Chapter 47: Flesh eaters.
SHOVING PETE INTO his tent, Nigel scrambled after the bloke, dropping to his knees and frantically pressing the thick, woven fabric around the edges and sealing the entrance seam.
Now that Nigel and the Dagerstanteen were inside the cramped, sheltered sleeping quarters, Nigel slipped off his belt, the familiar weight of his weapons a comfort, and set them next to them both.
He waited, listening.
“I left your knife next to the shower.” Pete motioned toward the other side of the room, his brow furrowed in concern. “Should I go get it?”
“No time.” Nigel grabbed Pete’s tentacle, his grip firm, ensuring the alien wouldn’t try to retrieve the weapon. The blade would be fine until the flesh eaters left. In fact, they might even clean off the blood.
He reckoned that would be helpful, a grim amusement fluttering in his gut.