They said she was on the third floor… damn this smoke, I can't see a thing! Can't worry about that though, someone's cub is in here… gonna find her… can't let them down… gotta… find her… before-
The low groan gives a half-second warning before the ceiling beam collapses; its deafening crack is briefly audible over the roar of the fire. But that half second is enough time – barely – to avoid being crushed.
...that was too close...can't waste any more time...
The heat is overwhelming. The only breathable air, such as it is, exists in a narrow vein between the acrid smoke and the floor. Crawling on one's belly certainly isn't the fastest method of movement, but it's faster than running about twenty feet before passing out from lack of oxygen.
...where is she?!...
It takes longer than it should to locate the right apartment and blindly crawl to the right room. Every deity that comes to mind is thanked when the cheetah cub is found. She's curled up beneath her bed, mewling fearfully and clutching a tiny stuffed beaver, pressed against the wall just inches out of reach.
...can't...need to...
"Come on, kid." Desperate words push their way out of burning lungs. "I'm here to help you."
The cub's eyes snap open to fix on the unexpectedly nearby face and she darts forward, putting her trust in the uniformed stranger.
Take a deep lungful of semi-breathable air - the softly whimpering cub held close - and sprint from the room. Takes a few seconds to reach the next floor. Arrive just in time to see the stairs collapse into burning timber. Stumble back from the inferno. The only choice now is to take shelter in one of the empty apartments. It's a rough neighborhood, but for once that's a blessing; the heavy door slams shut and locks tightly.
...that should hold...I hope it holds...what now...think...think!...
Run to the bathroom, grab the nearest towel and jam it in the toilet. Wrap the soaked material around the cub to battle the heat and press it to her small muzzle to keep the smoke out.
The apartment door begins to pop and groan as the fire chews away at it. The metal parts start to glow.
...so hot... hard to think...what am I going to do...
Crying cub held close, half-blind eyes searching frantically for a way out. Flames have weakened the entire building - the cracks and groans of the failing structure are coming closer together now. Maybe, just maybe, one of the exterior walls might have been weakened enough to break through.
...no other way...need to find the right spot...
A blue flash of light in the corner of one eye. Maybe a police cruiser's lights. The smoke makes it nearly impossible to say for sure.
...okay...that's the one...you can do this...
"Hold tight, kid. We're getting out of here."
...square the shoulders...focus on the sweet spot...can't hit head on, might hurt her...it'll have to be the back...this is going to hurt...
The room isn't very large, but it'll have to be large enough. Powerful legs drive them forward, pouring on the speed.
...have to go faster...only have one shot at this...
Inches from the wall now. Twist at the last moment. The pain is excruciating as burning wood, drywall and insulation meet charging mammal. The choking ash and smoke is replaced by the smell of melting polyester and searing flesh. The weightless sensation of falling comes next, and it's admittedly nice not having to watch the ground get closer. Exactly three heartbeats later, the sensation of burning is compounded by a bone-jarring impact that sends air exploding from ash-stained lungs.
Look upward; there's no ceiling. No smoke or fire. The maddening heat is gone and the air feels exquisitely cool and clean.
...we made it...we're out...
Above the cacophony of harsh yelling, wailing sirens and unholy roaring flame comes the beautiful sound of the cub crying. The smile comes unbidden; so does the soft laugh that follows. "That's it, stretch out those lungs. You've earned it."
Even through blurred vision, the paramedic's uniform is unmistakable. One set of paws lifts the cub away as others expedite the trip to the ambulance. The pain gives way to cold numbness. That's not a good sign, could nerve damage?
...chief always said I could use a little less nerve...
Vaguely aware of being laid out on a stretcher.
Lose the fight against exhaustion.
Darkness.
Wake up in the hospital, and even with its horrid antiseptic smell and stark white walls, it's a relief. So is the furious itching coming from under the burn dressings. Itching is good; any feeling is a good sign.
The only sounds in this room are the tick of the clock on the wall and the steady snoring coming from the tilted chair beside the bed.
...sight for sore eyes...and sore everything else, too...
The faint rasping of a half-scorched throat gives way to a soft whisper. "Hey...there...partner."
It's funny how the smallest of things can brighten your day, such as when one's partner jerks awake and frantically wind-mills their arms to prevent their chair from pitching over.
"You're awake!"
"Can't...get anything...past you."
"How're you feeling?"
...like I've been burned alive...itching like there are spiders under my skin...so very very afraid of how injured I really am...
"A little overcooked." The pause is not quite long enough to be considered hesitation. "How do I look?"
"Fine." Her comforting smile doesn't quite reach her eyes. "You look fine."
"Lucky me."
"Lucky you?!" She suddenly scowls. "What the hell were you thinking?!"
The doctor chooses that moment to enter, but her quick glance makes it clear that he hasn't escaped the question. "Good morning, Officer. Doing well today?"
The attempt at a casual shrug is accompanied by sharp pain and gritted teeth.
"Yes, you'll want to avoid that sort of motion for a while."
...such timely advice...very helpful...
"So, doctor." Trying to turn and face the doctor results in another, albeit lesser, flare of pain. "Am I going to make it?"
A noncommittal grunt. "I imagine you'll make a full recovery, despite your injuries."
...please please please please say it's...
"Not too bad, then?"
"Not too bad, all things considered." The doctor agreed. "You were actually very fortunate."
...that's great...care to expand on that?...
"Care to expand on that?"
...that's my girl...
The doctor glances up at them, apparently unaffected by the sharp tone. "Well, the bad news is that you received multiple burns, ranging from moderate to severe, which will result in extensive tissue scarring and permanent fur-loss across your upper back and shoulders. Major nerve damage means the feeling won't be returning to several areas. We won't know which ones until you've healed up some."
...oh...
The doctor flips through the patient chart for a moment. "On the bright side, the scarring should be easily concealable with regular clothing, and you've managed to avoid any broken bones or permanent muscular damage. All in all, not bad for a mammal that smashed their way through a burning wall."
...right...whose brilliant idea was THAT?...
"I do have other patients, though, so if there's nothing else...?" He hangs the chart back at the end of the bed and doesn't really wait for a response before he strides out of the room.
"Well...some bedside manner that was. I oughta go give him a piece of my mind."
...always so protective...
A sharp knock comes from the door and they look up to see the Chief's vast form filling the doorway. "May I have a moment?"
"The doctor just left, sir. Maybe we should give him a little time to process?"
The hulking mammal's frown deepens. "I don't believe I was talking to you."
"It's alright, partner." Sitting up feels unbearable, but less so than slouching in bed in front of the Chief.
She hesitates. "I'll be right outside when you're done."
The door closes softly as the Chief stands next to the bed. He says nothing for a long moment. "How are you holding up?"
"I've..."
...never felt more pain than this in my life...
"...been better, sir."
He isn't known for his sense of humor, but the brief grunt can almost be taken as a laugh. "I suppose that's fair to say."
A question bubbles to the surface, suddenly more important than anything else. "How's the cub? Is she alright?"
The Chief nods. "She's pretty shaken up, but thanks to you she's going to be fine."
The pain fades for a moment and gives way to a glowing sense of pride and accomplishment.
...that's what we do at the ZPD...
"Well, I can't really stay. The press is having a field day with this one, but I wanted a chance to look in and see how you were doing." The Chief shakes his head.
...ugh...the press...please don't make me talk to those vultures...
The larger mammal seems to pick up on the wish. "Don't worry – I'll keep them at bay for the time being."
"Thank you, sir."
"Don't mention it." He turns toward the door. "There is one last thing."
"Sir?"
For the briefest moment, a genuine smile appears on the rhino's face. "I'm very proud of you, Officer Bogo."
"T-thank you, sir." The young buffalo croaks, eyes wide with surprise.
"Take your time recovering" The Chief gives him an inscrutable look. "I have a sneaking suspicion that the ZPD isn't done with you yet."
I tried experimenting with a different writing-style here; sort of a half first-person, half narrative. I think I worked out alright.