Chapter 23

"Whoa there, blacksmith."

"Shit, you got yourself good this time."

Most settled with low cusses at the state of him.

Derrick's entire right arm had become a mess of blood and charred, black flesh that crawled up onto his shoulder, where what little of his burnt sleeve remained. His hair on the same side had burnt away as well, showing splotches of burnt face and a blistering ear.

Exhausted as he was, Hal still ran out the moment he heard his name. His eyebrows fell into a low, heavy bunch at Derrick.

"You lot, help me bring him to the back. Lilly," he looked at me, saying nothing.

The question was obvious.

"Of course."