I didn't slow as I approached the cabin. Not until I was skidding on the paving stones. The wolves out front were already occupied, and not one of them noticed me. They were gathered around a single rogue. Whoever it was ... they were giving as good as they were getting, even outnumbered ten to one. The flockies looked like they were being cautious.

Whoever it was? I knew who it was. Bryn was the only person at the cabin who stood any chance of defending himself against trained fighters. He would have to manage for a few minutes longer.

I passed Sam, who was a bloody mess on the floor. Someone had ripped into his neck and shoulder. He hadn't even got a chance to shift. The cabin door was wide open behind him, and I went straight through it, because that was where the kids would be.

The inside was gloomy. I didn't have the luxury of waiting for my eyes to adjust, and one of them was still obscured by blood, but I could see that there were several wolves inside tearing each other apart.

There wasn't time to tell friend from foe, but given that the closest wolf had clamped his jaws around a pup, I reckoned it was safe to say that he was a flockie. I ripped him backwards with all of my strength and then latched my teeth around his spine, biting down until I felt vertebrae cracking beneath my jaws.

He went still. Or still enough, anyway. I didn't have time to wait for him to die properly because there was a second flockie in the room, and he had my little brother backed up into a corner.

I snapped at his tail, knowing it was the fastest way to make him turn. He dropped Ellis in a heartbeat in favour of the newer, bigger opponent. Children could be killed at leisure. I, on the other hand, was a threat.

Being short could sometimes have its advantages in wolf form. I lunged as he turned towards me, and my jaws were the same height as his throat, so it wasn't difficult to latch hold of it. It wasn't as clean as it could have been. I had his trachea, not any of the major blood vessels. But he was choking before long, and I felt safe enough to drop him on the floor.

Ellis rolled onto his feet - more indignant than injured. I licked at his muzzle and then turned to check that there were no more flockies. We were safe. For now. But I couldn't stay here and look after them. Not while my family were dying outside.

A quick scan of the room showed me that the flockies had not been idle. Matty lay across the threshold, his breaths coming in wet gasps. He couldn't control his shift yet, so he had faced them in human form, and he had paid for it dearly. There was too much blood soaking his shirt.

Ahmed's tiny wolf was panting and extracting himself from under the first flockie I'd killed. Injured but not dying. Jess was standing with a kitchen knife clutched in her tiny little hand, watching me with big, hazel eyes. She was fine.

But Poppy lay sprawled out beside the table. Utterly still. I couldn't even see her chest rising and falling, and it opened up a gaping chasm of fear in my stomach.

No time to check on her. No time to do anything. Bryn was outside.

"Latch the door behind me," I told them all through the link, "and don't open it for anyone."

Ellis nodded at me. The pack wolves were all shifted, which was a blessing, because none of them would have hands to open the door. I checked that the flockies were properly incapacitated - and sure enough, neither of them was moving much - and then I went back outside.

And was greeted by the sound of gunshots.

It was bright. I felt like I was walking blind into a mosh-pit of certain death, and ... well, that was exactly what I was doing. Before I'd gone three feet, I slammed into one of the wolves surrounding Bryn and entered into a grappling contest which would end with one of us dead.

And it sure as hell wasn't going to be me. Desperation was a powerful weapon. And yes, it was safe to say I was more desperate, given that he was just doing his job, while I was trying to defend my home and my family.

More of the flockies were turning to face me. Bryn wasn't putting up much of a fight anymore - too weakened by his injuries and blood loss, most likely - so they were looking for new prey. And apparently I'd just volunteered. I didn't care. The two that came after me were two less to hurt Bryn.

Another gunshot. I had no idea if it was aimed for me or the flockies, but it wasn't like there was anything I could have done. I was locked at the jaws with one wolf while another ripped at my flank, leaving a trail of searing pain in his wake.

He'd reach my guts before long. And then I'd be well and truly screwed. Half panicking, I rolled onto the ground. The flockie's teeth wrenched my pelt hard enough to make me yelp, but then his nose slammed into the mud, and he was dazed enough to release me.

The second wolf clamped down harder on my muzzle. His tail was swishing back and forth. He was excited to have me on my back, because it would make the kill that much easier for him. And now I was properly panicking. He twisted around to lie on me, pinning me in place so he could grab hold of my throat instead.

I squirmed frantically, all the while readying myself to lunge for him the very moment he released me, the same way Liam had in his fight with Micah. Speed would be the deciding factor, and I was certainly quick, but it was terrifying to have my life resting on the span of a single second.

Before I got the chance to try it, another gunshot deafened us all, and the wolf on top of me went limp. His brains were splattered across the patio. I was too wound up to be relieved. His weight came down on my chest in all its entirety. When you couldn't breathe, it was all you could think about. My lungs were on fire, and there was a horrible feeling of pressure building there, reaching almost unbearable levels before I finally writhed hard enough to dislodge him from my chest.

Once I had fought my way out from under eighty kilos of dead weight, I saw the shooter for the first time. Aunt Cassidy was standing on the patio with an ancient rifle to her shoulder. She lowered it to reload soon enough, and I didn't bother to watch her do it. I just grabbed yet another of Bryn's assailants by the hindleg and tore into him.

One last gunshot, and the flockies lost their nerve. They peeled away from Bryn and ran for the shelter of the trees, one by one, until he was left to crumple to the ground, a bloody, wretched mess. They'd been tearing him apart.

I went to nuzzle under his chin, waiting for a twitch ... a blink ... any sign of life. It was a long, long moment before he thumped his tail weakly against the ground and flicked his ears back to say hello.

He was an absolute mess. There was a bite mark on the side of his neck that was about an inch short of fatal, his face was drenched in blood, and there was a shard of bone protruding from his shin. I stood over him protectively, my gaze fixed on the wolves in the fringe of the trees and my lip curled upwards in a warning snarl.

The flockies didn't dare return. They jostled each other and growled and squirmed in place, desperate for another go at us. One of the bigger wolves eventually looped around and began herding them off into the trees in search of easier prey. And they would find plenty of it in these woods today.

Once I was satisfied that they were gone, I turned back to look at Bryn's mother. She was lying flat on the ground, blood pooling around her, and the wolf who'd killed her had been stalking closer to me like a cat ready to pounce.

I swung my hindquarters around to face him, trampling poor Bryn in the process. But no sooner had I moved than he clattered backwards, almost falling over himself in his hurry and then turned tail.

He'd jumped Aunt Cassie from behind like the coward that he was, and now he was running from us because it was two against one and flockies were only brave when they had plenty of friends around them.

I licked Bryn again. Nipped gently at the soft place under his chin. He barely acknowledged me, and that wasn't surprising, given that he was missing half of his blood. He'd be no use whatsoever. And worse, he was horribly, horribly vulnerable out here. He couldn't fight, let alone run.

It was quiet now. Too quiet. It was starting to make me uneasy. With some effort, I opened a link with Bryn, wincing at the terror and chaos that was plaguing it from all directions.

"If anyone else comes, play dead," I told him. "I'll lead them away."

I didn't know if Bryn was even capable of understanding that in his state of half-deadness. And it was a stupid thing to say, anyway. I couldn't go more than twenty metres from this cabin without putting the kids at risk. And it wouldn't be an 'if.' It would be a 'when.' I'd wager there were at least three packs here to slaughter us today. The wind reeked of Riverside and Lowland and Pine Forest. There was even a hint of sea salt, which meant the westerners had come along for the sport.

"Okay," Bryn told me. The link was shaky, and so were his thoughts, but I was glad that he was conscious, at any rate.

I paced up and down. I could hear the sounds of fighting - from the trees, from behind me, from all directions, but I couldn't see anything. Something wasn't right. There were so many enemies around that more of them should have stumbled on the cabin by now.

Maybe they were going to join the main fight. The one in the meadow. But I doubted it, somehow. It had probably ended a long time ago. Outnumbered as they were, it was not a question of whether the raiders would break and run. It was a question of when. There wasn't a rogue on earth who would stand against those odds. But the trouble was, we were so much more vulnerable when we were scattered and fleeing - the packs would hunt us down like foxes.

Still no flockies. It hit me much, much too late. And the fear turned my stomach to ice.

The ward.

I didn't stop to explain to Bryn. I just took off - breaking into a run that ended in seconds as I skidded around the corner to find the door to the ward ajar. I had to stop and shove my nose into the gap, forcing it open.

And then I found myself face-to-face with a pack wolf. He was bigger than me - a head taller at least - and he was certainly less taken aback by our sudden encounter than I was. He snapped at my muzzle, and I lurched backwards instinctively to avoid those flashing white teeth.

I didn't have time to fight him. He was so big, and he'd take minutes to wear down, and I was pretty sure the occupants of that room didn't have that long. So I skidded backwards, luring him out into the open where I had room to manoeuvre and take advantage of my speed.

He followed eagerly. And it was only when he was standing out on the patio that I twisted left and then right in quick succession to make him double back on himself before I darted in and grasped hold of his forepaw, just below the elbow. It was the same place that Hayden had bitten me, all those weeks ago, so I was all too aware of how much it would hurt him.

My chest was beside his teeth, and that was safe enough. He could chew on the skin there all he liked without doing any serious damage. And he was only too happy to take that invitation - seizing a mouthful of pelt and trying to use it to throw me onto the ground.

I ignored him and instead opened my jaws a fraction to force them further around his leg. Kept going until his bones were between my molars - the big, crushing teeth. And then I bit down with all of my might and felt the bones splinter beneath my teeth.

He let go of me. And then he let out a howl of pain that nearly deafened me. I didn't wait around to watch him flounder. I turned tail and went straight into the ward, happy enough that he wouldn't be following me.

The room was all chaos. Eira was locked in mortal combat with a lithe pack wolf. Both of them had blood-flecked pelts and looked to be tiring. And there were two more flockies piling onto a big timber wolf that had to be Rhodri. He had one of them by the back of the neck and was shaking it vigorously. The other was harrying his flank and belly - digging into the soft skin there.

I froze for a heartbeat, uncertain which of them needed my help first. But there was a faint smell in the air. It was a sharp scent that reminded me of electricity, and I knew what it meant. Eira was going to have a seizure.

So it was her I went to, and it was her assailant that I latched onto. It was a split-second decision. One I didn't even have time to consciously make. I knew if she started seizing while she was fighting someone, she would be dead in seconds.

The flockie whimpered as my teeth tore the skin where his foreleg met his body, and then I dug deeper still, trying to open the artery there. When hot blood filled my mouth, I released him. Only to grab hold of his chest instead. Right where his ribs ended. A few of them cracked in my jaws.

Eira had twisted around. She was clearly pissed off, because she snapped at the flockie's balls next, which were always a sure bet. If the pain didn't incapacitate them, blood loss soon would. Sure enough, his whimpers turned into a sharp yelp, and he thrashed from side to side with near comical desperation.

He was close enough to dead. And Eira seemed to be coping, so I turned around to help Rhodri. The wolf in his grip was hanging limp, hardly managing to squirm anymore. But the second one had released a grip on Rhodri's underbelly in favour of something that would kill him faster.

So now he was going for the throat. Rhodri snarled at him, his jaws still clamped around the smaller wolf. He should have moved - made it difficult, at least. But his legs were too unsteady and too weak to allow him any manoeuvring, and he was already crushed against the wall. And all the while, the flockie was relentless in his attempts to force his muzzle beneath Rhodri's chin.

I reached them in less than a heartbeat. And I closed my teeth around the flockie's scruff, making a colossal effort to haul him backwards. Away. But there wasn't enough time.

I had to watch as the flockie got his teeth around Rhodri's throat and ripped. And all my efforts did, in the end, was provide some of that backwards force. There was ... a lot of blood. Too much. It went all over me and all over the flockie, and it was still coming.

The surge of panic that went through me overpowered everything. I used my weight to crush the flockie to the ground, and then I delivered a series of frantic bites to his neck and his skull and everywhere in between, as if that would change anything. As if it would undo the damage that had been done. I didn't let up until the flockie stopped thrashing.

But the whole time, my eyes were fixed on Rhodri, not the flockie in my grip. He released his jaw at last - slow and hesitant. His breathing was wet and gasping. I didn't think he had time to be afraid, in the end. There was nothing coming across the link. Nothing spilling over to distract me. It was like he didn't even have the strength to panic.

He was gone faster than I could process. One moment choking on his own blood, the next slumped on the floor with glazed eyes staring at nothing.

And then all was quiet in the room. I could hear the sound of my heart pounding in my chest and my breaths coming in ragged pants, and that was all.

A dark grey wolf padded over on shaky paws. She went to sniff at Rhodri and nudge him with her muzzle. And I didn't begrudge Eira that, but I didn't need to check that he was dead. I'd heard his heart stop.

It had all happened so fast. I didn't understand how he could be gone, just like that. One mistake. Five seconds. And dead. This whole day felt like one long, crazy dream, and I was just waiting to wake up. I had a feeling I'd be waiting a very long time.

That electric smell in the air was getting stronger. I rose onto my haunches, eyeing Eira warily. It would be soon now. No point warning her. She always insisted that she didn't want to be told when they were coming because it only made her anxious. It wasn't like she could do anything to stop it.

It was slow to start. Her body twitched a few times before she dropped to the ground. It was always very difficult to watch, even though I knew she wasn't conscious. There was a wrenching feeling deep in my chest as her muscles spasmed. Saliva pooled out of her mouth.

Her head was close to the edge of a counter, and it was a little sharp for my liking, so I gently squeezed into the gap, nudging Eira carefully out of the way. I lay between her and counter, my body acting as a big cushion as she thrashed and writhed.

The flockies were taking their dying breaths around us. Rhodri's blood was cooling on the floor. Slowly, wearily, I settled my head on my paws to watch Eira, and then I started counting.

***

It took fifty-seven seconds. Each one had felt longer than the last. It was fifty-seven seconds that Bryn was lying helpless outside and fifty-seven seconds that the children were protected by only a flimsy wooden door and fifty-seven seconds that I was not helping to fight the pack wolves.

My side was stiff and aching where Eira had collided with it over and over again. My other wounds were crusting over, and I could feel the edges of the scabs tearing apart every time I tried to move. Pain was a constant companion. It was exhausting trying to ignore it and unbearable when I did give in and let myself feel some of it.

Goddess, I was tired. Every muscle burned. Every breath felt like an effort. But we weren't done yet - not even close. I could hear the fight progressing without us outside.

I picked myself up. I watched Eira for a moment longer to make sure she didn't start a second seizure. She was beginning to come around, so I licked her cheek a few times. She was usually very disorientated when she woke up, but I couldn't stay with her today. I waited long enough to make sure she was okay, and then I went back outside.

I had to be careful now. If I strayed too far from the ward door, the next flockie to come along would finish Eira off. But I also couldn't leave the kids unattended. This was such a mess. Where were the others? Dead? I didn't even have the energy and togetherness to mind-link them and find out.

The ward door was heavy, but I did my best to pull it closed with my teeth. I had to jump up at the frame to do it, and that felt incredibly vulnerable, but I was still alive when the door finally slammed shut.

And not a moment too soon. There was a flash of movement in the trees, and that was all the warning I got before a pack of wolves were upon me. There were a dozen of them at least. All big and lean. Westerners, by the look of them. And behind them, lumbering along on massive paws...

A bear. An actual bear.

Nope. I was not going to put up with that right now. I tried to act casual about it - first trotting towards the trees, my tail wagging low against my legs, and then breaking into a gentle lope. But they had definitely spotted me, and the pack wolves were first to give chase, yipping in their excitement.

I didn't know what to do, really. I couldn't go far from the cabin. And I also couldn't fight all twelve of them and a bear at once. That left me low on options. I could see Bryn in the corner of my eye, lying very still where I'd left him. But whether that was because he was playing dead or because he was actually dead, I had no idea.

I picked up the speed as the flockies gained on me. If I properly tried running, they'd be left in my dust, but I didn't want them getting bored and straying back to the cabin. So I began a big, messy circle.

The bear was a lot bloody faster than I'd imagined it to be. It couldn't manoeuvre in the trees as well as we could, but I could hear its heavy footfalls at my back. It was enough to keep me running despite all the pain and exhaustion.

By the second lap, my pursuers were wising up to me. Some of them cut across to jump me from the side. But I was a lot smarter than they were, and I'd been waiting for them to do that. I made a hairpin turn, swerved around the lot of them, and then carried on sprinting in the opposite direction, ignoring their frustrated snarls.

On the fourth lap, I realised that I couldn't hear pounding paws behind me anymore. I slowed down a bit to let them catch up, but still ... nothing. A glance back showed me empty trees. Maybe they'd got fed up and screwed off. Great? As long as they stayed away from the cabin, I couldn't have cared less.

So I loped back towards the cabin, just to make sure. Something felt off, and it wasn't long before I figured out what. The faint snarls and yelps of fighting wolves led me to a new battle. And it was there that I realised what had happened. A handful of rogues had come and engaged my pursuers. They were killing each other in the undergrowth behind the cabin.

I didn't hesitate to throw myself into the fray. We were in sight of Bryn. I would be able to break away at a moment's notice to go and protect him if I had to. I bowled into one of the flockies at full speed, sending both of us tumbling.

Before a minute was up, he was lying dead on the ground, his blood in my mouth, and I was bleeding from two fresh wounds. One above my eye, and another around my knee that meant it hurt to put weight on it. I couldn't believe I was still alive, in all honesty. But I had a horrible feeling that my luck was going to run out at some point. I'd already killed more flockies than I could count. But adrenaline could make a hero out of anyone.

Although it was hard to recognise wolves when they were covered in blood and locked in combat, I knew the scents of the newcomers well enough. It wasn't just any random rogues helping me. It was my family. Or half of it, at least.

I thought about Rhodri, and I reflected that they were a little bit late. If we'd started running when we'd first heard that howl, without waiting for the flockies to appear, he might still have been alive. But hindsight was a beautiful thing, wasn't it? They were here now, not a moment too soon, and the flockies were being dispatched with lethal efficiency.

I recognised my dad and Uncle Rhys at a glance. They were baiting the bear, much to my dismay. One running in to hassle it while the other stalked around the side, hoping for a clean shot at its throat. It was a dangerous job, but someone had to do it. Right now, they were the only reason that bear wasn't knocking the other rogues aside like skittles.

Against my better judgement, I swerved away from another flockie and went to join them. It was a black bear. Not much heavier than we were, but a great deal bigger. He roared at us all and swiped out with a massive paw. We scrambled backwards.

I didn't like the look of those claws. They were several inches long and razor-sharp, and if one of them caught me, I would have five puncture wounds in whichever unfortunate body part took the blow. I would also go flying. But it wasn't like the bear's jaws were a better option. He could probably crush my skull with one bite.

I turned to loop around to the back while the adults kept his head end occupied. His tail was short and stubby and not as vulnerable as a wolf's. His legs were so thick with muscle that I didn't think I'd be able to make a dent. And his balls ... well, I wasn't sure I would dare. He'd sit on me before I could do any serious damage.

So I waited until he had lunged at my dad and missed, and then I clamped onto his tail. Just for a second or two. I had released him and scarpered before he had processed it, let alone turned around. By the time he roared at me, I was already metres away, wagging my own tail in a silent taunt. It must have been sensitive, but I wasn't going to kill him that way.

He broke into a lumbering run, and I didn't hesitate to make myself very, very scarce. He was dangerously fast for his size. But not nearly as fast as me. Soon enough, the adults had him turning back towards them, and I tried to stifle a sigh of relief. My legs were so tired by then. Even running felt like a chore.

I trotted back towards him, careful to keep my paws light on the leaves. My next target was going to be his leg, I decided. No matter how big he was, there was no muscle at his hock. Only fat and a tendon. It was the animal equivalent of an Achilles heel, and it would certainly be his Achilles heel today.

I crept closer and got my teeth around it. My canines weren't sharp or powerful enough to tear it, so I moved them onto the bone and used my molars instead. I wasn't quick to get away this time, and he kicked out with his back foot furiously, sending me flying.

Yep. There were those nice, sharp claws. I could feel each and every single one of them in my chest. It would make an impressive scar later, but I was pretty sure that no one would ever believe me when I told them I had got it fighting a bear.

I collided with a tree trunk, and that would have knocked the breath from my lungs, but the bear had already taken care of that. I fell to the ground in a messy heap, gazing at a set of open jaws that were fast approaching me.

Uncle Rhys and Dad made a colossal effort to divert him. And nearly got themselves killed in the process. My uncle lunged for the bear's throat, and Dad jumped up to tear the skin around his ear and eye. They were thrown off soon enough, but they made such nuisances of themselves afterwards that he seemed to forget all about me - instead lumbering after them on three legs. I hadn't torn the tendon completely, but I'd definitely done some damage. He wasn't so quick now.

I needed to get up before he remembered my existence. Which was easier said than done, of course, but once I had gasped a few times and refilled my lungs, I found that my legs still worked.

But before I could get very far, I heard an eerie, strangled yowl. It was loud enough to cut through all the other clamour, and I felt my heart speeding up. I knew that sound. And there was only one Shadowcat in all of Snowdonia, so it was fairly obvious whom it belonged to. The fight must have reached Old Jeff in his distant, solitary tent.

I could never have imagined that I would be so glad to hear that sound. Alright, yes, he was unstable and might hurt us, but he would definitely scare the flockies. And if he could just come over here and fight this bear for me ... well, that would be lovely.

I was not very steady on my feet, but I padded back towards the bear anyway. There was another hindleg tempting me. And this time I wasn't dumb enough to stand right behind it when I tore into it.

Another bellow. Another kick that missed my body but took my jaw with it, given that I hadn't completely let go of him. It wrenched my neck painfully, but that was all. I dashed clear as he turned on me again. But this time, he could hardly walk. His back end was very low to the ground. When he tried to chase me, he stumbled and landed heavily on his shoulder.

Dad was quick to dart in and grasp the other forelimb between his teeth. And my uncle was about to take the obvious opening at the bear's throat, but ... he stopped suddenly. Flinched, almost. A strange shudder ran through his body.

He wasn't the only one who had felt something amiss. An eerie gloom fell over the forest, as if the sun had dipped behind a cloud. And the general chorus of noise in the mind-link was overshadowed for a moment by a horrified demand of, "What the hell was that?"

We all backed off by unspoken consent. The weirdness had thrown us all off. The bear sat and panted and eyed us with poorly concealed hatred. It would have been a terrifying creature even without the glint of human intelligence shining in those big brown eyes. It was another five seconds, maybe less, before we heard howls in the direction the flockies had come from.

And the pack wolves all began to withdraw. The ones engaged in fights went quickly enough, watching their backs as they went to make sure no one was chasing them down. As if any of us had the energy to chase them. The rest went reluctantly - trotting after their packmates with their tails held high to show us they weren't running scared.

At least a score of them passed us by at a safe distance, while we just sat and watched. Someone had obviously called a retreat. The question was ... why? They'd been winning. They'd been winning decisively. There were five flockies for every rogue at the very least.

The bear, on the other hand, was not retreating. They were not pack animals like us, so they didn't have any need for a mind-link. And that was fine until they tried to work with pack animals, as they were doing today. He roared at us again and tried a charge that was sloppy and much, much too slow.

But the rest of my family were no longer engaged, and they all came to surround the bear with us. Uncle Ollie, Aunt Fion and Lily. All injured but breathing. And now the odds were so thoroughly in our favour that I didn't see how we could lose.

It was over in a few minutes. We spread out, wore him out by forcing him to turn around over and over again, and in the end, I was the one who found his jugular and spilt its contents into the mud. It paid to be quick sometimes. But there was no triumph in it.

We left him to bleed out into the dirt. He had shifted back and forth a few times in his panic upon realising that he was dying. He was a giant of a man - the biggest I'd ever seen. Seven foot at least and built like a tree trunk. And now he'd be food for the crows.

Dad shook himself off. There was blood matting his fur. The bear had bitten his shoulder and upper back, but the injuries weren't enough to slow him, let alone make me worry. He came over to greet me with a gentle nuzzle. I assumed by his calmness that Mam was alive too. And that wasn't too much of a surprise. It would take some extraordinary flockies to kill her.

The others had set a course for the cabin. Horrible as it was, I wished Uncle Rhys was not among them. I wished he was miles away. He must have known his mate was dead, because he would have felt the bond break, but I doubted he knew that Rhodri was dead. Or that Bryn was bleeding out onto the patio.

We followed at a slightly slower pace. I didn't remember hurting my leg, but it must have happened at some point in the chaos, because I was struggling to put weight on it. I would have to shift back at some point.

"Eira's in the ward," I told Dad. "She had a seizure, but I think she's okay."

He swung his head around sharply to look at me, the stench of worry rolling off him in sickening waves. "I'll get her. You find your brother."

Right. Because we had no idea how long we would have before the flockies came back. And we would need to be long gone by the time they did. I made a beeline for the plastic bins where we kept the spare clothes because first-aid required fingers and thumbs. My aunt and uncle were already there. They had dressed themselves, and they were now waiting at the door of the cabin. I could hear furniture scraping across the floor inside. The kids must have barricaded the door. Clever of them.

The shift tore all my newly-formed scabs open again. I stretched out my aching muscles, groaning, as I pulled on a pair of joggers and a t-shirt. Both of them were much, much too big for me. But I doubted I would be wearing them for long before I had to shift back.

I was just turning away from the bin when I heard it. It was a sound of raw anguish and grief, and it was enough to send a shiver down my spine. The door to the cabin was open now. I wandered closer until I was standing in the doorway.

My aunt and uncle were sat in the middle of the room with little Poppy laid across their laps. She was limp as anything and not moving a muscle, and the way they were crying over her, without even trying to rouse her...

No. No, she couldn't be.

Right?

The longer I stood there, staring, the more I tried to come to terms with it. The other kids were gathered around, hollow-eyed and silent.

Shit.

Shit. She was two years old. It was so horrifically unfair, and before long, I had to turn away, because I couldn't watch her parents breaking down into pieces without feeling a sob choking me.

She was dead, and she had probably been dead long before I had arrived. It had probably been an accident. She was the tiniest kid in there. One of the flockies must have knocked her, and it looked like she had hit her head, and that was it. That was all it took.

Someone nudged my arm. I turned to see Ellis. He'd shifted and found himself a pair of shorts so he could help Matty properly. The poor kid was badly injured. And looking at the volume of blood soaking the floorboards beneath him, I got a horrible sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. He would need surgery if he was going to live, and our doctor was lying dead outside.

My training as a paramedic in Silver Lake had been largely informal and incomplete, but it was better than nothing. I grabbed a kitchen knife and used it to tear a long strip from the bottom of my shirt. It was always easier said than done. A few tea towels served as the least sterile dressing I had ever made, and then I tied it all in place over Matty's stomach, where the worst of the bleeding was.

"I couldn't stop them," Ellis murmured. "It all happened so fast, and I've never actually ... I've never fought someone for real before. I'm sorry. I don't even know when Poppy got hurt. I didn't see."

"No one blames you, kiddo," I said quietly. He was thirteen. We didn't expect him to fight off two grown adults. Especially when his only back-up had been a ten-year-old who was still learning to control his shift. "You did everything you could. Bring Matty outside. Next to Bryn. And keep that pressure going. Okay?"

He nodded, and then I moved aside to let him take my place. A glance back at Poppy's tiny lifeless body only served to send another dagger of grief through my heart. If I'd been a few seconds faster, maybe... Maybe I could have stopped it? I knew I'd drive myself mad thinking like that. But it wasn't going to stop me.

I went back outside. We'd have triage on the patio, get all the injured together, and then once they were stable, they would have to go straight onto the stretchers. There wasn't time for anything more. Hell, I didn't even know if we had time to stabilise them. The flockies could be back at any second. But I was all too aware that we'd lose Bryn and Matty if we didn't try.