They were five hours into the journey and were not making good time. They had to keep stopping to treat those who were badly wounded. It was horribly difficult to peel back the heavy blankets and clothes to get at the drips and then recover without causing damage to their patients. But what else could she do? IVs had to be checked as they had a habit of freezing or folding on themselves and cutting off the precious liquids. They had already lost three of the wounded. One had died of his wounds—she was surprised he had made it this far. Al Cuthbert had suffered too many internal injuries when the thralls had attacked, losing his liver and most of a kidney. But the other two had died from frozen IV lines. She now insisted each patient be checked every thirty minutes and her military guard had not been happy with these delays. It had come to a head when she had insisted that they stop and bury Al. Tony Grier, their lead military representative, had argued violently that they couldn’t afford the time but she had insisted, using her authority as lead on the expedition to overrule him.
