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His ears are ringing, and the coppery scent of blood saturates the room so thickly that he thinks he might gag. They're dead, every last one of them--except him.
He'd done everything he could, mended their wounds and pulled poisons from their blood, stitched pieces back together and set bones, and of course told them that this entire venture was a fool's errand. They'd end up dead at the bottom of the sea, bones and sand weathered away with the tide, just like they were going to now.
Slumped up against the wall, too tired to mend his own wounds, limbs too heavy to escape, Lenus shuts his eyes and waits and hopes that death will come swift and mostly painless.
He'd done everything he could, mended their wounds and pulled poisons from their blood, stitched pieces back together and set bones, and of course told them that this entire venture was a fool's errand. They'd end up dead at the bottom of the sea, bones and sand weathered away with the tide, just like they were going to now.
Slumped up against the wall, too tired to mend his own wounds, limbs too heavy to escape, Lenus shuts his eyes and waits and hopes that death will come swift and mostly painless.
