Zed ghosted through the undergrowth, hoping his miniature extraction beacon wasn’t damaged. He collapsed onto the spongy ground of the clearing, making more noise than he had all day.
He had everything he needed to stitch his wound except a third hand to reach it. He hoped he wouldn’t bleed out before they arrived.
He focused his thoughts by counting the droplets that fell from the rock not three feet from his face. It was both soothing and practical. He wasn’t sure how long it took to realize they fell in time to the thrum from the incoming Huey’s blades.