"To be honest, I still don't understand what purpose this structural mutation serves." Kraft hugged a wooden block and complained incessantly.
There was no one else here, only Kup, who was also preparing for the operation. He was practicing the feel of threading a needle through a sheep's head and suturing its scalp.
He wisely kept his thoughts to himself. Besides, he had no time to comment.
Suturing had indeed been covered in their lessons, but until they left Dunling, their practice had gone no further than suturing pigskin that had been left out overnight. The territory of Prierel hadn't offered any opportunities to practice, either. Maintaining their skills was the best they could hope for.
No one could have predicted how quickly disaster would strike, leaving them with a situation even Kraft couldn't handle alone. They had no choice but to push the only two people with even a basic understanding into the role.
Knowing that the tasks he was responsible for weren't difficult was one thing. The psychological pressure was another.
Tomorrow, the sheep's head in his hands would be replaced by Dominic's, and the lead surgeon might not have enough strength left to safeguard his assistant. Anyone would lose a night's sleep over it.
"Don't feel pressured. Your sutures look good to me. Just try to make them a little more even. At this rate, there shouldn't be any problems tomorrow."
A fleeting, needle-sharp danger flashed by, sending the hairs on the back of Kup's neck standing on end.
Kup watched as the axe was raised high, swung a few times to line up the blow, then brought down cleanly, splitting the wooden block in two. An etched-looking cavity was visible on the cross-section, as if it had been carved out of thin air with an exceptionally