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A deep gurgle hit the air- followed by a scream so high pitched and deafening that Em was terrified to hear it. What other terrors were being done this day, in these woods? The scream seemed to be immortal- echoing off every tree and filling every inch of Emelyn's mind. She could hardly breathe for its intrusion.

And then she realized- she could hardly breathe... because the scream was coming from her lips. She did not know how deep the wounds on her belly went- only saw that the delicate tawny fur that sat there, teased around by its own natural 'grain'- was matted with blood, thick with the viscious pour.

The hedgehog clawed to get to the surface, desperate to take over this 'battle'- but Emelyn pushed it back, nearly delirious as she felt the animal try to get a handhold. She threw her hands into her front pockets. She was searching for something- grabbing at things, pulling them free and letting them fall to the earth. She couldn't remember what she was looking for- what she needed- only that it was very important. It was life or death.

...If only she could remember. Her mind was blank, except for the echoes of her scream. The echoes deafened her thoughts. In that moment, she might have let herself be eviscerated- if not for the final efforts of the little animal within her.

The hedgehog took control- pushing the weakened human psyche far to the back reaches of its mind and promptly curled into a tight ball, rolling over and exposing nothing except a webwork of nearly impenetrable spines. Even those which were not fully formed were taut- anxious to protect, and, if not entirely sharp, still supportive of the fortress it was a part of, and ready to defend. The hedgehog felt fear, as well as the pain- but it did not let itself be governed by it, but merely pushed it aside- back, perhaps, to be its human nature's neighbor where she waited, huddled and alone- a lost little child... somewhere in her own mind.

It would be close to ten minutes before the hedgehog would release its hold on the muslces it had contracted around Emelyn's sides and back, letting the intense framework of spines lay fallow. They joined Emelyn- a little husk of a girl that had been beaten and frayed... for one time too many. She lay, a limp, bloody ragdoll on the jungle floor- discarded. And broken. Around her, a colorful arrangement of candies seemed lovingly scattered- their bright wrappers reflecting the daylight as happy little sunspots around her battered form. Amongst them- these ittle pictures of innocence- lay the same weapon that Emelyn had made sure to carry on her every day since she'd recovered from the Jamal attack. It would be her savior, she had said. Her protector. She would no longer be helpless against these- the very monsters that Moreau had made.

And there it lay, snuggled between the cheerful candy papers- freshly sharpened... and unused as its owner bled, her fingers not three inches away from where it sat.

Just like the days before, Lucas spent them wandering around outside of his duplex. He had spent a good portion of the day sitting at the beach. Pretty sure he was now sunburned, but not quite ready to return to his "home", he retreated to the forest for some shade. It wasn't long into his walk that he heard barking. He started for the noise.

At first, Lucas had no idea how to react to the excited dog. Unsure of what the dog wanted he bent down to try and held out a hand, guessing that the animal might just be excited to see him. But when the dog just kept dashing back and forth, still carrying on, Lucas returned to his feet. Pausing for a minute, trying very hard to recall the dog's name, he gave up. "What is it boy? Are you lost?"

He started moving toward Reuben and as he did so, the dog ran a little further, than ran back and forth. Curious, Lucas followed.

When the dog ran, Lucas quickened his pace to keep up. Sometimes he thought he'd lost him, but the dog would come back into view and he'd jog to catch up. At first he wondered if this was some kind of game, but as he sprinted after the dog, watching the dog's bod language a little more closely, he was starting to become concerned.

Coming to a stop near Reuben, breath caught in his throat as his eyes fell on Emelyn lying unmoving on the ground. He noticed the blood on her ankle and his focus was locked on that until he shook himself free. "Emelyn!" Eyes wide, he hurried over to her side and, watching her spines, gently rolled her over.

The sight of blood covering her stomach made his stomach lurch and for a moment all he could do was stare down at her. Finally he regained control of his senses and examined her wounds.

Claw marks.

Could another of the Islanders have done this? Horrified, trying to think of something to do, he finally pulled off his shirt and pressed it gently against the cuts. As he did so he started to determine what to do next. He couldn't leave her there to go get help, whatever attacked her was still out there. The labs were much too far to walk. He couldn't just take her back to her cave and he had no idea which duplex was her's. The only reasonable thing he could think of was taking her back to his own duplex.

Wincing as her spines pressed against his arms, he gathered her up as gently as he could. While being mindful of her injuries, he hurried back to his place. Remembering Emelyn's dog, he called out to him and hoped he would follow.