Disclaimer: I don't own Animorphs, or their relatives.

Jordan.

Hi. My name's Jordan. I'm a twelve-year old girl from America, I live out in the woods, and occasionally I turn into a sparrowhawk.

I was angry. Very angry.

See, a while ago –not really all that long at all –my cousin, Tom, grabbed me and my sister Sara out of our house. Our house was about to fall down. People were shooting at it. Tom grabbed us and got us out. He didn't get Mom out.

Mom didn't die.

You've probably heard how Tom did the rest of it –gave us the morphing power, helped us get bird morphs, and finally faked our deaths by causing an explosion.

You've probably not heard that I watched my family being infested. My mother and my older sister, Rachel. Way above them, in sparrowhawk morph, I watched them being dragged to the Yeerk pool and having their heads shoved under the sludge.

I watched it. You see, I wanted to know, very specifically, what they'd done to my family. Not because I enjoyed it. Because I wanted to pay them back.

That's why I was angry at Tom.

Well, that and the fact that he'd been dragging me about the woods for however long. Probably about a week. That's a week with no beds, no proper clothing, no cooked food, no clean water, and no comfort in general.

"I want to fight," I told him. "I saw what they did to Mom and Rachel. I want to fight."

"No," he said again.

"What, you're going to fight them all on your own?"

"You might end up dead, Jordan!"

I laughed bitterly. "Oh, yeah, like that's going to happen."

"It's very likely, as it happens –"

"I don't care! You do it, you fight them!"

Tom looked at Sara, who was sleeping. "Jordan, be quiet. You'll wake her up."

My eyes narrowed. "And that's all you care about. Keeping Sara safe." I stood up. "I'm –to the Devil with this!"

I stalked away, morphing to sparrowhawk as I went. I heard Tom coming after me. Well, let him. He'd never catch me. I took wing and flew.

I didn't go above the trees. I stayed low instead, weaving in and out. It's the kind of thing that a sparrowhawk's good at, being a woodland hunter. They're fast and agile, good at manoeuvring, although they can do proper high flying as well. I liked that speed. It made me feel like a proper hunter as I dodged around the trees. Tom's gyrfalcon morph was not so nimble; he'd have to fly high to look for me.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a sparrow. The sparrowhawk brain wanted it, but I quickly overruled the instinct. I had bigger prey to hunt.

Alien prey.

I flew and flew for what might have been hours. Far away from the family I had left. Far away from Tom and Sara, and the blue box we carried with us.

Suddenly, ahead of me! A glimpse of yellow through the trees. I flared my wings and slowed, flying closer. Another glimpse of yellow, a hissing voice –

Taxxon! I landed on a branch before it could spot my movement.

Wait…not a Taxxon. There were three, four…six of them in all. They were accompanied by something I hadn't seen at first, since they blended in. Two, four Hork-Bajir warriors were with them.

I wanted to attack. Oh, man, I wanted to attack.

Unfortunately, sparrowhawks are not the greatest predators of the natural world. They have sharp talons and beaks, but basically you're talking a brown and grey bird a couple of feet across against something two metres tall with up to thirteen blades attached.

So I did something else, instead. I watched. See, those aliens had got my curiosity up. What were they doing out here in the woods? I wanted to know. Maybe it'd be useful. Maybe it'd be something I could use to get Rachel back.

They were moving west, more or less, according to my rather vague sense of direction. They weren't going particularly fast –I could fly faster, no sweat –but unfortunately they'd soon notice a sparrowhawk flying after them. Luckily for me, there was another option.

I flew away from them –far enough that they wouldn't hear or see me easily. I landed. Demorphed. And I morphed again, to a different animal.

I grew grey fur. My arms and legs sucked in. A tail sprouted. I was morphing a squirrel.

The morph seemed to take far too long. I was impatient. I wanted to get after those Taxxons and Hork-Bajir, and every second I was morphing I lost time on them. I'd have to catch them up once I was morphed, and I was not looking forward to it.

Then I was done. And, just as I was looking around for a tree to climb, the squirrel brain surfaced.

YAAAAHH!

You have to understand: The only thing I'd morphed so far was a sparrowhawk. I'd picked up the squirrel DNA, the way I acquire anything that might be useful, but I hadn't actually morphed a squirrel before.

So, I was totally unprepared for the crazy squirrel brain.

The squirrel freaked out. Before I knew it, I was zooming across the dirt like an out-of-control car. I jinked and scurried and ran over tree roots, with what was left of the human me trying frantically to get a grip.

Tree! I stopped. Straight stop. I went from what felt like the speed of sound to not moving in about a second. I sat up. I looked at the tree. I ran up the tree. Fast. Ever seen a squirrel climb a tree? I did that.

Finally, with a struggle, I regained control. At that point, however, I had completely lost my orientation. I had no idea where the Yeerks were.

"Srreeeee sssshhweee!"

Oh. Right beneath me.

Well, that was good. I edged over the bough and looked down. Yep, there was a Taxxon. And there was a Hork-Bajir. Still just walking along. Easy enough for me to follow, though I had to make quite a few detours trying to find branches.

We went along, my alien friends and I, still heading –as far as I could tell –straight west. I entertained myself by imagining what I would do to them if I got the opportunity. I have a good imagination. The running and climbing –which the squirrel brain didn't mind at all –helped a bit. It felt so cool!

To my surprise, the little alien entourage stopped suddenly. I wasn't ready, and eventually came to a stop two or three branches ahead of them. When I'd got my balance back and sorted my directions out, I watched them inquisitively.

They weren't doing anything, as far as I could tell. They just stood there, like they were waiting for something. Or maybe waiting for someone.

Then…footsteps! Someone crunching through the leaves. I jerked my head sharply. Who was it? What was it? I peered down at the group with my beady little eyes.

Crunch, crunch. Thump.

The human came to a stop beneath me. That was bad. I couldn't see properly what they looked like –what he looked like, because it was a guy. All I could see of him was a bit of his shoulders and the top of his head. Kind of like what people look like to a bird, only blurrier.

I could tell that this guy was who the Controllers had been waiting for. They all straightened up, standing at attention.

"Well?" the human said, with a weirdly familiar voice. "Have you found any sign of them?"

"No, Visser," one of the Hork-Bajir replied. "No narhat sign."

"Idiots!" the man snapped. "Over twenty Hork-Bajir, over twenty escaped hosts, and you can't find them? They should stand out, shouldn't they?"

I frowned. Well, inside my mind I frowned. It's not easy to frown with a squirrel face. I was trying to understand. Twenty Hork-Bajir? Escaped hosts? Hork-Bajir that weren't Controllers, but were free?

Free Hork-Bajir…

These Yeerks were looking for free Hork-Bajir. They were hunting escaped hosts. That didn't sit too well with me. To my mind, anyone who's been a Controller and escaped is an ally. An ex-Controller is someone with reason to hate the Yeerks. And I didn't particularly like the idea of free Hork-Bajir being hunted down.

Below me, the Hork-Bajir spokesman was explaining that the forest was very large, and offered a lot of places for the fugitives to hide. Finding tracks was also difficult, as Hork-Bajir are apparently arboreal. Their only chance of finding anyone was by finding large amounts of bark-stripped trees, and in a forest this size, that could take months.

I smiled. This was good. It would make a welcome change from the unrelenting stream of bad news which seemed to follow us around.

The man below seemed unimpressed. "Well, make it take less. I have business to attend to. Continue with the search." With that, he walked away.

I scrutinised the group of searchers. They seemed pretty reluctant to go back out and keep searching. I, for one, was reluctant to let them go back out and keep searching.

Hmm. What to do?

Get rid of them.

Well, yes. That was obvious. But how?

And then it occurred to me. I could do it. Maybe not take them all down together, on my own, but I could definitely hurt some of them. I could probably kill some of them. It all depended on how fast they were. How prepared they were. Whether they would split up.

To my delight, they did split up. Walking away from me, heading north, they split into groups of two and spread out, a short distance from each other.

I toyed briefly with the idea of going to get Tom. But I didn't know what this part of the forest looked like from the air, didn't know exactly where I was, and –more importantly –I realised that I had no idea where I'd left Tom and Sara. Fetching help would take too long.

Besides, I didn't need help.

I returned to ground level. I demorphed. I took a deep breath to steady myself.

Then I went into the morph. It was another morph I hadn't practiced, and, in fact, should not have had. But it was a good morph, fast and strong, with sharp teeth and claws. And, in that morph, I would have a fighting chance.

I've always liked cheetahs.

The long tail sprouted as my spine extended crazily. My sturdy human body thinned out, down to bone and muscle, making me more speed-efficient. My face reformed into a muzzle. My ears shifted up my head. I dropped to all fours.

The cheetah mind kicked in. Instantly, my head came up. I sniffed once, twice.

The cheetah was uneasy. It was not a forest creature. The trees denied it its primary advantage: Speed. There were no flat, clear tracts of land over which it could pursue its prey.

But for all that, it was a dangerous body. And I liked it.

I loped forwards, sniffing. My sense of smell was much better in this morph. I picked up the lingering, distinct reek of Taxxon. Plus another, different smell which I hoped was Hork-Bajir. I could tell, more or less, which way they'd gone.

The sensible thing to do –as Marco told me much, much later –would have been to go after the two Taxxons who were together. Having seen the two species fight, I knew by then that Hork-Bajir are far more dangerous. Taking on two of anything at once, when this was the first time I'd even used the cheetah morph, was tricky enough –fighting Taxxons, which burst and so on fairly easily, would have made sense.

I like a challenge, though. Pricking my ears, I loped off after one of the pairs which included a Hork-Bajir.

It wasn't long before I heard them through the trees. Taxxons make a sound you just can't miss –like a very large millipede. Hork-Bajir make this kind of dragging, scuffling noise. Soon after that, I caught sight of them. They were both looking away from me, intent on their task. Perfect.

I sped up. I was not too far from them, and the undergrowth hindered my movement. I pushed through, and the leaves rustled loudly.

The Hork-Bajir looked around. He stared.

I guess he knew I was a threat, but he didn't seem to know what to do about me.

Too late, too bad.

I lunged forward and jumped. He was two metres tall; a cheetah stands maybe a metre or so at the shoulder. My jump lifted me up. It put my head nicely on a level with the base of his neck.

I bit at him. Blast! Missed! At least, I'd missed the neck. My jaws had taken a chunk out of his chest, but nothing serious. He was bleeding, though. That made me happy. I landed awkwardly and twisted to face him.

In return, he slashed at me with his wrist blade. I had to scramble backwards to avoid it. I hissed at him angrily and he slashed again, barely missing me.

Enough was enough.

People I know –usually Tom –often say that I have no idea of the difference between when to attack and when to back away. Basically, I never back away. Especially not when I'm mad. So I went for him again. This time, I used my paws, as well as my teeth. I snapped at his abdomen and followed up by slashing my claws across the wound.

The Hork-Bajir yelled something at me. I've no idea what. He kicked out at me. Kicked out with his clawed foot and his deadly knee blade. I ducked under the blade, but the claws scraped my shoulder. I felt them break the skin with a burst of pain.

Bleeding? Was I bleeding? I looked at the wound. Yes, I was bleeding. Red blood was spilling from the cuts. And the area hurt when I moved it.

My head snapped back to the Hork-Bajir just in time for me to avoid a scything kick that would have cut through my head. And now, not too far away, I could hear other Hork-Bajir approaching. When they got here, I would be seriously outnumbered.

And it wasn't like it was a fair fight anyway. This Hork-Bajir alone was being tricky to handle. Standing in the forest, bold as brass –

Standing in my forest. With Sara somewhere in it, and free Hork-Bajir. On my planet. On Earth!

How dare he?

My eyes narrowed. I snarled with rage. I coiled my haunches, and I leapt.

I ripped at his throat and went over his shoulder. I landed on the Taxxon. I slashed at it with a furious noise and spun around again, using the Taxxon as a launch-pad to power my jump at the side of the alien's neck. My teeth took out skin, muscle, and something more important.

He dropped to the ground. As he fell, his tail blades hit the Taxxon, splitting it.

I'd won.

I had won.

I stood there by the corpses of my enemies and knew that I'd beaten those two. It felt good.

Then the remaining Taxxons came crashing through the trees and I had to leap to avoid being bitten. But it still felt good.