Author's note: This was only written because some people pestered me about the bear story. ;)) The story fought me every step and word of the way. Argh! hahaha

xxx

Had he ever been so afraid? So frightened that he didn't know what to do? So frightened that all thought had left him?

Hoss' hands were shaking, and he lost his grip again and again until the strips of cloth were soaked wet with sweat and blood.

Adam moaned with pain, and Hoss could see that he struggled to wake from the crimson fog that was clouding his mind, could see that he tried to move his head. He reached out a hand to still him, comfort him, but he would have needed that hand to hold the cloth in place that was barely stopping the bleeding.

A brilliant red welled up in front of Hoss' eyes and he could have cried with the pain that shot through his body and heart at the sight, a pain that paralysed him until his pleas were just whispers carried away by the summer wind that knew neither thought nor time.

"I got ya, brother," he mumbled, "I got ya," but the words were lost in the silence that engulfed him, threatened to tear him like the bear that had mauled his brother, that had left ruby-red marks on him with claws that had ripped the flesh off bones and torn muscles and veins.

Gore coloured the shreds of the bandage, turned white and green cotton into reds and browns, made black glistening with wetness that didn't seem to stop; it was soaking skin and clothes and ground, staining his shaking hands that would never be clean again.

Adam's cheeks and neck were already painted black-red with fingerprints where Hoss in his frantic attempts to find a pulse had smeared the blood pooling in the hollow of his brother's throat like paint on canvas.

Had the long lashes fluttered as he tightened the makeshift bandage?

"Stay with me," he prayed fervently while his fingers slipped on the blood-soiled ends of the binding that eluded his grasp and wound like snakes around his hands and wrists.

"Think of … of all the fine things you have, everythin' that's waiting for ya… think of Becky … and that little boy of yours, so tiny, a real spark of life …"

But the cloth was slippery with Adam's blood, invisible in the dark of night and difficult to hold on to, and in Hoss' mind the shadow with its claws gleaming came from the darkness, from the familiar forest which had turned against them this night and betrayed them.

Adam groaned lowly, and Hoss flinched.

He had never been so afraid. His hands were shaking when he looked at them, the knots of the dressing unravelling while he watched.

'Don't ya dare ta go,' he pleaded frantically, 'don't ya dare, dang you!'

But he was alone, and his brother's blood was saturating the earth.

It should have been nice trip. They had enjoyed a good meal, had told stories by the camp fire. A single shot in the darkness had brought them to their feet, their eyes searching the gloom until the shadows came charging and launched themselves at his brother, tearing flesh and life from his bones before he could react.

Hoss would never forgive himself for the two seconds he had been frozen, unable to move at the sight of the shocking scene in front of him. Two seconds that could have made all the difference.

His brother had lain on his side when he finally reached him, half-buried under a mountain of fur and flesh. Hoss had shoved the carcass to the side, had freed the limp body from underneath it, but the damage had been done. Adam's side was lacerated, shredded from ribs to thigh, the skin pierced, torn. Hoss had closed his eyes to swallow the sickness burning in his throat when he saw the pale ivory of bone gleaming from the dark red flesh while his brother's blood was drenching the dry soil underneath his feet.

Hoss shivered.

He cradled the dark head in his lap and wiped the damp curls off his brother's forehead, dreading the long way home.

xxx

The end