Cedric cleaned the wound on the side first thoroughly. Rowan hissed once and then went quiet. His hands, lying at his sides, were very still. His chest rose and fell. His eyes, which had been open when they arrived, slid closed sometime in the first twenty minutes, and Cedric noted this, working without stopping. What Rowan needed right now was not to be awake, but to be stitched.
He started sticking carefully.
Layer by layer.
The deep tissue is treated first, followed by the muscle, and then the skin, with each layer closed and tied before moving to the next. The nurses handed him instruments without being asked. They had worked with Cedric long enough to anticipate. The theatre was quiet except for the low sound of breathing and the occasional soft request.
"Retract slightly,"
"Hold there,"
"More light"
And the muted, precise sounds of the work itself.
It took almost three hours.
