Hallo readers

I had trouble writing this chapter until an album inspired me, one that one of my daughters had playing nearly continuously in her vehicle. The Album is by Ed Sheeran, and three songs called out to me.

So in a place in this chapter, this album and two of these three songs are an important part. The songs are ‘Autumn Leaves’ and ‘Kiss me’

Mygypsy

Rosy’s story:

I pace backwards and forwards in front of the window of the sitting room with my arms clutching at my lower ribs. My face aches with the force of clenching my teeth together. I refuse to look at any of the three sitting watching me.

"Sit down and talk to us Rosy," Alan coaxes in a gentle voice.

"I’m not listening," I think and give a shriek of anger as I realise she has let the words sneak out of my mouth.

"Tell me what you’re thinking," Alan invites. "How you feel,"

"I don’t want to talk to you," I hiss angrily. I know if I don’t speak the evil inside me will. I have no intention of allowing it that chance.

"I just want to be left alone! I don’t want to be asked a hundred and one questions!" I snap without glancing their way.

"Alan maybe we should leave Rosy be," Sam suggests quietly. "We’ve found it best to leave her alone when she’s like this."

"Did I not ask you, that if you must sit in when I try to talk with your sister, not to interrupt?" Alan asks with a hard edge to his voice.

"We’ve been here two weeks and I have watched my sister get worse not better. If you think …" Sam starts in an angry tone.

I can’t help it, I glance towards him as I hug my ribs tighter. I feel my heart rate kick up another notch and my breath catches in my throat as Alan and Sam get to their feet facing each other.

"To my office now!" Alan orders with restrained anger. "Jake stay here with Rosy please."

"Good because I will be calling Kurt on my phone and I am sure he will want to speak to you!" Sam snaps as he heads for the door. I turn away with jerky movements and resume my pacing. I have butterflies in my stomach that feel as if they are the size of wedge-tailed eagles. I can hear each beat of my heart as the blood pulses in my ears and feel the adrenaline that is coursing through my veins.

"Came sit down for a few moments Rosy," Jake says softly. "You’ll feel much better when you stop pacing."

‘Do as he says’

"Fuck off!"

‘He’s right you know’

"Shut up bitch!"

‘This isn’t good for our Kitt,’

"Fuck the Kitt! I don’t give a damn about it! I hate it! It’s all about that little bastard isn’t it!" I have no control over the horrible words as they leave my lips. The words cut deep into my soul making it bleed as they tumble out while some tiny part of me means every horrible word.

"… Calm down, just calm down," Jake’s soft crooning reaches me and I turn to face him as I pant struggling for control of the thoughts whirling madly around in my mind.

‘Calm down, calm down, please just calm down,’ the words echo in my mind, or is it in the room? My mind and body feel like they are about to shatter into a million pieces.

"I will not calm down!" I yell back at Jake and look around wildly for something to throw at him. I want something that will shatter and crash onto the floor making a lot of noise - something glass, or something fragile. I need to echo the feeling inside me.

I fight as I feel arms circle me from behind but he is too strong and I find myself turned around and held tightly against a hard body. My arms are trapped against my ribs and a strong hand grasps the back of my neck forcing my forehead against a broad chest. I turn my face aside and find my cheek pressed against that hard chest. My entire body tenses. I grit my teeth and breathe out angrily through my nostrils. I can’t fight him but I will not submit meekly.

‘Ahhh,’ the long soft sigh flows through my mind like a gentle breeze. Slowly I feel my rage and panic begin to subside. The feeling of being about to shatter into pieces begins to go away and I close my eyes as I turn my head to listen to his heart beating beneath my ear. His hold loosens and I slip my arms around him as I settle into his embrace.

"You have to stop fighting her," Jake murmurs softly. "The more you provoke her, the more you torture her, the worse things will get for you."

I remain silent as I listen to his heartbeat. How would I be able to make him understand how much I want her gone? How much I need to be normal once again?

"Try talking to her," Jake urges softly. "Ask her what she needs at the moment,"

"She wants to be left alone," I mutter resentfully as I feel her stirring.

‘Liar,’

"Rosy," Jake chides gently.

"She wants to crawl back into her dark little hole and hide away from everyone," I say tightly. It is the exact opposite to the deep burning need within.

‘Lying bitch! I need …’

I cut her off as I jerk away from Jake. I will not allow her to voice what she wants. I will not let her get any stronger. Hopefully she will start to fade away again.

"Enough is enough! I can guess what you are denying yourself," Jake snaps as he scoops me up in his arms. I kick my legs and struggle but not eating more than a mouthful or two each meal and very little exercise has weakened me and I am unable to escape him.

"Put me down you dirty rotten mongrel cat! You bastard! I hate you!" I scream at him as he carries me outside. I continue screaming at him even though my insults have no effect on him. I am inventive and use every insult I have heard and some I make up for the occasion. By the time he reaches a small timber shed and a tall mesh fence I am nearly totally breathless from my tirade. I wriggle and kick but my efforts lack strength and I am unable to escape his hold. Someone opens the door of the shed but I don’t see who it is as Jake carries me inside. The interior is cool and dim giving me a momentary sense of hope before he walks out of a large opening in the shed into full sunshine.

"I’ll let you two fight it out," Jake says flatly as he lets my feet hit the ground with a thump.

I don’t manage to catch my balance and end up on my hands and knees on the dusty grass. A soft sob escapes me as my body goes rigid as I try to prevent the change I can feel burning in my bones.

"I thought as much," Jake’s voice is oddly distant and I can’t turn my head to look at him. I am dimly aware of something or someone pulling at my clothes, my body being moved and lifted as material whispers over my skin. I feel the agony as my inner cat takes control. It burns as my body changes shape and form. I scream from the pain of the restrained change. She is controlling the speed of the change but I wish she would just let it rip through me.

The cat ... Me ... She pulls and pushes ... I resist. Her … me … her … me … us!

I leave the small wooden hut behind me as I bolt away on all four paws. I sprint a small distance before slowing and looking around. I raise my head and sniff the air tentatively. My ears flick back and forth as I listen for any sound of pursuit or if anyone approaches. Quickly I orientate myself to my unfamiliar surroundings. I will be able to return to this spot if I wish to after I explore.

The snap of a twig has me turning to face the way I came. I snarl as I see the large black cat and I lower my head as I make all my fur stand on end. I take several steps towards him, my back arched as I mince forward presenting my body at an angle so I seem much bigger than I am. He turns away as he breaks eye contact. He lowers his body slightly and draws his tail up under his belly as he creeps away several steps. I catch sight of the second large tom back in several trees and I give a loud screech of rage.

Neither of them are the one I am looking for!

I break away with a burst of speed scattering leaves as I dash between trees. I can hear the two toms following me but they fall behind quickly as I move to my top speed. I start to feel the burn in my muscles and lungs. I am fast but I can’t maintain that speed over long distances.

Thump, thump, thump.

Thump, thump, thump.

Thump, thump, thump.

I hear the rhythm of my paw falls echoed in my heartbeat. My body settles into the long flowing movements that carry me over long distances. I swivel my ears as I hear another set of paw beats echoing mine. My stride falters and I almost stumble before I fall back into the rhythm. I glance around but I see no one. I hear the heartbeat of my companion and it is achingly familiar. I slow to a steady trot, I know he cannot keep up to my pace. Our paw beats sound as one. Our hearts beat in time. I can hear him exhale as I exhale, inhale as I inhale. I can almost feel his muscles flowing smoothly as we trot side by side.

I see the familiar markers on the trail, the old strainer post, and the tall blue gum. A clump of dry dead reeds where the stream has dried up, a little bit further and we will be there. The opening for the stock paddock, it won’t be much longer and we will be hunting. I can feel him! We run as one moving in unison, a team just like we are mean to be.

"I don’t want this connection," I think with what is left of my humanity.

NO!

His startled denial cuts through my mind and I shy away, I withdrawn from him as I feel his confusion and anguish as if it were my own. I slow to a stop and sit on my haunches. I look around with a low moan before tipping my head back and letting go with a long, drawn out yowl of misery. Cry after cry escapes me.

I withdraw into a deep corner as my cat cries out her loss. Her pain and sorrow bring tears to my eyes. I cover my ears with my hands and bury my face against my upper thighs as she cries her misery to the world. Finally we are cried out and she limps over to a shady spot to lie down and rest for a while. We both are aware of the two toms that wait a short distance away. She eases our exhausted body down onto the cool ground and rests our chin on our forelegs. I am too tired to keep us separate in my mind and close my eyes.

A twig snaps and I lift my head to look their way. The slight breeze brings their scents to me and my ears twitch momentarily as I recognise Alan and Jake. I blink and look away as I lower my chin back to its resting place. Neither of them are who I want, who I need …

The shadows have lengthened and the birds are singing their evening songs when I open my eyes. I glance around but I only see Alan stretched out on his side where they both had been earlier. I am slightly stiff as I get to my feet, I am aware of Alan standing up also but I ignore him as I lift my chin and begin a long series of low coughing calls.

I am calling my mate - the one who had ran by my side. There is no answer.

I can almost feel the connection, it is almost within my grip but I shy away from it. Again I call but I know he can’t hear me. My breath comes in funny little sounds as I stop calling him. Seeing him turn his back and walk away had hurt. It had shattered something inside of me and I wasn’t sure I could find all the pieces to put it back together again.

There is a soft questioning grunt near my shoulder and I turn my head to glance at Alan. He gives a soft purr and rubs his head against my shoulder. I look away but don’t rebuff him as he begins grooming my shoulder. He works his way up to my ears and concentrates on where sweat has dried behind my ears. I turn my head slightly and tilt it allowing him to get both sides. When I lie down again he curls up around my body and I chirp uncertainly at him for a moment. The warmth of his body, the simple contact, it feeds a need within me and I close my eyes to rest some more.

It is still afternoon when Alan urges me to my feet and coaxes me back towards the hut. I follow for some distance before I stop once again. I am shocked at how weak I am but not really surprised. It is after sunset when we reach the small hut. I barely make it inside before I change back to human form. I don’t bother to pull on more than my outer clothes before heading for the house. In my wing of the house I intend to crawl into bed dusty and sweat stained from my run, dressed in dirty clothes. Alan is there blocking my way into the bedroom and turning me towards the bathroom.

"No you’re not! You go in and have a shower while I make you something to eat. It is clear you have not been eating properly even though the fridge is fully stocked." Alan states firmly.

The warm water washes away the dust and the grim and the tears that fall as I stand beneath the flow of water. My tears don’t last long, I am too tired or maybe it is I am too sad. I’ve lived through Micah turning his back on me. I don’t know how, I never knew it was possible to hurt so badly and live. I don’t know how I can survive being made to relive it time after time after time. Only someone truly evil would throw something like that in a persons face time and time again.

I am dry eyed when I make my way to the living room, I sit in a deep comfortable arm chair tucking my legs up underneath me as I wrap my arms around my lower ribs. I am not sure how long it is before Alan walks out of the small kitchen carrying a steaming plate.

"It’s just an omelette filled with bacon, tomato and cheese," He says as he puts it on the arm of the chair. The rich aroma of bacon reaches me making me realise how long since I last ate a decent meal. I reach for the fork as I pull the plate onto my legs. I manage a couple of mouthfuls before laying the fork on the plate and placing the plate on the floor beside the chair.

"Come on Rosy," Alan says gently. "You have to eat more than that,"

‘You have to eat more than that,’

"Rosy, you’re pregnant. You need to eat properly." Alan says firmly. "You don’t want to do any harm to your kitt by not eating properly."

A cold feeling of horror fills me as I turn my head to look at him. A pain so intense it leaves me almost breathless makes it impossible for me to speak as a thought forms inside my head. I feel a strange sense of satisfaction that is mixed with remorse and a deep sorrow.

"I’ll do whatever it takes to get rid of that … that thing in my head," I say coldly. Disbelief bleeding over from the evil inside me fills me.

‘You can’t hate me that much!"

"No, I hate you more," I answer her out loud.

Micah’s story:

I don’t taste what I am eating as I put another forkful of food into my mouth and chew determinedly. I can’t remember my last proper meal, I only know it must have been before Rosy and I broke up nearly three weeks ago. I force myself to swallow what is in my mouth before loading up the fork and repeating the process. The food sits heavily in my stomach but I know I have to eat. The screen door squeaks open before shutting with a click and light footsteps make their way along the hallway. I turn my head and watch as Jazzy walks into sight in the lounge room. She smiles as I automatically chew and swallow before taking another mouthful.

"I’m glad to see you eating a proper meal," Jazzy says softly.

I grunt an unintelligible reply and look away chewing quickly.

"We've all been worried about you," Jazzy says as she walks over to put a hand on the point of my left shoulder and rest her right cheek against my upper arm for a few moments.

"You haven't been eating, you've lost weight and you have been spending more time in your cat form than your human form." Jazzy murmurs and I hate myself as I hear the worry in her voice.

"I been eating," I say dismissively.

I flinch as Jazzy runs a hand down over my ribs and I glance at her with a frown.

"Don't try telling me you've been feeding yourself by hunting," Jazzy says tightly. "I can feel every one of your ribs individually. You have not made a kill in the stock paddock and no one has come across any fresh signs of a recent kill outside of it. You would have to be living off rabbits and small wallabies,"

"I've been thinking about going to see Baxter," I say uncomfortably. "I might …" I let my words trail off. I don't know how to tell Jazzy it is too hard living here where memories of Rosy haunt me. I don't want to tell her of the rage that fills me every time I see the new relocatable home that has housed Marissa and Wade for the last week.

Dwayne, Justin and Donny have taken turns to look after the two of them. Each evening I have seen Marissa outside sitting on a comfortable chair soaking up the warmth of the late evening sun.

"We need you here Micah," Jazzy says with a thread of desperation in her voice. "I need you here,"

"I'm not leaving the Clan, just getting some distance from ... " I stop myself before I mention any of their names. Rosy haunts me awake or asleep and Lilly seems to appear every time I manage to get some peace from my memories. Twice I have come across her in town and she has turned up here or over at the main house on three occasions since the day of Jazzy and Mitchell's wedding. If I am lucky enough not to be thinking of Rosy the mere sight of Lilly brings her to the front of my thoughts.

Then there is Wade, it doesn’t seem fair that Wade - the wrong doer in all of this - gets to remain here while Rosy is banished from the clan.

"Mitchell and I weren't going to say anything yet but," Jazzy says and takes a deep breath before continuing in a rush. "I need you here now more than ever because you're going to be an Uncle in about eight months. I need all my family,"

Jazzy’s words jolt me from my own misery and I swallow my mouthful of food hastily as I meet her gaze. She gives a scared smile and tilts her head to one side slightly.

"I’m having a Kitt Micah and our clan is struggling to survive at the moment," Jazzy says and I hear the fear in her voice.

"The clan is doing fine Jazzy," I say trying to ease her fear. I can almost feel movement against the palm of my right hand as the memory of another unborn Kitt passes through my mind and the hollow ache in my chest seems to intensify.

"The clan is on the verge of falling apart right when I need my clan the most!" Jazzy says almost frantic.

"Mitchell is away most days with Kurt Black trying to reform friendships and alliances with other clans. Sam isn’t here and we don’t know when and if he is returning. And you … you are a total mess Micah. You are out constantly running in your cat form or if you’re here …" Jazzy stops talking and gives a tired sounding sigh. It hurts when I realise there are tears in her eyes, tears caused by my behaviour and actions.

"Your moods are erratic and you don’t seem to be connected to the clan anymore. Without you, without your leadership everyone else is lost. No one knows what to do. You scare me sometimes Micah, I look at you and I don’t recognise you anymore. Your only thoughts towards your fellow clan members seems to be how to avoid us …"

I jerk with surprise as Jazzy grabs my right hand and lays it flat against her belly just below her navel. I look down where her hand covers mine, holding it against her body. I find myself expecting to feel some strange connection. But there’s nothing more than the start of a dim feeling of being pleased for Jazzy.

"I’m happy for you Jazzy," I manage even though I am at a loss of what to say.

‘Protect … support … lead the warriors …’ I feel my inner cat stir and nudge me in the direction we must take. It surprises me for a moment, almost as if I had forgotten we are one.

"Where’s Steven today?" I ask before dropping my fork onto the table and wrapping both arms around Jazzy for a hug. The contact feels good and I realise it is one of the many things that has been missing from my life these last couple of weeks.

"Surely he’s been giving orders in my place," I let go of Jazzy and pick up my fork and plate. The food is cold but I force myself to resume eating, I need to try to get back in control of my life.

"Steven went back to be with Celeste a week ago. The infection in the deep cuts on her cheek got real bad and she had to have surgery. No one had seen you for two days and Steven needed to go," Jazzy says evenly. I see it in the way she looks away from me, the set of her shoulders. I should have known what was going on with my partner, my best friend. I should have been there if he needed me.

"Who’s been running things? Dwayne?" I ask around my next mouthful of food.

"Malcolm," Jazzy says surprising me. "He checks in with Mitchell every morning and night, discusses things with Dwayne if Mitchell is away."

"Hmmm, surprising choice by Mitchell." I say as I glance at Jazzy.

"Mitchell was away when Steven decided to leave," Jazzy says with narrowed eyes. "Someone had to step up. You weren’t here, Sam wasn’t here and Dwayne didn’t know what to do,"

"I’ll finish eating this," I say lifting my plate of food slightly in my hand. "Give Steven a call to see how he is and then go talk to Dwayne and Malcolm. Where is everyone by the way?"

"Dwayne talked Mikkarl into going and cooking up some food to tempt Marissa to eat more than a few mouthfuls, so both of them are over at the cabin." Jazzy says as she pours a mug of coffee. "Mitchell isn’t due home tonight. And everyone else is over at the gym shed, I told Malcolm I need some privacy to talk to you."

"Coffee is bad for you at the moment, there’s caffeine in it." I tell Jazzy as she picks up the large mug of coffee.

"This isn’t for me," Jazzy says seriously. "It’s for you. Hopefully it will clear your head a bit."

I don’t say anything as I accept the coffee with a nod of acknowledgement. I can’t very well tell my baby sister that it feels like my entire life has fallen apart and a lot of the pieces of my world are missing.

"So when is the kitt due? How long have you known?" I ask as I force my mind to focus.

"I didn’t realise until Mitchell commented that I was late getting my period after being in heat. I didn’t think anything of it because there had been contraception used but I done a home pregnancy test to please Mitchell, and yes the human tests work for a werecat … it came back positive," Jazzy says and smiles. The look on her face says it all, my sister is very excited about this surprise pregnancy. I smile feeling pleased for her and I push the errant memories of a shadow of fear and uncertainty behind the joy in another set of eyes to the back of my mind. The joy and excitement had been there but nothing I had done had been able to remove those faint shadows that had haunted us both.

"So you’re only about a month pregnant?" I ask.

"I’ve researched it on the Internet and dates are taken from the last period not the date of conception," Jazzy informs me. "So I’m six or seven weeks pregnant. Mitchell and I aren’t telling anyone else yet, we want to keep it to ourselves for a while."

"So I’m supposed to feel privileged?" I ask with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeap! You most certainly are!" Jazzy says clearly delighted. It feels good to be talking with my sister like this. I smile and feel a familiar rush of warmth flow through me. Jazzy has always accepted me as I am, in fact my very differences in size and strength to other werecats often seemed not to matter.

It’s been hard finding a place I belong. Not belonging or fitting into either world, not one or the other.

I blink as I realise my mind has wandered and my thoughts make no sense. I shake my head and try to refocus my train of thoughts.

"Micah?" Jazzy’s worried voice draws my attention and I look her way with a start. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, just trying to work out how I am going to manage not telling Steven your good news." I say after a few moments hesitation. Jazzy continues to watch me with a slight frown. I open my eyes wide and shrug expressively making her smile and shake her head with a laugh. I don’t want to worry her with how my thoughts wander and don’t seem like my own at times. It is bad enough that there is uncertainty in the clan that she is picking up on. This should be a happy time for her, not one filled with worries.

For two days I attempt to go through the motions of what had been normal, every day life for me. My days are filled with physically demanding tasks as I try to exhaust my body so I can sleep at night. Tired as I am from up to eighteen hours of hard physical labour my nights are disturbed by dreams, or maybe they are memories. I’m not sure, it seems as if I am slowly going insane.

It’s morning so I take my turn helping cook breakfast. My concentration is nearly non-existent so I do toast duty. Put the bread in, wait for it to pop up, remove the toast and replace it with more bread. Butter the toast while the next lot cooks.

"Watch the sausages and bacon for a couple of minutes would you," Mikkarl says placing a hand on my forearm.

"Yeah, sure," I mutter. "Who doesn’t want burnt sausages?" I stare into the fry pan stunned for a few seconds. I can almost feel Rosy by my side and I give my head a shake to clear my mind. The smell of singed bacon pulls me back to myself and I hurriedly start turning the bacon in the pan.

"It’s good to see you’re back in the land of the living," Steven’s voice beside me startles me and I turn to him with a grin, happy to see him.

"It’s great to see you!" I say enthusiastically as we engage in a rough, back slapping hug.

I pull back after a few moments and motion towards the cooking food.

"I’d better not let this burn or I’ll get strung up by my heels," I say with a laugh. Suddenly it’s easier to concentrate and I realise it is probably due to the bond I share with Steven as a work partner.

"Have you eaten breakfast?" I ask as I reach for a plate to put the cooked bacon and sausages on. With the fry pans empty I automatically begin putting on the remainder of the uncooked meat that has been put out for breakfast.

"We had something about three hours ago," Steven admits. "But I could sure eat another feed. What about you Celeste?"

"Some toast and jam would be nice," Celeste answers and I look her way. She has her head bowed slightly and I frown as I see the way her black hair hangs down obscuring the view of her face. I catch a glimpse of one chocolate coloured eye watching me before she turns away quickly. A hard jab in the ribs has me turning towards Steven, he shakes his head at me with a hard stare and exhales between clenched teeth.

"You still like your toast allowed to get cold before buttering so it doesn’t go soggy Celeste?" I ask as I pop fresh bread into the toaster.

"Yes thanks," Celeste says quietly, "and not a lot of butter."

"Apricot jam?" I ask even as I open a cupboard door to look for it. "We’re sure to have some, other than Mikkarl no one else here eats it."

"Just plain toast will do fine if you can’t find it," Celeste says quietly when I open another door to look for the jam. The jam is sitting in clear sight and I lift it from the shelf before turning to face her as I hold the jam up with a grin. I feel the smile fade from my face as I catch a clear look at what her hair had been hiding from sight. Multiple scars in a variety of stages of fading slice cruelly across her left temple while others cut down from the outer corner of her eye to her top lip, and around the corner of her mouth to the side of her chin.

A few of the scars were broad and angry looking, making the undamaged flesh around them pucker and clump marring the smoothness of her face. The outer corner of the left eye had been damaged and a thick scar pulls it down slightly. Her top lip is slightly uneven as if a small section has been removed. Even once her face is entirely healed the damage will still be very evident. I catch the shine of tears in her eyes, her beautiful warm, expressive eyes and then she turns away hurriedly. Her left hand comes up to brush her hair down over her face to hide the scarring.

"Hasn’t anyone taught you it’s rude to stare!" Steven growls angrily as he slams me hard against the bench beside me. I turn and shove him so hard he lands against the wall nearly ten feet away with a solid thump. I turn away from him as I let the jam jar drop onto the bench top and head over to where Mikkarl has his little sister wrapped in his arms, his body between her and everyone else.

"Let’s take this outside," Steven snarls catching me by the upper arm just as I reach out to force Mikkarl to turn toward me so I can see Celeste’s face.

"Why?" I demand angrily as I turn to face my best friend. "So we can beat the shit out of each other because I was shocked when I saw what had happened to your sister’s beautiful face?"

Steven growls angrily as the words leave my mouth and I let loose with a hard punch that knocks him into the lounge room without thinking.

"Bloody pussyfooting around Celeste won’t change what happened and it sure as hell won’t change the fact your sister is still beautiful! So now she wears her strength and courage where everyone can see it! I am sick to death of females hiding away behind things and pretending everything is Hunky-fucking-Dory!" I yell at him.

"Get outside Micah," Jazzy says in a cold hard tone pronouncing each word clearly and precisely as she steps into view.

"Why?" I demand insolently. "So you can tell me off for what I just said? Don’t want Celeste to hear us speak about her face?" I turn my head to find Mikkarl glaring at me and Celeste peering at me from her right eye, shock and horror on what is visible of her face not pressed against Mikkarl’s chest.

"Those scars might change the way you see yourself Celeste," I say tightly struggling to control my temper. "But when I look at you I still see the beautiful person I’ve always seen. So the packaging has been dented and wrinkled some, I know you’re still the same underneath. Or maybe you’re more beautiful inside because you haven’t let it twist you!"

"GET OUT!" Jazzy yells at me pointing towards the little door off the kitchen. "GET OUT!"

"Do you want me off your territory as well?" I shoot back at her. "Do you want me to leave so I can’t try to fix up what I’ve stuffed up this time as well?"

My temper explodes and I slam several punches into the door bursting it from the lock and hinges. My fists hurt, no doubt I’ve fractured bones but I pay them no heed as I turn to face the room. Steven is with his brother and sister, his back to me shielding her from my presence. All the other warriors are clustered around Jazzy as if to protect her if I were to head her way.

"I’m sorry Celeste," I force myself to say past the anger and hurt boiling away inside me. "I’m sorry I was shocked when I saw how cruel life had been to you. I’m sorry I stared at you but I couldn’t help noticing that you still have the most gorgeous chocolate eyes, the smoothest white skin and frankly … you should eat strawberry jam. Only it might come close to being as lush and sweet as your lips look."

I turn and lift the wrecked door out of my way before walking through it and outside. As I go I wonder why the hell I just said what I did to Celeste. A few years ago when I had made similar complementary remarks to Steven about his then fifteen year old kid sister he had came close to kicking my arse and hadn’t spoken to me civilly for nearly a month. I don’t stop walking until I hit the tree line, then I only hesitate for a moment before heading further into the trees. When I stop and sit leaning back against a tree I am shocked to discover I am sitting in nearly the exact same place Rosy sat while Dwayne and I spoke to her about handing Mitchell a pack of condoms for Jazzy’s first time.

Tears burn behind my eyes and I grit my teeth.

"Okay," I say aloud. "So I miss Rosy. I wish the hell I’d had the chance to try to mend whatever was wrong between us making her pick Edwin over me!"

I prop my elbows on my thighs and bury my face in my hands as the tears flow thick and fast. Memories flood back and I remember what had happened so clearly that once again I am in the kitchen of the quarters ….

"Rosy please, I’ll do whatever you want, whatever you say," I murmur quietly. I wince inwardly as I hear the fear in my own voice.

"I know I messed up big time but please give us a chance! I love you. I’ll do whatever you want to make this work between us. Please Rosy, please," I’m not too proud to beg as I watch Rosy darting terrified glances everywhere but directly at me. What the hell was I thinking to approach her like this? Did I have any other choice in all reality? There is no way either of her brothers was about to let us talk by ourselves.

"Let me go!" Rosy cries, her voice rising sharply in fear. "Let me go! Let me go!"

"Sit down so we can talk," I am reduced to begging as I gently head her towards the chairs at the table before releasing her wrist. Rosy immediately tries to dodge away and I lift one arm ready to beg some more. Rosy stops in her tracks flinching away from me and a sick feeling grows in my stomach knowing she was afraid I would hit out at her.

"Please Rosy, let me fix this. I love you. Don’t walk out on me. Give me a chance to make this right! I love you so much! I love you Rosy, I love you," I beg frantically. I feel my voice catch in my throat and break slightly as the tears thickening my throat start to flow. I have the horrible gut feeling I have lost the best thing that will ever happen to me, Rosy.

"No," Rosy’s voice is very faint, barely even a whisper.

"Rosy?" Her name trembles from my lips and I push my hair back off my forehead as if by doing so it will stop the tears blurring my vision.

"Just tell me what to do and I’ll make it right," I beg shamelessly.

"I can’t be in love with you. No, I don’t love you. I don’t, no. I can’t, I can’t. I don’t … I can’t …" Rosy’s voice is so faint I don’t hear her last few words as what she is saying trails off. I lean forward slightly and turn my head as I strain to hear her better. I see her lips move but I am not sure if she is saying anything.

"I’ll love you enough for both of us," I promise hoarsely. Rosy shakes her head and takes a step backwards. She has both arms folded across her lower ribs over the swell of her stomach and the bitter taste of fear fills my mouth.

"I can’t," Rosy repeats in a shaky voice.

" Why? Just tell me one good reason why," I demand as my voice thickens even more. Rosy looks away from me for a few seconds, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly. I watch her face intently for some sign, some thread of hope. I can only see fear and desperation on her face until she slowly turns her gaze to meet mine. I turn my head to follow her gaze as she turns away and looks at Edwin. Edwin is shaking his head as he looks at her before glancing between the two of us with more than a touch of fear.

"Hell no!" Sam snarls from somewhere behind me. I almost hear a metallic click, everything seems to fall into place and make sense.

Despite all her protests and denials Rosy wanted to be with Edwin.

A low savage snarl rumbles up from deep with in me as my rage boils over. I want to kill Edwin. I want to kill my own brother! Not just make him wish he were dead but tear him apart and watch him bleed to death. Watch the life slowly fade from his eyes as he stops breathing.

"Do not say it! Don’t fucking well say …" I yell and my words turn into a roar of pure fury as I turn away.

I look back where Edwin stands and I feel my lips curl up in a vicious snarl. The urge to kill Edwin is so great I can barely contain myself. I know if I stay here any longer I will probably do exactly that - kill my own brother, which will only make Rosy hate me if she doesn’t already.

"I am out of here! I’m gone! Make sure neither of them are where I could see them when I come back to collect my belongings!" I yell in blazing anger.

I glance at Rosy, at the moment I hate her as much as I love her but I still need one last glimpse of her before I walk away from her for good. Her hands cover most of her lower face leaving only her tear soaked eyes in clear view. The distress I see in her eyes gives me no pleasure. I go to turn away but as soon as I move Rosy flinches and stumbles backwards.

Guilt and regret burn in my gut causing bitter bile to rise in the back of my throat at as fear flares in her eyes. Doesn’t she know I would never consciously do anything to hurt her no matter what?

"I would never …" I start to tell her I would never intentionally hurt her but suddenly her inability to trust me is more than I can bear. It hurts so much it is a physical pain clawing at my chest stealing my ability to breath. "Oh what the hell! I don’t fucking matter to you anyway!"

It feels like my world is shattering into a million pieces and I head for the small door at the end of the kitchen …

I wipe my cheeks with the back of my hand before tilting my head back and gazing up into the blue sky. I feel so empty and my very soul aches as I try breathing in slow deep breaths. I feel like it is impossible to function at more than a basic level without Rosy. Even if I had to live the rest of my life seeing her every day and watching her find someone she could be with, and having to watch them as they grew close …

Even THAT would be more tolerable than living with just the memory of her. I focus on a cloud that is slowly drifting into view. I can almost imagine the front edge of the cloud is shaped like the curve of a cheek. Soft and sleek slipping down to full lips … I can see the shape of the eye above the cheek, the shadow from the long lashes that fail to disguise that unique violet hue. I can almost catch her scent as she watches me, almost hear her whisper soft breathing. Watching me … not staring, no angry glare … almost as if she is glad of the company.

I catch a few words of the song here and there, I can’t really hear it and don’t think I’ve heard it before …

‘And you're miles away
And yesterday you were here with me’

This need to be together. It’s more than a want, a wish, it’s …

"I love you Rosy," I whisper.

"She’s not here to hear you." Donny’s voice startles me and I pull my mind back, away from her memory. It seems so real, I almost imagine the gasp of pained disappointment she might have given at the interruption.

"What are you doing here?" I snarl in defensive embarrassment at being caught fantasizing.

"Believe it or not, all of us are worried about you. Even if you go around making an arse out of yourself," Donny says coldly.

"Here to defend Celeste’s sensibilities?" I ask disdainfully.

"Not really," Donny says as he moves to face me a few metres away. "But just so you know, most of us feel exactly the same as what you said earlier. None of us have known how to say anything about it. We’ve all pretended not to notice her scars."

I give a non-committal grunt, I’m not about to admit I feel bad about talking to Celeste the way I had.

"Jazzy made herself sick crying because of the way you spoke to her before you stormed out. You had no right speaking to her like that!" Donny snaps angrily as he moves restlessly on his feet. "She was only trying to do what she thought was best at the time!"

"Well maybe if Jazzy had kept out of my business Rosy and I could have worked things out between us when we had both calmed down!" I yell at him.

"What would have happened if Rosy stuck to what she had already decided?" Donny demands tightly. "Where would you have moved to? Who would have allowed you to live in their territory? What werecats would have had anything to do with you? Or would you have been content to stick around and watch Rosy find someone else so you could watch like a dog in a manger?"

"At least I would have had a chance to try to fix things between us and maybe now I wouldn’t be feeling like some huge piece of me is missing!" I snarl viciously as I climb to my feet to face him.

"You’re not the only one who misses Rosy, all of us do!" Donny snaps back at me.

"Well you could have fooled me!" I snap. "No one mentions her. There is no sign what so ever she even visited let alone lived at the quarters for any length of time. I have not heard her brother say how she is or even speak about Sam, or has Sam left the Clan?"

"That’s because everyone has been pussy footing around you trying not to make things any harder for you than it has been!" Donny snarls and slaps at a branch partially blocking his view. He gives an angry grunt, grabs it with both hands when it returns to its former position and snaps it off near the trunk of the tree with a violent jerk.

"Would it have made any difference for you to hear Rosy is crazy? Anyone tries to have a conversation with her and she looses it?" Donny demands as he throws the branch to the ground.

"They’re saying she is just like some newly changed stray who can’t reconcile with what they’ve become," Dwayne says startling me as he speaks behind me.

"What the …" I snort angrily as I turn to face him.

"You’ve been acting like you might go rogue," Dwayne says quietly. "I’ve already lost one brother and another one has became someone I don’t want to know. I don’t want to loose another brother,"

I take a deep breath as I try to get control of my anger.

"I feel like I have lost a par… I’ve lost what I thought was going to be my future, the rest of my life. I just need time to adjust," I say tightly glancing between Dwayne and Donny.

"That doesn’t give you the right to speak to Celeste the way you did," Donny snaps.

"No it doesn’t," I agree with a heavy sigh. "But after the way I stuffed up and stared at her Celeste would have been thinking the worst, that I thought her scars were ugly or made her look ugly. She’s more than her scars,"

"You need to get your head right," Dwayne says evenly as he finds a place to sit down. He glances at Donny and then at me and I catch a flicker of surprise deep in his eyes before he looks away and glances around.

"Remember the day we …" I start but my voice trails off and I give a heavy sigh. "Sometimes in places like this, it’s more than just memories, I could almost swear she was here with me."

"Maybe if you remember the good stuff and let the other go," Donny says sitting down.

I glance his way. He’s sitting where Micah sat that day. So like Micah, there are some differences though … his face is softer, not quite as chiselled. The width of shoulder is there but he lacks the bulk. So like his largest brother that his presence provides that steadying warmth, a sense that everything is going to be all right.

A mobile phone beeps its notice it has received a message and I jerk my thoughts back from their wanderings. I feel off balance for a few seconds, alone, before the comfort of my brothers’ presences settles over me.

"We have to get back to the quarters," Dwayne says firmly and frowns as he glances up from his phone. His gaze locks with mine for a moment almost assessing before he resumes speaking.

"Sam is back and as mad as a cut snake. Apparently Cummings had him thrown out of his territory for trying to interfere with Rosy’s treatment."

"Great, as if Mitchell doesn’t already have enough to worry about." I mutter getting to my feet as I remember Jazzy’s pregnancy. Somehow it doesn’t seem right not mentioning it to my brothers.

Rosy’s story:

The ground is warm beneath my paws as I walk around the boundary of the enclosure. I can feel the resentful presence of my human half, deep inside me. It flinches and tries to burrow further back out of my awareness. I am tired of the constant battle within myself, so I leave that part of me alone. No trying to make friends with it and no pushing for a reaction from it. I shift to a steady trot as I head for my favourite spot, a small rocky area not far from a stand of gum trees. The ground turns sandy beneath my paws and I slow to sniff at a couple of bushes along the path. One is lavender and I pause to rub both of my flanks against the leaves. I wrinkle my nose at the smell before easing into a trot once more.

I feel the human part of me stir at the smell of lavender - she sits up more alertly as the aroma brings memories of a happier time.

The house had been small but light and airy. A tree house nearly as large as the house had been built in a group of camphor laurel trees. I remember a man with dark skin, eyes and hair rubbing leaves he had plucked from the end of a branch on several of the thick trunks making the leaves release their pungent odour.

The trees are sayin’ this is their home.

Sadness comes with the happy memory. I realise now that my human side has never said a final goodbye to that first warrior in my life. I had not known or understood that he had given me as much of a were cat’s education as a human was able to. That even as a human he had protected me as well as a warrior could have.

I slow as I reach the bare rock slabs that are sure to be warm from the sun. I long to lay sprawled out basking in the warmth before hunting for a rabbit or two. My human side seems intent on me fading out of existence but my feline side has different ideas.

As I stretch out on the warm rock surface I become aware that this is not where the human part of me wants to be on this morning. I hesitate a few moments before getting to my feet and allowing my paws to guide themselves. Something older than time drives me - something stronger than my human side, stronger even than my feline side, stronger than them both combined. The scents and sounds are so faint at first that they don’t consciously register. It is not until there is a distinct, but faint, squeal of childish laughter that I stop and lift my head.

My wide flat tongue flicks out over my nose dampening it to aid in catching the elusive scent. My ears swivel slowly until they find the best angle to capture the childish voices. I feel myself sink lower to the ground as I glide forward in an effortless stalk. Grass stems brush the sensitive hairs on my underbelly as I flow along a barely discernable path.

The scents and sounds grow closer.

I come to the fence before I come into sight of what I seek and I halt in frustration. Three metres, nearly ten feet of strong wire mesh fence reaches skywards in front of me. I force down the growl of irritation that wants to rise in my throat as a slight increase in the morning breeze brings the scents to me reminding me I am on a mission. I walk to the fence and sniff experimentally before standing on my hind legs to reach my paws up just above where my head now is.

Not here,

I drop to all four and pace to the left about twelve feet before repeating my testing of the fence.

No, not here either,

This time I pace to the right as my frustration and determination grows. The fence is no shorter, no weaker when I test it again and I drop to all four legs to stare at it in frustration. Primitive instinct drives me and I curl my lips back in a silent snarl. I recheck the fence before scratching at the base of the wire. The wire is buried into the ground and I press my ears back against my head as I realise this fence was constructed to turn this bush retreat into an oversized pen sometime in the past.

They don’t know just who they’re dealing with!

I look along the fence line for several minutes as I study the fence. Finally I notice something interesting and trot to a section of the fence where a large, rough barked tree grows pushing up against the fence from the other side. I study it quickly before turning away and heading back towards the interior of the pen. I stop, lower my head so my muzzle is near the ground and take several deep breaths. I pivot on my hindquarters, my front legs reaching out with claws extended as I reach for a solid footing. I feel the power flow through my thighs, strength ripples in the muscles of my front shoulders and my paws land with claws gripping as I surge forward.

I slow slightly as I near the fence, collect myself and aim for the trunk of the tree. Wire mesh interferes as I scramble for a secure hold on the rough bark, claws deflect off metal and sink into the wood. It is difficult but not impossible and I aim for a thick branch nearly a foot above the top of the mesh. I pant lightly as I balance precariously on the branch before literally running down the tree trunk. I leap to the ground slightly ungainly and take the time to catch my balance and breath before lifting my head to search the breeze.

There,

I stand motionless for a few seconds as I calculate how far I am from my target. I sift through the individual scents as I open my mouth and draw the air in to taste it as well as smell it. I feel my human side stir as I glide forward, I know the moment my two sides connect, the shock, the horror, the necessity.

This land doesn’t call to me like the National Park where I had lived alone had, but there is only room enough for one Queen’s kitts.

I find them at the edge of a shallow stream, four young boys. The two older ones teasing the smaller of the other two, preventing him crossing the stream as the other boy watches silently. I walk out of the sparse trees, my head lowered slightly as I move forward slowly. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind I know my movements resemble those of an African lioness just before she bursts into pursuit. All the birds and insects seem to sense my intentions and fall silent as I advance. My attention is fixed on those four small forms and almost don’t see the fifth form rush in from the left until too late.

"Get out of here!"

I only just manage to avoid the heavy branch that is swung at my front shoulders and head as I shy away with surprise. Raw fury rises inside me and I turn to face the warrior who is in human form. The scream that comes from me as I rush him is not unlike the scream of a domestic cat while fighting. I grab the heavy branch in my jaws as he uses it to try to fend me off, I brace myself as I change tactics and shake the branch as a terrier would shake a rat. The rich metallic scent of blood rises around me as my claws find purchase on one of his shoulders. I flex my claws feeling them dig deeper as I drag them downwards and he screams with pain.

I stand over his limp body for a few seconds, I can hear his heart beating and his breathing, he’s not dead but unconscious. Slowly I turn my head to look for my original targets and a soft whimpering noise has me headed for the nearest cover, a slender tree in a thick lantana patch. The thorny lantana bush around the base of it proves little hinderance as I push through to the base of the tree and look up.

The formerly silent watcher is the highest in the tree, he is whimpering as he clings to the tree trunk in terror. The second largest boy is trying to climb past him while the oldest and biggest boy stands on one of the thicker lower limbs. The smallest child has changed into cat form and is desperately trying to climb up onto the thick branch with his older brother who keeps pushing him backwards with his foot.

I stretch up towards the struggling youngsters and find it will be no great effort to pull each one from the tree. It is a poor choice to try to climb up to escape from me. There is a soft mewling, a frantic scraping of claws then a solid thump on the ground on the other side of the tree. I look up at the cowardly brother who has pushed his youngest brother out of the tree to buy himself more time. I drop to all fours and try to ignore my human half as the memory of being introduced to these boys by Allan is forced to the front of my mind. I focus on the fact that they are not mine.

You can’t! That’s little Dacey! He looks so much like Jakob he must be his son!

There is no sign of the kitt on the other side of the tree but his scent is strong and thick as I lower my head to sniff the ground. I find where he landed, probably on his belly, before fleeing into the thickest part of the lantana. I narrow my eyes as I peer into the thick tangle of thorns. I manage to make out eye gleam and some small pieces of pale fur. I growl as I begin to force my way into the bush. The kitt, I refuse to think his name, hisses and spits fearfully as he tries to retreat. He is soon out of the bush and I descend in a fury intent on the kill. His claws are amazingly sharp, his little milk teeth snap frantically as he writhes and spins. His panicked hissing and spitting changes to a terror filled, frantic shrill chirping as I pin him between my front legs for a killing bite.

I release him and back off confused, he curls his tail up under his stomach as he crouches down and continues his frantic chirping. His cries confuse me even as they stir something deep within me. I circle with my ears laid back, my back arched and tail fluffed out to full extent. He keeps turning to face me, his chirping rising in intensity and finally I stop circling and sniff towards him once more. I sit down and swivel my ears to listen a bit nervously. Where is this kitts mother? Why hasn’t she come to his rescue?

I study him as he continues to cry out. Something stirs in me and I lay my ears back tightly for a few moments before flicking them forward and watching him with growing interest. He is filthy, dust and debris is scattered through his coat. He is a smoky black but he has white on his neck like a collar, on both front paws and halfway up one back leg. He seems a little thin and something tells me he is too young to be away from his mother, even for a short time. I sniff towards him and he cowers against the ground but his frantic pleas continue. I mewl uncertainly at him and go to move closer to sniff him but he stops chirping to spit fearfully before resuming chirping once again.

He’s little more than a baby!

I snort and sneeze as I shake my head and circle him in a wide circle. My confusion grows as my maternal instinct is besieged by warring thoughts.

Remove all competition for my unborn kitt!

It doesn’t have to be that way!

They are male!

I stop circling and flick my ears forward once again as I regard the terrified kitt. I lift my head and look towards the warrior where he is beginning to moan and come around. Slowly I walk up to the exhausted kitt, he is too tired to do more than spit and hiss at me. A coldness creeps over me as I lower my head to sniff his huddled form. The certainty that my line MUST survive over all others fills me.

These kitts must die.

I feel the human side of me give in and accept how it must be. There is no fight between human and feline just acceptance. Without the constant struggle calmness begins to fill me, without the fighting for one view to be seen and over rule the other, possibilities flow freely. My thoughts are clearer and I feel as if I am seeing the whole picture for the first time. I lower my head, not to deliver the killing bite, but to begin cleaning this kitt of mine.

I have so much to learn, I acknowledge.

The little bundle at my feet slowly stops trembling as I set about putting his coat into order. Every now and then a soft murmur leaves me and a strange rasping purr comes from me. Inside me my two different natures communicate. It’s not an internal conversation-taking place, rather the sharing of emotions, both sides feeling the how other is thinking. I pause in grooming my kitt to glance towards where I’d left my other kitts. I see the warrior leaning against a heavy branch he holds while talking on a mobile phone. I swivel my ears and listen in on his call.

"… yes she’s gotten Dacey, the others are still up a sapling …" His tone is sad, I can hear the tears thickening his throat.

"Are they safe?" The voice is faint and broken by static so I can’t be sure who it is.

"Not when she decides to come after them," the warrior says weakly. "I don’t know how long before blood loss …"

Dacey, his name is Dacey. I try to reconcile the name to my new treasure. Spencer is the oldest and largest up the sapling, Patrick is the ruddy-faced strawberry blonde and Terry is the small white blonde boy. The information flows through my mind unbidden but welcome.

I tune the warrior’s voice out and nudge the bundle at my feet. Dacey is panting heavily and I realise he is suffering from delayed shock. Gently I grasp him by the scruff of his neck in my mouth and lift him carefully, a pained gasp has me freezing and I look towards the warrior cautiously. He is watching me with a stricken look on his face, his attention on the limp form hanging from my mouth.

I hesitate a moment before making my way carefully towards the watercourse. I halt at the edge of the trees and bushes along the bank before spotting a sandy looking area and heading there. I put my precious burden on the ground and begin scratching at the darker soil. I lay my ears back as I hear the faint sounds of several large creatures crashing through the bush at a rapid pace. I don’t halt my digging until the sandy soil starts to clump damply. I drag Dacey onto the cool ground and stand there anxiously. Without the constant battle in my head, without the conflicting emotions over nearly everything I feel at a loss. I don’t know what to do, and yet … part of me knows, I just don’t know how to hear/feel/sense what to do.

I can’t wait to show Micah our babies, I …

I blink as I remember. There is no our, no us. I give a low drawn out coughing call as I call out to the memory of him running at my side. I listen for several moments, there are two answering calls but neither are the one I listen for. Numbly I drop my nose to the still form at my feet and give Dacey several tentative licks.

"Hey! Over here!"

The badly mauled warrior has moved and I lift my head to briefly glance his way. Without consciously checking I see he has moved further away from the kitts up the sapling. He has moved enough so he is almost on the opposite side of me to the slight noises that approach at speed. I turn away from him as I stand almost erect on my hind legs, my front paws drawn up almost kangaroo style to my chest. My ears swivel as I try for the best position to catch faint sounds. I drop so all four paws are on the ground and catch sight of the first black shadow moving rapidly towards me.

He bursts into full view where the boys had been at the edge of the stream. He halts and roars throatily before heading towards me at a trot. I don’t need to catch his scent or know him by sight, the aura of power and authority he carries like a second skin warns me this is Alan. And he is one very enraged Alpha. I lower my head to sniff at Dacey once again and a scream of rage comes from Alan as he charges through lantana, another scream echoes his from behind and off to his left. I try to widen my line of sight and catch a glimpse of a large dark blur charging my way.

My shriek joins their screams before they end and I lay my ears back against my skull as I arch from my chin to the tip of my tail. Every hair on my body stands on end and my tail lashes from side to side. Protective maternal rage burns within me but I back up several steps reluctantly. Alan breaks through, clear of the thorny lantana bushes and then a glimpse of another tom to his right pushes into sight and suddenly there are five, six, no seven toms advancing towards me. Heads down as they move forward with purpose.

I stand my ground as they advance, I know it is no friendly walk by their movements but I refuse to abandon my new kitt. I screech in anger and slap the ground threateningly with my front feet, the force of it shooting up my recently healed foreleg. Dacey begins to chirp frantically once again and Alan is quick to leap to him calling reassurance as he nuzzles his little body searching for injury.

I roar and screech as I kick dirt up with my back feet. The toms inch forward and threatening snarls come from several of them and I have to give more ground as they move between Alan, Dacey and I. I have little option but to keep giving ground as the line of warriors slowly advance. It goes against every instinct screaming within me but I move further and further away from all four kitts.

Lantana prickles against my hindquarters and I stop, refusing to back any further. Still the line in front of me advances and I snort several times as the gap between us gets uncomfortable. Every instinct is warning me much closer and they will be within attacking distance. Only the largest tom continues to move towards me, I know it has to be Jakob and I curl my lips back in a silent snarl as I watch him angrily. He is within striking range and I know I have no time to avoid an attack if he comes after me. I yawl my warning to leave me alone but still he presses closer, and closer.

I feel the slight brush of air against the side of my face and realise it is Jakob exhaling, I snort and he changes the angle of his head to catch the smell of my breath. Slowly he is searching my scent and the knowledge suddenly fills my mind that he is trying to smell what had driven me. I snort again but let my ear rise from against my skull as I extend my head to sniff towards him.

Anger, fear, horror and near panic.

I take a step towards him for another sniff but the way he curls his top lip and the gleam in his eyes warn me he doesn’t want to have anything to do with me. I curl my top lip up and inhale noisily through my mouth. I work my tongue back and forth as I open and close my mouth as if tasting something unpleasant. I force a sneeze that has him flinching back from me and I take the chance to leap forward, box him around the ears with a screech of outrage before racing for the nearest large tree.

I can hear pursuit but I reach my goal well ahead of them and my upward leap finds a solid branch I climb onto. I watch three warriors stop just out of range if I was to decide to drop back to the ground. Beyond them I can see Jakob has joined Alan and between them they are herding the three boys and one cub back the way they had come. I call frantically to Dacey and I am hopeful when he hesitates but a low rumble from Alan has him moving away once again. Alan pauses then calls for the warriors to follow him, he hesitates a moment then calls again and I know this call is for me to follow as well.

My head is full of thoughts and emotions that had once belonged to two different sides, it confuses me and I growl as I sharpen my claws on the branch beneath me. I watch as most of the warriors move away leaving Jakob and two others to lounge around in the shade on the other side of the stream. I snort my annoyance before stretching out on the branch to work out what the muddle of thoughts in my head is telling me to do.

Micah’s story:

I glance at the heavily laden cloud filled sky uneasily before shutting the door of the ute, gathering two handfuls of grocery bags and heading for the door of the quarters. A simple bump from my elbow has the latch of the screen door opening and I stride down the hallway letting my eyes adjust to the gloom of the interior as I go. It is four weeks, one day, two hours and seventeen minutes since Rosy chose Edwin over me. But who is counting? I try not to be but every minute we are apart still seems like an eternity. I brush my thoughts aside and try to concentrate on the here and now of my life.

"Can I get a hand bringing the shopping in?" I ask as I drop the bags on the kitchen table. "I only just raced the storm home and we’re in for hail judging by the colour of the clouds."

Timny, Malcolm, Chris and Kirby are in the lounge room and get to their feet immediately.

"Mikkarl, Steven and Dwayne are making sure the relocatable home is secured properly. Justin, Donny and Callum are helping lock up the house. Sam’s talking to Mitchell in the office at the main house," Malcolm tells me before heading outside.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Celeste asks and I glance into the lounge room surprised to see she is here, not with one of her brothers. I am just about to refuse and tell her to sit down, read her book or whatever she had been doing when I glance her way again. She is watching me hopefully as she strokes her hair down over the scared side of her face, I guess it is an unconscious movement now.

"You can start packing things away if you feel the need to be doing something," I offer.

"Thanks," Celeste says with a relieved smile. "I hate just standing around or sitting around while everyone else does stuff. It makes me feel useless,"

"Or you could make sure there is hot water in the thermos in case we end up without power," I say with a moments thought. "Everyone will appreciate that,"

On my way out I hold the screen door open for Kirby who is carrying the large esky full of cold meat destined for the freezer. Outside at the ute I wait my turn to grab another load of grocery bags while Timny and Chris get hold of as much as they can hold onto.

"Looks like it’s going to be a wild one," Timny remarks as he takes a moment to look at the western sky where the heavy green-grey tinged clouds are whirling round and round.

"Damn," Malcolm exclaims as a strong gust of wind blows dust, twigs and leaves in our faces.

"Looks like another trip will get the last of this inside," I grunt as I carry my load towards the door.

"I’ll grab the other esky," Kirby says on his way back to the ute.

Inside is very gloomy now and Chris flicks the lights on as he goes past on his way back outside. Even though all of us can see without difficulty in the gloomy rooms the glow from the lights is comforting as the wind howls outside. I deposit the bags on the table and head back outside to help get the last of the groceries inside. The wind is now close to gale force and I look up as Malcolm places a hand on the point of my shoulder.

"I’ll go secure the gym shed!" His words are nearly lost to the wind even though he shouts beside my head.

I give a quick nod and head inside with the last of the bags of groceries as he jogs into the teeth of the wind. As I battle with the screen door I barely glance at Dwayne, Mikkarl and Steven as they run over to the quarters before I turn and head down the hallway. I put my load of bags on the table and glance around. Nearly half of the groceries have been put away and Kirby is working on putting the contents of the second esky in the freezer.

"Everyone keep away from windows!" I yell to make myself heard above the roar of the wind. There is a thundering sound above the roar of the wind and I move to where I can look out the small window in the lounge room. There is a grey curtain like wall moving rapidly towards us from the southwest, everything behind it quickly becomes invisible in the grey haze.

"There’s the rain coming!" Dwayne yells. Already the first drops are hitting the roof. They sound large and solid but the sound lacks the ‘ping’ that accompanies hail as it hits the roof. No sooner do I make note of the fact then comes the first loud ‘ping!’

"Send her down Huey!" Kirby yells and then all conversation is drowned out by the torrential rain and hail. Lightning flashes brightly and thunder roars loudly, I make my way out to the hallway and glance into the sleep out before heading for the front door. The rain and hail obscures nearly everything over twenty feet away. I glance towards the relocatable home and the main house before looking towards the gym shed. The others will have secured everything even without my directions and I know Malcolm is smart enough to stay in the shed rather than risk making a dash for the quarters.

I am not surprised to find Celeste securely in Steven’s arms when I return to the kitchen where everyone is congregated. I send her a smile and don’t miss the angry glare he sends my way from over her head. I find myself yearning for Rosy to hold in my arms while we watch the display of rain, hail and lightning out the lounge room window. Wind seems to rattle the very building and it sounds like a branch screeches across the roof amid the rain and hail. The heavy thuds of the hail begin to slacken in numbers until there is only the occasional one. The rain still pours down but now the drops sound smaller and less solid. Lightning still flashes and thunder answers as the storm passes directly overhead.

I feel the hairs on my arms and legs stand on end as my scalp crawls as lightning flashes outside turning the raindrops into liquid silver. Windows rattle and the floor vibrates as the thunder rolls over us before the lightning fades leaving us in darkness as the lights go out and the fridges fall silent. I catch the gaze of several others and motion towards the other end of the building, Timny, Dwayne and Mikkarl nod their understanding and we go to check for broken windows.

The worst of the fury of the storm has passed in the few minutes it takes us to check the rooms. The windows in the bathroom and toilet have been broken but everything else seems intact. I leave Timny and Mikkarl collecting broken glass as Dwayne and I head for the kitchen.

"I’ll go check for damage to the out buildings," I tell Dwayne. "You go check everything is okay at the main house. Chris go check over at the relocatable, Kirby go check the vehicles and Steven go start the generator. Power lines are sure to be down and it will probably be a while before they’re fixed."

We head out on the tasks I had assigned and I pause outside the door as I look around at the expanse of hailstones that are lying on the ground along with a lot of branches broken from trees. My first stop is the stone shed where punishments are handed out. I check inside and outside of the building pleased to find no visible damage before I head for the next shed, one of the machinery sheds. I look around and notice no sign of Malcolm and frown.

"Lazy bastard," I mutter. He should be out helping check buildings or reporting his own investigations. I head for the gym shed and frown when I notice there is damage from the door having been left unsecured.

"Malcolm, why the hell didn’t you secure the door properly?" I demand as I pull the door open and step inside. The large double doors have been secured properly I notice with my first glance. The two windows on the western side have the outside shutters closed protecting them from damage. The small room at the other end where there is a fridge for cold drinks is dim so the window in there must be shuttered too.

"Malcolm!" I raise my voice slightly as I feel the ever-present anger start to stir. I am just about to go outside and check for outside damage and look for Malcolm when I hear some sound I can’t place.

"Malcolm?" I say annoyed as I head for the other end of the building. "I am going to kick your arse for not securing this building prop…"

Shock steals my breath and my voice for a few seconds as I step into the room. A large tree branch has crashed down on the far corner of the shed, crushing the end of the wall and turning the corner into a twisted wreck of metal and glass. But what has me speechless and sends me hurrying forward is the sight of Malcolm half slumped against the only wooden wall.

"Malcolm?" I try to keep the horror out of my voice as I get to where I can see he is skewered to the wall by a length of steel through his chest.

"Malcolm?" I ask as I hesitate touching the steel rod jutting from his chest.

"I … think Ihmm … rooted," The words are very faint and slurred, his lips barely moving. Slowly his eyes open and they are glazed over with shock and pain.

I study where the rod has entered his chest, the angle it went in and the fact it is pinning him to the wall and keeping him from sinking to the floor. I have to agree with his diagnosis.

"I’ll get Chris over here," I say softly reaching for my phone in my jeans pocket. I know the two brothers will want to spend what time Malcolm has left together.

"No!" Malcolm hisses painfully before I can pull my phone from my pocket.

"Don’t want … to see me … like smm …" Malcolm struggles to take a breath deep enough to let him continue speaking. " … fucken insect pinned … wall."

"You don’t want your brother to see you like this," I say gently.

"No," Malcolm manages with a gasp. " Nnn not Jazsee …"

"Okay mate," I agree even though I know both those he mentioned would want to be here. But they weren’t the ones dying and Malcolm deserves to go out with what dignity he can. I think for a few moments, maybe half a minute or more to find a compromise for them.

"How about, I call Timny and get him to get Chris, Kirby and Jazzy, then pull this out before they get here." I suggest softly.

"No," His response is more breathless and he opens his eyes once again to stare at me.

"Pull out … then call …"

I nod wordlessly. We both know he will bleed out before I will be able to finish the call. If he doesn’t bleed out before I manage to get the steel rod removed.

"Okay buddy," I say and swallow back the thickness in my throat before continuing. "I pull this thing out before calling for Chris, Kirby and Jazzy. Right,"

Malcolm nods without taking his eyes from mine. He opens his mouth as if to speak but closes it without saying anything.

"Here’s how it’ll be," I say quietly. "I’ll pull this out of you, help you sit or lay down and then ring Timny to get everyone over here. But you won’t be alone. I’ll stay with you the entire time. I’ll stay, and hold your hand, and not move until Chris can sit with you, okay?"

I take my phone out and carefully place it on the floor where it will be in quick reach once I have Malcolm either sitting or lying on the floor.

"Sray …lmzz …" I look at him at the slurred words and force a smile.

"Yes buddy, I’ll stay. I won’t leave you for a second," I reassure him before carefully taking hold of the steel rod. I brace one foot against the wall about waist height and look him in the face, he is still watching me with glazed eyes.

"Ready?"

At his nod I grasp the rod tightly and pull. For a moment I don’t think it is going to budge before the wood creaks and the rod starts to come loose. I hurriedly put my leg down and use my left hand against his right shoulder to hold him against the wall as I continue to pull the rod free.

"Arrghh," The strangled sound comes from him and I have to admire the strength it takes him not to scream in pain as I toss the rod aside and use both arms to ease him to the floor.

"I’m right here Malcolm, I’m not going anywhere," I manage in an attempt to reassure him. He sits against the wall for a moment or two blinking slowly before slumping sideways to lie awkwardly. I kneel beside him and take one of his hands in my right hand even as I reach for my phone with my left hand. It only takes a moment to get Timny’s number up and I press call. I look at Malcolm as I hold my phone to my ear and watch as he struggles to draw each breath.

"Yeah Micah," Timny answers and I can hear the swish of a broom in the background.

"Bring Chris over here to the gym shed immediately," I say clearly. "Send someone for …"

"Malcolm?" Timny asks in a tight serious voice alerted by my tone of voice.

"Yes, tree through the side wall, metal got him. Hurry!" I say and hang up. I take a deep breath to steady myself and almost gag at the thick cloying scent of hot blood.

"I’m right here Malcolm," I say in as soothing tones as I can manage. I grip his hand harder to make sure he can feel I am still here. His eyelids are fluttering, his breathing is very shallow and for a moment I wonder if it will be like when Alex died, like a light had been extinguished. Blazing brightly one second, gone the next. The hand gripping his starts to hurt and I glance down at it. I am shocked to find he has started to change forms, transforming into his cat form.

"We can’t bury you …" my words trail off as I realise this was what he wanted. To be cremated in cat form. We cremate those who die in cat form to prevent any chance of their secret being revealed in death.

"… If that’s what you want," I whisper as I let go of his hand but stay close.

I continue to talk to him. I don’t remember what I am saying even as the words leave my mouth, I only know I need to keep talking to him. The sound of hurried footsteps reaches me but I pay little heed to them until there is a commotion in the doorway.

"Malcolm! You stupid bloody idiot!" Chris yells and suddenly he is beside me on his knees.

I don’t take my eyes from Malcolm as he goes through his last torturous change but I do put my arm around Chris’ shoulders and pull him close. I can feel the sobs that shake his body as he waits until Malcolm has completely changed before stroking the once powerful front quarters. I become aware of Timny on the other side of Chris and realise that the two of us are holding him upright, preventing him collapsing on his brother’s body. Behind me I become aware of muffled sobbing and look over my shoulder to see Mitchell holding Jazzy who is sobbing against his chest and all but collapsing on the floor. Celeste is crying quietly against Mikkarl’s chest and I glance at Steven who is sniffling and wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

I turn my attention back to Malcolm’s body and reach up to close his eyes for a final time. I freeze as I hold my hand over the end of his muzzle. I am just about to move my hand when I feel it again. A slight puff of air against my hand! Hurriedly I place my hand on his rib cage over his heart, its there, very weak and thready but his heart is still beating! I push Chris aside to check the amount of blood on the floor, nowhere near the amount I expect! I put my ear to his chest expecting to hear his breath gurgling in his chest as he drowns in his own blood. His breathing is shallow but clear!

"Ring Doc!" I order as I attempt to climb to my feet but I have been kneeling longer than I realised. Steven grasps me by my upper arm and helps me to my feet. I pat my pockets for my phone even as I glance towards the floor where my phone is several feet away, forgotten in those moments I had been sure Malcolm was a fraction from death.

"Here," Steven says shoving his phone into my hand. I nod as I accept it, I can hear it ringing on the other end as I throw an arm around Steven’s shoulders and feel his arm settle over my shoulders in comfort. It is the first time he has spoken to me or interacted with me since I had returned to the quarters after punching him and knocking into the lounge room.

"Steven what can I do for you?" Doc asks as he answers.

"Micah here," I say hurriedly. "We had a wild storm here and Malcolm got impaled through the chest by a metal rod, front to back, right through. I’ve pulled it out and now …"

"Micah stop," Doc says firmly and I can hear him walking then a door closing.

"If it hit a lung he’ll drown in his own blood. If it missed his lungs it will have hit an artery for sure and he’ll bleed out. All you can do is make him comfortable. Don’t give him anything to drink in case there is damage to his digestive system, but it’s okay to moisten his lips and mouth with a damp sponge. Anyone else injured?" Doc is talking and there are noises in the background as if he is packing hurriedly.

"His chest sounds clear and there isn’t a lot of blood on the floor," I say and glance down at Timny who keeps glancing anxiously between me, Malcolm and Chris. "How long since I called you?"

Timny gives a slight shrug and looks at his watch, "Twelve, maybe fifteen minutes,"

"Add another minute or two to that," I say into the phone. "Malcolm has changed to his cat form, is there anything we can do for him? He’s still alive,"

"He shoulda only lasted five tops," Doc mumbles faintly but I catch it.

"Doc?" I press with a sick feeling in my stomach.

"Is he somewhere warm? If not move him without jostling him, don’t bump him or do anything that might make him start bleeding or coughing or anything!" Doc orders. "He might be the one in a hundred million who has the object miss everything ma … wait, the rod. Blunt end or sharp that got him?" Doc stops talking to ask suddenly.

I look over at the steel rod I had tossed aside, my sight goes blurry for a moment then clears and I study the bloody end.

"It’s pointed," I say and have to stop to swallow. "It looks like it snapped on the bias. The shaft looks smooth, no splinters or spurs. It was hell pulling it out of the wall and then out of his chest …" I stop as I remember that Jazzy, Celeste and Chris are here. They don’t need to know how I found Malcolm.

"A piercing wound - could be a lot better than a crushing wound with a blunt rod. Depends on what injuries have been done internally. Keep him warm and comfortable and I will be there as soon as I can," Doc says and the line goes silent.

"Doc said to …" I start to say only to trail off as Steven speaks over top of me.

"I heard, we’ll take over from here," Steven says as he gives my shoulders a faint squeeze. "You help take the girls over to the quarters and get Malcolm's bed covered for him,"

"No! I want him at the house!" Jazzy protests and I look her way to see her pushing out of Mitchell's arms. Mitchell hesitates a moment with a frown on his face before giving a faint nod and taking Jazzy by the hand.

"Come on, I’ll help get things ready," Mitchell says quietly to her and leads her from the room.

The first faint traces of predawn light are starting to lighten the eastern sky as I head from the quarters towards the main house. It is the second morning after the wild storm and I am checking to see if there has been any change in Malcolm's condition over night. After the strain of yesterday when he had seemed on the brink of developing an infection the chance of a walk appealed more than a quick phone call. The lights are on in the kitchen so I let myself into the house and clear my throat just inside the door before walking any further.

"Doc?" I question softly knowing Doc likes to get up before sunrise and enjoy a quiet cup of coffee. Both Doc and Mitchell are in the kitchen, Doc is sitting at the table and his eyes are glassy and bloodshot telling me has had little or no sleep over night. Mitchell is facing away from me and leaning on the sink, his shoulders braced and his head hanging forward.

"Tough night?" I ask quietly.

"You might say that," Doc mumbles and rubs a hand over his face.

"Doesn’t even begin to describe it," Mitchell mutters sounding very hoarse.

Mitchell turns around to face me and I am shocked to see tears in his eyes and his chin wobbling. He sniffs loudly and brushes at tears that begin to roll down his cheeks, he attempts to take a deep breath but his shoulders begin shaking as he dissolves into tears.

"Jazzy … lost … our kitt," Mitchell manages before loosing control and sobbing against the hand he holds to his mouth.

"Doc?" I look to Doc as panic threatens to overtake me.

"She’ll be fine with time," Doc says with a heavy sigh. "Apparently she has had spotting, little bits of bleeding for the last two or three weeks. Yesterday it started up and just kept getting heavier. She’d lost the kitt before I smelt the blood on her. She didn’t say anything to me wanting me focused on Malcolm. From what she told me of her pregnancy there was nothing I could have done even if I knew as soon as the bleeding started."

"Where is she? I want to see my sister!" I demand and head for the bedrooms.

"Micah!" Doc calls after me in a stern tone and I pause as I look over my shoulder at him.

"Don’t wake her up," Doc orders firmly. "I gave her a sedative so she will rest,"

I hurry to the bedroom I know she has moved into and hesitate before opening the door. I can’t think of any words I could say if she was awake.

I’m sorry?

There’ll be other kitts?

You’ll get over it?

In my heart I know those words will do little or nothing to ease the pain. Nothing can replace a kitt lost before it draws its first breath. I’d felt that … I shake my head and pull my thoughts back to reality, I take a deep breath and open the door silently.

Jazzy is lying in the middle of the king-sized bed, on her left side facing the door. Her right hand resting on top of the blanket over her lower stomach, her left hand up at her face with her fingers curled over her nose and undoubtedly her thumb in her mouth. Dark marks look like bruises beneath her eyes and the rest of her face is very pale and washed out. She looks much like she did as a young kitt whenever she was ill and I have the urge to climb onto the bed and curl up against her back as if I could protect her from the world.

A hand on my elbow startles me and I turn around to find Doc behind me.

"You might want to call your brothers and Sam," Doc says in a quiet whisper. "Mitchell needs some support at the moment."

I give a slight nod and allow him to shut the bedroom door and guide me back towards the kitchen. He pauses at Dwayne’s old room to open the door and go in to check on Malcolm before coming back out and reaching the kitchen. Mitchell is in Donny’s old room and I can hear soft crying coming from there. I hesitate for a moment when I take my phone out. I stand staring down at the phone in my hand before calling Steven and asking him to come over to the main house and bring Dwayne, Justin, Donny and Sam with him.

While I wait for them to arrive I pour myself a large mug of coffee before refilling the coffee maker and turning it back on. I have hardly managed any of the strong bitter brew before the back door opens and soft footsteps come in quietly. I look up and study them as they walk into the kitchen. Donny will take it the hardest I realise, the others will be upset and concerned, but Donny is the closest to Jazzy. He will feel the loss as if it was his own physical pain.

"Do you need someone to go and get Mal and Angela from over at the relocatable?" Dwayne asks quietly.

Mal and Angela had arrived shortly after hearing about Malcolm’s injury and were staying with Marissa and Wade much to Marissa’s pleasure. Their company was helping with her recovery after her breakdown and Wade's punishment.

"No," I say as I place my mug on the sink and motion towards the table. "Everyone sit down,"

I wait until they all pull out chairs and sit down before I walk over and pause between Donny and Justin. I take a deep breath, I don’t know how to put this delicately or in a way that isn’t going to shock and upset everyone. I glance at Doc where he stands by the sink but there is no help from him. I place a hand on Donny’s shoulder and pat it slightly before giving it a squeeze.

"Jazzy was pregnant but she lost the kitt some time yesterday or last night," I say quietly and feel Donny flinch beneath my hand.

"Doc said given time Jazzy will recover," I say trying to be reassuring.

"Jazzy, I need to see Jazzy," Donny sobs and I tighten my hold on his shoulder.

"Your sister is asleep at the moment," Doc says coming forward. "She needs all the rest she can get so she makes a quick recovery."

"Where’s Mitchell?" Sam asks as he gets to his feet.

"Donny’s old room," I say and glance at Dwayne who has an arm around Justin’s shoulders and is resting his head against Justin’s.

Sam gives a slight nod before heading off to his brother. Steven moves around to sit in the seat beside Donny where Sam had sat. He puts his arms around Donny and pulls him against his chest. I feel useless, awkward like an extra limb before I squat between Donny and Justin with a hand on each of them. I glance across at Steven when I feel a hand cover the one of mine that rests on Donny’s shoulder. I can hear each of my brothers crying softly and I have to blink back the tears in my own eyes. I’ll cry later, for now I need to be strong for those weaker than me. A hand grasps my bicep firmly and I glance towards Donny to find Steven watching me over Donny’s head. Steven gives me a small nod and I feel the tears well up behind my eyes, I try to force them back but he squeezes my arm slightly. I take a deep breath and the tears begin to flow as I bow my head with my brothers and mourn the loss of one of our own.

It is midmorning when I finally get the chance to get away by myself after seeing everything would run smoothly at the main house for the day. Donny was curled up on the bed with Jazzy who was sleeping peacefully and Mitchell was where he had cried himself to sleep with Sam at his side. Dwayne and Justin would look after Malcolm and make sure food and drink were ready for Jazzy and Mitchell when they woke.

I walk towards the gym shed to double check the entire broken wall was removed so repairs could start. I am glad of Steven walking beside me even though we have scarcely exchanged two words. He’s still mad at me for the way I spoke to Celeste but he’s still my best friend.

"Micah," Steven’s voice is slightly raspy betraying the fact that he done his crying when he told the rest of our warriors of Jazzy and Mitchell’s loss.

"You …?" he doesn’t finish what he had been about to say and I glance at him as we reach the shed.

"Am I going to call Edwin," I say voicing his question.

"Yeah," Steven grunts as we walk around the exterior of the shed until we come to the damage.

"Must have been hell finding Malcolm like that," Steven says quietly.

"Yeap," I bite the word out and blink back tears as I remember the sight exactly. "I thought he was dead at first, then when he wanted the rod out so Chris, Jazzy and Kirby didn’t see … I was sure he’d bleed out before I could even call anyone."

The need to hold Rosy in my arms is overwhelming and I turn away from the gaping hole in the wall with a sob. It feels like there is a huge burning hole inside of me and my arms ache with emptiness.

"Hey, come on partner," Steven says with concern. "Malcolm’s got a fighting chance thanks to what you done for him."

"I feel so damned empty," I manage hoarsely. "Jazzy, my sister, lost her kitt. Malcolm, one of my warrior brothers, is fighting for his life. And all I can do is think about how much I miss Rosy and the fact I want to do nothing more than hold her in my arms and loose myself in her!"

"I wish I had some kind of answer for you," Steven mutters and I feel a large hand settle on my shoulder. "How about we go over to the quarters and see if we can’t find something to distract ourselves? I’m sure the guys will be glad to have you around."

"I’m not good company lately," I say tightly as I shrug off his hand.

"No you haven’t been," Steven admits and forces me to turn around to face him. "But you’re still my partner and I still love you more than I love my own brothers, so wake up to yourself!"

I look at Steven with surprise, maybe this is what I need, to be forced back into every day life. The way it was before Rosy.

"What do you have planned for today?" I force myself to ask.

"The warriors need you," Steven says firmly. " They need their leader."

I nod and allow him to put an arm around my shoulders and lead me from the shed. In my mind I know the repairs on the shed can wait another day, but a part of me wants it fixed immediately, as if by doing so it will ensure Malcolm's survival. The clan has lost enough members.

The soft murmur of voices stop as I walk into the lounge room and sit in the middle of the lounge. I stare at the dark screen on the tv and wonder why no-one is playing one of the many violent x-box games.

"Mitchell and Malcolm are the ones who use the games to diffuse the violence in their lives," Timny says as he plonks himself down beside me. It’s as if he sensed my thoughts.

Steven sits on the other side of me leaning against me and suddenly I am glad of the contact, I hadn’t realised how much I was missing it. A plate with a thick roast meat sandwich appears almost out of nowhere over my shoulder and I glance back to find Mikkarl watching me with a closed expression.

"In case you haven’t had lunch yet," Mikkarl says levelly before heading back into the kitchen.

"It’s too quiet in here!" Celeste declares as she marches into the lounge room.

No says anything as she turns the tv on and surfs through channels before turning on one of the game consoles.

"One complaint about my choice of music and I will turn it up so loud your ears ring," Celeste says lightly as she slips a disc into the game console and puts the tv on the channel used to play a game.

"So how long do we have to suffer before we can change the CD to something else?" Steven asks in a horrified tone.

"I don’t want to hear another word out of you Steven Willoughby," Celeste says in airy tones.

"Awe strewth!" Steven mutters dramatically. "What did I ever do to deserve a sister like you?"

"You was a real good boy," Mikkarl says sarcastically.

The first notes of the music begin to come from the tv catching my attention. The song sounds familiar but I can’t place it.

"Have you been playing this album over and over since you got here?" I ask thoughtfully.

"I bought it for my sister yesterday when we went into town," Mikkarl says firmly and I glance his way at the tone of his voice.

"I’m sure I’ve heard this song before," I say with a shrug. I lean my head back and close my eyes as I listen to the music and the tension begins to leave my mind.

Rosy’s story:

I slip the over sized linen shirt from my body before stepping beneath the cascade of the shower. I sigh with pleasure as warm water washes the sweat and dust from my body collected when I went for my morning run in cat form. Jake and Drew had accompanied me as they had the last five mornings since I escaped the huge pen I had previously roamed while in cat form. The water feels good on my body and I close my eyes before slipping my head beneath the spray. I brush my hair back off my face and exhale through my mouth and nose as the water falls on my face. I take a step back and bite my bottom lip as the spray catches my sensitive breasts, my nipples pucker and I can’t resist cupping them with my own hands.

I flick my thumbs back and forth several times teasing myself before running my hands slowly down my ribs and over the swell of my stomach. I steady myself with my left hand against the wall as I lift my right foot to rest my toes on the slight ledge of the cubicle. I blink the last of the water from my eyelashes as I stare at the tiles in front of me and hesitate. This has become a daily routine for me the last few days. Change, run, change back to human form, return home, shower, and masturbate.

I take a deep breath as temptation and need become too much. My body wants release, needs release. After having become use to very satisfying sex with Micah, very regularly … almost daily if not twice a day, my body does not like total abstinence. My feline side is very sensual and I close my eyes as I give in, my fingers resume their interrupted journey.

There is no teasing, no delaying as I slide my fingers to my curls and then to the soft inner folds. I immediately find the eager little nub that hardens beneath my fingertips as I gasp in a quick breath. My hips jerk involuntarily as I circle my clit several times before delving lower to the slickness that is quickly forming. I stroke my fingertips through that moisture, teasing as I gather that slickness. I bite back a moan as my fingers return to my clit and begin to circle once again. Each stroke is deliberate, each flick calculated and my legs begin to tremble as my fingers dance faster. I feel it building, tightening low in my stomach and then it is over almost before it has began. I gasp and lean forward, my head going beneath the water spray once again as I steady myself with both of my hands on the wall. The spray hits the back of my shoulders and runs down my back almost like a lovers caress.

When I have caught my breath I push my hair back off my face as I step away from the wall and quickly wash all traces of my release from my body. With a final turn beneath the spray I turn the rapidly cooling water off and reach for a towel. I pat myself dry and reach for the clothing I left out earlier. Underwear, a soft large t-shirt and cosy soft linen pants made for comfort.

I take a while to towel dry my hair and brush it so the long silky strands are easy to tie back in a ponytail. I take a moment to slip my feet into fluffy scuffs before heading for the other part of the house where Alan and the boys will be with Jake, Drew and probably several other toms. I find Jake and Drew in the room the two older boys share and frown when I see they are alone as they put washed clothes away.

"Where are my boys?" I ask almost petulantly. I feel the burning need to check on the four boys regularly.

"They’re off with their minders today," Jake says as he finishes what he is doing. "You know you only get to see them for an hour morning and evening until Alan is sure you can be trusted with them,"

Drew sniffs noisily and I glance his way, he is rubbing one hand under his nose as he shakes his head. He glances towards Jake before turning his head and looking me over from head to toe.

"What are you planning for today girlfriend?" Drew asks with a grin.

"Not much," I say with a shrug. "Not like I can go hunt lunch for myself these days, girlfriend."

Drew laughs softly, I had killed a small wallaby during our run but shared between the three of us it had been little more than a snack.

"Who’s been playing with themselves in the shower again?" Jake drawls and sniffs towards me in an exaggerated manner.

"Stop sniffing me," I growl in disgust. "I don’t like being sniffed,"

"Okay Tawny, whatever you say Tawny," Jake laughs.

I curl one side of my top lip up in disgust and roll my eyes. I turn to leave the room only to accidentally step straight into Drew’s grasp as he grabs me.

"Hey! Leave me alone!" I protest as Drew buries his face against my neck and sniffs loudly.

"Want her Jake?" Drew asks as he raises his face from my neck and grins down at me. "She’s more to your tastes than mine,"

"Let me go you weirdo," I growl but my heart isn’t in it. My body is rebelling and enjoying the feel of a hard male body pressed against mine even if the tom it belongs to prefers other toms. The knowledge that not too long ago I would have been crying by now and begging not to be hurt runs through my mind. That human side of me is still there but now it trusts the feline side of me that knows these toms mean no harm.

"You’re a naughty, naughty, girl," Jake growls with a laugh and I find myself sandwiched between two hard male bodies as he presses close. Drew waits until Jake has a firm hold on me before releasing me and backing off, mean while Jake is sniffing noisily around my neck and at my damp hair.

"I can smell it in your hair," Jake mutters as his face rubs against the side of my head.

The feel of his body against mine and his slightly musky smell as he starts to become aroused reawakens my own body’s needs. I exhale sharply through my nose as my physical urges war with my emotional needs. Jake is not the tom I desire, the tom I need. That option is lost to me forever, I can want as much I desire but it can never be. Jake is here, he is high ranking and strong. He appeals to both sides of me but he is not the one my heart aches for.

"Let me go," My words sound weak even to my ears. I hold still as his hands find the hem of my shirt. His lips find my ear as his hands slide up over the bare skin of my ribs and his thumbs brush the underside of my breasts. His fingertips trace circles just below my breasts and I feel my nipples tighten into hard little buds as my breath catches in my throat.

I can feel the hard ridge of his arousal pressed against the small of my back and I find myself wondering how it would feel to have him inside me. My body wants him. Wants that release, to be held in strong arms and trapped beneath a heavy male body. I go still as I realise the truth of the situation. I want the act, I need the release but there must be meaning to it all as well.

"No," The word is weak and trembles from my lips.

Jake’s lips find the side of my neck and nibble delicately as my head falls to the side obligingly. My hips press back against him as his hands cup my breasts. It would be so easy, it would appease that hunger, but the ache would remain.

"I said no." This time my voice is firm and I hold my body stiffly. Ancient knowledge comes to my aid as I angle my body away from his. Jake sighs softly before releasing me, he moves away and I look his way soberly. He smiles and shrugs before adjusting the fit of his jeans and retrieving the empty clothesbasket.

"Who wants some reheated tuna and pasta?" Jake asks as he heads for the door.

"How about bacon, eggs, bacon, maybe a snag or two and yeah, some bacon?" I suggest hopefully as I follow him.

"Too protein and fat rich for you," Jake says with a shake of his head. "You’d end up the size of a barn,"

"Can’t have a fat female now can we," I half taunt, half tease him.

"You’re … no we can’t, can we," Jake says quickly changing whatever he’d been about to say.

"Go sit in the living room, I’ll reheat some food for you and bring it in." Jake says as he pauses near the living room.

Drew is in the room tidying up a box of books the four boys have and I head into the room to sit down. He has music playing and I smile as he glances my way.

"Ed Sheeran?" I ask even though I am familiar with the music.

"Of course," Drew says with an answering grin.

I sit down in a chair, curling my legs up underneath me as I lean against the curved backrest. The music is soothing and I give a contented sigh.

"This song and another then your favourite songs," Drew says and I look his way with a smile.

"Yes, I know," I murmur softly and let my head lean back slightly. The song ends and I close my eyes as I let the music wash over me and seep deep into my soul. I wait patiently for the next song, the one that gives me the most comfort and a sense of peace and calm grows.

"Turn it off?" Drew jokes pausing the music between songs. I give a low growl of annoyance and Drew laughs.

I only know we need this peace, this calmness that soothes. Familiar notes start and I relax as a blanket of warmness envelopes me. I can almost feel his arms slip around me as he holds me close. I place my ear over his heart and listen to it beating. I turn my head as I move upwards, now I can inhale his scent with every breath as I press my face against his neck. A sense of completeness, of wholeness fills me. It feels so real, so good … I am where I belong once again as he murmurs my name. Oh how I love the way it sounds when he says it.

"Rosy, come on Rosy," This voice is different. It’s insistent and pulls at me. I open my eyes reluctantly. The face in front of me doesn’t fit, there’s haziness, a disjointed feeling - the feeling that there is something here that doesn’t belong.

"Jakob?" I murmur uncertainly.

What I see doesn’t coincide with what I hear, what I feel and what I smell.

"Rosy," Jake mimics my soft, breathless tone. I feel his breath on my face, I can see nothing but his strange amber coloured eyes.

Shock and pain rips through me and I scream in agony as I grab at my head.

Micah’s story:

Another song starts and I glance at the CD case I hold. Number 11 - Kiss Me. A strange feeling shivers over my skin as if I should know the song. I reach for the remote control, the music seems wrong somehow. Almost as if there is a faint echo a note or two behind, I press the button that restarts the song and it is suddenly much clearer. The soft murmur of voices around me fades from my mind as the music engulfs me. It conjures up memories of Rosy so strong I can almost feel her here with me. I remember the way she felt in my arms, the way she’d press her face into the crook of my neck. Her breath wafting over my skin there …

The memories are so clear, so fresh it feels as if I am holding her once again. A sigh of pleasure slips from my lips as I breathe in the soft scent of her freshly washed hair.

"Rosy," Her name escapes me. I can almost see her hair as I look down as I feel her stir. I open my eyes reluctant to dispel the dream, still my mind clings to the dream. I expect to see her eyes watching me in that silent guarded ways she does, but instead I feel as if I am seeing through her eyes.

I blink in confusion and disbelief. It’s not possible! I lost the connection that was forming when the collar nearly killed her! I find myself looking into Jakob Perkins face so close that I can smell his breath, still warm from his body as he breathes. Anger and revulsion fill me as I hear her name come from his lips.

No! No way in hell!

I leap to my feet desperate to break the connection between us. Pain shoots through my head and I stagger as I try to keep my feet while my vision blurs as if I am looking directly into a high-powered spotlight. I am dimly aware of raised voices and quick movements as I press the heels of my hands hard against my eyes.

"Damn them to hell!" I yell in anger.

I struggle when I am grabbed, striking out blindly until I recognise the voices yelling at me.

"Steven?" I question into the different voices as I stop struggling.

"Yeah mate, I’m right here." Steven says softly. "Just calm down Buddy, you need to calm down. You’re amongst friends, just calm down."

"I need to talk to Doc," I say urgently. "I know what’s been wrong with me, I need to talk to Doc."

"Sit down will ya," Steven coaxes and I allow myself to be eased back into a chair.

My eyesight is clearing but there is a dull ache behind my eyes and a throbbing in my temples. I attempt to raise both of my hands to rub my face but I realise I am being restrained by two toms either side of me holding onto my arms.

"That’s it Buddy," Steven murmurs when I make no attempt to free myself. "Just calm down. Someone has gone to get Doc, everything will be alright."

"Fu … sh… ivers, sorry, is Celeste still in the room? I hope I didn’t hurt or scare her," I mutter as I look around through bleary eyes. My eyesight has returned to normal but there is a dull ache that encompasses my entire head. It throbs with each beat of my heart.

"Everything will be alright," Steven murmurs soothingly.

I open my mouth to tell my best friend what had upset me, hesitate and then shut my mouth without a word. I’ve decided it would be best to talk to Doc first, to ask if such a thing would even be possible.

"I need to talk to Doc," I repeat and look Steven in the face. "I’m not crazy, possibly not far off it but I’m not crazy. Not yet,"

"It’s alright," Steven says softly. "Everything will work out just fine,"

How could everything work out fine when Rosy, my Rosy was with another tom? I had smelt his arousal and saw it in his eyes. I am relieved when Donny hurries into the room followed quickly by Doc. He has his medical bag with him and I give him a crooked smile as he eyes me worriedly.

"I heard there was trouble," Doc says as he approaches me. "Can you tell me how you feel Micah?"

"How much do you know about mate bonds?" I ask levelly. "I think there is still a bond between Rosy and I, and it’s been fading in and out or something."

Rosy’s story:

I curl up on myself in a tight ball of agony. I can still feel the anger, revulsion and hatred tearing at my insides as it leaves a void in my mind. Somehow my heart still beats and my lungs still breathe supplying my body with oxygen. My mind knows I should be hurting, that what has happened should have me screaming in agony but I feel strangely numb. I am distantly aware of others moving around near me, of something soft and warm being wrapped around me before I am lifted off the cold floor. I can hear a rhythmic sound and after a minute or two realise it is someone’s heartbeat.

Something hard and cold is pressed against my lips, fluid seeps into my mouth and there is a strong sharp odour beneath my nose. These things register in my mind but I am too numb and too dazed to react beyond swallowing instinctively. Liquid fire burns the back of my tongue on its way down my throat and into my stomach. I cough and choke, startled from the hiding place in my mind as my throat burns and my eyes water. I try to turn my head away but the cup follows my mouth and more liquid fire in the form of strong alcohol pours into my mouth.

I am left with no option but to swallow it and I gasp and cough when the last of it pools in my stomach. I attempt to pull away from the strong grasp on my lower jaw, I just want to hide away once more.

"Rosy! Rosy look at me! Breathe damn you! Breathe!"

The sharp slaps on both sides of my face startle me and I let my breath out with a whoosh before sucking in several small, shallow breaths. I am shaken roughly, my head snapping back and forth and I make a faint sound of protest. Suddenly my body remembers how to breathe and I take several deep breaths. I close my eyes as someone presses their forehead to mine, I can smell the pungent scent of his fear and allow my head to turn so my cheek comes to rest on his shoulder.

"We’re here, we’ll help you make it through whatever this is," I know the voice but I can’t put a name to who it belongs to. Just like I can’t put a name to what’s wrong, because simply, I sense it would destroy me if I named it. So I close my eyes and hang on tightly to who ever it is who is holding me. The darkness and total despair lurking at the edges of my mind move closer and I give in with a soft sigh as I slip into oblivian.

I wake up to the sensation of someone gently pulling at my fingertips. I open my eyes reluctantly to find it is night time and whatever room I am in is lit by the soft glow of a lamp not too far from the bed I am on. Fingertips trace circles on the back of my hand before a hand holds mine, the thumb rubs against mine several times before my hand is released. I jerk my arm away and hug it close to my body, I feel very vulnerable as I clutch my lower ribs and pull my legs up towards my body.

"Rosy? Rosy you awake?" A voice questions softly and hair is brushed back off my face.

I recognise the voice after a few seconds but don’t respond to Drew’s questions. Footsteps approach the bed where I am but I feel too depressed to care who it is.

"Rosy," Alan says firmly. "Rosy you need to wake up. You have to eat,"

I become aware that I haven’t eaten for sometime, it isn’t so much a feeling of hunger but of a deep aching emptiness. Reluctantly I open my eyes and turn my head to look towards the sound of Alan’s voice.

"Hey, you’re awake," Alan says softly with relief threaded through his voice. "How do you feel? Up to eating something light? Some toast or maybe some soup?"

"I’ll try," I manage through stiff lips.