Hundred and eighty-two

No sooner had Sandro reached the pack house and his room, then he staggered. Fortunately, Arabella wasn't on his back anymore.

"I thought I weighed nothing," Arabella remarked dryly.

"Yeah, you weighed nothing," he said, clutching his side. Straightening, he started forward but stumbled again.

"What's wrong?" Arabella frowned, stepping towards him.

"I think I took a hit from one of the rogues," Sandro lifted his hand, eyes widening as he saw the blood that coated it.

"What the hell?" Arabella exclaimed, catching Sandro just in time as he stumbled for the third time. She dragged him towards the bed, setting him down, only to find he was unconscious.

Removing his hand that was still gripping his side, she grimaced. "This looks awful." The injury wasn't that deep, and it wasn't something he wouldn't be able to heal from, but it stunk.

Arabella wondered if it was normal for an injury that wasn't even up to an hour old to stink. Walking to the bathroom, she filled a bowl with water, graspe