“You look really pale. Sit down. I don’t need you fainting before I get this stitched-up.”
He couldn’t exactly be sure what it was that had attacked him earlier that evening, but at this point, he didn’t want to know.
Luckily for him, this woman had stepped forth to assist him after the tussle. He had escaped, but not unharmed— 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 one’s self. It was a shame this random savior wasn’t some sort of witch. It’d be so much less…
“Stitches? Oh, surely it’s not that bad.”
It was. He couldn’t even move his arm without a sting of pain shooting through his leg.