Quinn groaned as he came back to consciousness, struggling to rise against hands pressed to his chest. He opened his bleary eyes to Minnesota's anxious face.
"I thought you were dead," she said.
"I wish I was," he answered, whole body aching from the tackle the thing gave him. Now he felt for Archer and understood exactly how the spacer felt when the creature took him down.
"Why are you alive?" Minnesota helped him sit up. He raised one hand to brush her off and felt something sticky, looking down with disgust to find himself covered in the thing's blood.
"I don't know," he said. "It could have killed me easily. Just like the other time. It could have taken the three of us in the dining hall that night, but it didn't. It just wanted to get away."
She frowned so hard it aged her years.
