Kilometers from civilization. No transportation. No comms. Only a tiny medkit. It was a bad place to be injured.
Ezra, ashen with fear, did what he could. He managed to pop Kanan’s dislocated shoulder back into its socket, then peeled the blood-soaked rags from the laceration on his side. Kanan winced but made no sound. Ezra threaded the suture needle and began to sew him up.
“I’m sorry,” he warbled tearfully. “These stitches are all over the place. It’s gonna be an ugly scar.”
Kanan grinned and clasped Ezra’s shaky, bloodstained fingers. “It’s okay. I know I’m in good hands.”