She was floating through the nothing. It was the same today as it had been for... well a long damn time now. She could remember everything, but none of it mattered. She'd been stripped of all her pride and dignity, forced into a contraption of some sort by brutish men who claimed to be soldiers, following the orders of some despicable man in a white coat and glasses, and then she'd been enshrouded in the dark. If time was any indication, she assumed she'd been long forgotten.
Suddenly she feels an unseen presence nearby, obscured by whatever it is that holds her prisoner, and as she had on the rare occasion that it had happened before, she summons all she can muster and sends out a telepathic cry of 'help'.
Her hopes are lifted a moment later, when she feels the presence coming closer, seemingly having heard her. She hears a noise like a buzz or whir, and then suddenly feels very cold.
“Cold.” Caipora mumbled as she regains consciousness on the floor of the warehouse, the box that had been her prison for more than a decade, lay ripped open a few feet away. She shivers a couple times and her eyes drift open.
She blinks a couple times, unmoving as she stares at the ceiling, and then turns her head slightly to find a shadowy figure standing over her, and snaps up into a sitting position.
“W-who are you?” Caipora stutters, her teeth chattering still from having been submerged in some kind of liquid that had filled the interior of the box. “W-w-where am I?”
Funny how simply taking a walk could turn into something more. That’s what Oz was doing. Taking a walk through the Sunnydale woods. Familiarizing himself with the terrain and mentally mapping out the quickest routes from his place to others. Well that and sometimes he just liked it out here. Liked wandering among the trees and his own thoughts with no real destination in mind. He reached up snagging a leaf from a low hanging branch as he passed under and idly ran the bit of foliage between his fingers. When a soft breeze brushed against his face he had to pause. “Willow?” Oz looked around for any sign of the red-headed witch but did not see anyone. His nose flared once again taking in that scent mingled with the earthy scents of the woods. Her scent was faint, but not too far off.
Letting his nose lead the way he veered left, her scent growing stronger telling him he was on the right path. He stopped on top a steep bank looking down through the vegetation. A flash of red among the green. There. From this vantage point he saw Willow, his presence seeming unknown to her. She was studying some sort of entrance.
-You can do this Willow- his sensitive ears picked up her soft words. Do what? What was in there. He looked back to the entrance and suddenly it hit. Eyes widened and the hairs on his neck stood on end. “No.” Images flashed through his mind. Unpleasant images. Being dragged from a cell. Being strapped down to a cold metal table. Faces hovering overhead. Something bad was going to happen, they were going to hurt him but he couldn’t get away, couldn’t move. Pain. Pain everywhere. Fire blazing through his nerves. The Initiative.
Oz was pulled back from these memories when he saw Willow about to take a step forward through the entrance. That movement broke him from his trance.
“No!” His shout came through the trees and he rushed forward, half running half sliding down the embankment. He skidded to a stop at the bottom and hurried to Willow concern evident on his face. Seeing the usually stoic Oz even this worked up was unusual. “Where are you going? This place is bad. You shouldn’t be here.” He stopped next to Willow waiting for an answer and it better be a good one. The wolf had half a mind to just grab her, drag her away from this place. If there was a good reason? Well no way was he going to let her go into that place alone.