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“Bathing in lake water will probably lead to infection,” the medic said as he started cleaning the new wounds.
“Unlikely,” Molev said.“It never has before.”
The medic made a doubtful face but didn’t say anything.Patrick came jogging over.
“Are you all right?”he asked.
Molev glanced from Patrick to me.“A few infected escaped.But not enough to cause immediate trouble.”
“He’s asking about you, not the infected,” I said.
“I will heal,” Molev said.“I believe those were the only four hounds in the area.If there were more, we would have seen them by now.”
“That’s good news,” Patrick said.“As soon as you’re done here, get some sleep.We can maintain the perimeter without you for a few more hours.”
Patrick started to turn away and paused.
“Good work tonight, Molev.Thank you.”
He left, and Molev stared after him.
“Almost done here,” the medic said.“Not sure how you managed it, but nothing needs stitches.Any more hounds and I might have run out of glue, though.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE
Molev gruntedin acknowledgment and extended his hand to me as he stood.
His steps were slower as we made our way to the tent together, but I didn’t comment on it.The cots that had been pushed together were still there.He lay down on his, and I hurried to join him.
“We need to find a better way to stop them,” I said.
“We do,” he agreed.He closed his eyes and exhaled heavily without putting his arm around me.
A moment later, his breathing evened out.
I studied his side in the dim light, and not seeing any injuries, I gingerly draped my arm over his waist before closing my own eyes.
The whomp-whomp-whomp of an approaching aircraft penetrated my dreamless sleep a while later, and I opened my eyes to the lighter interior of the tent.Molev still slept beside me, his expression peaceful.
Rather than moving and potentially waking him, I stayed as I was and studied the new marks on his face and neck.The bite on his cheek hadn’t been that deep and was already scabbed over.The stitches on his neck were another story.The puffier skin didn’t look good.
“Do I still look like hell to you?”he asked.
I glanced at his closed eyes.
“I’m not sure how to answer that,” I said.
“Honestly,” he said.
“The scars you’ve collected since I’ve known you concern me.You told me no more retreating but then disappeared for hours to fight things that have wiped out hundreds of people in minutes.I never held back from taking physical risks, but risking my heart is different.It’s scary.So, looking at these new scars?Yes, you still look like hell to me because I’m scared.”
He opened his eyes as he cupped the back of my head.
“Explain what you mean by look like hell.”
“You look like you were beaten up and are suffering.”
The corners of his mouth twitched.
