"Quiet, you idiot!" Diego hissed under his breath; a twig had just snapped under Oscar's paw, and Manny's ear gave a definite twitch.

They were hidden under the canopy of leaves, as well as under the cover of night; the herd was in deep sleep, Manny and Ellie were huddled up close, Sid snoring on a pile of leaves nearby, Crash and Eddie hanging from a branch under which the mammoths slept.

"Okay", Oscar mouthed in Diego's ear. "I got it."

"You sure you would recognize them if you meet them again?"

Oscar nodded, sighing inwardly. All that mammoth meat…but he gave his bloody word. The world wasn't fair, really.

Without a sound, the cats slinked away from the camp.

"I can find my own way out of the valley, kid", Oscar grunted when it became obvious that he was going to be escorted back to the den under Diego's watchful eye.

"Oh, just making sure…" snarled Diego.

"You don't trust me, do you?"

"Never have, never will."

"But you had me make a blood oath nonetheless!"

"Doesn't hurt to make some extra precaution measures."

"You can stick your measures right up-"

"Relax, Oscar. I wouldn't let my ego get so swollen if I hadn't killed anything for the…how much? Three months?"

Oscar gave Diego a look of deepest loathing. "You know bloody well it was you who-"

"You'll get your chance soon enough", Diego cut in impatiently. "Let's get away from the valley before you're noticed."

They prowled in silence for about twenty minutes, before Oscar spoke of something that had been irking him for some time now.

"Which reminds me, you know…I never asked you how come you found me back then? Just happened to pass me by and noticed me?"

Diego's eyes were glowing on Oscar's left. "Oh, no. Nothing so…incidental. You were seen."

"By whom?"

"A stag and his doe, residents of this valley. They thought you were me. When they realized it was another saber they saw, they rushed to Manny to report that."

"To Manny?" Oscar frowned, and his yellowish-green eyes widened. "Didn't you say that your herd didn't know-"

"And they don't. I said that the deer rushed to Manny; I never said they got there. They ran into me first."

"Oh", Oscar grinned knowledgeably, conspiratorially. "I see. And I thought you didn't hunt in the valley. Bad tiger, you are…"

But Diego shook his head. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I didn't kill them."

"Knew I shouldn't have hoped…" Oscar groaned.

"I just threatened them into silence, effectively, I think. I told them I'd take care of your…issue, and that Manny isn't to be disturbed in this happy time of his life."

"And they just…agreed to that? Just like that?" Oscar's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Um, well…no, not really. Not just like that. But I still can be pretty much convincing when I want."

"That I know", Oscar hissed, and not without malice. He still remembered vividly the days when Diego's silver tongue and Soto's iron will would goad the pack into…everything. Into hell and high water. And into revenge rampages.

"In short, they were easily convinced that they better be quiet, or be sorry", Diego continued pleasantly, ignoring Oscar's less-than-friendly attitude. "The stag did try to point out that I've given my word not to hunt in the valley. To which I responded that I knew his journeys out of the valley. That seemed to do the trick."

"Don't you think that they might not stick to their…er…wholehearted promise?" Oscar smiled smugly. "If your buddies get to know about me, and about your threats to those two…they'd still be your buddies after that?"

"Yer concern is really touching", Diego snarled, his easy-going attitude changing into deadly one within a second. "Better save your breath, 'cos we're going hunting in dawn. I'm starving."

For once, Oscar couldn't agree with Diego more. His heartbeat picked up speed.

Two hours later, they were hidden in the high grass, while a herd of five elk cows and one old, formidable looking male elk were slowly making their way south.

"This won't be easy", Oscar whispered in Diego's ear. "They're compact…all healthy... I don't see any of them falling behind…"

"One will have to make them scatter", answered Diego, licking his lips. "And the other will ambush one of the cows. I wouldn't go for the male; he doesn't look like the likeliest of prey."

"Right. How do we'll get them to run where we want them to?"

"If you attack from the back, they'll only run straight forward", Diego whispered, baring his teeth slightly. "But if you attack the flank, and not straight flank, but front, we might get them to reel back and to the side. That's where I must be, to ambush one. We have to make it on the exact right place, at the exact time. No second chances here."

"Why do I have to be the one to cause diversion? Why do you get to do the ambush again?" Oscar hissed quietly. Diego cast him a dirty, incredulous look that irked Oscar beyond comprehension.

"You ain't gonna give up your position with a cough?"

"I'm not coughing anymore", Oscar snarled under his breath.

"Are you strong enough already to bring down an elk this big?"

"I am strong", Oscar growled warningly.

"Strong enough?"

Well, that pretty much settled it. "I've been leading hunting parties before you were a mere idea in your father's left nut, kid, and it hasn't been all that long before you were a cub with eight teeth altogether, eating meat that me and my hunters have caught. Bloody try me", Oscar bared his teeth. So that arrogant, good-for-nothing, traitorous, crackpot whelp doubted Oscar's abilities? Fine. He had reasons, that was sure. But things had changed; Oscar had gotten healthy again, and he was rather going to end up killed, having his head smashed with elk's hoof, than having to listen Diego's snide remarks about Oscar's age, health, stamina and strength. He was properly and thoroughly fed up with Diego and his attitude, his water-soaked moss, his grotesque choice of friends, his misplaced loyalty; with lying down while that blood traitor was bringing him scraps and enjoying Oscar's misery, with pain, with cough, with everything. He was tired, darn it; tired and furious and humiliated.

"Very well", Diego snarled back, his green eyes hard and cold. "Be my guest. I wish you nice two hours of stalking over there. Just hope the wind doesn't rise."

It didn't take them two hours, but it did take them one good hour of prowling in the cover of the high grass, Oscar trying to get to the herd's left side from behind their backs, Diego sticking up to their right and waiting for Oscar to assume the position. The lack of wind worked in their favor; the elks still hadn't picked up their scent, and Oscar only hoped that, when he's well positioned and ready, he'd be able to make Diego known of his position without alerting the prey.

Soon enough, he was indeed well positioned, but ready was another matter altogether. The aching in his joints that came with long prowling was considerably subdued by the rush of blood in his ears; his heart was beating - pounding like the first time he was allowed to join the hunt - making his eyes throb; the pit of his stomach was now a home to the most sickening, fluttering, gut-wretching feeling that made him lightheaded and, in short, anything but ready.

He watched the herd, trying to make out some weakness on any of the females, sickness, old age, something that would make him feel a little more self-assured, but no such luck. The old elk had found himself some remarkable mates, which was indicative enough that he, too, was still in full strength and powerful. Oscar gulped; he didn't have much time; he had to give Diego a sign to start, or they'd lose this hunt…why, why the heck was he butting in where he wasn't asked to; he still wasn't strong enough to subdue an elk like this; losing the hunt will soon be the least of his worries- he was going to lose whatever amount of self-esteem he still possessed, and Diego was bound to kick his useless butt out of his territory. Which will be the end of him. Unable to hunt alone, with no pack to support him, he was going to perish within weeks. He'd just dug himself a nice, shallow grave in these hostile grounds…

Well, too late for regret. .. Keeping his heartbeat under control as much as he could – that heart of his will be the death of him; the prey will surely hear it, that ominous thundering; he was going to lose the hunt because of his cowardice- Oscar waited until no elk was likely to spot him, and rose his head from his grassy cover. He couldn't see Diego, but Diego obviously saw him, because he leaped from his hiding place and, with a bloodcurdling roar, charged towards the herd.

The elks reared back, momentarily frozen, but just for a second; the females broke into a hasty retreat, while the old male, to Oscar's surprise, didn't back away, but faced Diego with his magnificent antlers, trying to prevent him from getting to the cows. And the cows, in their haphazard escape, crying 'watch out, watch out!' paid more attention to their male, then to their own escape – currently, the male elk and Diego were playing a dance of life and death, with Diego trying to jump to the male's side, fangs bared, hackles raised, every muscle straining visibly under the sleek orange fur, and the elk jumping around to intercept the tiger with his six-foot-spanned, potentially deadly antlers, head bowed, trashing from side to side.

Well, this was it, as close as he was ever going to get it. Trying to think less and act more, Oscar sprang from his ambush towards the nearest cow; she saw him a split second too late; his claws were already on her shoulder, but she kicked and trashed him off; the other cows bleated and scattered around in panic; Oscar once again charged after the marked cow, which hadn't broke into run quickly enough to escape Oscar and his long, powerful leap and gripping claws; he clawed on the cow's back and shoulder, feeling her strong flanks strain, hard and stiff as stone- she tried to shake him off again, bleating 'no, no, no, no!' and was making one good job out of it; Oscar pulled with all his might, but the cow was strong and she wouldn't be brought down so easily; his fingers hurt, she was going to have the claws ripped out of him, now that would be a laugh; she fought, dragging the tiger after her, and his back ached; his spine was going to snap like a dry twig with strain; she fought, but so did the tiger- and with one last strain, which he felt in his every bone- his shoulders were going to pop out of their joints, he was certain- he jumped on the cow's back, his entire weight now on her, and that proved to be a little more then she could take; she collapsed, face-first, into the mud, and he frantically gripped on her neck to pin her down- to immobilize her, so he could deliver a precise and fatal bite to the throat; he couldn't do that while she was kicking around like this, he might easily have his tooth snapped, and then he'd be as good as dead- his rear legs were restraining her hindquarters, while his front paws were holding her neck down- where the heck was Diego now that he really needed him-

Now.

With precision born both out of instinct and life-long practice, Oscar drove his eight-inch-long fangs into the victim's throat, cutting off her loud protests in one effective slice. Just as quickly, he released his grip and jumped off her back, and waited, panting and shaking, while the cow tried to get up, gurgling and bleeding all over the place, but her suffering was over within seconds. She fell, motionless.

"Ha!"Oscar roared, high-strung on adrenalin and taste of blood; the pounding of his heart now held a totally different quality to it, and he let out another long, loud and proud roar for the whole territory to hear: he did it!

"In your face!" he growled, grinning from ear to ear, "in your face, whelp! In your bloody face! What do you-"

He turned around, expecting to find Diego already at his side and eager to eat, but he only faced cold air instead. The rest of the herd was gone, the old male included- obviously, the sight of their friend falling was demoralizing enough to have them all abandoning any pretense of fight and running away. Herbivores…revenge was never their style, no matter how powerful and deadly they might be…but where was Diego?

Oscar sniffed the air and the ground, having no difficulties finding Diego's fresh scent and reading the tale of the tracks that led into the tall grass in which Diego had been hiding earlier. Here the elk was keeping Diego on a decent length, and they circled around one another…here Diego seemed to have managed to jump the elk, and was dragged into the tall grass as the elk was trashing around and kicking to set free…and here…

Oscar stood frozen for a moment, his ears pricking up.

There, barely visible in the grass, laid Diego, unmoving, eyes closed. Next to him, a large square of grass was flattened down where elk had been brought down, but there was no sight of him now.

Oscar was at Diego's side in one big leap. Breathing, check, heart still beating, check, no blood visible, check- what's wrong with the whelp?

"Ey, you", Oscar tried, gruffly, "get up!"

No reply.

"Diego! Get your good-for-nothing, lazy butt up! We have some eating to do, before a bear shows up and takes our kill!"

Still nothing. Oscar shook Diego quite roughly, which made the unresponsive tiger groan, but not to open his eyes.

"Aw, come on, kid, don't do this to me…Diego! Can you hear me? Come on, darn it, whelp, wake up!"

Once again, the quickening of Oscar's heartbeat had a very anxious quality to it; that itself was irritating enough to begin with, but he didn't have time to categorize his very conflicting feelings that provoked such unwelcome and involuntary reaction; he didn't have the time, much less desire, to remind himself that Diego, the traitor that he was, would merely had gotten what he'd deserved if he faced his end here and now… or that this was exactly how Oscar's late son looked when he was dying, in this exact position, on his side, eyes closed or half-opened at best, groaning quietly, until he simply wasted away, to his both parents' unspoken agony; he didn't want anything, anybody, least of all Diego, of all animals in the world, to remind him on any of his children, especially on his dead son. He couldn't afford it right now, and he didn't want to.

"Diego!" he roared right into his former commander's ear, "get up! Get up, you worthless, miserable, pathetic herbivore lover, you excuse for a tiger, you waste of breath and fur, you idiot, you pile of dung, traitorous bastard whom not even a mother could love, you useless, spineless, brainless cowardly runt, get the heck up!!!"

The plea, though genuine and rather fervent, remained unanswered; Diego's eyelids did give a promising flutter, though, and a soft, painful moan escaped him.

"I'm not gonna ask you twice, kiddo; that kill needs to be eaten now, before we lose it to cave lions! I'm gonna eat now, and I don't give a darn if you stay hungry or not! Lay your butt here the whole darn week as long as I'm concerned! See if I leave you a scrap!"

Diego's groan was now somewhat louder and had a definite protesting tone to it, though Oscar doubted it was addressed to him; more likely to the pain that made Diego screw his face up, cracking his eyes open, unfocused, and then hastily shutting them close again.

"Come on, kid!" Oscar shook him again, hating, absolutely hating, the almost-pleading tone that crept into his voice; where the heck did that come from, and why…aside from the fact that he didn't want, couldn't stand to see and hear the moans and pains of a slowly-dying, young saber ever again, even if the aforementioned saber was one bloody Diego the traitor, and not his son, not his son, not his son, he repeated like a mantra in his head… "Ain't you hungry? You gonna let me take all the best parts? Get up, wake up, darn it, we don't have the whole bloody-"

"Shutuposcaaarrr…" growled Diego very, very quietly, eyes still firmly closed.

"There!" snarled Oscar, his ears flattening to the sides of his head, which he quickly held up high, "So you decided to contribute in sharing the kill? Well, I suggest that you get on your bloody feet and hurry up, 'cos I'm not waiting for you! And what the heck happened anyway? You brought the elk down; I take it that he was too much for you to handle?"

Diego's eyes opened again very, very slowly. He blinked, as if the light was hurting him, tried to get up, groaned and laid his head on his front paws again. Now Oscar saw the likely cause of Diego's condition: there was a stone on the exact spot where his head had been until then, a prominent one- how come he hadn't noticed it earlier?- and a decent lump was already visible on Diego's left temple.

"That's it?" Oscar sneered depreciatively; he enjoyed being able to sneer again, though his joints felt very unstable, as if they have suddenly turned to mush, and his heart seemed to have suddenly grow thrice its usual size. "That defeated you? A bloody stone? You got a bump on your head? That's what all the fuss is about?"

"What bloody fuss? Who's fussing?" Diego finally spoke, irritated and blinking; as soon as he turned his head to face Oscar, his nose drained of all color- a definite sign of lightheadedness, or nausea, or both, but the spite in his voice was very much unaffected by any of it.

"What happened?" Oscar snarled, with equal malice.

"Why aren't you atth..at the kill? You did make a bloody…kill, right?" Diego's words came slurred and slower than usual, and Oscar wasn't happy to hear it. This wasn't going to be over soon.

"I did. What happened to you? The elk threw you aside and you hit your head?"

"Dunno", answered Diego after a short pause. "Can't remember…"

Oh joy. "Well, let's better eat; your head might clear up some after that."

"I saw you bringin' the…the female downaaannd…I had him down so I let'im go and can't remember what after…"

"What?" Oscar's ears pricked up, not quite believing what they had just heard. "You what? You let him go?"

"Um-humm." Diego was making valuable attempts of keeping his eyes open, but it only caused his nose to lose color, so he kept blinking owlishly. Oscar now wanted very much to knock him over the other side of his head as well, giving him a matching lump and another concussion, but he was so outraged that he could only gape for a few seconds before moaning in despair: "You had that…that…month worth of meat supply pinned down and you let him go? Why? Why, darn it, you…you…pathetic…lousy…miserable…worthless…"

He was at loss for words; he could only sputter incoherently in rage.

"We had one from their herd…we didn't need more", explained Diego quietly, his pupils now very dilated, and his belly giving out some uncomfortable-sounding noise of a stomach churning with nausea. He swallowed, breathing heavily; "it wasn't nese…necer…ne-ce-ssary", he finished, barely twisting his tongue around the simple word. Oscar would have maybe even felt sorry for him -Milo was stuttering, too, at the point when he was too weak to speak properly - if he hadn't been so furious.

"Not necessary, kid? Not necessary? What the heck do you know about necessary, you crazy son of a cat? We could have dug him in cold ground, in ice; that meat would have spared us a month of hunting! And you let him go, you let him go?!? Not necessary? Are you completely out of your mind? I sure hope that you got yourself a brain damage, 'cos that would be a huge bloody improvement for you-"

His rant was interrupted by a retching sound from Diego's throat; the younger tiger did try to turn away from Oscar, he did, but his unsteady legs simply wouldn't cooperate; however, with his stomach being completely empty, it remained on retching only. Oscar watched him in disgust.

"Sorry", said Diego miserably, and not only he sounded sincere; he sounded and looked crestfallen and pathetic like a sick cub-

Well, he really should stop thinking like this; it would get him nowhere. He snarled. "I'm gonna eat. You coming?"

Diego attempted a cynical smile, but it only came out as a grimace of pain. "Not a chance."

Oscar shrugged and turned to his prey, while Diego laid back in the grass, sighing audibly with relief. And all through his meal, Oscar's throat felt thick with anger; he could barely swallow. The whelp let the prey go…he had it down and he actually let it go…serves him right; look how that same prey returned the favor, nearly having his head smashed open…serves him right, traitorous freak, mistake of nature; first associating with herbivores, now letting them go when he should have made a kill, and what a great kill that would have been…idiot kid…and Soto had named him the second-in-command…insane, both of them…

He'd had his full, and dragged the still-plentiful remnants of meat away from the clearance, hiding them the best he could. If he had Diego to help him, they could have taken it further away in a colder and safer place, but no…the already addlebrained bastard had his brain even more shaken up, and all work fell on Oscar's still-recuperating shoulders.

Well, that's not exactly fair, and you know it. He'd had his time pulling some weight for both of you, and he didn't have to do that.

Big deal. He did it because he's bloody insane; he'd just proven it…he'd helped me from the same reason he'd let the elk go; he's touched in his head, that's all there is to it…

Still.

Well, one good thing is that I now know I'm pretty bloody strong again. I vote that I hit the road now, before the lunatic had me killed one way or another.

And what of him?

What with him?

Look at him.

Reluctantly, Oscar glanced in Diego's direction. He laid very still, breathing fast and shallow, occasionally grunting with pain as he apparently couldn't find a spot soft enough in the grass for his aching head to lay on. His eyes were tightly squeezed shut, his face contorted in something between desperate concentration and pain, and Oscar could say he was trying hard to keep his upset stomach from retching.

Well, it's not my bloody fault he had his head busted! He asked for it, if you ask me! I don't owe him a life debt; he took care of that...I owe it to one of his darn herbivores, but not to him, not anymore.

Arrgh, come on! You're just pissed because, now that he's like this, he reminds you of Milo, and you-

Shut up. Now. And I'm pissed because of a decent number of things, just for the record.

He sat, looking at Diego, for some time. He really didn't need this. He had a safe hideout and enough strength to pull his own weight. It would be so easy to just leave; just get up, without a word, walk and…keep on walking. And he had to find Zeke and Lenny, if they were still alive; those two had never managed well on their own, and it had been good three months now…

He got to his feet. Yes. He had responsibilities and things to do, and Diego had deserved this…

He made a step. And another one. And a few more.

Finally, he was at Diego's side.

"Can you walk, kid?"

**

This mental disorder of his must be contagious, Oscar decided, looking at cross-eyed Diego, who was making downright heroic attempts of walking straight, though with little success, so Oscar had to nudge him in right direction every now and then, helping him to get to his feet every time he lost balance and fell. He couldn't, however, do anything about Diego's nausea, which had him retching and spitting bile every couple of minutes. No other explanation why I'm doing this. It's contagious. Can't be anything else. It's contagious, and I'm bloody insane like a March hare. Like him.

It soon became obvious that Diego wouldn't be able to make it to the den; he was simply too sick, and he was walking more and more often with closed eyes, staggering and nearly running into trees and rocks that came into his way. His jaws were clenched tight, his expression determinate, but Oscar realized that his stubbornness wouldn't pull him out of this one.

"We'll call it a halt here", Oscar proclaimed, spotting a huge toppled tree, under which trunk there was enough space for Diego to crawl in and hide.

So they both settled down, Diego in the hollow, Oscar in front of it. They both were anxious for some rest; Oscar's muscles and joints were now quite loudly complaining against the strain which they were no longer used to- it had been so long since he'd taken the prey down…but he did it; he smiled at the memory; he did it, Diego hadn't believed that he could, he himself hadn't believed that he could…but he did it…some sleep was now just what he needed…

Just when he was about to drift away, a small, likely involuntary groan from Diego reached his sensitive ears.

He looked up to see what was wrong, and saw Diego fidgeting, frowning, trying to make his head comfortable on the not exactly soft ground. But however he placed it, it seemed to hurt him.

Oh, well. That wasn't Oscar's business. He turned his head away and closed his eyes again.

But he could still hear very quiet sounds of Diego trying to find a soft place for his head. Those sounds were almost inaudible even to a cat's sharp hearing, and under normal circumstances they wouldn't bother Oscar's sleep none…but now he knew who was making them and, more importantly, why; he couldn't ignore them, just as he couldn't ignore the most unwelcome image that passed before his eyes, so vividly that he thought that he'd came down with fever again and was hallucinating once more: his mate and himself, taking turns in lying next to Milo, having him lean his head against his parents' bodies so he could be more comfortable. That was how he spent his last days, and he knew he was dying, but when his mum or dad would curl up with him and licked his muzzle or the length of his skinny little frame, he'd still find strength in himself to smile, showing some of his still-milky teeth.

Oh, no, no, no, no. Not that. You still have some bloody dignity; you've just started to rebuild it…you're not doing that; he's not your bloody cub!!!

Another soft, soft moan of pain, and a quiet growl. It was probably in sleep.

You hate his guts, remember? Treason, associating with prey, being the pack's beta instead of you, et cetera, et cetera? Hello? Reality to Oscar? Anybody home?

Diego sighed and frowned as if in anger. And he was probably righteously angry at himself. He deserved it. Oscar stared at his prone form, limp and as still as possible. He hadn't seen Diego, his supposed sworn enemy, helpless like this from his cub days, and instead of feeling like gloating, Oscar felt just plain uncomfortable and very much like crashing something.

No. No. No. No. No. No. No, no, but hell NO!

He slinked into the hollow next to Diego and shook him roughly. Diego bared his teeth in welcome.

"Lift yer head", Oscar grunted.

"Hmmpffshhh…?"

"Just do it, kid", Oscar growled.

Diego's eyes shot open, wide with surprise, when he realized that his hurting, spinning head was now resting on Oscar's side. "Whaddabloodycrap…?!?"

"Shut up and sleep, kiddo. I want to get some bloody rest, and ain't no way I was ever gonna get some with you squirming non-stop. If your head is OK with this, just sleep at once!"

Diego, outraged-looking, was trying to focus his hazy eyes, that was obvious, but it was seemingly making him increasingly nauseous, because his nose instantly gave a telltale loss of color, and he closed his eyes once again. After several seconds Oscar heard him exhale a small sigh of relief. Apparently, the trick that had worked for Milo, worked for Diego, too.

"Oscar…"

"What on bloody Earth now?!?"

"Y'ever breath a word of this to anyone, an' I swear I'm gonna rip yer lungs out an' have yer bowels dangle from the highest branch of the highest tree in the valley…" even with his pathetic current state, resting his head on his life-long rival's side, the whelp was still able to growl threateningly.

Oscar nearly laughed at this. Now this sounded more like Diego he knew and despised. He was about to say that there was no way he'd ever do something so socially suicidal as telling of this to a living soul, and that he himself would prefer having his guts dangling from a tree to anybody knowing about their current embarrassing position any day, but it suddenly occurred to him that he might turn this to his advantage. "I won't…if you promise not to tell anybody, ever, that you, er, cleaned my…my…cleaned after me." It was too bloody unpleasant to remember, let alone speak out loud.

"Deal."

"And that you fed me."

"Deal. An' I won't even tell a soul how y' cried for your momma", came Diego's muffled answer.

Oscar felt blood rising to his ears. A sudden urge to smash Diego's head against the tree trunk and finish what elk had sorely failed to finish overcame him with alarming intensity. "Ah, so you remember that, you ugly piece of dung, but you can't remember how, only an hour ago, an elk got your butt kicked and your head nearly split open…only nearly, too bad…"

"Gotta have some insssurrrance…" slurred Diego, sleepily, though Oscar was certain that he caught a glimpse of a sly grin.

"Just bloody sleep, boy, before I throttle you! I'm warning you here!"

"Yeah, dad…"

The sarcasm was fairly noticeable, and Oscar was sure that Diego didn't mean to provoke an influx of feelings like this in Oscar. He'd wanted to rile him up further, but he didn't. Oscar's throat got all cramped up, and he felt every hair on is body stand; he hadn't been called that for too long now, and he had no idea that he'd missed it this much…to make the things worse, it was exactly like this that his cub would sleep against him, and he was ill, too, and only Oscar's mate was now missing to complete the picture…those had been easily the most painful, sorrow-filled days of Oscar's life, competed only by the time when half of Soto's pack was killed by humans, Oscar's mate among them…why, why did the bastard have to get his head smashed and make Oscar's life complicated in process?

I miss my pack. And I miss my mate. And I miss my kids. I bloody miss them all so much that it hurts. And this runt here had to rub some salt into the wounds…

Diego's breathing was now even and slow. No more fidgeting. Oscar sighed and rested his own head on his front paws.

I really gotta stop leading these inner battles with myself. Why trying at all? I always lose.