He was handsome, I mused, as I cleaned the wounds carefully. He wasn't classically handsome, but attractive in an earthy, outdoorsy way. Sooty black eyelashes framed his closed eyes, and there was a cleft in his chin, which was partially obscured by the stubble growing on his cheeks and jaw. I guessed he was somewhere between thirty and forty, exceptionally muscular with broad shoulders and an impressive six-pack. I wondered if he was married – did he have a family somewhere? A quick glance confirmed he didn't wear a wedding ring. The thought was comforting – although it didn't guarantee he was single, at least I could hope he didn't have a wife or girlfriend worrying about him somewhere. He did have a pack, which Armstrong was threatening. How many people were involved, how many would be
