Hey, Guys and Gals.

I know, I know. I've been out of my writing groove and silent for far too long. I can only hope that you all have found some enjoyment with the world around you during that time.

But enough with that, you all want a story and a story is what I'll give you all. Sorry that it's shorter than usual, but I'm kind of rusty. Still, without further ado, Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. .gnihton nwo I

Warning: Cursing and blood.

Race

If only the peace could have stayed around for a bit longer… but the blood-stained porch screamed otherwise.

It was another morning, and it was a pretty chilly one. Fall was settling in and the frost wasn't too far off. Thankfully, it was a Saturday. The boys (including Kristoff) have always slept in on the weekends, so they didn't get the chance to see the fresh blood trail on the porch as I carried the bed out with the lazily resting cats.

"Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit."

If it didn't register before, then I will tell you now that I was freaking out. People are not supposed to wake up to the sight of blood on their doorstep. And this was the second time!

I didn't even realize I was cursing as I placed the cat-laden pillow to look around. The blood was mostly on the stairs of the porch, and among them were animal prints. Cat prints. I followed them as I moved towards the stroller ramp and see them disappear underneath the porch.

Without a second thought, I was on my stomach. I barely paid attention to the cold ground or the dirt on my clothes and looking under the porch to see two points of blue.

"Oh god," I breathed out.

It was the white-furred mother cat. She was right on time for her morning visit and she looked like she had been thrown into a shredder and splattered with dirty red paint. However, the smell was wrong, and the blue eyes that looked at me from the dirt yowled silently in pain.

Before I knew it, I was slowly crawling towards the beaten feline, while softly cursing the entire time. On my elbows and knees, I felt I was in some weird automatic-mode as I looked over her injuries as quickly as possible. It didn't take long to realize that this was worse than Marshmallow's previous injuries. Much worse.

A lot of fur was ripped off to reveal deep puncture wounds on her right hind leg, heavy scratching to her neck and ears, and endless patterns to deep scratches and bruises all along her body. Her left foreleg was bent into a different way than her right one, and a quick look at her pale gums showed that she was suffering from blood loss and a few recently missing teeth.

As the list of growing injuries was finished, one thing about the whole experience made my blood chill: the feline didn't move. Not a hiss, a swipe, or even a glare was given to me. She just laid on her side and let me touch her. Hell, I was near her mouth and she didn't even try to bite or nip at me. She laid on the blood-speckled ground with the same look of silent agony. That alone sent me running through the house like a madwoman.

That cat needed help. Fast.

In three minutes flat, I was decently dressed and ready to head back onto the porch with a few towels in my hands. My phone, wallet, and my car keys were already in my pockets. The entire time had my head in two places: the past and the present.

The present me was rushing to get out of the house, while the past me was back a month and a half, thinking of what I had done after my patch up job with Marshmallow.

I knew Marshmallow was bothered by his injures after I had patched him up. And no matter how tough he was, I wasn't going to let him suffer from them. I had quickly researched and found out that a nearby town had an emergency pet clinic. Visiting there with Marshmallow gave me some much needed help and a bit of teaching. Apparently, an emergency clinic for animals is the same for humans in that you don't really need an appointment. Hell, they evened changed out Marshmallow's bandages and gave me a few tips on keeping the wounds clean along with some pain medications.

Now, I knew that was out of my league. If the mother cat was going to have a chance, it was at that clinic. The bad thing was that it was an hour away.

I rushed out the door with that thought in my mind, barely paying attention to the now empty porch and abandoned pillow. I jumped off the porch and rushed to where I had last seen the mother cat. I nearly dove underneath the porch this time, and froze at what I saw.

I didn't expect to stumble upon another heart-breaking sight so early in the morning, but there it was. However, it was for a different reason.

The feral mother was surrounded by the other cats under the porch. Marshmallow was sitting next to his battered waifu's head, licking her face clean of blood. The kittens copied their dad by licking wherever they could reach, which limited them to their mother's legs and belly. The sad thing was that she still wasn't moving.

She looked dead, and I knew she would be if she didn't get to that clinic.

And sadly, the others were in my way. So I quietly clicking my tongue to get their attention and gently pushing to make some room while I worked.

My body was still in automatic-mode, and that meant that I was still talking. Or rather, cursing. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop the stupid ramblings from my mouth. I was quiet, but I rambled as I lifted the cat from the ground and wrapped her up in the towels. A strangled meow was all she did as I wrapped her limp body.

"Shh. It's alright."

I repeated that over and over as I lifted her to the car. I placed her in the front seat as carefully as I could before looking back around. I had to make sure that I wasn't forgetting something. Being as frantic as I was, I didn't want to make a mistake. Especially, if it concerns the safety of the other cats.

Fluffs of black, gray, and orange were circling around my legs. Jack, Po, and Queen had followed me to the car, mewing all the way, but I was too out-of-it to really hear them. In a flash, I picked the three kittens up and rushed towards the house. I basically dumped them inside before locking the front door. I would feel sorry afterwards, but my head didn't have room for it now.

Running to the car, I barely glanced at Marshmallow laying next to his critically injured partner before shutting the door. I forgot about him, but I wasn't worried. He could behave himself. He did the last time. Throwing myself into the drivers' side of the car, I started it up and raced away like a maniac.

Seriously, if I was caught by the police now, I would certainly get pulled over.

I was blowing past stop signs and taking the turns so quickly that I instinctively put a hand on the bundle of stained towels to keep her steady. As I did, I could feel her breathing push against my hand. It was the one thing that was keeping me from running red lights as well.

And all through the ride, I kept half-mumbling/half-rambling to the cat.

"Stay with me, baby girl. An hour. Give me an hour, and you'll be okay."

Another choked meow sounded, and she kept breathing.

A.N. Before anyone asks: No, I'm not naturally an ass to cats.

But yeah, this is a shorter chapter than usual. I'm rusty and I know it, so I'll ease myself back into my typing groove with all of my stories.

And as always: comments, concerns, and informed critiques are always welcomed. Thanks so much for the compliments, MicSham. I glad you like my story so far and hope I'll continue making it interesting to read.

So, until next time, Au revoir.