“Someone found me,” Griff said, his voice sounding rather distant to his own ears. “A girl. Somehow, she carried me to a warehouse or something—the memories are hazy. But she tended my wounds. Bound my arm in a tourniquet with this strap.” He pulled out the talisman, showing her the leather, his fingers running over the surface of the faded gold button at the end of it. “I was carted off to Suds sometime after. According to him, it saved my arm. She stitched up the wound crudely, but enough to keep the blood loss at a minimum.
