She surges up onto her feet, ears flicking, eyes darting all around. The floor is smeared with blood and gore. A pair of two-legs lie sprawled: a female ork in street clothes and a male human in a white coat. The ork is the one who tried to kill her and the male is the one who tried to stop her from leaving. Both look dead. They smell dead. They don’t move. Tikki shakes her head, trying to understand how this could be, but thrusts the thoughts from mind. Dead is dead. She shot the ork to protect herself and to protect her cub. What happened to the human male isn’t important now.