Книга только для ознакомления
. Tanis slid to
his knees beside his friend. The rest of the pack had to be
nearby! They had to get out of here!
"Sturm, are you hurt?"
The boy braced and straightened. The leather of his
tunic had been shredded by the wolf's fangs. A trail of
blood and ragged wounds whose edges were even now
freezing white showed Tanis where fangs had raked from
collarbone to breast. His hands trembling, the half-elf tried
to gently separate leather from freezing blood. A hiss of
indrawn breath, Sturm's only protest against the handling,
made Tanis wince for the pain he caused.
"A moment, lad, just a moment longer. There." The
leather came away, and Tanis heaved a long sigh of relief.
The wound was ugly and long. But though he had dreaded
to see the white glare of bone or the dark shadow of
exposed muscle, he did not. Working with hands made
awkward by the cold, Tanis tore thick strips of cloth from
his cloak and made a bandage.
"If we can bless the cold for anything, it's that it will
prevent you from bleeding overlong. Can you move your
arm?"
Sturm lifted his shoulder, tried to reach. He managed a
grim smile. "Yes," he said, his voice rough with the effort
not to groan. "But I'll not be lifting a sword for a time
|