                    He never did know how to pick his fights.
     Particularly, he never knew how to pick his fights when he had to use his      fists instead of his wits and magic. He was a good fighter, granted, but he      preferred to snipe from a distance with his bow and arrows and especially      when he was outnumbered one to ten.Â
     Honestly he should have seen the knife coming at least.
     He stumbled through dark and empty streets with his vision blurry from      tears and dizziness, pain shooting through his body in waves and the dirty      shirt he pressed against the wound to stop the bleeding was soaked in blood.      His teeth gritted in effort to keep the pain -- and his location -- silent and      normally he would have turned to Ren or his supplies for help but his      motel was too far away and he could not reach his familiar ( which was      cause for alarm in itself but he had to fix himself up first ).
     He heard of a healer outside of town from various sources on the street a      few times before, curiously storing away the information of magic she      seemed to have according to them. He had meant to check sooner, really,      but he never got around to it. He figured now was as good a time as any      to see if she was as good as rumours would have her be.
     Even if it could be considered a little rude to crash shoulder first into her      door, his fist loose and weak banging sporadically as he slid down onto      the ground, breathing heavily and fighting off dizziness and blurriness that      threatened to have him pass out at any given moment.
                        @fatalux
