By the time Onoelle had cleared the doorway he had already run to the back of the house. He had briefly entertained the thought of simply vaulting onto the roof to take a shortcut, but he wasn't too keen on testing if it could hold his weight. The tiles were tough and hewn out of granite, but he wasn't exactly a lightweight. So he had simply sped up and run around the house, disappearing from her vision. He waited a few seconds, hearing her shout his name in anger as she searched for him, expecting him to hide behind the clothesline or in one of the nearby trees. Not for him to run back inside through the back door. Once in he picked up her clothes and ran back outside. He whistled loudly to draw her attention and she obliged him by charging at him like a furious bull. He laughed as he danced around her, taking the occasional glancing blow from the poker. They left red streaks on his arms but did not keep him from dressing her, bit by bit, her anger evaporating and being replaced by joy, but not diminishing her vehement attempts to hit him. When he held her upside down and used his inhuman speed and strength to get her trousers on, her fury came back redoubled and she tried stabbing him in the crotch. He simply turned her around. When that didn't deter her much, he repeated it. And again. And again. By the fourth time she was too dizzy to retaliate and was too busy laughing to be properly angry. He quickly forced her trousers on and he put her back on her feet, sliding her shirt over one arm and her head, after which he jumped back as she made a hilarious sight struggling with it and whacking the air around her with wild, blind abandon.

Onoelle gave up her futile attempts to hit him, dropped the poker, put her shirt on, picked it back up, walked over to him and whacked him on the head as hard as she could manage, knowing it wouldn't hurt him much, denting the thing slightly. She huffed at him as he gave her a stupid, loving look, nothing but affection in his eyes. She withstood it for a full five seconds before succumbing, giggling like a teenage girl and throwing herself at him. He caught her and they shared a long, tender kiss. She climbed back to her feet and offered him a hand, earning her a raised eyebrow as he stared back and forth between her hand and her face, causing her to burst out in a fit of giggles again. He smiled again, appreciating the joke. He climbed back to his feet and picked up the poker, straightening it again. He could feel her eyes resting on his arms as his muscles worked their magic, bending the iron with only a minor effort. He held out the poker and looked at it, his fingers tapping it to see if it was still usable. This iron was tougher than most metals, but this wasn't the first time it had been bent.

'This takes me back,' he whispered.

'How so?' came his wife's response as she hovered closer to him, leaning on his shoulders and giving him a curious glance.

He frowned. 'I never told you?'

'No!' she protested!

He straightened his arms and whirled the poker around, smiling as he recalled the memory.

He sighed. He should have expected this, really. Wood was not a material that was very reliable for hard work. He looked at the broken handle of the pickaxe before tossing it aside. He had expected it, really, but had hoped against better knowledge even while his mind had mercilessly analysed it and had kindly informed him it would break in a few swings. It was so hard to adjust his strength, but if he relied on wielding it normally he'd be taking months to dig out the foundations of his house. The stone was damned hard, but he refused to rely on the alternatives he had. Shaped charges may get the job done in mere moments, but he had come here to get away from all that. He sighed again. He picked up the damaged pickaxe and started removing what remained of the handle. He would have to head back to the village. The smith he had met yesterday had a forge at his disposal as well as an assembler. The man could replace the wooden handles on the tools he had bought with metal. It was the only option he really had, unless he wanted to go back underground. That wasn't a very appealing thought. He walked over to the cart, gathering the other tools and removing the handles from them as well, before picking up the sunglasses. The day was still young, he had all the time in the world to make it there. The dark didn't bother him, but he had learned a few years back that shops planetside closed when the evening came. Shaking his head at that weird thought, he set off from the make-shift building site.

He held his pace at the cliffs. He had heard from the locals that they carried the very practical name of 'the Wall'. He approved of the name. It was simple and to the point. Practical. The girl lurking at the foot of the Wall wasn't very practical though. He had thought her to be a simple passerby at first, but she was clearly staking them out to the point that there were string traps all over the bottom, with bells attached to them. Was she hunting some type of prey? Given that her eyes kept scanning the top of the Wall from what she undoubtedly thought was a good hide-out, he was reasonably sure he was the prey. How weird. What made her go after him? Should he go down and interrogate her? She was a normal human, not even a remote threat to her. He had seen her in the village the other day, she had been eyeing him as well then. What was she after? He felt that a part of him insist that he should just climb down. Nobody else was in the area and disposing of her wouldn't delay him more than four minutes, hiding her body included. There would be no sign of a struggle. Of course, that would make him suspicious when she failed to report back to whoever she was sent by.

He tilted his head back in surprise. Was she sent? He was no longer part of a military system. He was surrounded by normal humans. They normally weren't inclined to violence unless the situation grew desperate. He had paid for everything the other day and nobody in the village had seemed hostile. No, he had not given anyone a reason to try to eliminate him. He had even made himself move slowly to avoid drawing attention. He looked at her, his vantage point shielding him from her prying eyes. How long had she been there? The wind was right and he could taste her scent on it. It spoke of exhaustion. She must have been laying there since the early morning. He felt sorry for her, in a strange way. There was a storm approaching and unless she started the return trek to the village soon, she'd be caught in the middle. He had done enough stake-outs with normal soldiers to know that it wasn't a pleasant experience for them. She probably did not know it was approaching though. He eyed her a bit longer before coming to a decision and he pulled back from the Wall.

'Hello,' he said, moving slowly to not scare her. He had called her out from a fair distance to avoid frightening her too much, as most being responded poorly to him appearing within close proximity.

'Gah!' she screamed, trying to roll out from under the tarp, only to get her feet stuck in it and fumbling about clumsily.

'I do not mean harm,' he added hurriedly, seeing her reaction, holding the bag with tools away from him.

She finally managed to get out the tarp and looked at him, her eyes taking him and the bag in with curiosity, but he found no fear in them, although she did look away when she met his eyes directly, despite him wearing sunglasses.

'Harm? What? I... No, I just didn't hear you and jumped a bit,' she stammered.

He nodded. Soldiers who had dozed off while standing guard reacted similarly and given how tired she smelled, he wasn't surprised she had.

'You may want to consider returning to the village,' he suggested.

She crossed her arms in front of her chest and met his eyes again, defiantly this time. 'Why's that then?' she demanded.

He pointed to the clouds behind him. 'A storm is coming. I assumed you would rather not be caught in it.'

That seemed to deflate her and her arms fell to her sides. 'Oh.'

He nodded and walked past her, his movements unnatural. He hated walking slowly. He was used to running. Hell, he could crawl faster than this!

The girl acted surprised as he went past her, opening and closing her mouth a few times, before she grabbed the tarp and darted after him. 'Wait!' she shouted.

He held his pace, allowing her to catch up with him.

'Where are you going?' she asked.

'To the village.'

'Mind if I walk along with you then?'

He glanced at her. He wanted to establish friendly relations with the villagers, but this girl had ulterior motives. She was so bad at hiding the inflections in her voice though. It was hard to accept that as normal. That he was the odd one out. That not everyone went through counter-interrogation training.

He made an inviting gesture and she smiled warmly at him, throwing the tarp over her shoulder.

'I'm Leonne by the way. What's your name?'

'Dreamer.'

'Dreamer? That's a weird name. Why did your parents name you that way?'

Parents? The question had been asked so innocently, took him so utterly off guard that he faltered slightly in his step. 'They did not,' he replied, choosing honesty over a lie.

'Oh... Are you an orphan then?' she asked, before suddenly looking very uncomfortable. 'I mean... I'm sorry, I didn't mean...'

'An orphan?' he repeated the word, oblivious to the source of her distress. He pondered the word. He did not really have parents in the way she had, but was he really an orphan? The people who created him had never been far from him and his brothers. What was the honest answer in this case?

'Somewhat,' he said eventually. It was the most truthful thing he could say. 'I had people who took care of me. Not in the way of a father and mother though,' he elaborated.

'And they named you Dreamer?' Leonne asked, radiating relief at being able to return to the original topic.

'No,' he replied, thinking back of the name they had given him. X-12845623. 'My brothers did. We all named one another.'

'That is... strange. Why didn't the people who raised you name you? And why did they give you that name?'

He glanced at her. She seemed genuinely curious but he wasn't keen on revealing too much information about himself. If word got out to certain groups that he was living here, they'd come for him. He was still very much wanted, in too many ways. Sure, he wanted to establish friendly relations, but this girl was awfully insistent with her questions. Still, he sensed no ill will from her. She was very much upfront with everything, but her scent told him she was nervous.

'I am called Dreamer because I had dreams,' he said, thickening his voice enough to make clear that the subject was now closed. She took a minor step back, creating some distance between them.

They walked in silence for some time before the girl spoke up again. 'My name has two meanings!' she boasted proudly. 'It originates from the words lion and the Greek word for light! My parents named me that because even when I was born I was as fierce as a lion and I was born at the first light of the day!'

He stopped. It was so abrupt that Leonne had taken several more steps before she realised he wasn't next to her anymore. She turned and found him gazing at her and even though his eyes were hidden she could feel the surprise rolling of from him in waves.'Fierce?' he asked incredulously. 'You?'

'Yes!' she said, puffing her chest up, before it deflated slightly. 'Why?'

He merely shook his head and started walking again. 'I can understand the light, but are you sure the lion part is not simply coincidence?'

'I...' Her mouth fell open and she rushed to stand in front of him, her hand outstretched. He stopped. Her eyes were ablaze and he wondered what the cause of it was. 'Are you saying that I don't look fierce? That I look meek instead?'

He tilted his head, a quizzical look resting on his brows. 'No. I am not saying that you do not look fierce,' he started. She looked placated by that.

'I am saying that you are not.' He stepped past her, ignoring her outcries. 'You were easily frightened and fell over while laying under a simple tarp. I do not believe the word fierce is an apt description for you. Maybe you looked different when you were a child.'

'How dare you!' she screamed.

He turned around, confused what she was on about. Rage and indignation warred on the smaller human's face for supremacy. He could tell that she was considering striking him. He did not wonder if he should retaliate. He did wonder if he should let her. What would have worse consequences? Him dodging her hits and likely worsening he anger, or letting her hit him and discovering he was a lot tougher than a human had any right to be?

'What?' he asked, not aware of what had caused the sudden outburst. Nothing he had said had been a lie and surely she knew that she was anything but fierce.

In the end he decided on a third option and when she ran in screaming he had already taken out the appropriate countermeasures, so he simply held out the head of the shovel, catching her fist with it.

It did not calm her down.

'Stars, I was so furious with you then!' she said, laughing. He smiled as she went through his hair. They were nearing the parts of the fields they would plough today and he was carrying her on his shoulders.

'You have to admit that you are, by my definitions, not very fierce.'

She leaned over him and looked him in the face, roaring loudly.

'I'm glad you agree,' he stated, giving her a challenging smile and was promptly rewarded when she hit him softly on the head, having learned that he was about as hard as the shovel a long time ago.

She laughed as she started messing up his hair again.

'You, my husband dear, are an utter, utter ass.'