Timber Lake (The Snowy Range Series, #2) (2015)
““You’re bleeding again.” Sonny tut-tutted, not something Michael had ever actually heard a human do, but what came out of his caretaker’s mouth certainly mimicked the sound. Sonny added, “You need stitches.” Michael looked askance at the medical kit in Sonny’s hands. He was pretty sure the damn thing contained a needle and a length of surgical thread. The shallow vee sliced off his hip, leaving a flap hanging, didn’t hurt as much as the puncture holes spaced randomly on his pecs and underneath his arms. Yes, it needed stitching. No, he wasn’t concerned about it, not with the miles of Coflex and wound dressing buffering his damaged skin from his flannel shirt.
Sonny had triaged him within an inch of his life, and now he was on the mule, moving toward camp and away from that chamber of horrors. All in all, it counted as a big honking win in his book.
“Do you need to rest... you need to rest.” Michael barked, “I’m fine.” The mule twitched an ear.
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