The Last Survivor

by Kodiak Bear Country

I had lived alone for as long as I remember. Also known as the story where Sheppard and McKay crash, get hurt and need help, and the wraith are afoot.

2. Chapter 2

AN: Thank you for the reviews, feeding the bunnies is always a good thing. I haven't gotten a chance to send individual thanks because I was busy typing! Here is the product of my busy day yesterday. The down side is now I have nothing more finished, so I think one more chapter, if all goes well, but it might be closer to the weekend if not the weekend before I get it written! Thanks again, sholio, for your invaluable beta help! All that remains is mine.

Chapter Two

Morning sky was rushed in on the harsh winds of another storm, or maybe it was the same as before, the lull during the night sky's reign just a sleep before it returned to its wailing. I did not want to leave my blankets, with the warmth of the river rock heating my side.

What finally drove me was the mutterings of dark haired Sheppard. He cried Wraith! and Hold on, Rodney! I might not know the male well, but I knew he was reliving his past in his dreams.

Before I could get to him, sky eyes McKay was already there, whispering soothing sounds in the darkness of my home. The green of the walls had faded to almost nothing, the fire had burned itself out mid-night sky, and now all that remained were the feeble tries of morning sky weeping through the holes above.

I felt like a rock, not needed now, as McKay eased Sheppard's dream terrors. Instead of going to them, I pretended to have more important things, and I made a breakfast of grains stripped from the white weed.

When I ladled three equal portions into bowls, and turned to carry them to my two injured males, I was surprised to find them watching me. I could not read the dark haired one, but sky eyes looked a confusing mix of worry and hunger.

"It is good," I assured him, waiting for him to push himself into sitting. He took the bowl from me, lifted it, sniffed with the same distrust of a gnarl. I was laughing inside at his antics.

Sky eyes huffed at me. "Are you laughing at me? I have appropriate fear, something you as a…simple --"

"McKay," dark haired Sheppard rumbled.

Sky eyes did not make me worry. I helped him move until he was ready to take Sheppard's weight against his chest, then held tight to Sheppard's hands as sky eyes McKay helped pull his injured litter mate into position. It was the third time, and they both were learning to do it with the least amount of pain to either one. The fish dinner had been held down well and helped them continue to heal.

Now ready, I handed Sheppard his bowl, both looking at how well he was, and letting him know in my smile that nothing sky eyes did could make me sad. "It is fine, Sheppard," I said. With my bowl, I sat by their feet. "I laughed at him first."

"See, at least she admits it, whereas some people --"

Sheppard grimaced at his bowl, as if his head was hurting him, and I was sure it did. "Just eat."

Sky eyes did well at balancing Sheppard while eating, and a silence took over while we ate. I did not mind, because I had been alone in my silence for many cycles. When I finished, I saw they were still eating. Their bites were small, their chewing slow. "Is it not good?"

Sheppard looked from me to his bowl, then back to me, an odd look on his lips. "Well, uh, Mawani," he spoke politely, but I felt bad words hiding on his tongue, "it's fine, we're just not really used to…"

"Eating food our domesticated animals live on," supplied sky eyes.

"I told you to eat," hissed Sheppard. "Telling the lady that rescued us and cared for our owies that her food is what we feed our dogs is not really nice, McKay."

McKay choked on his mouthful.

"What is a dog?"

Sheppard pantomimed a medium sized thing. He forgot about his broken bone, and gasped a little from the pain. I frowned at his hand and stared pointedly at his chest. He rolled his eyes a little upwards and I got the feeling he was telling me without words that he did not need my mothering. Lucky for him, I did not think so.

"Two ears, tail, wet nose and a whole lot of love," said dark haired Sheppard. "Every kid needs one growing up."

Sky eyes snorted. "Let me guess, you had a dog? What makes a dog intrinsically better for a kid than a cat? Cats are people too, you know."

"Cats think they're doing you a favor if they let you pet them, McKay…now dogs," he winced a little as he moved too much again, "they think the sun rises and sets on you. That's good for the ego."

"My ego's just fine, thank you," responded sky eyes irritably. He pushed back, trying to stretch his legs. "God, move, you're numbing my legs."

I was feeling lost amidst their talk. But I understood McKay's need, and put my bowl aside, helping Sheppard back down, feeling sympathy for the groans he tried to hold back. "Another quarter of a moon cycle, and the pain should be much less," I assured him.

He was sweaty, and nodded, but it took many breaths before he stopped holding his lips together tightly, and the whiteness faded away. "We've got a real problem."

"Problem?" I echoed.

But McKay was scooting over and nodding. "If that wraith ship crashed like we did, if they survived, then I think it's a fairly safe assumption that they'll find us. Seeing how we're more or less immobile, I think 'problem' is a bit of an understatement."

"If you are afraid these wraith will find us, do not worry." I lifted my finger to my lips, to show them to be quiet. Dark haired Sheppard had his left hand pillowed under his head, and he paused, listened carefully. Sky eyes looked ready to speak, but I pinched my eyebrows together and reasserted my finger against my lips. He pushed his mouth together and waited.

I let the wailing wind invade our thoughts. The rattling of the door.

"The storm is still strong, with much anger left," I explained. "Nothing alive will be coming for us."

"Who said they were alive," grouched sky eyes McKay. "They don't look like badly made-up zombies for nothing."

He was trying to hide his fear behind his surliness, but I watched him as he turned away from dark haired Sheppard, and studied the clay wall, the pile of straw, and then his eyes narrowed on my –

"Who's that?"

I scrambled to my feet, hurried to the picture and pushed it behind the straw. When I turned back, sky eyes looked startled, while Sheppard seemed to see too deeply through me. I stood there, trembling, feeling the softness of my tunic against my body. "My memories were dead before you came," I accused.

"You drew that," dark haired Sheppard stated. He looked frustrated. I saw him try to move, and wince when it drew back the pain. He clenched his hands in the sheet and stared angrily at the ceiling. "It was a baby."

The smell of sour milk and jassim powder floated around me; I could feel her skin against my own, as soft as a gnarl's hide that had been worn for many cycles. I remembered. A small hand clutching my finger, a tiny mouth, suckling.

My baby!

My Lillani.

But it was nothing more than dust in my mind, ghosts in my ears, and memories on my skin.

I pushed the memories away, unwanted. "Your bandages need changing." I ignored their looks of sorrow and pity. The jars felt solid in my hands and I clasped them tightly, clinging to the present. Aches from the past were worthless.

When I knelt by Sheppard, he held my wrist. "Mawani…"

Withdrawing my hand from his, I reached above him, and began to unwind the soiled strips of sheet. "Your wounds are healing, but one cut is deep, it still tries to grow sick." I placed the palm of my hand softly against his forehead, knowing the ache remained, feeling the lingering heat. "You must rest."

"The wraith can recover faster, and they'll be looking for us."

"Death waits for all things, Sheppard." Without giving him more time for further words, I tipped the flask of laviola to his lips. He drank, then let his head drop, exhausted from the effort.

During our talk, sky eyes McKay had fallen quiet. I moved to him, checked his leg and was happy to see it was continuing to heal. It weeped only a little now. "It is healing well," I told him, feeling his eyes on me. "But you, too, must rest." I checked the bruising on his chest, and ignored his embarrassed squawk. It looked worse than I had hoped, but the flesh remained soft. "It will heal, too, in time." I drew up the sheet, passed a comforting hand across his brow. "I know you both worry about the wraith, but we are safe here. When I was a little girl, my father told me the magic of the Jade Cliffs would protect our people."

McKay's lips crooked into a ghost of a smile. "Than why are they all dead?"

"Because they did not believe," I said simply. "Now, rest. I have much work to do, and you and dark haired Sheppard talk until my thoughts grow muddled."

"Did she just say we talk too much?" sky eyes demanded of Sheppard.

Sheppard's eyes smiled. "I think she did, McKay."

OoO

The storm fought against day and night sky for six turns. I slept in between caring for Sheppard and McKay, rinsing bandages, and cooking meals. They spoke often, sometimes of things I could not understand. But then, they spoke of a city in the sea. A city with fingers reaching towards the sky, and many more people, both female and male.

Sheppard's head fought to heal; his will to be well was winning over the wound's tries at sickness. Still, the fever would come and go, sometimes leaving him weak and exhausted, panting by sky eyes' side. In the depths of night sky's time, I would often hear sky eyes McKay easing Sheppard's nightmares. I do not think they were all caused by what brought them to my world. He cried out Kolya! And Sumner! When sky eyes would wake Sheppard, sometimes they murmured quietly in the dim green glow, long towards the morning sky's arrival. I overheard words about who was better, Batman or Spiderman, and did not think they used real words – they must surely say nonsense things to make one another smile. Yet, they argued quietly till the fire had died, and in the end, I believe something else won, they both agreed, Wonder woman.

There were times when McKay whimpered in his sleep. Memories haunted his thoughts, as well. Sheppard would shake him softly, and whisper. I believed even more that these two were litter mates, such was the care they showed, though their words often said otherwise. Some words were said with such irritation and anger that I felt for sure they would not speak again, only for one to frown at the other, then they would change words and talk about something else.

I watched them often while I worked root thread, or cleaned dishes. I found them watching me. And all around us, the sky was battered by the storm's anger. When I awoke to the quietness on the sixth turn, and saw the sliver of sun shining, I wanted to kiss the sun. As much as I was happy to speak with others of my kind, at times, I found it overwhelming.

More memories had rushed through me, their arrival breaking the dam in my mind.

The presence of two males, through every turn of night and day, was also strange. I found myself changing tunics under my blanket during the night sky. They did not wish for me to help them bathe, and I had to argue many words to get them to understand it was either that, or they would sleep with the storm.

Sky eyes rolled to his side while I helped Sheppard, then Sheppard agreed to close his eyes when it was McKay's turn. I laughed, unable to stop. "Is there a part of you that is different than him?" I asked sky eyes.

His face flushed. "Yes, there is. Despite what people say, it's not, 'see one, see them all', thank you very much."

Sheppard pushed his eyes shut and said, "He's just worried because I've got bigger hands than he does."

The choking from sky eyes made me feel that Sheppard had said something that should have remained unspoken for their people, and McKay's face flamed hotter. I scolded Sheppard, and assured sky eyes I would be quick.

It was not easy for them, accepting the routine of using the small pots when they had to empty their bodies of waste, either, but I had an area where I hung another old sheet using sticks from the litter, so that there was a way for them to believe the others were not watching. The storm was so loud, no one worried about listening. I did not let them take the pots outside; their wounds did not need the movement. I had been cleaning up after myself and animals for my entire life, it seemed, and two more did not make my life any harder.

"It's quiet," whispered Sheppard, startling me.

I straightened my blanket, before creeping across the room to his side. "The storm has worn itself out finally. I must go to the river, check my trap and get more water. Do you need anything?"

He looked over at sky eyes, shook his head, but before I had my cloak around my shoulders, he called, serious, "Be careful, all right? If the wraith are out there, you won't be able to stop them."

I pulled my fur boots on, and stepped around the room to gather my satchel. "What more can they do to me?" I looked sadly down at him. "Before you came, I had fear. Now, I begin to feel, death does not scare me. I am the last of my people, and when I die, I may once again walk with my loved ones, and speak their names."

"Fine, I'll be afraid for both of us," he said reasonably. "Just be careful."

"I know the woods as I know the skin on my body. I will be fine." After assuring him, I lifted the latch, and disappeared into the white horizon, chased by the warm air that snuck out behind me.

OoO

The winds had packed the snow; drifts overtook small trees, boulders and the cliffs. My home was even more hidden than it had been before, and I did not worry about leaving McKay and Sheppard. I walked carefully, but found the deep snow tiring. It was time to build my shoes of wood to make walking easier. Mindful of my tracks, I gathered an evergreen branch and brushed the surface as I went.

The effort made me sweat in my clothes.

When I neared the river, I saw other tracks, deep and heavy, in the cold blanket. Slowing, I gripped the branch in my hands, feeling the rough bark scratch against my palm. The snow that was pushing up above my boots chilled my skin when I held still, yet, I listened to the air.

Behind me, the woods grew tall and many, with the leaf-bearing trunks stripped of their summer clothes. The evergreens sat, ponderously wearing a new weight of a coat of snow.

Everything was still.

I moved forward, angling my steps to take me near the tracks. As I scattered my own, I did not fail to notice the similarity. The tracks were that of an animal on two legs, not four, with a wide step, and heavy body, to sink in the snow so far. I noticed something more, a black liquid dripped between the steps. Wondering, I leaned and touched a finger to one. It was cold, frozen.

The storm had blown out during the night sky, so these tracks and…was it life's blood? They could not be even a turn of night old. I straightened, holding to my satchel and my evergreen branch, and scanned the horizon uncertainly. I had not lied when I told Sheppard I no longer feared death. My memories, so raw and new again, had shown me there are worse things than death.

Living when everyone else had died.

Still, Sheppard and McKay were wounded and depended on me. I did not know what lay ahead, but they had claimed their people would come for them. And that if they did not come, when the snows left, they would find their ship and fix it. Then they would take me, and we would all leave this world. They would take me to the city in the sea with the fingers to the sky.

I did not believe that I would ever leave my world, but I let them say their words. I knew they needed their hope of seeing loved ones again.

My knees had grown numb from the cold and I shook away the thoughts. The river was iced for many steps; only the fast-moving water in the middle ran free. I walked along the banks until I came to the pool, and using the end of the branch, I dug free the vine for my trap. In my satchel I had a small tool, a sharpened blade I had found in my village ruins, beaten into a thick log the length of my forearm to make a sturdy handle.

I followed the vine until it disappeared into the ice at the edge, knowing my trap was further ahead in the deeper water. The still water of the pool had frozen completely; the ice was strong enough to hold my weight, but thin enough that I could still chip through and reach the trap. I paced ten steps out and scraped a circle wider than the trap.

When my circle was marked, I left the pool, left my satchel, and found a river rock the size of my hand. Hurrying back, I took my cloak from my shoulders and spread it out for my knees, thankful for the warmth of the soft fur against my legs. The effort of breaking the ice would warm my body, but skin on ice would never warm.

I pounded the fat end of the sharp rock tool, creating a small chip in the ice. I moved the tool over and repeated the same step. I knelt for many moments, and by the time I felt the circular chunk dip free into the water, I was sore and tired. The angle I used to break it free allowed me to wiggle the branch until I could get my hands under and lift it free. The ice was heavy and slippery; once I pulled too hard too soon and almost fell into the hole when my boots slid out from under me. Breathing hard, I managed to stay on the ice, and finally pulled it free, tugging it to the side. When I was done, I would put it back and sprinkle snow to try and hide any trace of having been here. If a white-haired monster did notice, there would be no doubt that other two-legged animals were sharing this world with it, and it would look harder to find where.

First, I filled the flasks with fresh water. Then, I used a stick with a curved tip to fish for the vine. When I caught it, I pulled, and felt the weight before I had it free of the icy water. The trap had seven fat fish, two that were larger than three hands. I was fortunate, because Sheppard and McKay grew hungrier. I dug into the snow by the shore, creating a cave almost to the ground. There I killed, cleaned and gutted the fish, murmuring another soft prayer of thanks for the life they gave me; then I carried the guts to throw in the water to be eaten by others. I rinsed my bloody hands in the cold water, feeling my fingers fat and red from the cold and the ice. Not all the blood was from the fish. Chopping ice often gave me new scars.

The cold made my blood reluctant to leave my body, and I covered the area I had used, taking snow from drifts to fill the hole where I had cleaned the fish. I levered the ice back into place and gathered yet more drift snow and sprinkled it over. From a distance, it would look undisturbed. Up close, the damage was not so easily hidden, despite how often I kept spreading and layering. It looked unnatural.

Admitting defeat in doing any better, I gathered my satchel, now full of fish, and shook my fur cloak free of ice before wrapping it around my shoulders. It had gotten wet, and I shivered underneath. I had gone from cold to hot, back to cold and then hot and now I was cold again. I would need to sit by the fire for a while to warm my blood.

A branch snapped behind me.

My breath died in my chest. I swallowed back the sudden rise of fear. Had I not said I was not afraid? I forced my numb feet to turn in time to see it running at me. A white-haired monster, as if it had left my memory and formed in front of me. I scrambled back, fell, and fought to rise and run, but the snow was deep and tripped my feet again. I heard its harsh breaths near.

I was grabbed on my shoulder, and flipped until I was sitting. It breathed hard, erratic, and that is when I saw the broad span of a bloody mark on its chest, the sunken face. Something was wrong with this white haired monster. I kicked, desperate, recalling Sheppard's words of warning and, "I'll be afraid for both of us."

The choking fear I felt now was more than enough for the two of us. I might not be afraid of death, but suddenly I found, I was still afraid of the white haired monsters.

The snow was icy against my back, the wet of my cloak pressing against me. The monster was angry but oddly weak. I remembered the sharp ice-cutting tool nestled against my chest in the satchel. It began to kneel towards me, its breath raspy and stinking of dead things. My fingers wrapped around the handle. My knees were bent, snow was against my thighs. I chanted a prayer to the God in the sky, and when his hand came at my chest, I thrust the sharpened tip of blade through it.

The creature screamed in pain and pulled its hand back.

I did not wait, rolling, until my knees were under me, and then scrambling to my feet, slipping. I clung to the satchel and ran, taking leaps over the snow, not looking back. When I heard nothing behind me and knew I had ran as far as I could, I stopped, and looked, certain it would be on me, but nothing was there. Just the woods. The evergreens.

Painful breaths of icy air chilled my air cavities as I bent at the waist and tried to breathe.

I suddenly laughed. I was alive.

And I still had my fish.

Knowing to linger was to ask for death, I hurriedly pulled a fresh evergreen branch, and began the hard trek back to my home. When I hopped from the final boulder and stood before my door, my knees grew weak, and I pulled the latch, fell inside, and slammed it behind me, letting my body sink to the floor.

It had been many cycles since I had felt such pain, fear and worry. My heart still thumped madly against my chest.

"What happened?"

I looked up from my lap. McKay was watching me, Sheppard sleeping by his side. I tried to smile reassuringly, but instead, I felt my face crumple and I began to sob. Harsh, painful sobs, wrenched from inside. I pulled my knees to my chest, and wrapped my arms around them tightly, trying to hold on. I felt as if my insides were shattering into a river-full of tiny pieces.

His touch, when it came, was light and wary, but then he was dragging his leg until he had me held against his chest. He wrapped his warm hands around my shoulders. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "Just…oh God, why isn't Sheppard awake…"

His words meant nothing to me.

OoO

"There's more than one." Sheppard was propped against McKay, using his left arm to stir the ground bear root and fish stew in his bowl. "You described a feeding mark, and I'd bet my last year's pay that his buddy did it to him." He smiled wryly at me. "It's probably the only reason why you're still alive."

I nodded, letting my hair fall across my face. My eyes still felt red and puffy, though I had bandaged my ice-scraped hands and changed into dry clothes. Sky eyes had comforted me -- I knew it had been difficult for him -- until my sobs had died. My shivers had passed to him, and I had finally pulled away, feeling both better and worse for it. Worse, because he should not have left his bed and now I had chilled him, but better, because I had been comforted by the touch of another of my kind. I had forgotten what it felt like.

By then, Sheppard had woken. He had tried to come to us, to help me and to help McKay, but I told him to stay. His broken bone would soon be mended enough for him to move and I would not risk him re-injuring it. I helped sky eyes back to his bed, his skin rippled with bumps from the cold of my body. All he and Sheppard wore was their underclothes. I had washed their other clothes, pants and shirts, stitched scraps to make them wearable, but for lying in bed, I told them it was best to stay in their underwear, so long as the fevers fought to return time and time again. Besides, the others had stains and tears I could not fix.

Sheppard had asked me what had happened while I ducked under my blankets and pulled off my wet clothes. I told the story of finding the tracks, then the white haired monster appearing behind me, almost ending my life, thankful for the privacy to hide not only my nakedness, but also the trembles of my body that had nothing to do with the cold.

He had asked questions about this wraith, and when I had described the mark on his chest, Sheppard had become more alert and interested than I had ever seen him before.

While I prepared the stew, he and McKay talked about defensive weapons. Now that we were eating, I sat by the warm river rock, listened, and felt thankful to just be alive. The stew was spiced with red and white snappers. It burned in my throat.

"Mawani, you're sure there weren't any black metal objects near us? Or black bags like our clothes?" Sheppard rubbed the middle of his forehead. "If we could just get one of our guns…"

"I promise, there was nothing near you except each other." But in the back of my mind, I felt guilty because I had not looked. I had not looked amidst the trees to see where they had come from, which direction, and if they had lost anything nearby, and by the time they asked, the snows had come and now it was too late.

Not one to be discouraged, Sheppard took my words without showing the same worry as McKay. With a quick smile, he said, "You're handy with making things. Maybe we can make spears."

McKay seemed to consider Sheppard's idea and I could tell by the expression on his face, he thought Sheppard was being less than serious, but Sheppard's words made me remember something I had not thought of in many moons. I set my bowl to the floor, stood and walked to the wall near the picture. I could feel their eyes on me. Kneeling, I pulled the picture free from where I had shoved it earlier, only pausing long enough to feel the pain again, before I set it aside and pushed the straw away.

I had revealed a wooden box, built in the times before my grandsires. It had rested there, against the wall, a ghost of my father who had given it to me on my joining day. "I have only used this once, when I was too stupid to stay out of the woods at night."

The lid creaked, the old metal hinge dirty orange from many years of life. I pulled the bow, quiver of arrows, and the jar of oil made from the mud of the cliffs free from the box. When I turned to them, my weapons in hand, I expected to see relief, but instead, I saw dismay on McKay's face, and a hardened acceptance on Sheppard's. They did not understand.

"With this weapon and a true aim, even a night predator will fall in one shot." I held the jar higher after handing the bow to Sheppard. "This is poison, so strong that only two drops kill, but it must mingle with life's blood." It was distasteful for me, to kill in such a way, and the poison rendered the meat of the animal useless – it could not be eaten after the body was tainted with the poison. It was a waste, and I had only used it for protection.

But I would not be eating the white haired monster, and killing to protect my wounded males was something I was sure I would not regret.

McKay scanned my home, his mouth twisted derisively, before his sky eyes locked onto mine. "Did I miss Robin Hood's arrival? Because what I'm seeing, are two wounded men, hardly capable of feeding themselves, and a girl who admits she's only used it once."

I frowned. "McKay, as children, my people are…were raised to shoot. There were great competitions, every nine cycles. It has been long since I have put finger to string, but old skills long taught never leave, they merely dull. Not all predators are white haired monsters."

Part of my memories that had returned included the roar of a crowd, the smell of roasting meat and loud music. Laughter, smiles, and children dodging around the legs of full-growns.

I closed my eyes for just a moment.

Remembering was painful. These males were of my kind but they had professed to not be of the world – this world that I had thought was all that there was. I had no one to ask, "Do you remember the fairs? When the men and women competed to hit the farthest and the smallest target? When the meat roasted till it was crispy on the outside, but exploded with juice on the first bite – when the flutes played to the dancing of the flames long into the night sky, and the children fell to sleep in the laps of their mothers?"

I was the only one to have these memories. They were mine alone, and even then, I had forgotten for many cycles. My eyes opened again, and the two men watched me. I felt they could see through my skin and into my heart, touch my loneliness, because I wore it like a cloak.

Yet, they stayed silent.

Sheppard held his hand out, waving towards the bow. "Let me see it."

It was better their way. To not mention the dead. Physical pain was enough to endure; the pain of the soul was worthy of burying deep and leaving alone. I took their way, and pushed the thoughts into the darkness from where they had come. I had done it before, I could do it again.

He'd set aside his food, only half-eaten. I brought him the weapon, handing him the bow and arrows, while keeping the poison. I would not like for him to accidentally spill it anywhere near their open wounds. Accidents were like storms, coming unbidden and unpredicted.

Sheppard's eyes often let little past them, clouded windows that only cleared when he wished them to. Now, he let me see that my bow was only a little helpful. His smile was strained. "It's better than a spear, gives us distance, but we have no idea if this poison works on a wraith, and I'd hate to find out it doesn't when it keeps charging towards us." He shrugged, as if to say he was sorry. "Wraith don't die easily, Mawani. Not even when we hit them with weapons more powerful and damaging than this."

"You said the poison was made from cliff oil?" McKay spoke, looking thoughtful now, rather than worried. "It's the second time you've mentioned the cliffs as having properties beyond the primitive." Sky eyes looked down at Sheppard, still propped against sky eyes' chest, even though neither one ate now. "What if that's why we couldn't register her life signs? If that's what is keeping the wraith from finding us now?" He snapped the fingers on his hands, making a fast, rapid sound like a fen in a tree when it hunted for worms. "What if it's like salt water to the Iratus bug!"

"I thought we agreed never to mention --"

"Those bugs, I know, sorry but it would be incredibly stupid to describe it and I'd think that would be even more disturbing."

Dark haired Sheppard still looked a little pale, the cause -- could it be the mere mention of a bug? But he nodded reluctantly. "Help me up," he said.

I stared at his struggles and at McKay's already-in-motion arms and legs, shifting to rise, so that he could help Sheppard. "No, you must not," I rushed to say, but they were whether I wished it or not and I still held the poison in my hands, unable to physically move them back to their bed.

I turned now, and put the poison back in the box. By the time I had it stowed safely, they were on their feet, both of them -- shaky, pale and their faces lined with pain. "This is foolish." I walked heavily to them, bent and lifted their bowls. "If you re-injure your bone, it could pierce the air cavity and I do not know if I can save you." I flicked accusing eyes at his litter mate. "Your wound may pull open, become infected again." Knowing already some of his weaknesses, I added, "It will hurt a great deal. Is that what you wish?"

Sky eyes' face grew even whiter. But his chin came up. "Death by wraith would hurt a lot more, so pardon me for deciding on the lesser of two evils."

"I do not know what either of you hope to accomplish!" My fingers held onto the wooden bowls, feeling the little rises and valleys from the uneven whittling against my palms. I was afraid for them. Afraid they would become sick again, and that this time I would not be able to save them. I let my hair of straw hide my face and walked to the sand and pebbles, setting the bowls down for cleaning. I knew how fragile life was, how easily it was lost to illness.

Lillani, she had been borne to me in the cycles of cold, after my home was ready and everything should have been safe. She had been all I had left of my kind. A moon cycle after her birth, she fell sick. Her air cavities grew sluggish and raspy, like the whispers of wind in the treetops. She fought to live, through many turns of sun and night, to the point I thought surely it would end, one way or the other. Then, the rise of sun sky brought a quiet to my home and her strained fight for life. Lillani had lost to the sickness, and I had lost so much more.

It was after that when I vowed to learn new ways to heal. It was too late for my daughter, but not for the other creatures around me. Life should not be made to suffer, to linger in pain and fear.

"If you die --"

A gentle hand touched my shoulder, and I turned to see dark haired Sheppard, his eyes soft. There was salt on my lips. "If you die," I repeated, "then I will be alone again."

Sky eyes joined him, his face looking like it had when he had held me in my sobs before. Then, his mouth curled. "Trust me, we don't die easily. I hate to say it, because usually that's a given jinx, but we've survived certain death more than a few times. Why should this be any different?"

"Exactly," agreed Sheppard. He held a hand up, his fingers splayed loosely in the air. "There was the time…" he slowed his speech, looked uncomfortable, "…with the bug." A finger was touched with another. "Then there was the self-destruct that one wraith had." They shared a boyish grin. "Almost blew us up." Another finger was ticked.

"And don't forget the close call with all those kids," enthused McKay. "They were going to kill you."

"Because you took the ZPM!"

Sky eyes turned from me to face Sheppard. "Only to check the level; I was bringing it back."

"Curiosity kills the Sheppard." Dark haired Sheppard said it with a chuckle, but McKay looked slightly sheepish, like a child scolded for using mother's flour while being praised for making a fine loaf of bread.

The salt had dried on my face, and I found myself smiling along with them. These two males, with their arguing, and caring, and strange words had invaded my lonely life. "Then I will have to trust in your fortune to save us all," I said.

Sheppard's smile disappeared, his memories leaving him in the difficult present, and he nodded, serious again. "That's right. Now, we need to set a watch."

"A watch?"

They were growing tired, their show of getting to their feet more to prove they could, than anything, I believed. I listened as Sheppard explained the need for someone to stay awake at all times, and to make sure a wraith did not come through my door. I pulled the wood crate near enough to the river rock, draped my cloak over the top. "Sit," I instructed. "If one must keep watch, one must have some place to sit rather than fall over."

They shared rueful looks, then moved to the crate, both sitting with muted groans.

"Tomorrow, when both of you are stronger, we should test your strength with the bow." I took it from the floor where Sheppard had set it, and leaned it against the wall. "Tonight, I have my knife." I withdrew it from the satchel, surprised to see the black blood of the white haired monster still clinging to the blade. I had forgotten to wash it in the snow.

Sheppard's eyes tracked to the stain. "That's wraith, all right."

Feeling the fear again, I quickly moved to the door, opened the latch. A gust of cold wind pushed against my face as I knelt and wiped the blade in the snow, back and forth, quickly.

It wouldn't come off.

I wiped harder and harder, and still, it remained.

"Mawani, it's clean." Sheppard was there, grabbing my hands, his eyes so very clear.

"It is stained." Stained by the white haired monsters that had taken my people, my world. "It is there, can you not see it?" I held the blade up in the twilight of sun giving ground to moon.

I was savagely pleased.

I had hurt a white haired monster, maybe killed it.

He shivered, still holding me. The knife was cold in my hands and I let him take it from me.

Sky eyes pulled me in and Sheppard shut the door.

I suddenly realized the stain was on me, no longer the blade. I had only killed before in self defense, and while this was just as much the same, it came burdened with the anger and hatred I felt against the white haired ones. I did not hate the night predator I killed. I did not hate the gnarl I eased into the otherworld.

But I hated the white haired monster.

I pulled away from sky eyes, moving to wall where my satchel rested, the fish still tucked safely away. "We should eat dinner." With my words, I closed the door to what had happened. I did not wish to talk about it more, and I began to work, watching from under my lashes as they sat.

Dark haired Sheppard held my knife and I felt it was better in his hands than mine. I suddenly wished to never touch it again.

The fish needed to be prepared; I would preserve some with tourm, and the rest I would cook tonight. Sheppard and McKay were losing themselves in talk and I found the need to lose myself in the routine of chores. Fire, food, cleaning. There was peace in work.

I had a feeling, and I felt I could almost touch it -- that my life was changing, leaving that which I had known for so long, and it would never be the same again. The arrival of the two males had changed everything. I had others to talk with, to care for, and suddenly, I did not want them to leave, ever. But they had promised to take me with them – could I leave the only home I had ever known?

Who would care for the aged beast, waiting to die at the water's edge? Or the wounded fen, fallen from a nest?

Who would remain to remember the ghosts?

And the white haired monsters that were out there – had I killed one, or wounded it further? I knew a wounded creature was more dangerous than a healthy one, prone to desperate acts of doing anything to stay alive. Their actions became irrational, erratic. You could not predict if they would jump at you, or turn and run.

The slits above my head turned to black, the smoke stung my eyes, and we ate a quiet dinner of baked fish, spicy with the extra jassim I had used. I told Sheppard I would take first watch, and sent them to bed, both males exhausted from sitting upright for so long. It had been ten turns of moon and sun since I had found them. It was earlier than I wished for Sheppard and McKay to be moving about, yet they did seem to be doing well. The bandages were off Sheppard's head, the fever had not returned in at least two turns of night and sun. Sky eyes moved with less pain and less of a limp.

While they slept, I pulled the jar of oil from the box and prepared to carefully dribble three drops into the hollow arrow tips. Two would fell a night predator, three should work on the white haired wraith.

On second thought, perhaps four.

I fingered the metal tips, feeling the chill of the rounded points. These had been made by the heat of a fire and from metal similar to that of the hinges on the box. It was not something I knew how to do, and these would have to last. Each tip had a special design, a small metal ball within. It kept the poison inside but when it impacted flesh, the sudden pressure pushed the small marble upwards, releasing the liquid drops.

Ten times I counted out four drops, then screwed the tips tight to the shaft. I tested the hold to make sure it would not come loose accidentally.

When that was finished, I took the arrows and set them near the bow, putting the oil back in the box. I would need to warn Sheppard and McKay not to touch them unless a white haired monster was near.

I would not have prepared them but for the memory of the monster. These males were in my home. I had saved their lives. I would not sit by and let the white haired monsters kill them now.

Come morning I would need to collect green branches, and from them I would shape practice arrows.

Finished with my work and with nothing now to keep my hands busy, the wispy sounds of McKay and Sheppard's breathing made me sleepy. The hissing, crackling, popping fire sung my mind into a foggy stupor. Was my time done?

I used the strange device dark haired Sheppard had given me from his wrist to check. I had never seen anything like it before, but he called it a watch, and I guessed it was part of this sitting up and staring, as they had called it a watch, also.

When I had first asked, "What is this?" sky eyes had held up a finger and said, "One." Then he had lifted each one after and counted higher, "Two, three, four, five --" until I had put my hand against his.

"Five," I said. I put my other hand against his. "Ten."

He grunted, but seemed pleased. "Good, you can count."

"Since I could see my toes." I wiggled them against the floor, feeling the dirt solid and cold against my skin.

"We do watches in two-hour increments." At my puzzled expression sky eyes had made a face, pointed a finger at the number he called twelve then moved it to the two – "Two hours."

They had then gone willingly to sleep. I was relieved now to see the number finally on the two; my turn was over. I tried to shake off sleepiness enough to rise and walk to their bed. I knelt and shook sky eyes, whispering so as not to wake Sheppard. "It has been quiet."

He nodded, took the knife from the floor beside the crate and hunched down on the lid. A shiver stole across his skin and I lifted a blanket from their bed and draped it over his shoulders. "Good watch," I murmured, wishing him well, before I slipped into my own bed.

I slept then, deep and dark, finding myself often with the white haired monster leaning over me, again and again, and each time I thrust the knife and ran. It was the same, nothing ever changed. Until the last time, when I reached for the knife and it was not there. The white haired monster's mouth pulled open in anticipated pleasure, then the hand came towards my chest.

I woke to Sheppard watching, felt the shadow of fear still on me, my breaths heavy in my chest.

"Bad dreams?" His eyebrow asked even with his words.

"The white haired one is persistent." I slipped from my blankets and from the remnants of my night terrors. I noticed my knife across his lap, small and insignificant. "It is a little thing to kill a monster." I was now certain I had only wounded the white haired wraith by stabbing it. Made it angrier.

It knew I was here and it would be looking, searching for where I had gone. But it did not know there were two others.

Sheppard had followed my gaze, seemed to consider the knife, before meeting my worried look with a casual one of his own. "A weapon doesn't have to be big to kill."

I crept across the dimly lit room, lifted a handful of wood, the dry bark rough against my skin, and moved to the hearth. While they had kept watch, they had been feeding the fire, so now it only needed a little more to spring up, bright and warm. I laid the wood carefully. "Have you killed many?" Part of me believed he had killed more than I would want to hear about.

"I've only killed when I had to."

"Many?"

Why was I pressing?

I was curious, maybe, but also, I wanted to know more of who this dark haired Sheppard was. Did he kill easily? Did it leave marks on his soul and regret in his heart?

A shadow grew on his face. His voice became empty. "More than I wanted."

We stared long enough for me to let him know that I was sorry for what he had seen and done, and he to let me know, with those eyes of many colors, that he was not of the same soul as a white haired monster. Speech was not for every moment.

Then he stood, only wincing a little at the lingering pain in his chest, and moved to wake McKay. I prepared more white weed, flavored with a bit of honeycomb, and we ate. McKay was still slow with his bowl, the taste one that he was not fond of, but he did finish. Perhaps they were right in being up. Maybe it was time for them to begin moving, and gathering strength from exercise.

"Get dressed," I said, surprising them. "That is, if you wish to come with me while I gather wood for new arrows." I had not even finished speaking before they were moving towards their folded clothing. "If you feel strong enough, we can practice shooting when we return."

Their embarrassment of being in the underclothes had faded and now they dressed, although slowly, because their wounds were a constant reminder that haste hurt. Their pants, shirts, then outer cloaks went on. The boots took longer. Sky eyes was quickly tying his when Sheppard tried to bend, a grunt of pain his only reward.

McKay's fingers paused and he looked across at Sheppard. "Let me guess, you need me to tie your boots?"

Through gritted teeth, Sheppard said, "If you could, Rodney, I'd appreciate it."

For a moment, I thought McKay was going to say something more, but he seemed to gather in Sheppard's frustration, and he settled instead for an irritated sigh, and knelt awkwardly, trying to not put much weight on his healing leg. He expertly tied Sheppard's boots and leaned back, appreciating his work. "Still got the touch – I haven't tied anyone else's shoes since Jeannie was little, and even then I made her learn at 4 because..." He looked up at Sheppard, his thoughts seemed to jumble, and he ended up shrugging. "She was smart and I had other things to teach her besides how to tie her shoes."

"Like what, the periodic table?"

Sheppard stood, pushing his arm into his chest to keep the pain away. When he was up, he offered a hand to McKay.

"Among other things," McKay answered, almost defensively.

I had waited by the door, dressed today in my blue tunic, with my gnarl-hide boots. I had already tested the weather and found it warm, unusually so for the cold cycles. We would not be gone long enough that I would need my fur today. "If you are ready," I interrupted, fearing the two might continue to bat words between them, almost like two montha mice would with a crumb of bread.

They joined me at the door and I led them outside, watching as they inhaled deeply of the smoke-free air. It was the first time they had stepped over the threshold since I had dragged them in, wounded and asleep, so many days ago.

We walked farther into the glaring light; Sky eyes clutched my knife, I, my bow, and Sheppard carried the poisoned arrows. I had warned them of the arrows as they dressed, to take extra care and to not let the tips anywhere near their skin. This would not be a long trip, and I did not think we would run into any night predators, but I brought the bow and the arrows in case the white haired monster had found my home, or was hiding near, in the woods.

"This is…" Sky eyes cleared his throat and looked around more as we left the shadows, his eyes traveling up the great length of the cliffs, before drifting to the scattered boulders, now free of their snow, leading into the woods. "New. I don't remember it at all." He squinted, then looked over at Sheppard. "Do you? Any of this jarring a 'we left the ship that way' moment?"

Sheppard shrugged his shoulders. "I got nothing, McKay." His eyes were scrunched, too, and I could see the traces of pain along the edges of his eyes. His head ached again.

"I did not find you near my home." I pointed in the direction where the sun set. "You were that way." I thought about the time it took to walk from my home to get the dark haired one on the second trip. I took Sheppard's hand, lifted it till the watch was showing and pointed. "Twelve…two."

Sky eyes beamed. "Two hours."

I smiled and felt the sun shine through me as we left the clearing of the cliffs and entered the woods. The sun was strong enough that the snow, though cold, was becoming heavy and wet again, sticking as we walked, and shrinking against the ground. Sheppard and McKay spoke about searching for their ship, and when I glared, Sheppard added, "After another day or two." I nodded at their questioning looks. They would be strong enough to try then, if the break between storms held.

We did not go far, and all three of us were watchful, but we never heard a sound other than us, or saw a track we did not make. I found an armful of branches to use, including four that were sturdy and straight enough that I thought maybe I could make another bow, or two. One for Sheppard and one for McKay.

I had watched my father make this very bow – the arrow tips were the only original work, left from the days long gone, days before I had even been born. My father had found a branch, thick but supple, straight as he could find, free of knots. Then he'd rubbed it with fish oil by the fire at night and it had bent willingly; he continued, slowly rubbing more oil and bending, until it was curved into the shape of a waning moon. The sinew thread was strong, and he had wound it between the notches, pulling, until it was tight enough to sing when plucked.

It had been many moons since I had seen it done, but I would try, for them.

"Tell me of this city," I asked, as we walked towards my home. I knew better than to keep them out for too long. "Tell me of these people that will come for you."

Would they be tall, like these two, or smaller, like me? Were there children?

"The city's big, lots of metal, and lights." McKay limped heavier, his eyes now equally lined with pain such as Sheppard's were. "There are men, women, some even competent." He snapped his fingers again, a motion I was beginning to realize he enjoyed. "Teyla!" He smiled as if he had made something into his own. "You'd like Teyla and I bet she'd love you."

"McKay's right," Sheppard said. A smile flitted briefly across his face as he dragged a branch along in the snow. Each of us used a branch to obscure our tracks. "Teyla would probably want to keep you."

"And they would want me to come live with you?"

The hesitation on their faces stole into my heart. Sheppard had bad words on his tongue again. "It's not that, Mawani," he said, when he saw my face. "It's…the city isn't a place you'd want to stay. It's, well, like Rodney said – metal, and it's enclosed, you'd want to be outside, with the trees and flowers, and --"

"The mainland." Sky eyes missed a step and almost fell, the rest of what he was going to say waiting while he floundered. I had the bow hung over a shoulder, one arm full of branches, but I was able to reach for him with my free hand and managed to keep him from falling. He looked both thankful and irritated. "Like Sheppard said, Teyla would help you. Her people would love to have someone like you around."

This Teyla sounded like a very big person, powerful, like the Venerated that gave wise words to all in need. "She would really keep me?"

I saw my home through a break in the trees ahead.

"Not like a pet," explained McKay. "As a friend and you'd be able to stay with her people, and if you wanted, you could probably stay in the city, learn skills. I'm sure Elizabeth would listen to us – maybe you can help Carson? Your healing skills, that's it! You can teach Carson about these herbs; he's always looking to improve his meager abilities."

The satisfaction almost took away the lines of pain from around his mouth.

"Carson – you have mentioned him before. He is a healer, like me?"

Before sky eyes could answer, Sheppard held a hand in the air. I did not know the meaning, but McKay did, his feet freezing from one step to the next. I stilled and listened. A soft wind whispered above, the sun shared the sky with thick clouds. The air was not even cold enough to see my breath. The day of warmth had broken in during the cold, but it would not last.

Sheppard's eyes had narrowed, his brows forming a line across his face. Without speech, he handed me the arrows and took the knife from McKay.

"What'd you see?" hissed sky eyes, almost so quiet I could not hear.

"I thought I saw something, just beyond the tree line." He pointed directly ahead, but if we were to stay in the cover of the woods, we would have to walk around, like the curve of the moon when it had already ruled the sky for cycles and grew weary.

I let the bundle of branches slip quietly from my arm to the ground, thankful for the covering of snow to muffle the noise as they banged against one another. Then, I slipped the bow from my shoulder, drew the arrow and nocked it. I had not practiced, and the feeling of arrow and bow felt familiar in my hands, but like a distant memory. "The white haired monster?"

My heart beat faster.

"It could be our people." McKay gestured helplessly at the cliffs. "Though not registering life signs would be a problem, and if they got caught in the same atmospheric conditions that made us crash --"

He did not finish, and I saw that the words were stuck in his mouth. "I am sure it is not them." I tried to ease his worry.

"Oh, right, which leaves a wraith, that's so much better."

The bow slipped down and I contemplated sky eyes. "You cannot have it both ways. Worry over friends or worry over your life, doing both will make you sick."

"That explains so much," sky eyes muttered. A sharp down motion from Sheppard sent the words from our lips and our bodies to the snow. I had not worn my white cloak; the blue of my tunic would be like a bee on a gnarl's nose, and their black clothes would not hide any better from seeking eyes.

The snow was cold on my legs and I would have asked Sheppard how long he meant for us to remain crouched, but for the sudden movement where he had pointed earlier. A brief thing, but I saw it. The white haired monster had found my home.

The cliffs were supposed to keep me safe. I looked up at them, their green color dull in the light from sun's sky. I felt betrayed by a close friend. "We must kill it," I whispered to Sheppard.

He nodded. Across his eyes, his pain burned. We had not gone far, nor stayed long, but it was their first time up, and now this. He jerked his head at the woods to my right. "I'll outflank him. Be ready to shoot, and make sure you hit him and not me."

Sheppard said the last with a crooked smile but I did not find it so funny.

"What am I supposed to do?" demanded sky eyes.

"Make sure she doesn't miss."

Dark haired Sheppard patted his litter mate reassuringly on the shoulder, before he turned and melted into the trees. I had to scrub my eyes after a moment because he was gone as if he had never existed.

We did not talk then, each of us waiting. I prayed to the God in the sky, keeping it in my heart. I could not bear for the dark haired one to die, or McKay. In so short of a time, he and sky eyes had changed everything, and I knew if they were to die, this time, I would as well. I would not be the last again.

Was not once enough?

I heard screaming break the silence and I lurched up, wet snow clinging to my numb legs. Sheppard ran into the clearing, towards the cliffs, the white haired monster so close that one wrong fall of Sheppard's foot would have him in the monster's hand. "Shoot!" McKay shouted at me, but I was still aiming. One shot, and if it was not true, if it went stray and hit Sheppard – I pulled, not letting my mind dwell on it, lest I never gathered the courage to act, and loosed the arrow, praying harder than I had ever done before, except for when I had held Lillani's sick body against my own.

The white haired monster stopped, suddenly, before the cliffs. My anticipation of his forward run caused the arrow to harmlessly sail in front of the monster's face. Sheppard turned and looked, saw the white haired wraith still standing, then his eyes almost shifted to us, before he stopped them.

"Come on, damn it!" he shouted at the wraith, trying to get it to move forward.

Why did the monster not go after Sheppard?

Instead, the dreadful eyes sought the path of the arrow and found me. It turned away from Sheppard, and the cliffs, and began stalking through the melting snow, murderous intent in the way the hands were curved into claws. I saw Sheppard's face twist in fury when he realized what the wraith was going for, and he ran at the monster. I would not let Sheppard give his life foolishly. I grabbed my bow, another arrow, and ran for the wraith, already stringing it to shoot.

Sky eyes was running with me, though I did not realize it until we were almost upon the monster, my other arrows clenched in his fist.

It seemed every event set in motion collided at one time. Sheppard leapt for the wraith's back, I aimed, but then it spun and grabbed Sheppard, flinging him in front, between the path of my arrow and the monster's body.

I was too near to stop my feet, and the white haired wraith threw Sheppard against me. It was all I could do to keep the arrow tip away from him as we hit the ground, our fall softened by what snow remained.

Sky eyes threw a rock at the monster, shouting, "Three against one, I wouldn't bet on you, you…big green…ugly…life sucking --"

"Don't talk it to death, shoot it!" cried Sheppard.

"With what?" demanded a frantic sky eyes.

The wraith looked momentarily uncertain. Who to kill first? Sheppard, me or sky eyes. When it saw my eyes fixed on its hand, the gloating smile revealed its decision. I was first. The injured hand was shown to me, and when it began to bend towards my chest, I saw my knife sticking from its back where Sheppard had buried it to the hilt in the sickly flesh. By my side was the poisoned arrow, and as it neared, Sheppard made another attempt to thrust the wraith back, kicking with as much strength as he could muster from where he lay on his back, still partially stunned.

The wraith sneered and grabbed Sheppard's leg, twisting it and sending him rolling away from us.

My fingers wrapped around the arrow shaft, and I begged to be true, to thrust hard, to make it stick deep, so even if my life was lost, Sheppard and McKay would be spared. My life for two -- it was good enough. The fear the monster had brought forth in me now turned to anger, to rage that burned hot in my blood and chased away my doubts.

The hand descended and the arrow rose. It hit my chest as I pushed the arrow through flesh. Pain enveloped my arms, legs and eyes. The wraith jerked. Time stilled, as if frozen by the storms, and when it began again, the wraith was by my side, dead. Sky eyes McKay stood over it, his hands clutching my bow.

I swallowed back the dryness of the summer cycles that had come to rest in my mouth and looked at the body.

Two arrows.

There were two arrows sticking from its chest.