Micah:

Rosy's cry rips my eyes from the bloodied figure that used to be my father, my mind is struggling to make sense of the broken words that had whispered from his lips. I scan the surroundings even as I look towards Rosy, she is on her knees holding Sam's head and shoulders on her thighs.

"Please help my brother," Rosy begs. I glance at the damage done to his body and hold back the shudder at what I see. Sam is terribly mauled like Wade and Clint, I look back at Rosy but she has turned back to her brother and is leaning over his head as she runs a hand over his shoulder, her fingertips barely touching him.

"Everyone keep your eyes open!" I yell. "We don't know how many dingos are unaccounted for!"

As I turn my attention back to Rosy I notice that she too has numerous bites and scratches but they already have shiny pink new skin showing where they have started to heal. A deep bite on the back of her right shoulder still oozes blood and I realise she needs medical attention. I lift my head to search the shadows beneath the trees alertly, we still don't know how any dingos there had been.

"Micah please!" Rosy is sobbing now as she turns back to her brother and bends forward over his huge feline body, her forehead resting against his ribs.

"How many dingoes were there?" I demand forcefully as I crouch beside her. I run my eyes over her body seeing the numerous healed wounds. Thick pink strips where the hard nails of the dingos had gouged at her flesh, marks where teeth had bitten but failed to get a proper hold. Only the wound on the back of her shoulder is deep, I can see the granulating tissue in the wound but also the distinct colour of bone where the wound is deepest.

Rosy's eyes are slightly glassy with on setting shock as she lifts her head to look at me, when there is no response from her I grasp the point of her shoulder in my hand and squeeze firmly but gently.

"How many dingoes were ..." I say each word slowly and clearly trying to get a response from her.

"There were eight with Hank," Rosy says as she looks around wide eyed. Her gaze darts from dingo corpse to dingo corpse and pauses as she looks at the crippled dingo she had put down.

"Mutto ... he came later, came in time to stop Hank attacking us ...gave us a minute or so to rest and gather strength," Rosy says then takes a deep breath. "Nine, there were nine dingos."

"Are you sure?" I demand firmly. "We can't chance leaving any dogs sneaking around our three dead while we take you back to the quarters."

"He's not one of us!" Rosy snarls pointing towards Rays remains before turning her head slowly to look at me. I find myself looking into her face, her eyes, and feeling as if I am looking into the face of a stranger. Her eyes are a dark blue not violet and as I turn my head narrowing my eyes I get a glimpse of shiny black short hair that curls under at her chin. Lightning flashes picking out red high lights in the dark hair, an eerie feeling skitters up my spine as she slips from beneath Sam's head and shoulders. Another flash of lightning and it is Rosy standing before me.

"Save my children," Her eyes roll back in her head and suddenly Rosy turns boneless. I manage to catch her before she hits the ground, I cradle her in my arms as I slowly stand upright once again. I look down into her exhausted face a few moments before glancing at Sam.

"What was that?" Edwin whispers beside me startling me.

"Rig up some kind of litter to get Sam back to the quarters," I order before turning and heading towards the quarters. I am aware of feline forms slinking between the trees either side of me as I head back towards the buildings. The lightning flashes are so frequent I mostly have a clear view as I walk through the misting rain. It feels like it takes forever before I am walking through the trees that edge the clearing around the buildings.

Floodlights illuminate the area surrounding each building, but each building is totally dark inside making it impossible to see into the interior from outside. I head for the quarters hoping Doc is there. I am not disappointed when he opens the main door letting me in. I pause in the doorway glancing back over my shoulder but the two cats are already racing back the way we came.

"Take her to your room so I can see what I can do for her," Doc orders.

I look down at the still form in my arms, my steps falter for a moment before I see the rise and fall of her chest and the steady pulse fluttering at the side of her neck. Rosy is covered in blood, gore, mud, leaf litter and twigs. Here and there the shiny pink skin of freshly healing wounds is faintly visible. I stop in the sunroom and turn her slightly in my arms so the wound on the back of her shoulder is visible.

"That seems to be the worst I think," I say and glance at Doc. " A quick rinse off in the shower?"

I see the way Doc is looking from wound to wound, a frown sits heavily between his eyebrows as consternation clouds his eyes. He gives a quick nod and hurries in front of me to go in and start the shower running. I stand back a moment before he motions me under the spray. Rosy jerks in my arms and gasps as the water hits us. The water feels hot on my chilled skin and I look down at Rosy as she starts to come around.

"Do you think you can stand?" I ask softly near her ear.

"Sam! Where's Sam!" Rosy demands worriedly struggling to get her feet onto the floor of the shower. I tighten my hold trapping her in my arms, her feet just off the ground.

"The others are bringing him back here," I tell her and Rosy tips her head back to look up into my face. I move further under the water spraying from the showerhead and watch as blood is washed off her chest and throat.

"A quick wash and then we get your injuries treated," I tell her firmly. I watch as she licks her lips, she shudders and grimaces before looking into my eyes.

"Sam will be here soon?" She asks with a glance towards the door.

"As soon as there is some way to carry him without doing him anymore harm," I tell her softly. I don't tell her that his wounds are too bad, that he will be dead before such arrangements can be made. Rosy hesitates a moment then gives a faint nod and reaches a hand towards the showerhead.

I let her body slide down mine until her feet touch the tiles of the shower floor, I keep my arms around her until I am sure she won't fall before reaching for a soft face washer. I watch as Rosy ducks her head beneath the spray using both hands to wash dirt and blood from her hair. I see the way she favours her right arm and I press the washcloth into her hand before reaching to run my fingers through her hair. Running my hands over her as I wash the streaks of mud and splashes of blood from her body soothes my inner cat. I can feel the pleasure that runs through him as our mate stands trustingly beneath my hands as I care for her. She stands with her left hand braced against the wall, her eyes closed and head thrown back as I gently run the cloth across the point of her shoulder. Dark shadows sit beneath her eyes making them look sunken and I realise how heavily exhaustion hangs on her body.

Rosy opens her eyes as I turn the shower off but makes no protest as I grab the large soft towel Doc must have put on the handle of the door. I wrap it around her before lifting her in my arms, I glance down at her as she rests her head against my shoulder then head for my room. I hear voices in the kitchen but head into my room and place Rosy on the towels spread over my bed. She goes to sit up but I push her down onto her side gently.

"Take it easy," I murmur softly to her as she shivers. I use the towel to blot the moisture from her before pulling one of the towels on the bed over her. "I'll just go tell Doc you're ready for him." I watch her eyes close as she pulls her knees up and rests one arm over the swell of her stomach. Her stillness scares me and I feel for the pulse in the side of her neck. It's there, slightly weak but regular beneath my fingers. I reach for a towel to dry myself as I head out in search of Doc.

I walk into the kitchen just in time to see Edwin, Dwayne, Steven and Mikkarl easing Sam's large black cat off a huge piece of bark and onto the table. Doc is busily measuring something into a large syringe but he glances at me, looks at Sam on the table then back at me. In here means he is still alive, Sam is one tough bastard.

"I'll just give Sam a shot to force him to change back to human and then come see to Rosy," Doc says. I look at the large syringe he holds and glance towards Sam, I don't envy him the forced change as it is only used in emergencies. I turn and hurry back to Rosy.

Rosy:

My mind is loath to leave the sanctuary of sleep, my body feels like it is weighted with lead. I force my eyes open and I look around trying to work out where I am. The room is in semi darkness, lit by the light from the next room. My head aches faintly, my mouth is dry and my body is sore. I grimace and move my arms and legs gingerly as my muscles protest, suddenly images bombard my mind. Growls and snarls ring in my ears, the unpleasant taste of mud and blood mingles in my mouth. Memories of the attack flood my mind, the image of Clint laying dying, Sam's motionless body ...

"Sam!" My voice is raspy, my lips dry and trying to crack as I struggle to sit up. My right arm feels heavy and awkward. I hold it out as I look at it, look at the tube disappearing beneath the bandage near my wrist.

"Shhh Rosy," Strong warm arms go around me and I am pulled against a warm body. "Sam is alive, your brother is still alive. He has been sewn up, is being given a blood transfusion and pumped full of antibiotics."

I turn my head to look over my shoulder, my heart racing as my mind tries to place the voice, the scent. I feel my inner cat stretch contentedly as she purrs, I breathe deeply letting his scent soothe me. I feel the kitt beneath my heart stretch slightly, it pushes against the weight that lays across my stomach. Once, twice, three times it pushes before I feel the arm move, the hand resting on the curve of my hip.

"You've lost a lot of blood," Micah says softly near my ear. He leans against my back as he reaches across me, a straw is held against my lips and I drink thankfully. My body craves the water that flows across my tongue and down my throat. I sigh as the straw is taken away but I lay my head back down, even that small amount of water has made me feel cold and a shiver runs up my spine.

"This is the third unit of blood," Micah says quietly as I move my bandaged arm with the drip attached. "Doc said once this is finished you should be all good for now. No back ache or cramps?"

"No," I answer, my voice much clearer. "Sam's alive?" I can't keep the hope from my voice even as I remember seeing the damage the dingos had unleashed.

"Yes, Sam is alive," Micah is talking to me but his voice fades out as the memory of that presence I had felt fills my mind. I close my eyes tightly as I try to remember as much as possible.

Warmth, strength and love; the feelings, the knowledge had filled me. I sigh softly, my breath coming out with a tremble as I remember how the emotions had wrapped around me. I feel a tear escape beneath my lashes and trickle across my temple to soak into my hairline as I drift off into a restless sleep.

Each time the demon dogs invade my dreams making me whimper and tremble he is there. His hands are gentle and his voice is soft as he holds me in the safety of his arms. I turn my face against the arm beneath my head and draw my knees up as I curl around the precious life in front of me. His warmth is against my back, his fingers entwined with mine as I finally slip into a deep dreamless sleep.

The need to go to the toilet wakes me, I turn my head and look over my shoulder at Micah. The sight of him asleep brings a soft smile to my lips, as much as he is the one who makes my head hurt as my mind searches for memories that aren't there his presence is filling me will warmth and security. My right arm is no longer bandaged, there is no tube feeding blood into my body and I use both arms to push into a sitting position. Micah starts beside me and I glance his way to find him watching me with a frown.

"I need to go to the toilet then I am going to see Sam," I say firmly.

"And then you eat," Micah says as he sits up. "How do you feel?"

I glance at the window, the way the sky is bright outside, the day is well underway. I give a shrug and feel muscles in my back and right shoulder pull.

"Tired, stiff," I admit. Already there is a slight awkwardness towards him forming, I remember how much I had needed him, how he had come to my rescue. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and pause for a moment to make sure I am okay.

"I'll come around and give you a hand," Micah says as he hurries to get up. I ignore his unspoken command, pushing to stand up by myself. My body is lethargic, slow to respond as I stand on spread feet to catch my balance. I feel the weight of my unborn kitt immediately move, shifting to settle low in my hips. I glance at his hand as Micah takes a hold of my left upper arm but I don't shrug it off which is my first instinct.

"I'm alright," I say tightly, "I can walk by myself."

Micah's hand falls away and I head for the toilet, my body is stiff and slow to respond but I keep moving. It is when I am washing my hands that I glance up into the mirror over the washbasin, I pause as I look at the face looking back at me. Dark circles surround both eyes, not bruising but the mark of a deep bone weary tiredness. There is what looks like an old bruise high on one cheek, shiny pink stripes across my left collarbone. I glance down at my arms, both have fresh scars that I don't remember the wounds that left them. I turn away from the mirror and force a wobbly smile as I see Micah watching me closely.

"I want to see my brother," I say as I walk towards him. Micah steps aside and motions down the long room.

"Last door on the right before the hallway," Micah says falling into step beside me. Butterflies flutter in my stomach as I worry about what I will see, I remember the torn and bloody cat I had held too well.

I pause in the doorway as I take in the still figure on the bed and those gathered around. Slowly I approach the bed aware of the eyes on me, I sit on the edge of his bed as my legs shake with exhaustion. Slowly Sam opens his eyes and looks around, he smiles at the red head holding his hand before he looks at me where I sit on the other side to her.

"You're alive," His voice is weak and I see tears gather in his eyes. I feel my eyes fill with tears of relief and glance at his upper chest and shoulders that show above the sheet. A patchwork of stitches criss-crosses his flesh and I glance back to his face.

"It wasn't our time," the words tumble from my lips and I close my eyes as I bow my head remembering those who had not survived.