bad

."
"Rosetti's got a busted skull and no teeth in front. Hill broke both his arms. A couple of guys in the rear broke damned near every bone you can break. —Shit!"
He'd spilled coffee on his shoe.
"Gonna be hell on you guys, 'til we get a full complement again on the other relief."
Pritchard still wouldn't meet anyone's eyes—he had more to tell, and didn't want to spill the really bad news. Memory of Sleipnir standing taller than the trees, something grasped in his wicked teeth, hit me hard. I felt sick, didn't want to think it, wanted to throw up, rather than ask . . .
"Gary Vernon?" I barely recognized my own voice.
Pritchard looked up again. He met my eyes for a second, then let his gaze slide away.
"He bought the farm, Barnes. Dead before the pieces quit bouncing. Sorry."
I slammed my fist down on the table. I never noticed the hot coffee that sloshed over my hand as the mug I was holding shattered. I just stumbled outside. The stiff breeze from the north compounded the effect of the sub-zero temperatures to freeze the moisture on my cheeks instantly; but after the skin froze I hardly noticed.
The air smelled like more snow. I didn't care.
He'd come for a warrior, bloody goddamned monster.
He'd gotten one.
Chapter Six
I heard water long before I found it. Sound travels almost forever in a cave; and this sound wasn't a quiet dripping splash, it was a running, rumbling roar, loud and wet through the darkness. The floor began to slope sharply downward; I had to brace with both hands as I picked my way carefully along a sixty-degree slope.
The air was moist, and the walls were damp