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Thomas froze in shocked immobility, his arms full of the impossible weight of his father. Tommo. Son. The familiar voice echoed in his head, much as the Huntsman’s had earlier, and he had just as much success in keeping it out.
“Let me see!” Nona sank to the ground beside him, giving him a few more moments to gather himself as he eased his father to the ground. His father had some sort of knapsack strapped to his back, with a bulky, hard object in it. They had to cut the strap on his injured shoulder to remove the bag, and then moved aside his father’s cloak and bloodstained tunic to reveal the injury. The arrow was firmly planted in his father’s upper back, in the shoulder.
A wave of nausea swept over Thomas at the sight, his brain kicking into gear in a sudden spurt of panic. Men d
