“Everything’s going to be okay,” I lie. “You’re going to be just fine.” It’s not like he can understand me anyhow. Lauren appears, and I can tell from the tension on her face that T’chai looks like a dying man. Of course he does. R’jaal held his guts earlier and carefully eased them back into place in his abdomen after I washed the sand off of them. Who lives through that? But Lauren mumbles something about how the other tribe—the one of four armed aliens—is going to come and help out because of the injuries here. Her mate went to go get them. That’s nice, I guess. I find I don’t care about
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