"I went to the angel, telling him to give me the little book. He said to me, 'Take it, and eat it up. It will make your stomach bitter, but in your mouth it will be as sweet as honey.'" -Revelations 10:9
The woman sat silently in the glowering dusk, her knees pulled up tight to her chest, arms clasped firmly around them. Her back rested snugly against the rough bark of the white birch, and she kept her head turned towards the small building hiding behind screens of wire fence and secretive trees. Occasionally she would open her mouth slightly, as though taking in a slow breath of winter's cold. Her dark, mottled jacket seemed unusually light for the below freezing weather, but perfect for camoflauge, as were her heavy cotton pants. She had tucked all her shining silver-blonde hair into a dark wool cap, and smeared her too-pale face with greens and browns and stormy greys.
Ten minutes passed as sunlight faded from solemn winter skies, and she did not move, as still as she had been for the past three hours. Eye like glacial ice remained focused on a fixed point, though she turned her head slowly at times, accompanying those wide-mouthed breaths. Gloved fingers rose to her ear, and she tapped twice on a small bud nestled warmly within the alabaster whorls.
"Five thirty six p.m.," spoke a tiny voice in the silent woman's ear, inaudible to any possible watchers. Her lips moved wordlessly, and those spooky eyes blinked once, twice, before her hand slid carefully down to the bag at her side. As she tilted her head to the side again, the odd proportions of her face came more into focus...her eyes too widely spaced, her forehead too high, brow ridge too pronounced. As her nimble fingers quested through the bag, she licked her lips, removing a surprising sheen of light sweat.
Her hand finally emerged holding a complex looking gadget, matte black and dangerous-as well as expensive-looking. One more dip into blackness, and much more ordinary pair of heavy duty wire clippers surfaced. With great care, she unfolded her body, revealing more inhuman proportions as she crawled agonizingly across the wet, leaf littered ground towards the fence. Standing, she would have measured over eight feet tall, and under the fitted camoflauge she appeared heavy, well-padded. She reached the fence after a careful thirteen minutes, and turned her head towards the black boxes stationed about fifteen feet within the perimeter.
A few arcane fumblings with the black boxy object, and she tucked it back into her bag. Then the work with the wire cutters began, snip after silent snip opening a hole into an unknown installation.
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