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“Cougs, where the fuck are you?” Jensen hissed into his earpiece. “You’d better be dragging your dumb ass here, we need to be at the rendezvous in 20 minutes.” And there’s no way I’m getting there on my own, he decided against adding. There was no point, he reasoned with himself – if there was anyone listening over the radio, anyone they didn’t want to be listening, then giving away that he was hurt was the equivalent of signing his own death warrant. He didn’t have it in him to run away.He hugged his ribs with one hand while the other hung uselessly at his side. Considering the turn the mission had taken and the number of guys they’d been up against, broken ribs and dislocated shoulder counted as getting off lightly. He could just have easily been killed, and almost was several times.It was a bad mission all round, turned even worse when they had to split up.The last time he’d seen Cougar, the sniper had several men on his tail, bullets licking his heels like evil puppy tongues. But it was Cougar, he could handle it. He’d proven that time and time again.He was proving right now how good he was at hiding too.“Cougar!” Jensen whisper-shouted as he shuffled through the forest, wincing every time his feet caught on something – if he went down now he didn’t think he was getting back up.“…here…”The call was so weak that Jensen almost missed it. For a moment he thought he’d imagined it. “Where?” he hissed through his teeth while he tossed his head from side to side in his search for Cougar.“…left…”Jensen spun a little to the left and caught sight of a foot sticking out from behind a tree. He tightened his grip on the gun in his good hand – one could never be too careful – as he edged towards it. “Not your best work,” he commented, “I can see your foot.”It twitched a little then moved, followed quickly by a bit-off moan. “You hurt?” Cougar asked in a weak croak. Hearing it created a pit in Jensen’s stomach. He didn’t sound good.He didn’t look good either, Jensen discovered as he rounded the tree which acted as a hiding spot. Cougar was slumped against the trunk with his head thrown back and his hat half-crushed between him and the tree. Both hands clutched his thigh, which seeped blood and dyed his skin red. His face was flushed, his shirt soaked with sweat. His gun sat near his leg, discarded with an uncharacteristic lack of care.Jensen groaned and rubbed a hand over his face. The chance of either of them making it to the rendezvous point was trickling closer and closer to zero.