This is my first try at this, so please be gentle!

All of the characters, save one, belong to Joss. Blackie the panther belongs to Ali D--thanks for letting me borrow her (I know it's been months since I asked!). Feedback would be shiny, but please be nice! Maybe a few thoughts on a title?

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Mal stumbled over the raised root of a tree in the snowy darkness of the woods, wincing at the pain it caused the bullet wound in his left thigh. Why in the sphincter of hell had he let Simon talk him into delivering medicines to St. Albans? He had hated the place since dropping Tracey’s body to his family, and hadn’t been back here since. Truth to tell, he’d never much liked the place to begin with; it was just too gorram cold. He hadn’t been thrilled with the idea of coming here; he’d been fighting a cold for nearly a week, and the atmosphere on St. Albans wasn’t much help. But he didn’t have any good reason to turn Simon down, other than his own distaste for the planet. So here he was, with a gunshot wound, limping through the woods in the opposite direction from his ship, with no idea what had just happened or why. They’d never had enemies on St. Albans before, so he couldn’t fathom who had shot him or what their reasons might be for it, and that was why he was headed away from Serenity. It didn’t make sense to bring trouble home, at least not until you knew the size and shape of it.

Pausing for a moment, Mal listened intently to the night, trying to ignore his pain. The situation was getting worse. He could hear men on his back trail, more than a few, calling to each other, drawing closer. At this rate, they were going to catch him. Soon, too, and he had no intention of being caught by them.

Blood loss was making him dizzy. He shook his head to clear it and forced himself onward. He had to keep moving. Maybe if he crossed the river…

A glance to his right convinced him that the river wasn’t the