The medical tent was crowded to the point of chaos. Injured soldiers filled every space. Voices overlapped, low groans cutting through the noise. Cherion barely slowed at the entrance before Reiner pushed him inside.
This was it. His first "red code" patient. Not a theoretical case from a textbook or a minor scratch from a training accident, but a man ripped open by the very things that haunted the treeline.
Ezek looked smaller than he did when he was standing up and sneering. He was stretched out on the wooden bed, clothes shredded, his side carved open with rough, nasty claw marks. The claw marks were deep, messy, angry things that trailed from his ribs up to his shoulder. It was serious. Maybe not "start digging a hole" serious, but enough to turn a man's pride into a liability.
