It was a rough handling, but Wyatt took it stride. Wincing as the wounds pulled and oozed wetly, but not resisting as Max's hands moved over him.

"Somethin' in the sand," he murmured, eyes fixing on the shining blade at Max's hip. "Some kind of over-grown lizard. The Gamemakers set it loose, I think."

A mutt, one of their ever growing list of horrifying pets.

"The worst of it-" he tried to stretch, to reach back, and a stab of pain had him jerking, stiffening beneath Max's fingers.