Thud.

The impact shook the Jeep. As the screech of brakes still screamed in Heather’s ears, she stared in horror at the limp body near the front of her Jeep. The headlights mercilessly showed rain-soaked golden fur and a white muzzle.

Oh no, no, no. I hit a cougar.

At least, it wasn’t a Daonain. A shifter would have heard her car and moved off the road. Wouldn’t have been on the road to begin with.

Still. I hit some poor, big cat.

She rested her head on the steering wheel for a moment and tried to get her thoughts to work. Over the interminable days, she’d staggered down the mountain, falling all too often, which was pitiful for a four-legged animal. She’d been so dehydrated she’d stopped at every stream for the whole first day. An unwary marmot provided enough food to revitalize her. A bit.

I’m so tired.

Climbing the tree to her clothing had hurt so bad, and then she cried at finding the bag soaked from the rains. Wet clothing was even worse than wet fur.

But once in the car, the heat was wonderful. Almost enough to make up for the rutted gravel road and scant visibility. Stupid, wet Washington State. Where else could there be fog and a heavy rain at the same time?

Thank the Mother she’d been driving slowly.

Okay, girl. Chin up. She cautiously eased out of her car, hoping the injured cat wouldn’t attack.

As she drew closer, her eyes widened. That was one huge cougar.

“Sorry, my friend,” she crooned and eased forward. “I need to see how bad I hurt you.” Where was the nearest wildlife rescue?

Over the petroleum stink of her car, she scented blood, cougar…and then the wild fragrance of a male shifter. “Oh, gods.”

Fresh blood streaked the pale golden fur just below his hip—the leg was broken. She dropped to her knees, hoping he was conscious enough not to savage her. “Hey, kitty, you’re…really hurt.”

There was blood everywhere—old and new. So many wounds. Scrapes, slices, and a lot of round holes. From bullets? The putrid stink of infection oozed from some. “Somebody shot you up good, kitty.”

The cat’s eyes didn’t focus. There was a deep gouge across his head. No wonder he hadn’t dodged her car successfully.

She shook her head. He was way past her ability to care for him.

“Kitty, hey.”

The cat’s breathing was too fast.

“Cat, I’m going to take you to a healer, but we have to get you into the Jeep.”

A disoriented shifter was never taken to a hospital. There was too much risk of them shifting in front of humans. Ailill Ridge was the closest shifter town, but Rainier Territory couldn’t keep a healer. Because Pete treated everyone like shit.

The North Cascades had one, and since Donal rarely left his territory, she’d have to take the injured shifter to him.

She firmed her voice, making it a command. “Up you go. Now.”

Her words took an eternity to get through, then with a chuff of exertion, the cougar rolled and rose onto his paws. Three paws. His back leg was definitely broken, and she had to close her lips over the apologies trying to spill forth.

Gods, he was brave. He had to be in an incredible amount of pain as he slowly crawled into the back of her Jeep. Stabilizing his leg, she helped boost him in. He settled there, laying his head on his paws with a low moan.

“Good boy.” She stroked her hand over the matted wet fur. “I’ll get you to Donal, and he’ll get you fixed all up.”

The cougar rubbed his big head against her hand. His eyes closed.

She held her breath, terror ripping through her, until his ribs moved, up and down. Not dead. Just sleeping.

“Hang in there, cat. Please.”