“Your daughter’s name?” Because of course a woman as stunning as Donya Nakhla was married. Where was her husband, the man who should have kept her from being bloodied? Then he thought it through and decided it would be kinder if he didn’t ask. He pulled out his K-bar knife and eased the red-stained fabric away from her side. Rather than removing her robe, he’d make a side slit to inspect her through and hope it was enough.
“I don’t know.”
He looked up at her face again, careful not to flash his light in her NVGs. She sounded coherent, mostly. Was she fading in and out or…
She was attentive enough to stroke the little girl’s hair where she lay upon Donya’s lap, nearly asleep.
Time to stop the bleeding. He found a small tear, inserted his blade in the hole and sliced the side of the robe
