thread and a woman to be feared. She builds cities of nothing full of labyrinths filled with other people's monsters. It's a logic puzzle worthy of her name. (Are you a woman or a goddess? Yusuf asked her once. Arthur had laughed and said. Can't she be both?)

The woods are dark and twisted. Strange noises abound as silent predators stalk her just out of view. Ariadne knows her coat is red, and she bites back a laugh because that's hardly camouflage among the menacing shadows. There is a basket on her arm, and she knows without looking that it holds a 9 MM Glock pistol, a top, and a bottle of French Chardonnay. "I know your following me," Ariadne tells the wolf. "So why don't you come out here, and we can walk together." Some how, she's not surprised there are two of them.

The first is the size of a big dog, sleek and black like running hound. The honey highlights in his dark eyes reflect the little light trickling through the canopy as much as the flash of his white fangs. The second wolf is the first's size and half again. It's slightly lighter in color and seems to be smiling rather than snarling from the twinkle in its grey-green eyes. "It's not safe for little girls to be walking alone in these woods," the bigger wolf says. There is a growling laugh in the words.

Ariadne smiles, because these are her projections. They may be trying to scare her away, but that only works if you don't love them. "No its not," she agrees. "So you should come with me and keep me safe."

The smaller wolf snarls and lunges forward. "You shouldn't be here!"

"I know I shouldn't," she tells him, dropping to her knees to wrap him in a hug. When she pulls away, a slim man in a black suit sits on his haunches in front of her. "But my choice is go back and let them try again. Or go forward and beat them at their own game. What do you think, Arthur?"

"I think, you should kiss me," the remaining wolf says pointedly. "Otherwise, I shall always be a frog." Giggling, Ariadne presses her lips to the cold nose. An instant later, she pulls away from the warm skin of Eames' face.

Arthur growls to himself, his wolfish aspect not completely gone. "Extractors?"

Ariadne nods, "Yes. They want what's in my basket. I think they intended for you to scare me. So I would straight to Grandmother's house and give her the pistol, wine, and top."

Eames laughs that same growling chuckle. "Didn't expect you to be fond of wolves, did they, pet?"

"Only the ones that want to eat me," Ariadne replies with a smirk.

Arthur scowls as Eames chuckles, "Clever girl." Eames takes a Browning out from beneath his jacket. Arthur produces a Colt that seemed to large to be concealed underneath his waistcoat.

"I'll take point," Arthur snaps brusquely. Ariadne can't let him leave angry. So she rises with him to draw his lean frame against hers. He rests against her for a moment before slinking away.

Still laughing, Eames drops behind to cover her back. With a smile she can't hide, Ariadne starts through the woods again to Grandmother's house where the extractor is waiting. She wonders if their pointman knows who militarized her. She wonders if they're prepared for the wrath she's bringing with her.