“Hold yourself still,” I said. Thorton-Syme inhaled but made not other response. I used my hunting knife to cut the bandages from his injured leg. The bite did not look good but neither did it seem to have worsened. I applied more of the salve and wrapped clean strips about the wound.
Thorton-Syme exhaled. He could not have been holding his breath that entire time, could he? He said, “The bloody cats know their medicine. Ha! That is a sentence I’d not have thought to ever pronounce. I’ve always preferred the company of hounds myself.”