Tonas leaned against a titanium column with his legs stretched in front on the grid flooring. The cold metal pulled heat from his body, causing tremors. A medic removed the pieces of shrapnel from his knee and thigh. He realized the wound needed proper cleansing and stitches, however, Tonas demanded that Warriors with more threatening injuries be treated first. Jonal and Flagen were on their way. He could hold out until they arrived. The wounds still bled sluggishly through the gauze pads. His leg throbbed. He had fallen into a light doze. A sharp, abrupt stab to his right thigh opened his eyes to Jonal’s beloved face. The tic in his cheek and clench of his jaw gave away his anger as well as his worry.
“You said it wasn’t bad,” Jonal hissed through his teeth.
“It isn’t life threatening,”
