Thirty-five
But Brice didn’t close his eyes. He watched Keelin leave the cabin. She didn’t look back.
“Brice, do something with this mess.”
He turned to Ryann, but her attention was on Cathal, one hand under the blanket and the other on his forehead. Brice looked to the floor, from Cathal to Osker to the severed arm to the general untidiness of the whole place.
“Specifics?” he asked. He didn’t have the energy to use any more words.
“Cover Osker. Remove the arm. Tidy the place up a bit.” She tilted her head. “It’s not an order. Just a request. Please.”
She sounded disinterested, or maybe wary. But then her head turned from Cathal. “But don’t bother with the stores,” she said, firmly.
“Okay.” That seemed strange, but he didn’t want to go near the stores anyway. Units were open, clothi
