"Harper, you…" Milo shook his head, aghast, his eyes darting between me, the pile of leaves that cushioned the wendigo's dead body, and then at poor Atlas who was lying on the floor, looked over by the other two men with grim faces.
His mouth opened and closed wordlessly, like a gaping fish. I had never seen him speechless. I took a self-conscious look at myself, just in case the wendigo had torn off some clothing without my notice, but I was perfectly clothed, if not unkempt.
"I'm not blaming you," I said quickly, just in case Milo got upset. I'm sure he must have done his utmost best to arrive in time. "Better late than never, right? You're just in time to help me get Atlas to the infirmary." I let out a weak laugh, and Milo's face darkened.
"You're the one that needs medical attention immediately!" He all but yelled out. "We're going to have words about your actions later."