"You’re not Dougan Rose." The woman spoke in a husky voice, stating a fact, not a question. Jonathon looked at her, standing above him. Long straight black hair and dark eyes. Olive skin and the same black bodysuit with feathers he’d seen her wearing at the shooting range in Grandma’s Pharmacy-and Survival. Except now, the feathers were larger, like those of a massive bird, and woven into the fabric of her arms and legs. They covered her ears and head, making her look like an owl. Her name, he remembered, was Maria.