The first will be last

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𝕋ℍ𝔼 four moved cautiously through the dimly lit corridors of the massive cargo ship, their footsteps barely audible over the distant hum of machinery and the crashing waves outside. Shadows flickered across the walls as they weaved their way past towering crates and secured cages, each one holding a prehistoric creature ripped from its home.

Franklin, bringing up the rear, was trying his best to stay quiet—until he turned a corner and came face-to-face with a massive transport truck.

Inside, pressed against the reinforced metal bars, was a very large and very awake dinosaur.

"Oh! Jesus." Franklin yelped, stumbling backward and nearly falling over himself.

Rosita, biting her lip, barely managed to stifle a laugh. She clamped a hand over her mouth as Owen and Claire shot Franklin sharp looks before ushering him forward.

"Keep it down," Owen whispered.

Franklin muttered something under his breath, clutching his chest as he cautiously edged past the truck, casting nervous glances at the creature inside. Still smirking, Rosita shook her head and followed Owen and Claire deeper into the ship, her focus sharpening. Somewhere ahead, Blue and Zia were being held—and they were running out of time.

Blue lay strapped down on the cold metal table, his breathing uneven, a low, pained rumble vibrating from his throat. A muzzle was tightly secured around his snout, a cruel precaution to prevent him from lashing out—not that he had the strength to do so. His flanks rose and fell rapidly, his scales slick with sweat and blood. Zia hovered over him, stethoscope pressed against his chest, struggling to steady herself as the boat rocked beneath them. She winced as another jolt sent her stumbling slightly, but she quickly adjusted, keeping her hands firm. "It's okay, Blue. Just a little longer," she soothed, her voice gentle despite the tension in the air. Blue let out a weak groan, his eyes half-lidded, the pain evident in his usually sharp gaze. The door swung open, and Owen stepped inside, his presence a relief to Zia, who gasped in joy.

"Oh, my God! You guys are alive! You—"

Owen held up a hand, signalling her to lower her voice as the rest of the group slipped in behind him. Rosita didn't hesitate. The moment she stepped inside, her eyes locked onto Blue, and a deep, visceral ache hit her chest. She rushed to his side, dropping to her knees, her hands instinctively reaching for him.

"Oh, look what they've done to him," Owen murmured, his jaw tightening as he took in Blue's battered state.

Zia pressed her hands firmly against Blue's wound, trying to slow the bleeding, while Rosita gently ran her fingers over his head. Blue blinked sluggishly, trying to shift his gaze toward her, but his strength was fading fast. Rosita leaned down, her voice soft, warm. "I'm here, boy. I'm right here." Blue let out a faint, wheezing rumble, his body visibly relaxing under her touch.

Zia, still focused on his wound, looked up and asked, "Who are these assholes?"

"Animal traffickers," Rosita answered, her voice laced with quiet fury. She glared at the state of the captive dinosaurs before turning her attention back to Blue. "Look how they're treating them. They're not taking them to a sanctuary. They're gonna sell them." Zia's expression darkened. "Not Blue. They need him for something else."

That caught Claire's attention. "Like what?"

"I don't know," Zia admitted, her brows furrowed. "But he's haemorrhaging, and I don't have the right instruments. They need him alive, but I can't remove the bullet without a transfusion from another animal." Blue groaned, his body twitching in distress, and Rosita quickly cupped his cheek, her thumb stroking gently over his scaled skin.

"Hey, shh..." she murmured, bringing her face close to his. "You're alright. You're alright."

For a moment, Blue's breathing slowed, as if her presence alone were enough to ground him. His tail gave a weak twitch, a small but familiar gesture of trust. Zia turned to Claire. "Claire, come here. Put your hand here—steady pressure."

Claire hesitated for only a second before stepping forward, carefully replacing Zia's hands over the wound. Blue flinched at the sudden change, his muscles tensing as he let out a pained snarl.

"Hey, hey, hey. It's okay," Rosita reassured him quickly, one hand still stroking his head, the other resting lightly on his side.

Zia moved next to Owen and Rosita, her expression tense. "I need a transfusion, and fast. Which one of you knows how to find a vein?" Claire perked up slightly. "Oh! I—I did a blood drive for the Red Cross." She smiled sheepishly, as if realizing how wildly different this situation was. Zia nodded. "Great. Franklin, take over for Claire."

Franklin's eyes widened in sheer panic. "No, no, no, no, no—"

Zia turned to him, her voice sharp and commanding. "Franklin. Now."

Rosita groaned in frustration. "I'll do it." Without hesitation, she moved in, replacing Claire and pressing her hands firmly against Blue's wound. The warmth of his skin was almost feverish, the rapid thumping of his heartbeat barely registering beneath her fingers. Some of his blood smeared onto her forehead, but she paid it no mind, wiping it away with her shoulder and keeping steady.

Blue let out a soft chuff, his body shivering slightly, and Rosita leaned in close once more.

"Hang in there, boy," she whispered. "We're gonna fix you up, okay?"

Zia handed Claire a transfer bag and needle. "All of the animals should be sedated. Look for any kind of tetanuran—their blood type should be close enough. Carnivores with two or three fingers. No more than three."

Owen and Claire exchanged a look.

"I think there's one on board," Zia added.

Rosita barely heard them. Her focus was on Blue—his shallow breaths, the flicker of recognition in his tired eyes, the way his body sought her touch even in pain.

Rosita knelt beside Blue, her hands pressing firmly against his wound, feeling the unsteady rise and fall of his breath beneath her palms. The warmth of his blood seeped through her fingers, but she didn't care—her focus was entirely on him. His body trembled, the pain too much for him to bear, and yet, through the haze of suffering, his golden eyes remained locked on hers.

A storm of worry and love swirled inside her chest as she gazed at him. Blue, her Blue. The creature who had once been so full of life, fierce and free, reduced to this—wounded, vulnerable, barely hanging on.

Her heart ached.

"You'll be okay," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath, but full of promise. Of devotion. Of love.

She stroked his head gently, her fingers gliding over the ridges of his scales, memorizing the texture of him. Blue let out a low, shuddering breath, his body subtly leaning into her touch. Even in pain, he sought her, trusted her.

A lump formed in Rosita's throat. She had never felt this kind of love before—not just affection, not just companionship, but something deeper, something that ran through her like lifeblood. A connection beyond words, beyond species, beyond anything she could ever explain. Blue blinked slowly, his gaze softening, speaking in ways she could understand without words. You're here. You stayed. Always, she wanted to say. I will never leave you.

His tail twitched weakly, a ghost of the gestures he used to make, the playful nudges, the protective stances. He was fighting to hold on, for her, for them.

Rosita's chest tightened. She leaned down, pressing her forehead gently against the side of his muzzle, ignoring the roughness of his skin, the scent of iron and salt filling her senses. It was just him. Just them. "I need you to hold on, okay?" she whispered, her lips barely brushing against him. "You're strong. You're the strongest thing I know." Blue let out a soft, raspy chuff, his way of answering, of telling her he was still there, still fighting.

Rosita closed her eyes for a moment, willing her own strength into him. She wanted to take his pain, to bear it for him, to give him back his freedom, his life.

𓆌

The air was thick with tension, every second stretching unbearably as Rosita kept her hands on Blue, whispering soothing words against his trembling form. His breathing was shallow, his strength waning, but his eyes never left her. Then, at last, Owen and Claire rushed back into the room, a blood bag clutched in Claire's hands. "We got it," she announced, breathless. Zia wasted no time. She grabbed the bag and immediately set to work, her face a mask of focus. "Okay, I'm gonna make an incision in his leg to remove the bullet," she said, her voice steady despite the gravity of the situation.

The moment the scalpel touched his flesh, Blue let out a sharp, agonized cry as he didn't wear the muzzle anymore, his body jerking against the table.

Rosita's heart shattered.

She tightened her grip on him—but not to restrain, only to comfort. One hand brushed through the smooth scales along his head, the other resting gently on his chest, feeling the unsteady rhythm of his heartbeat. "Shhh... I know, I know," she murmured, pressing her forehead against his snout. "I'm here, I've got you."

His pain-filled whimpers sent daggers through her, but he didn't struggle against her touch. He trusted her. Even now.

"It's a lot of muscle tissue," Zia muttered as she worked, digging into the wound with careful precision. Blue's golden eyes flickered between them, glassy with pain, before a single tear rolled down from the corner of his eye.

Rosita's breath hitched. A raw, unguarded sob tore through her chest, but she held it back, forcing herself to be strong for him. "You're gonna be okay," she whispered, her fingers trailing gently down his snout. "Just a little longer."

Owen hovered nearby, eyes dark with worry, watching every movement Zia made. The room felt suffocating, the only sounds being Blue's pained breaths and the careful clinking of metal instruments. Then, after what felt like an eternity, Zia exhaled sharply and pulled the bullet from the wound, dropping it into a small metal bowl with a dull clink. "The bullet's out," she announced, her voice breaking slightly with relief. She glanced up at Rosita, offering the reassurance she so desperately needed. "He's going to be okay."

Rosita let out a shuddering breath as a tear escaped her eye, sliding down her cheek before she could stop it.

A wave of relief crashed over the room. Claire let out a small laugh of disbelief, wiping at her eyes, and Owen squeezed Rosita's shoulder. Franklin, who released a joyful relief chuckle.

Rosita leaned down, her lips brushing against his forehead before pressing a lingering kiss against the rough, warm skin of his cheek.

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By: SilverMist707

<3 <3