Dylan had spent the rest of the day resting.
His back was propped against a flat rock, his body covered in wounds, barely able to move. The injury to his shoulder had completely paralyzed his right arm — a handicap in itself, in a world this dangerous.
Everything else was being taken care of by the two women.
They hadn't spoken a word since their return. Whatever had happened earlier still hung in the air like a fog, thick and heavy. Élisa held on to her resentment — she'd been struck, and even if she understood why, she wasn't ready to forgive. Maggie wasn't the apologizing type anyway. Especially not when she thought she'd done the right thing.
So silence settled over them. Not a peaceful one.
A heavy silence.
A weight in the heart of the camp.
Broken only now and then by the crackle of fire-chewed wood.
And by the smell.
