Chapter 13I began to regain my equilibrium as Tristan bound my wounds, removing his armor and tearing his shirt for bandages. Owain, declaring his own wounds quite minor, had borrowed Star and gone off to make quite certain there were no more ghouls lurking. My condition was not as bad as I first feared—the burn of ghoul-blood had made them more painful than they warranted. Aside from a remarkable variety of bruises, abrasions, and shallow cuts, the only significant wounds were a pair of gashes on one arm, and a trio that stretched across my belly to the other arm.
Enough to be getting on with, for certain, but less than the smorgasbord of injuries I had anticipated.
“What of you, Tristan? How badly hurt?” I asked as he bound the last of them—clumsily, but enough to stanch the bleeding.
