A giraffe and a zebra, about 5 inches tall.  It was rather an unpleasant dream. The baby zebra was wounded; there was a splotch of blood on his side. He had trouble standing, and seemed in distress.  The poor thing wobbled over to the giraffe- the giraffe was also wounded, and lying on the ground dead. The zebra was attempting something, without much success, weak and stumbling.  I reached out and held its leg to try and support it. The zebra sat down- it was treating the giraffe like it's mother- was going to it for comfort and protection, the way a baby would nuzzle up to its mother. The poor thing sat down, and died. I was sad and bawling until the phone rang and woke us up.