Cain didn't go far.
Just enough to be away from the warriors, from Xander's gaze. He sighed, feeling his muscles strain.
He sighed, shoulders heavy with exhaustion, muscles coiled with strain. Every part of him throbbed.
He settled against a tree, its rough bark against his back. With a sharp exhale, he yanked off his top, teeth gritting as he exposed the wound that had been gnawing at his side since the fight with Callum. The fabric had stuck to the gash, and peeling it off had him hissing out.
Blood smeared his skin.
Cain reached for the flask of water tied to his belt and poured it over the injury. The sting was blinding. His jaw locked as he dug his fingers into the dirt just to keep from crying out. His eyes squeezed shut. Sweat trickled down his temples.
A few deep breaths. He tore a strip from his already ruined shirt and pressed it to the wound, tying it tight around his torso. It wasn't clean, but it would hold.
