âYou look really pale. Sit down. I donât need you fainting before I get this stitched-up.â
He couldnât exactly be sure what it was that had attacked him earlier that evening, but at this point, he didnât want to know.
Luckily for him, this woman had stepped forth to assist him after the tussle. He had escaped, but not unharmedâ the whole adventuring thing had turned into a dangerous annoyance sooner than he had hoped. Wincing, he would cringe at the thought of stitches. Healing magic was not his forte, nor did it work properly when cast upon oneâs self. It was a shame this random savior wasnât some sort of witch. Itâd be so much lessâŚ
âStitches? Oh, surely itâs not that bad.â
It was. He couldnât even move his arm without a sting of pain shooting through his leg.
