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"What of the humans, hrrr?"

"I was able to locate only one with any success. He does not respond to my queries. However, he is breathing and appears to have sustained minimal serious injuries. There is no sign of the other."

"Try...and locate...the other. Do - do what you...can for them," Two-Talon managed to force out before unconsciousness claimed him and he released the warrior's arm.

Groaning painfully while he struggled to his feet, Hunts-In-Grass returned to the wrecked nose-section of the shuttle and ripped off as much of the tattered inner-hull insulation as he could gather and fashioned a crude blanket for the unconscious medic. When he checked the human again, there was no obvious change in his condition; he was still unresponsive. Satisfied that he'd done what he could for that one, he continued to search for the diminutive alien's missing bond-mate.

It wasn't until he climbed in behind the remains of the engineering section that he located the other one. Awkwardly leaping over some of the still-smoldering wreckage, he knelt down beside the small alien.

The human was lying on his back in the snow, breathing in rapid, shallow pants. Most of his body was crushed underneath the twisted remains of one of the large thruster gimbal assemblies which was still radiating a reasonable amount of heat. When he approached, the human opened his eyes and blinked at him with a weak smile.

"Are we there yet?"

Gently snapping his jaw shut in affirmation of the joke, Hunts-In-Grass studied the wreckage that trapped the human. The largest piece of wreckage was in turn trapped under the largest section of what was left of the superstructure. There was no way he would be able to even move it more than a millimeter or two. In desperation he stood and searched around for something he could use for a pry-bar, but halted when the human weakly called out to him.

"Forget it...Hunts. I'm not...going anywhere...in a hurry." The human whimpered softly in pain when he reached out an arm toward the warrior. "Is he...okay?"

Hunts-In-Grass knelt down again, heedless of his own injuries and held the human's hand in two of his own, squeezing gently in an attempt to reassure him.
"Hrrr, your bond-mate not badly injured, will survive. Medic badly injured, however alive also. Rescue arrival imminent. Not long now, little one."

The human coughed weakly, a spreading bright red carpet was beginning to stain the snow beneath his body. "Okay...sure. Just tell him...I...love him," he managed to grate out through teeth gritted together in agony. He squeezed Hunts-In-Grass' hand and stared at him with an intense gaze. "Please, Hunts? Promise me!"

Helplessly, the Vanguard snapped his jaw shut again.

Closing his eyes, the human managed a small, grateful smile. The shaken warrior continued to hold his hand for several minutes until the human's breathing became more ragged and labored.

The human managed to force his eyes open and stared at him desperation. "I...I'm scared...Please!...I can't...can't feel you...?"

The hand was limp between his own, and Hunts-In-Grass risked squeezing it a little tighter and began to purr loudly, despite the additional pain it caused him. "Hrrr, this one here, little one. This one holding you..."

But the human's life had passed, and his eyes now stared blindly at the scudding gray clouds above them.

Hunts-In-Grass remained motionless for several minutes before he gently laid the limp arm down on the snow. He reached over, delicately using the talons on his forward hand to close the human's eyes. With a tremulous sigh, he lurched numbly back to his feet.

He hardly even remembered stumbling his way, half blind, back to the demolished hibernation chamber. He collected the remaining human and carefully carried him over to where Two-Talon was lying under his makeshift blanket, tenderly covering them both together.

Death was not a new experience for him; he had experienced more than his fair share recently when the entire Outpost defense force was annihilated. Some of them were those he had considered friends. While he mourned their loss, the death of this human had him severely rattled for reasons he couldn't quite fathom. Hunts-In-Grass belatedly realized that Two-Talon had been right; the peculiar little aliens had managed to affect him more than he realized.
______________________

Drawn by the stunningly talented Nanya [link] - a rather emotional scene taken from my first novel, The Cold Wind. If you haven't checked out his art, you should do so now - his work is nothing short of breath-taking.

Description
"What of the humans, hrrr?"

"I was able to locate only one with any success. He does not respond to my queries. However, he is breathing and appears to have sustained minimal serious injuries. There is no sign of the other."

"Try...and locate...the other. Do - do what you...can for them," Two-Talon managed to force out before unconsciousness claimed him and he released the warrior's arm.

Groaning painfully while he struggled to his feet, Hunts-In-Grass returned to the wrecked nose-section of the shuttle and ripped off as much of the tattered inner-hull insulation as he could gather and fashioned a crude blanket for the unconscious medic. When he checked the human again, there was no obvious change in his condition; he was still unresponsive. Satisfied that he'd done what he could for that one, he continued to search for the diminutive alien's missing bond-mate.

It wasn't until he climbed in behind the remains of the engineering section that he located the other one. Awkwardly leaping over some of the still-smoldering wreckage, he knelt down beside the small alien.

The human was lying on his back in the snow, breathing in rapid, shallow pants. Most of his body was crushed underneath the twisted remains of one of the large thruster gimbal assemblies which was still radiating a reasonable amount of heat. When he approached, the human opened his eyes and blinked at him with a weak smile.

"Are we there yet?"

Gently snapping his jaw shut in affirmation of the joke, Hunts-In-Grass studied the wreckage that trapped the human. The largest piece of wreckage was in turn trapped under the largest section of what was left of the superstructure. There was no way he would be able to even move it more than a millimeter or two. In desperation he stood and searched around for something he could use for a pry-bar, but halted when the human weakly called out to him.

"Forget it...Hunts. I'm not...going anywhere...in a hurry." The human whimpered softly in pain when he reached out an arm toward the warrior. "Is he...okay?"

Hunts-In-Grass knelt down again, heedless of his own injuries and held the human's hand in two of his own, squeezing gently in an attempt to reassure him.
"Hrrr, your bond-mate not badly injured, will survive. Medic badly injured, however alive also. Rescue arrival imminent. Not long now, little one."

The human coughed weakly, a spreading bright red carpet was beginning to stain the snow beneath his body. "Okay...sure. Just tell him...I...love him," he managed to grate out through teeth gritted together in agony. He squeezed Hunts-In-Grass' hand and stared at him with an intense gaze. "Please, Hunts? Promise me!"

Helplessly, the Vanguard snapped his jaw shut again.

Closing his eyes, the human managed a small, grateful smile. The shaken warrior continued to hold his hand for several minutes until the human's breathing became more ragged and labored.

The human managed to force his eyes open and stared at him desperation. "I...I'm scared...Please!...I can't...can't feel you...?"

The hand was limp between his own, and Hunts-In-Grass risked squeezing it a little tighter and began to purr loudly, despite the additional pain it caused him. "Hrrr, this one here, little one. This one holding you..."

But the human's life had passed, and his eyes now stared blindly at the scudding gray clouds above them.

Hunts-In-Grass remained motionless for several minutes before he gently laid the limp arm down on the snow. He reached over, delicately using the talons on his forward hand to close the human's eyes. With a tremulous sigh, he lurched numbly back to his feet.

He hardly even remembered stumbling his way, half blind, back to the demolished hibernation chamber. He collected the remaining human and carefully carried him over to where Two-Talon was lying under his makeshift blanket, tenderly covering them both together.

Death was not a new experience for him; he had experienced more than his fair share recently when the entire Outpost defense force was annihilated. Some of them were those he had considered friends. While he mourned their loss, the death of this human had him severely rattled for reasons he couldn't quite fathom. Hunts-In-Grass belatedly realized that Two-Talon had been right; the peculiar little aliens had managed to affect him more than he realized.
______________________

Drawn by the stunningly talented Nanya [link] - a rather emotional scene taken from my first novel, The Cold Wind. If you haven't checked out his art, you should do so now - his work is nothing short of breath-taking.