Kim Possible and others are still owned by Disney and it still vexes me so.
This is a tale of Kim and Ron in an A/U; just how A/U youll find out as this goes on.
All the thanks at my disposal go out to CajunBear 73 and his mad beta skills. You just dont do this stuff all by yourself.
In Dreams he Comes.
Deep green eyes squinted, narrowed with the intense concentration she was known for as she dodged between the birch and oak trees in front of her; just one step away from her pursuers. Lightning quick reflexes, sharpened by countless battles, enabled her to dodge and duck around obstacles that would have trapped a lesser person. The deepening gloom made her mad dash through this thick forest even more difficult. Obstacles easily avoided in the daylight became hidden in the shadows ready to trip the unwary.
The haunting cry of the pack split the twilight. She gathered up her flagging strength and pushed herself harder. Her legs pumped with the challenge to go faster, demanding more of her limited endurance and the last of her reserves. The sweat dripped into her eyes, despite the nights chill. Her lungs burned with the effort to keep moving, always moving.
A low rumble in the West caught her attention; despite her current sitch.
Please, Please, She pleaded, Let it rain!
She clung to that one hope like a drowning man, hanging on with anticipation that almost bordered on obsession.
Rain, Rain, She mentally chanted, Rain to wash away my scent. Rain to muddy the trail.
Rain to cool an overheated body pushed way beyond its limits by her unnatural hunters.
Rain, Rain. She silently chanted.
No one praying for a miracle to save a loved one or asking for salvation from a forgiving or loving deity put as much effort into their pleas as Kimberly Anne Possible did for rain.
Kim burst into a clearing and slowed to a stop, just as lightning split the sky above her; a dramatic answer to her fervent hopes.
The sound drew nearer; almost on top of her. Kim surveyed the clearing rapidly, drew her grapple gun and fired just as the first of her hunters burst into the clearing; the small, but surprisingly robust, motor in her gun pulled her body rapidly up into the trees crown.
She watched from the safety of her high vantage point as the first, of what had been following her, and now filled the space below her tree.
They were long and lean covered in course fur with patches of skin showing through.
They walked slightly upright but hunched over, their spines were distorted, misshapen; only allowing them to run with a lope that was more efficient than it looked. They turned, as one, to stare up into the canopy of t...