“Need anything more right now, Saun?” asked the patroller man.

“You just brought me what I wanted most,” said Saun. “Take a break, eh?”

“I think I will.” With a barely audible grunt of pain, the patroller man sat down on the other bed, evidently his own, shed his boots, and used his hands to swing the stiff leg inboard. “Ah.”

Dag nodded in farewell. “Sleep hard, Saun. Try and wake up smarter, eh?”

A faint snort and a muffled Ow! followed the three out. Dag’s face, turning away, softened like a man finding grace in an unexpected hour. “Yeah, he’ll be all right,” he muttered in satisfaction.

The patroller woman closed the door quietly behind them.

“So, was that Saun the Sheep?” asked Fawn.

“Aye, the very lamb,” said Dag. “If he lives long enough to trade in some of that enthusiasm for brains, he’ll be a good patroller. He’s made it to twenty, so far. Must be luck.” His smile took a twist. “Same as you, Little Spark.”

As they started down the hall, a woman’s voice called weakly from a room with an open door.

“That’s Reela,” said the patroller woman quickly. “Do you have all you need, sir?”

“If not, I’ll find it.” Dag gave a dismissing wave. “I’ve known this place for years.”

“Then if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go see what she wants.” She nodded and stepped away.

As they made their way down the stairs, Fawn heard Dag mutter under his breath, “Stop sir-ing me, you dreadful puppies!” He paused at the bottom, his hand on the rail, and looked back upward, his face going distant.

“Now what are you thinking?” Fawn asked softly.

“I’m thinking…that when our walking wounded are set to look after our carrying-wounded, it’s a sure sign we’re too short-rostered. Mari’s patrol is sixteen, four by four. It should be twenty-five, five by five. I wonder how many Chato’s patrol is down by? Ah, well.” He vented a sigh. “Let’s rustle us up some food, Spark.”