Hughes was still wearing his arm sling, the white bandage standing out against his dark clothing.
There was an old wound on his right arm that hadn't fully healed, plus the pollution from the demon hand on his longsword that day had partially seeped into the wound through his skin, making the recovery process slower and slightly more serious than Wood's.
"Let's go, Alex is waiting for us." Wood knew Hughes was showing concern for him; he didn't say anything more, just patted his colleague's shoulder. Some words didn't need to be spoken too clearly; the trust between comrades transcended language.
Standing outside, Alex saw a black horse at the office entrance, an incredibly elegant and proud horse. Its coat was as black as coal, glossy under the sunlight, with rippling muscles clearly visible with every movement.
Thinking of the outfit Wood was wearing today, he figured this fine horse must be his.
