He Ming and Cassidy hadn’t been far into the Wilds — they’d only retreated a little ways, into a heavily wooded area that then opened up into a clearing. Cassidy was waiting among the trees when Matt arrived, and even as fast as he’d been, Cassidy had had enough time to clean himself up as well as he could — having shed his shirt and used the cleaner parts as a towel for his face and arms.
Cassidy gave a quick, high whistle, followed by a hiss through his teeth. “Over here!”
The shirt in his hands was nothing more than a blood-soaked rag now, and when Matt saw Cassidy, he’d see the gleam of violence still in his eyes. The pollen’s effects hadn’t worn off — they were just being suppressed by more urgent business.
“Come on. He’s through here.” Wiping his hands one more time on his shirt, Cassidy stepped back into the clearing.
He Ming was there. Prone on the ground, on his back, and alive — barely. His eyes were wide and distant, his mouth open in a persistent gasp that every few seconds made an audible gurgle.
There was a gaping tear in his neck, the flesh ragged and seeping a now weak trail of blood onto the ground.
“He won’t have long now.” Cassidy stepped over He Ming, crouched down over him. Studied him for a moment with a raised eyebrow. He’d been easy to give the young man up for dead, but another idea was striking him. “Your thing with the — with the healing,” he directed at Matt, gesturing toward his own neck, “does it work on people you’ve not bitten?”
no subject
Cassidy gave a quick, high whistle, followed by a hiss through his teeth. “Over here!”
The shirt in his hands was nothing more than a blood-soaked rag now, and when Matt saw Cassidy, he’d see the gleam of violence still in his eyes. The pollen’s effects hadn’t worn off — they were just being suppressed by more urgent business.
“Come on. He’s through here.” Wiping his hands one more time on his shirt, Cassidy stepped back into the clearing.
He Ming was there. Prone on the ground, on his back, and alive — barely. His eyes were wide and distant, his mouth open in a persistent gasp that every few seconds made an audible gurgle.
There was a gaping tear in his neck, the flesh ragged and seeping a now weak trail of blood onto the ground.
“He won’t have long now.” Cassidy stepped over He Ming, crouched down over him. Studied him for a moment with a raised eyebrow. He’d been easy to give the young man up for dead, but another idea was striking him. “Your thing with the — with the healing,” he directed at Matt, gesturing toward his own neck, “does it work on people you’ve not bitten?”