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just a data point and file it away to be reacted to later.
    Ukiah eyed the cage of black mice on the kitchen’s desk. “Are those my mice or yours?”
    â€œYours.” It came out naturally, yet Atticus still found the concept of someone else that bled mice stunning. “All twelve. We’ve fed them.”
    On Ukiah’s face, desire to remember everything forgotten warred with knowledge of his limits. He was too weak to take back the mice and he knew it.
    â€œEat and then sleep some more.” Ru added water to the pancake mix and then started to stir. “You can deal with them later.”
    Ukiah grunted acknowledgment of this truth, eyeing the batter hungrily.
    â€œHere.” Atticus patted the stack of clothes he’d laid out for his brother. “Let’s get you dressed first.”
    After two awkward minutes of Atticus trying to help Ukiah into the boxers, Ru took pity. “Why don’t you cook, and I’ll get him dressed?”
    So they switched, Atticus lighting the gas burner on the range, while Ru helped Ukiah put on the boxers.
    Atticus had always been too hurt to appreciate Ru’s bedside manner—he hadn’t noticed how Ru could get another man in and out of underwear with such clinical impassiveness. Sweatpants and a pair of tube socks followed boxers.
    â€œSweater?” Ru asked after watching how carefully Ukiah moved his newly mended arm.
    â€œNo, please!” Ukiah winced at the thought.
    â€œThen that will have to do for a while.” Ru resettled the blanket around Ukiah’s shoulders.
    Ukiah fingered the sweater where it lay on the counter, then checked its Lands’ End label. “I have this sweater too. Same green color.” He inspected his borrowed sweatpants, and then—tugging the front of his sweatpants open—he eyed his boxers.
    â€œCan I take a look-see?” Ru asked.
    â€œWhat?” Ukiah snapped shut his sweatpants.
    Ru looked puzzled and then suddenly grinned. “Your ribs! Can I see them?”
    â€œOh!” Ukiah opened up his blanket wrap. “There shouldn’t be much to look at.”
    Ru ran light fingers over Ukiah’s chest. “It just blows meaway how you two heal. Just apply food and sleep. It ends up being like making bread. Cover the mess up with a blanket and keep it warm, and poof, it transforms itself while you aren’t looking.”
    Ukiah struggled not to laugh. “My ribs still hurt like hell.”
    â€œYes, but they look fine. Here, let me see your arm. Yes, that’s healing nicely.”
    â€œI’ve got some use of it back.” Ukiah demonstrated. “But the slightest pressure will break it again.”
    Ru produced a sling and tucked Ukiah’s arm into it. “Try not to use it, then.”
    â€œCheck.” Ukiah fiddled to make the sling comfortable.
    So the feral Dog Warrior did have a civilized side, once he healed up.
    Atticus lifted the first of the pancakes off the griddle and drowned them in syrup for Ukiah. The next batch Atticus split with Ru, but the rest, a monster’s share, went to his brother.
    After wolfing it all down and licking his plate clean, Ukiah looked longingly at the empty bowl. “Is there anything else?”
    â€œOh, what pleading puppy eyes.” Ru stood and tousled Ukiah’s hair, ending the move with a pat on the head. “I had a dog that would beg at the table with that same woebegone look.”
    Ukiah grinned in response to the affectionate teasing. “Bowwow.”
    â€œI could never say no.” Ru studied the contents of the dark refrigerator. “How about a steak?”
    â€œOh, yes! Please,” Ukiah said. Whoever raised Atticus’s brother had at least taught him manners, despite all the feral appearances. “The power’s out?”
    â€œYes,” Atticus said, and then, sensing the coming question, added, “The phone is still dead.”
    â€œI did