Rhys took his sample to the table. There was the hot medical smell about the place, about him. He spent some time inspecting it before putting it to the side. He turned, looking at Caeden, just looking. The shadows cast strange angles across his face, and it was hard to match this man with the same jovial, confident commander who had greeted them. The stare went on too long to be comfortable, before he opened a drawer, withdraw something hidden by his hand, and approached.

Reaching above Caeden, Rhys did something outside Caeden’s vision. The chains rattled and the ones constraining his arms drew his hands above his head. His bandaged hand roared with pain as it was forcefully moved. There was something truly wrong with that hand, but Caeden couldn’t see beyond the bandages. The chains at his wrist and tail lengthened to allow Caeden to be pulled up. Rhys sat next to him, looking carefully into his eyes.

“You are the second I have spoken to,” Rhys breathed softly. “Your bird has very sharp fangs and claws, but is surprisingly malleable when you hold a knife to a child,” he shrugged slowly. “Every time I think Mowgli has run out of use, he surprises me. I wonder how long that will last. Do you think Jaan will eventually put his concern for the child aside? He is most….” Rhys searched for the word, “unagreeable. If I need a backup incentive, I should stop taking chunks of you,” Rhys grinned as though he expected Caeden to laugh. He brushed his hand through his hair, and Caeden noticed a black blemish along his hairline, sliding under his cheekbone. That hadn’t been there the day before. Now that he looked closer, he could see the infection on his hand as well. Rhys was infected.