Chase prowled around the store, crouching behind clothing racks and display shelves as she tracked her prey. The unnoticing girl stopped to look at some jewelry. Chase crept closer. This was it. Her chance to strike. She looked around for a weapon and found one in a sharp, stiletto heel.

“There you are!” said Lindsey, walking over. “Going straight for the shoes, huh? I think you and me will get along just fine.” She raised her voice. “She's over here!”

Caitlin and Alicia caught up with them, while Chase's prey left for a different store. Chase watched her go and gave a disappointed sigh.

“Wow, those are some cute heels!” remarked Alicia. “You have good taste in shoes, Chase!”

Chase looked down curiously at the weapon in her hand. “Shoo?”

“Yep, that's right, shoe. You know, for your feet?” asked Lindsey. “Don't they have shoes in the woods?”

Once they got Chase to sit down and try them on, though, it became clear that they didn't. Her feet were heavily calloused from a life of running around barefoot.

“Yikes,” said Lindsey. “Maybe we should do the pedi next after all.” Alicia nodded grimly.

Once the shoes were on her, however, they looked very good.

“Oh, wow! They're so you!” praised Alicia.

“How cute!” admitted Caitlin.

Chase looked at the funny things that had been strapped to her feet. “Coot?” she repeated, hopelessly lost.

“No, cute,” clarified Caitlin. “It means... I dunno, pretty and sweet.”

Chase had assumed it meant “good luck trying to run or hunt in these, ha ha.” The girls insisted on the heels, but Chase was very grateful when they picked out a pair of much more practical sneakers to compliment them.

From there they moved on to picking out outfits. The girls plucked a few from the potpourri of tops and bottoms available to them, each carefully coordinated with the cheerleaders' fullest expertise. Chase was uninterested, however. She knew these clothes would be difficult to run and hunt in as well.

“Jeez, you're picky,” complained Lindsey, after Chase declined the latest look. She pulled a pair of Daisy Dukes off the rack. “How about the beige with the distressed denim?”

“Oh no no no. Nothing distressed,” said Alicia, taking it from her. “We're trying to CLEAN HER UP, remember?”

“I'M trying to make her wicked hot,” replied Lindsey.

“Well, I mean, me too, in a sense,” said Alicia. “But, I mean, classy hot. Don't forget, we're picking out a disguise here, too. We need to make her look as unferal as possible so no one suspects who she really is. Distressed denim... it's a little feral. I'm just saying.”

“Can we just pick something and go?” asked Caitlin nervously.

“Now now, Caitlin, fashion is an art,” scolded Lindsey. “You can't rush art.”

“Truly spoken like someone who hasn't turned in an essay on time all year.”

“Excuse me, what is your friend doing?” interrupted a salesperson as politely as he could. They looked over. Chase was gnawing on a mannequin's head.

“Aaaah!” they shouted.

Immediately they jumped into action. Alicia and Lindsey grabbed Chase's arms and struggled to pry her off, while Caitlin gave a really fake laugh. “Ha ha ha haha! What's she doing, you ask? Why, nothing out of the ordinary for a healthy young teenage girl to-”

“She's in basketball!” blurted Lindsey.

The salesperson looked at Chase skeptically, who was still sniffing at the mannequin as Alicia and Lindsey finally managed to wrestle her away. “...Basketball.”

“Y-y-yeah! You know how it is! Athletes are very superstitious!” added Lindsey. She waited.

They all waited. “What does that have to do with anything?” the salesperson finally asked.

“Gotta go!” answered Alicia. They dragged Chase away to a different section of the store.

They let Chase go and caught their breath. “Wow. That was close,” panted Lindsey.

“Basketball,” scolded Caitlin. “SERIOUSLY, Lindsey. BASKETBALL.”

“It was all I could think of!” she said defensively.

“Next time you can only think of one thing, calm down and wait until you have at least three, and then pick the best one,” said Caitlin.

Chase was still curious about the strange, immobile person who neither bled nor screamed, but when she saw the articles of clothing that surrounded her, she forgot all about it.

Dresses! They were in the dress section! Dresses of all types, colors and patterns hung around them. This was much more her thing. These garments, particularly the short ones, definitely looked like they'd allow a much fuller range of movement.

Plus, in addition to her arguments for practicality, the savage also had to admit she found them... rather pretty. Turning a bit red, she began carefully looking through the racks.

“Hey, quiet, you two! It looks like she found something she likes!” whispered Alicia excitedly. Caitlin and Lindsey abruptly ceased their bickering and turned to watch their new friend experience her very first shopping spree. Chase perused the dresses with eyes full of wonder, picking out a couple maybes here and there.

“Ah, that goldenrod would look so cute on her! Strictly adorbs!” praised Alicia from the sidelines.

“True, true. I like that fuchsia sheath. Very elegant,” commented Caitlin.

“See, Cait?” asked Lindsey. “There was no need to worry about Chase. She doesn't want to do any harm.”

Caitlin looked at the blonde, stooping girl, who was browsing just out of earshot now. Lindsey continued. “She's just a normal girl, like us.”

“Maybe you're right.”

Suddenly, Chase dropped all the maybes she was holding. She pulled a dress off the rack with trembling hands.

Thigh-length and sleeveless with a conservative neckline, white with a blue floral pattern.

This was it. The one.

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“Whoa, that's so you!” gushed Lindsey.

“Humble, but playful. Not to mention, very non-feral!” adjudged Alicia. “You HAVE to try this one on!”

Chase looked at her. “Try on?”

Caitlin pointed at a sign that read “Dressing Rooms.” “They have some little booths where you can try on clothes before you buy them to see what you think. Come on, let's get you into one!”

Just as they were leaving, however, a hand fell onto the dress, firmly grabbing the wire hanger.

“Aha!” said the hand's owner, a businesswoman who looked to be in her early thirties. “I thought they were all out of these! Must be my lucky day!”

“Uh, exCUSE me?” accused Alicia. “This dress is already spoken for, lady.”

The woman turned up her nose at them. “Hmph! Spoken for? Don't make me laugh. I've been looking everywhere for this dress. Go find another one.”

Lindsey grabbed onto the hanger as well, lending some strength to Chase's side of the tug-of-war. “I think you're in the wrong place, MA'AM. This store doesn't offer a senior discount.”

“Wow. Uncalled for,” said Caitlin.

The woman looked furious. “E-excuse me?! What did you just say to me, you little brat?”

A salesperson quickly intervened. “Is there a problem?” she asked diplomatically.

“I'LL say there's a problem,” said the woman with a huff. “I was just about to go try on this dress when these troublemaking kids came along and tried to snatch it out of my hand!”

The cheerleaders were shocked. “That's not true, ma'am!” insisted Alicia. “Our friend Chase here was the first one to it! This lady tried to take it from her!”

The salesperson looked like she wasn't sure who to believe. She looked at Chase. “Is that true, ma'am?”

Chase wasn't one-hundred percent sure what was happening. She guardedly met the salesperson's gaze, keeping her defenses up. “Coot? Shoo?” She guessed.

Alicia stepped in, putting a caring, protective arm around Chase's shoulders. “Sorry, miss. She doesn't speak much English.”

Caitlin's voice became downtrodden, as she cast a weary glance at the dress. “She left her home country to escape conflict... but it seems to have followed her even here.”

“Aw,” the salesperson sympathized.

The thirtysomething woman snorted. “Look here, I'm a very important woman. A professional. I make a lot of money, and I spend a lot of money at this store. If I want this dress, I shall have it, or I'll take my business elsewhere.”

The salesperson looked a little scared by this threat. Lindsey, however, was not impressed at all, and decided to weigh in. “Who cares if she takes her business elsewhere? She's hurting your image anyway. You want young, pretty people in your store. We're the ones who set the trends, we're the ones who have our fingers on the pulse of chic. We're your REAL bread and butter.” She smiled haughtily. “If you don't let our friend have this dress...” she looked thoughtful, “...at twenty percent off, we'll never come back, and we'll tell all our young, pretty friends that this store isn't cool anymore.”

The salesperson calmly weighed the two arguments for a moment, then looked at the businesswoman. “I'm sorry, ma'am, but it sounds to me like these girls found the dress first.” Chase was learning a lot today.

The businesswoman could feel the dress slipping away. “I... I refuse to accept this! I demand to speak to your manager!”

This seemed to come as a great relief to the salesperson. “Of course. Just a moment, please!”

She hurried off. Chase and the businesswoman did not dare relax, however, staring each other down while they held fast to the clothes hanger.

“Calling the manager. The last act of a desperate woman,” gloated Alicia. “I've been in enough of these department store tug-of-wars to know.”

“Just hang in there, Chase. This'll all be over soon,” agreed Lindsey. Chase nodded determinedly.

The woman returned with her manager and explained the situation to him. “I see,” he said. “Well, I suppose we could always check the surveillance cameras to see who really found it first.”

“Aha! Haha!” the thirtysomething laughed shakily. “No need to go to all that trouble! Why don't we just flip a coin for it?”

“Notice how she brought up flipping a coin as soon as you suggested something that would definitively prove which of us is telling the truth,” said Caitlin. “Doesn't that seem a bit suspicious to you?”

The manager thought about it. “Not in the slightest! Call it in the air!” he cheerfully decided, taking a coin out of his pocket and flipping it.

“Heads!” shouted the businesswoman. Chase growled at the coin, trying to ascertain its function. The manager counted this as her calling 'tails'. He caught the coin and revealed it. It was heads.

“Noooo!” the cheerleaders shouted.

“Oh yes,” gloated the businesswoman. She yanked the dress out of Chase's stunned hands. “I'll be taking that now, if you don't mind.”

They did mind, but there was nothing they could do about it. With heavy hearts, they watched her take a victory march over to the dressing rooms.

“Sorry, Chase. I guess it wasn't meant to be,” apologized Alicia.

Chase didn't really understand why she didn't have the dress anymore, but it made her very sad. She put on a bold face, though, and gave an indifferent shrug.

“Just dress,” she said, holding back some of the forlornness in her voice, but not all of it.

“We're very sorry for the inconvenience, ma'am. If you'd like, we can put one on backorder for you,” said the manager.

“Nah, that's okay. We'll find something else,” said Lindsey. “Come on Chase, let's- Aah!”

Chase was gone.

“This is going to become a regular thing, isn't it?” sighed Caitlin.

…..

The businesswoman was grinning ear to ear as she closed and locked the door of her dressing booth. “I sure showed them,” she muttered smugly to herself, taking the dress off its hanger. “There's no way a bunch of immature teenagers are going to outwit me.”

There was a bench in the dressing room, and a floor mirror. By the door was a hat rack. As she tossed the hanger on one of its branches, she heard a loud knock.

She turned to face the mirror. “Somebody's in here!” she called absently, watching her reflection as she began unbuttoning her suit jacket.

As she removed her jacket and put it on the rack, another knock rapped through the small room, louder and sharper this time.

“I said somebody's in here!” she repeated, annoyed.

Her guest retorted with a third string of knocks, even crisper and more impatient than before.

Angrily, she turned and unlocked the door. “What are you, deaf? I said somebo-” As she threw it open, she fell silent. No one was there.

“Hello?” she called, looking around. She frowned.

She closed the door again, and relocked it. “Stupid kids,” she muttered, turning back to the mirror. She jumped in shock. There was Chase!

“Wh-what?” she exclaimed. “How'd you get in here?” Then, she looked up. Of course. These booths didn't have ceilings.

Recovering from her initial shock, she put a hand on her hip and smirked. “Heh. Looking for this?” She held up the dress with her other hand. “It's mine now, kid. Get over it.”

And then, she felt a sharp pain in her arm. “Aaah!” she cried, dropping the dress immediately. She looked down, and saw she was bleeding. A thin, ugly cut had been carved down her arm to the back of her hand. Dark blood oozed from the wound in ladles, thick and heavy.

It had happened so fast, it took her a moment to piece things together. Chase had lifted the wire hanger from the hat stand and cut her with it, all in one smooth, expert motion.

Her other hand flew to the cut and put pressure on it in an attempt to stop the bleeding. “Wh-what the... what the hell is wrong with you?!” she demanded.

Slash! Chase's hand flew forward again, this time aiming at her head. The woman dodged, but the metal hook was able to open a second cut on her cheek.

The woman's panicked hands found the lock. She fumbled it open and threw the door open wide. She dashed out into the store. “Help!” she cried. “Some nutjob's attacking me!”

Chase scowled at her own carelessness. She knew she had to act fast, before her prey drew too much attention. With nimble resourcefulness, she deftly straightened the hook of the hanger into a point, then hurled it like a throwing axe. It spun through the air, and then...

SHUNK. It buried itself into the back of the businesswoman's head.

Chase calmly watched the woman stop in her tracks. She did not scream or cry out in pain; she just raised trembling hands to futilely grope the air behind her head, her punctured brain trying to figure out what happened in its dying seconds.

Then, the woman fell limply forward, thudding facedown onto the linoleum floor. Her hands stopped moving, lying still at her side. She was dead.