The lean-to fell on them like a ton of bricks, leaving Sheppard face down and coughing out a mouthful of sand. He heard an angry scream behind him and twisted, looking over his shoulder to find the biggest cat he'd ever seen clawing and biting at the tarp. Beckett and Rodney yelled in panic and confusion as they encountered the deadly claws and fought to free themselves from under the tangled tarp. Struggling to kick his legs free from the heavy fabric, Sheppard managed to reach his gym bag and frantically plunged a hand in, relieved to feel the heavy steel of his 9 mil. He heard another scream from under the tarp as he rolled over and began emptying his clip into the beast. The creature shrieked and wailed in anger; and though it didn't fall, it at least it stopped attacking the men beneath. Sheppard paused, eyeing it warily and wondering if the ammo had left was enough to take it down or just make it angrier. For several long moments, the beast stared at him in silent stillness, as if sizing him up. There was no sound or movement beneath the tarp, as if Beckett and Rodney were holding their breath as well. Sheppard hoped they were just playing dead inside their canvas cocoon. He breathed a sigh of relief when the creature finally backed away and stumbled unsteadily towards the jumper, shaking its head in irritation. Flipping on the safety, he tucked the gun into the band of his shorts and tugged frantically at the tarp. "Rodney?"

"Yeah," was the pained reply. A hand reached out into the air through the folds of fabric. Sheppard latched on and dragged the scientist free. "What the hell?" McKay asked, panting in pain and clutching at his leg.

"Some sort of wild animal." Pawing through the rest of the tarp, Sheppard searched for their remaining teammate until he hit something solid. "Doc?" he asked, but there was no reply. It took him a minute to free Beckett from the twisted mass of fabric and pull him out. He was covered in blood.

"Oh God," said Rodney, his leg forgotten at the sight of Beckett's crimson soaked clothing.

Sheppard put two fingers to the doctor's neck, relieved when he found a pulse. He and Rodney both began to peel off the blood covered shirt. All the while, Sheppard kept one eye on creature that had settled in front of the jumper to lick its wounds. Rodney followed his glance and practically jumped out of his skin.

"That's what attacked us?"

"Yeah."

"What are you waiting for? An engraved invitation? Shoot it!"

"I did, several times, and at least three of those were head shots. They hardly slowed it down."

Beckett groaned and Rodney turned his attention back to their injured friend, carefully peeling off the last of the shirt and revealing four deep claw marks that went from the doctor's right shoulder all the way to his left side. "This is not good. This is so not good!"

"Let me see." Rodney moved aside and Sheppard examined the wounds carefully. "They're deep, but they don't look like they've penetrated his chest cavity or abdomen." Whipping off the towel from around his neck, which by some miracle had managed to stay in place throughout their ordeal, he pressed it against Beckett's chest, trying to staunch the flow of blood. There were several deep puncture wounds in the doctor's forearm, which seemed to indicate he'd been bitten as well as clawed. "We need to get him to the infirmary."

"Really?" said Rodney, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I hadn't thought of that." The cat gave a growling cry and stumbled to its feet, taking a few steps towards them before collapsing with an angry hiss, its golden eyes never leaving them for even a moment. Rodney swallowed nervously. "What do you suggest we do? It's between us and the jumper."

"I'm working on it." Sheppard considered his options. If he was lucky, he might be able to outmaneuver the injured animal and make it to the jumper, but that would leave McKay and Beckett totally at the creature's mercy in the meantime. As the cat began dragging itself slowly but determinedly towards them, he came to his decision. "We'll have to circle around." He started lightly slapping Beckett's face, still keeping one wary eye on the creature. "Come on, Doc. Sleep time is over. We gotta go." Beckett opened his eyes and blinked but Sheppard could see he wasn't focusing. It was better than nothing. "Give me a hand, Rodney."

"Are you crazy? We can't move him!"

The creature stumbled to its feet again making its way another yard towards them and loosing a screaming roar before it collapsed, panting. There was a faint answering cry from somewhere further down the beach past the jumper.

"Okay." The scientist rose shakily to his feet and would have fallen if Sheppard hadn't steadied him. After a few seconds, he found he could put weight on his injured leg if he was careful.

Sheppard quickly threw several items into the gym bag, slung it over his back, and gave Rodney an encouraging slap on the arm. "Come on, McKay, I'm counting on you," he said as he reached down and hauled the unresisting Beckett to his feet, slinging the doctor's left arm around his shoulder. Rodney did the same with the right. Angling away from the cat, they made their way haltingly up the dune and into the forest.

"Far enough," said Sheppard after several minutes. "Let's start heading in the direction of the jumper." The words were no sooner out of his mouth when there was a deep, angry roar from the beach nearby. Whispering "stay here," he shifted Beckett, leaning him against a tree. Leaving Rodney to steady the injured physician, he crept carefully toward the sound and felt his heart sink when he confirmed that the second cat had joined the first. He knew he didn't have a chance in hell in outmaneuvering a healthy version of what they had seen, and with an injured Rodney and Beckett to take into consideration as well, it narrowed his choices dramatically. The second cat might not be tracking them yet, but Sheppard was betting that it was only a matter of time. Right now, their best course of action was to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the cats and hope they could outmaneuver the creatures until Atlantis could send help. He crept back to his men. As he shifted Beckett's arm back over his shoulder, the doctor struggled to take some of his own weight and Sheppard was happy to see lucidity in the blue eyes. "You finally with us, Doc?" Encouraged by Beckett's answering nod, he led them deeper into the forest.

McKay stumbled under the doctor's weight. "Where are we going? We need to get him back to the jumper!"

"The jumper's a no-go."

Mouth gaping several times in frustration, Rodney finally asked, "What are we going to do?"

"Put some distance between them and us, then try to double-back if we can."

The scientist pondered that answer for a long moment. "How long before Atlantis misses us?"

"We weren't due back until tonight. Let's hope Elizabeth's spidey senses are tingling." Sheppard paused, looking around alertly. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"This way," said Sheppard, steering them slightly to the left.

It wasn't long before Rodney caught the sound as well. "Water?"

"Sounds like."

Following the faint noise, they soon found themselves on a riverbank and eased Beckett to the ground. Blood still flowed liberally from the wound on his chest and the doctor had turned an ashen gray. Sheppard felt for a pulse and found it weak and racing as the injured man shifted slightly beneath his fingers. "How ya feeling, Doc?"

"C-cold."

It was an easily recognizable sign. "Shock," Sheppard said grimly to Rodney.

The scientist pulled off his jacket; between the two of them they managed to get Beckett into it. "I can't believe you brought a lifesigns detector and a gun, but no first-aid kit!" he snapped as they applied more pressure to the doctor's ever-bleeding chest.

"There's a fully stocked kit on the jumper so I didn't think I needed to bring another one. Or an elephant gun either for that matter," replied Sheppard. He let Rodney keep pressure on Beckett's wound while he examined the scientist's leg. Several long scratches ran the length from hip to knee but they were shallower than Beckett's and were bleeding fairly sluggishly--no immediate danger, he concluded, but they needed dressing. Of course, they didn't have any bandages. There was deep, echoing, roar in the direction from which they had fled. It was still fairly distant but Sheppard thought it sounded closer than it should have if the creature was still on the beach.

"What was that?" asked a weak and confused voice between them.

"That's what's going to get you a free pass with any woman you meet from now on," Sheppard joked gently as he futilely pawed though his gym bag, looking for something that would help. At Rodney's inquiring look, he clarified, "Women love heroic scars."

There was another low roar in the distance to their left and a weaker answering one further toward their right.

Cursing softly under his breath, Sheppard studied the river at their backs. It was broad, but slow-moving and shallow. He looked back at Rodney in sudden inspiration. "They hate water, right?"

"What? How the hell should I know?"

"You have a cat."

"Oh, right," said McKay, narrowing his eyes sarcastically. "Like this thing resembles my five-pound tabby?"

Sheppard came to a decision. "We're going for a little swim." Before hauling Beckett to his feet, he zipped up the doctor's jacket, hoping it would help hold the makeshift towel bandage in place. Making sure Rodney had a firm grip on their injured teammate, he let go of the doctor and slid down the few feet of muddy embankment into the river. The water was only waist high and much warmer than he thought it would be.

McKay swayed under his share of the doctor's weight. "Pretend I have no idea why on Earth we would want to slog though a muddy river and explain to me what we're doing again?"

"You two leave a blood trail my grandma could follow!" Sheppard replied, reaching up to help Beckett slide down the bank. He steadied the doctor and waited for Rodney to join them.

"So sorry our bleeding to death is inconveniencing you," snapped McKay as he followed them down, making sure his good leg took the brunt of the impact when he landed with a splash beside them. Taking Beckett's arm over his shoulder again, they began slowly wading upriver, occasionally stumbling on the unsure footing of the river bottom. "God knows what's living in here," the scientist muttered, looking into the murky water flowing gently past them. "Snakes, piranha, leeches…"

"We need to get some distance from this thing if we're going to circle around and make it back to the jumper," explained Sheppard. "We can't do that if it's hot on our trail. In case you haven't noticed. It's a hell of a lot faster than we are."

Beckett stumbled again, almost bringing the two of them down. "This can't be good for him," said Rodney, worriedly. He shifted his grip around the doctor's waist as they started wading again.

"Neither is being Felix's snackcake," replied Sheppard.

"Felix?" Another roar could be clearly heard, even nearer than before, and the scientist paled noticeably.

"Fine, we can call it whatever you want. What did you name your cat?"

"What?" Rodney blinked in confusion, then narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Why?"

Sheppard shrugged. "Just trying to keep you from panicking. How 'bout we call it 'Fluffy'?"

"I don't panic." There was a short pause. "'Lucifer' seems much more appropriate."

"You're missing the point, Rodney..." he stopped suddenly when Beckett stumbled and shifted the doctor more firmly between them. He realized that he needed to do something to help keep the doctor alert and focused. "Come on, Doc, talk to me."

"'bout what?" slurred the physician.

"Tell me about..." Sheppard searched his brain trying to come up with a topic that would engage their injured teammate. "...tell me about fishing."

Beckett's reply was weak and muzzy. "Fishing?"

"Yeah, fishing. What do you fish for?"

"Ummm…brown trout...usually."

When nothing more was forthcoming, Sheppard tried again, "Tell me about the one that got away."

"Hmm?"

Sheppard shifted the doctor's arm slightly, easing the strain on his shoulder. "Every fisherman I've ever known has a story about the one that got away," he encouraged.

"Hooked a Salmon on the Aros once."

"The Aros, is that a river or a lake?"

"Loche," corrected Beckett automatically. "It's a river."

"Big fish?"

"Huge," agreed the Scot, his voice a little stronger. "Waited until it was near enough for me to touch then snapped my line like it was naught more than sewing thread and disappeared. Cheeky bastard."

Sheppard chuckled and continued to pelt him with fishing questions. When he ran out, Rodney managed to draw the doctor into a mild debate over the existence of the Loche Ness Monster--anything to keep him talking.

They spent another hour in the river, making painstaking progress upstream until Beckett began shivering violently and passed out. His teammates managed to get him out of the water and onto dry land, laying him on thick bed of leaves and elevating his feet. At least the weather was on their side--the warm day was quickly disappearing into what seemed likely to become a balmy evening.

Kneeling down beside them, Sheppard unslung the gym bag. "Here," he said, pulling out the lifesigns detector and his gun, handing the latter to Rodney as they stood up.

"What? Why?" Rodney took the gun awkwardly as he rose. Though he had been trained in its use, it still felt alien in his hand.

Sheppard ignored him and scanned the immediate vicinity for any readings. Satisfied, began to walk deeper into the forest.

"Where are you going?" hissed Rodney.

"Recon. I'm going to have a look around before it gets too dark."

"You're leaving us here? Alone?" The last word came out as more of a squeak.

"Do you have a better idea?"

Rodney licked his lips nervously. "No."

"I'll be back before it gets completely dark." Looking around at the ground, he picked up a sturdy fallen branch so he wouldn't be entirely defenseless. "Do what you can for him," he said before he melted into the forest.

Rodney sighed inwardly and knelt back down beside Beckett, unzipping the jacket to find that the towel they had used as a bandage was soaked completely through with blood. He looked worriedly at the crimson-stained terrycloth and tried to not to think about how much more Carson could afford to lose and still live.