{"sf1_id":147503,"sf2_id":"7ejbqZLe","title":"Aftermath - Opportunity","author":"SrA havenofimage","words":2310,"posted_at":"2010-05-20T11:47:00.000Z","tags":["Guns","Hare","Memories","Otter","Snow Leopard","Story Series","sports"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/147503-aftermath-opportunity","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/7ejbqZLe","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/a3/a3/a3a38c55-2b51-4970-b9ea-ddac86c9da2c","description":"#3 of Aftermath","content":"\u0026nbsp;\n\n\"Hello?\u0026nbsp; May I speak to Mr. Eryn Snow?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"This is him.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Good afternoon sir.\u0026nbsp; My name is Larry Grantham.\u0026nbsp; I'm the president of the National Athletic Federation.\u0026nbsp; We had scouts at nationals and I would like to talk to you about one of your team members.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Really!\u0026nbsp; Who?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"It was your senior, Ryan Anderson.\u0026nbsp; If he is interested, we'd like to invite him to shoot for the national team.\u0026nbsp; We're not allowed to make initial contact with athletes so do you think you could inform him for us?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Definitely sir.\u0026nbsp; I'll let him know.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Thank you Mr. Snow.\u0026nbsp; I hope to be in contact with you soon.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; The phone clicked off.\u0026nbsp; I was still astonished that they were recruiting Ryan for the national team.\u0026nbsp; I needed to call him.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Ryan, this is coach Eryn.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"What is it coach?\u0026nbsp; Was there a problem with my final project?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"No, it's nothing like that.\u0026nbsp; Do you think you can come down to the shop later today?\u0026nbsp; I have a bit of good news you may be interested in, but I'd rather tell you in person.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Sure thing coach.\u0026nbsp; I'll see you around one if that's alright.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I hung up the phone and grabbed my keys.\u0026nbsp; I had just been preparing to leave when the phone had rang.\u0026nbsp; I pulled myself into the car and drove to my small shop in town.\u0026nbsp; As always, my assistant Jason, a chipmunk, had opened the shop.\u0026nbsp; I usual didn't arrive until around eleven but I knew I could count on him to get the doors unlocked by nine.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Ah, Eryn, good thing you arrived.\u0026nbsp; A new shipment just came in and they need you to sign for it personally.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Alright.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I wheeled through the store room where the double garage doors were open and a delivery truck sat pulled up to them.\u0026nbsp; An older greyhound leaned against the side of the truck smoking.\u0026nbsp; He turned to me and spoke with the cigarette protruding from between his lips.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"You Eryn Snow?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Yes.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Sign here please.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; He handed me a small data pad.\u0026nbsp; I took the stylus and signed my name on the line before handing the pad back to him.\u0026nbsp; He patted a stack of five crates that were on the ground just outside.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"They're all yours.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; He climbed into the truck and drove off.\u0026nbsp; I inspected the large, secure, boxes.\u0026nbsp; I had been expecting a small delivery, but no more than two, maybe three packages.\u0026nbsp; I opened the crates one by one to inspect their contents.\u0026nbsp; The first two held my order.\u0026nbsp; When I opened the third, I found the top covered with packing paper with a note sitting on it.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Hey Eryn, if you've got everything handled here, I'm going to go run some errands.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Sure Jason.\u0026nbsp; I'll be fine.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I picked up the note and read over it.\n\nDear Valued Customer Eryn Snow,\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Due to your continued and loyal business with us, I wish to give you a small gift as a token of my thanks and an offering for future business relationships.\u0026nbsp; The contents of these boxes are concept pieces and have not been put into production.\u0026nbsp; These are for your personal collection which I here is quite exquisite and hope to see some day.\u0026nbsp; In the mean time, I hope these will augment its impressive contents.\u0026nbsp; My only request is that you do not sell, or display these to the general public as I do not wish for my designs to be viewed by just anyone.\u0026nbsp; I hope you understand.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Dr. Trace Easterling\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; CEO, Easterling Quakenbush Defense Solutions\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I set the note aside and pulled back the paper.\u0026nbsp; Of all the things I could have imagined being in this crate, I had never guessed this.\u0026nbsp; It contained a beautiful sniper rifle.\u0026nbsp; I lifted it gingerly from its protective housing and inspected every inch of it, admiring the metal and composite surfaces.\u0026nbsp; It wasn't so much a weapon as a piece of art.\u0026nbsp; Strangely enough, it felt and looked familiar, as if I had seen it and shot it somewhere else.\u0026nbsp; That couldn't be the case though.\u0026nbsp; I would have remembered ever handling a rifle like this.\u0026nbsp; I looked down the scope, the pistol grip fitting my paw perfectly and my cheek resting against the perfect position on the spot weld.\u0026nbsp; The balance made it easy to handle and I held it perfectly steady in one hand.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I read an engraving on the stock near the bolt.\u0026nbsp; KH Custom VSR.\u0026nbsp; I lifted the layer the rifle had been sitting in.\u0026nbsp; Beneath it in rows were barrels, stock pieces, but plates, scopes, muzzle breaks and suppressors, bolts, chambers, what looked like a set up to make the rifle semiautomatic, and rail sensors.\u0026nbsp; It looked like everything on this rifle was interchangeable down to the last screw.\u0026nbsp; I had never seen anything like this before, not even in the military reports I read to keep an eye on upcoming technology that may be civilianized.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; As I looked down the barrel of the rifle, a series of images flashed through my mind.\u0026nbsp; I was lying on the ground at a training range shooting a target far down range.\u0026nbsp; I swiveled in a tower tracking a moving target during a drill.\u0026nbsp; I scoped in on the black haired head of an arctic fox.\u0026nbsp; I squeezed the trigger and he collapse, the window in front of him splattered with blood.\u0026nbsp; My cross hairs sat on the head of a black eagle with a line of red feathers on his back.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I opened my eyes and looked around.\u0026nbsp; I was sitting in the door to my shop's store room and I had a pounding head ache.\u0026nbsp; I placed everything carefully back into the box and closed the lid.\u0026nbsp; I opened the second box.\u0026nbsp; It contained an advanced looking bullpup carbine with some variable equipment for it.\u0026nbsp; This one, the SAT 5, I knew was in limited use by military special forces.\u0026nbsp; Next to this in the box however was a pair of strange looking sub machine guns.\u0026nbsp; These were tagged as a C Series SMG.\u0026nbsp; No idea what that was all about.\u0026nbsp; Interesting design though.\u0026nbsp; They were mirrors of each other and used an advanced horizontal feed system.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I finally opened the last box.\u0026nbsp; This one was much heavier and seemed to be made from a stronger material.\u0026nbsp; When I opened it I found out why.\u0026nbsp; The crate was loaded to the brim with ammunition that must be special for all of these weapons.\u0026nbsp; I pulled out a box a random and extracted a ten centimeter long round for the sniper rifle.\u0026nbsp; Turning it over, I read the stamp on the bottom.\u0026nbsp; EQ 107 .343 cal.\u0026nbsp; The door signal for the shop buzzed taking me away from my inspection.\u0026nbsp; I put everything away carefully and locked the crates before turning and heading back to the shop's interior.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Ryan was standing there looking over a rack of target and biathlon rifles.\u0026nbsp; He turned to me and pointed at a pair of rifles.\u0026nbsp; They were colored differently but other than that identical.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"These the new eighty o twos?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Sure are.\u0026nbsp; I used out grant money to help purchase a set for the A squad next year.\u0026nbsp; The B team will get the old eight thousands.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Lucky bastards.\u0026nbsp; I wish I got a chance to shoot them next season.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"I suspect you'll get a chance to shoot better than these next season.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"What are you talking about?\u0026nbsp; These are top of the line.\u0026nbsp; To get better you'd have to almost go custom.\u0026nbsp; There's no way my college team will be able to afford that, and I know I can't.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Perhaps not, but the national team could.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"What!\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"I got a call this morning form a certain Larry Grantham, president of The National Athletic Federation.\u0026nbsp; He was looking at recruiting you for the national team.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Ryan stared at me, speechless.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"If you're interested, I've made arrangements for bus tickets for the two of us.\u0026nbsp; They want to talk to you down in Raleigh where the National World Games training center is.\u0026nbsp; What do you think?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"What do I think?\u0026nbsp; Of course I'll go.\u0026nbsp; I can't believe they want me to try out for the national team.\u0026nbsp; Most of those shooters are ex military snipers.\u0026nbsp; When do we go?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Tomorrow.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Awesome.\u0026nbsp; I'm going to run home to pack!\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I smiled as he ran out.\u0026nbsp; I knew how he felt.\u0026nbsp; After high school, I had been offered a position on the national biathlon team, but I had turned it down for... for what?\u0026nbsp; I couldn't remember.\u0026nbsp; As I thought that, I became surprised that I could even remember something from my high school years.\u0026nbsp; This had to be a first as far as I knew.\u0026nbsp; As hard as I tried though, I couldn't remember anything else.\u0026nbsp; On top of that, the strain had turned my head ache into a migraine.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; The next day Ryan and I caught the buss out of the mountains.\u0026nbsp; Strictly speaking, I didn't need to go, but we both felt it would be better if I was there for guidance and reference.\u0026nbsp; The ride took slightly over two hours.\u0026nbsp; I would have driven myself, but with my condition, it was illegal for me to have passengers, and there was no reason for Ryan to put the miles on his car.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; When we arrived, I told the receptionist at the visitor's center that we were here for a meeting with Mr. Grantham.\u0026nbsp; The doe got up and walked to a back room.\u0026nbsp; She returned and informed us he would be right out.\u0026nbsp; Fifteen minutes later, a black panther stepped in through the large entry doors.\u0026nbsp; He walked up to us.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Ah, Mr. Snow, glad to meet you in person.\u0026nbsp; I'm Larry Grantham.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; He extended his paw to me.\u0026nbsp; I grasped it firmly.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Nice to meet you sir.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"And you must be Ryan.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; They shook as well.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Thank you for considering me sir.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; He lead us to a conference room where he and the head coach of the marksmanship team, a dingo, talked about the commitment, schedules, sacrifices, and rewards of joining the team.\u0026nbsp; I listened to all the chatter.\u0026nbsp; After two hours of talking, Larry took Ryan on a full tour of all the training facilities, leaving the dingo in the room with me.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Sorry, I don't think we were introduced, I'm Tristan.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"I'm Eryn.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"I know, I saw you at nationals.\u0026nbsp; That's quite the squad you've got.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Thank you.\u0026nbsp; I'm very proud of them.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"You should be.\u0026nbsp; You've done a good job coaching them.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"I may have done some but, you know, you can't teach a def rabbit to hear.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Well, I'm sure you did more than you're giving yourself credit for.\u0026nbsp; Even the sharpest eyed eagle needs to be taught what to look for.\u0026nbsp; I have an idea of what to look for too.\u0026nbsp; Just out of curiosity, would you be at all interested in a coaching position?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"I've got a pretty good position where I'm at, and I'd hate to desert my team back home, but if the chance arose, I'd have to consider it.\u0026nbsp; In high school I was offered a slot for the national biathlon team and turned it down.\u0026nbsp; Can't really remember why, it was all before the accident, but I'd hate to make the same mistake twice.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Indeed, well, I'll keep you in mind.\u0026nbsp; By the way, do you want to look around a bit?\u0026nbsp; You don't need an escort, but I could give you a trainer pass and you could give yourself a private, back scene tour.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"I'd like that.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; He handed me a white card key.\u0026nbsp; We said our farewells and he went one way, and I went the other.\u0026nbsp; I rolled through the halls for half an hour.\u0026nbsp; I watched a martial arts practice, looked at the fencing mats, inspected the shooting range and looked into the racquet ball courts.\u0026nbsp; I made my way down to the massive pool and diving center.\u0026nbsp; I watched through a large glass window below water level as swimmers propelled themselves back and forth across the expanse.\u0026nbsp; Finally I decided it was probably time to go back and meet up with Ryan.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; As I passed a door marked athletes only, a slim, red haired, otter walked out and turned down the hall going the opposite direction as me.\u0026nbsp; I moved my chair over to get out of her way, but other than that didn't take much notice of the stranger.\u0026nbsp; I was about to open the door leading to the main hallway when someone shouted out from the far end of the corridor.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Kirian!\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I opened the doors and rolled though.\u0026nbsp; The sound of running footfalls filled the hall behind me.\u0026nbsp; The doors swung shut and almost as soon burst back open.\u0026nbsp; Startled by the noise I wheeled around.\u0026nbsp; I saw the same otter I had passed in the hall.\u0026nbsp; Why did she look so familiar?\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Kirian?\u0026nbsp; By the gods, it is you!\u0026nbsp; I knew you hadn't died eight years ago like they said!\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; She ran up and flung her arms around me.\u0026nbsp; I rolled backwards and pushed her off.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Whoa lady!\u0026nbsp; I don't know who you think I am, but I'm not that person.\u0026nbsp; My name's Eryn and nobody said I had died.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; She looked at me, sadness filling her expression.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Oh Kirian, what have they done to you?\"\n\n  \n  \n\n","series":{"name":"Aftermath","previous":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/147020-aftermath-intermission.json","next":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/147963-aftermath-mysteries.json"}}