8:31

What’s that thumping? Rowan rolled up off the floor beside the couch where she had been wrapped up in a pile of old afghans and embroidered pillows and headed towards the hallway. They are going to wake Gareth up.

It must be 4 in the morning, she mused to herself blearily. What the fuck were her neighbours doing at this hour? As she approached the chipped front door she heard a long scraping sound and another thump. Peering through the peep hole told her exactly nothing. No one was playing games outside her apartment at least, but there was definite something going on in the hall.

I better put some pants on. If I have to go out and crack heads they might take me more seriously if I wasn’t wearing pink pyjamas with bunnies. Rowan turned her back to the door and took a step toward her bedroom when a heavy weight virtually smashed into the door behind her.

“What the…!” She swung around again she grabbed the door, flicked off the safety chain and threw it open. The vulgarity died on her lips as she gazed down at ratty pile of brown fur that seemed to be covered in blood and mud.

She glanced quickly down the hallway in both directions but there was no one else around. Looking back at the pile of fur she barely swallowed a shriek as it rolled over slightly and she saw that it was actually an animal, a very alive, very bloody animal.

The sight of this pathetic innocent creature started to make her very mad. Who the hell has been torturing animals in my building? And how did arrive at her door? She bent down and tentatively reached out to roll the poor thing over. The coarse fur was matted and unkept and as she pushed it on to its side Rowan saw its head for the first time.

“Oh my god, it’s…”

“My beaver,” came a voice softly over her shoulder.