"Have to retreat!" Deeds is growling above the din of gunfire and warhowls, still cradling their fallen packmate against her body. They won't leave him for the leeches. They can't. Not if they have any hope, even the smallest one, to get him away. The parking lot is a scene from the worst imaginations of hell, the smell of blood and smoke and death filling Mackenzie's nostrils. The whole scene is backlit by the warehouse, by now entirely consumed in flames--the sirens are still wailing and distant, not growing closer. Whoever the leech is, he must have the influence and contacts he needs to keep the authorities away from this scene for tonight.

The gunfire only seems to increase in volume and intensity, bullets flying at them from what seems like every direction. A mint's worth of silver is being slung at them and even if some of these ghouls are terrified and shitting themselves, enough bullets will find their mark. Another bullet hits Kenzie, scoring a shallow wound along her belly to add another scar. Hymn-of-War is only a dozen feet away, carving a bloody smear through the leech's henchmen as a fresh staccato barrage of gunfire catches her. She falters, but continues to press on, charging after Deeds and Kenzie. Another explosion as some kind of grenade or bomb goes off between her legs midstride and she's sprawled out on the pavement. One of her legs is gone beneath the knee and despite that she's dragging herself forwards by her claws, refusing to give up.

Deeds looks back at their injured packmate, then thrusts Mourns-the-Prey into Mackenzie's arms.

"Go! I'll be right behind you with Hymn-of-War--!" It is an order that Mackenzie doesn't want to follow. She wants to be the one to charge back for their fallen packmate. That is her duty--but then Deeds-Above-Words is the leader. The one who feels most responsible.

"I can get her!" Mackenzie protests.

"Don't challenge me on this, not now!" Deeds' voice is cracked and strained, even in the Garou tongue. She grabs Kenzie by the scruff and for a brief moment presses her forehead to Mackenzie's in a gesture of affection, love, trust. Pride.

"Go. We'll be right behind you." She turns back and springs through the hail of gunfire as if it were spring rain, ignoring the bullets as she barrels back towards Hymn-of-War. It is the last Mackenzie sees of her as she turns to run, her every instinct screaming at her to stand and fight as she vanishes into the darkness, gunfire nipping at her feels. She cannot weep in the warform, but her heart wails as she hears the howls, screams, and gunfire begin to recede. She darts through the streets and into the maze of alleys, until finally she feels sure she has found a place where she can't be pursued--another dirty alley, another place of the Weaver, tangled in her web. Gunfire fades.

Did they make it? Mackenzie shifts down into homid, flinching as silver bullets lodged in flesh are forced free by her shift to leave oozing, unhappy wounds that burn with supernatural pain. She cradles Eli in her lap, supporting his head and weeping as she tries to press down against the horrid wound in his belly that won't stop bleeding. Distantly, another burst of gunfire. Staccato. A pause.

Pop.

Pop.

Two final shots and she knows, horribly, what that signifies even before she feels the pain of them being wrenched free from her.

No.

Nononono.

She has to go back. She has to die.

But Deeds told her to get Eli out and Eli... Eli is still here, breathing shallowly. His eyes flicker open, glazed and distant. He tries to focus on Mackenzie in the dark, his face waxen in the dim light of streetlamps.

"Kenzie...? Feathertail?" He says her stupid nickname and she laughs through her tears.

"Eli. Stay with me, okay?" She says, desperate. Silver. Why did it have to be silver? Of course it is silver. She presses down harder and the blood just doesn't stop.

"Where's--" He coughs weakly, voice distant. "Where's Gabby an' Lydia?"

"They--they didn't--" She can't make the words come out as tears drip down onto his face and there's a flicker of understanding.

"Fuck," he says in the way that he always does. As if it were a leaky pipe or the car had broken down or something. "Fuck, Kenzie..." He is crying now, too. His voice is weaker, breathier and his gaze more distant. Shock has settled in and she knows what that means. She leans down to press her forehead to his, desperate.

"Please stay with me Eli. You have to keep fighting. I can't--" She's sobbing, unable to do anything else but weep now. Her hand is wet and slick with his blood and she can't get a purchase on his skin to press on the wound.

"I can't do this alone, please, I can't be the only one." It's such a selfish thing to ask for in the moment but it is all that Mackenzie can think. Please don't make me carry this weight all by myself. Don't let me be the ahroun who lost her pack. Please, Eli. Please, Mourns-the-Prey.

"I'm..." He takes a breath, faint and rasping. One of his hands, slick with blood, scorched and bubbling from the fierceness of the flames they had leapt through, presses against the back of her head, weakly attempting to hold her close and comfort her. Still Eli.

"'M doing...my best, Kenzie..." His voice fades, reed thin and whispy. "Mother Gaia..." He mumbles the words, eyes seeing nothing now. "Why did it have to... have to be in this shitty alley..."

Kenzie sobs in response.

"Couldn't they fuckin'... ambush us...in... in a park...someplace with...some green...?" He continues, a last joke. Ironic and a little cruel. It's not fair. It's not fair for them to die here surrounded by the Wyrm and the Weaver, so separate from the Mother. Kenzie can't speak, her whole frame wracked by sobs and she holds him close, all thought of staunching the flow of blood forgotten now.

"I'm sorry," she says weakly. "I'm sorry it should have been me--"

But Eli can't hear her anymore.

She is alone.

Terribly, awfully alone.