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28: Bodily Functions

  I was starting to regret agreeing to let Frost have the quiver. I didn't have any use for it - I didn't know how to shoot a bow, after all - but watching him lovingly fondle the worn wood, caressing the crudely engraved words in the material was...unnerving to say the least.

  "Frost," I called. "You're being weird with that thing. Stop."

  He didn't even spare me a glance, merely rolling his eyes as he hugged it close to his chest. "You're just jealous because all you have is some stupid spear!"

  I frowned, hefting my weapon up and onto my shoulder as I stepped toward him. He flinched backward, eyes widening as I got closer. "You wanna test how stupid this thing is?"

  "...That's just an expression," he mumbled, fumbling for my - well, now his - dagger at his belt.

  Snorting, I turned back to my spot, only to feel something warm and wet trickle down my leg. I froze, whipping my spear around in preparation for a [Charge]. I didn't feel any pain nor could I see any arrow sticking out of my leg.

  [Lesser Radar] also hadn't gone off; no one was invading so I hadn't been attacked.

  But I was sure the fluid sliding down my inner thigh and into my boots was blood - what else could it be? Something in my pants must have cut me hard enough to draw blood.

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  All I needed to do was remove it so the healing process could begin.

  I removed my belt and unbuckled the straps on my gambeson, lifting the heavy wool fabric up above my stomach.

  Huh. Who knew I had abs? A four-pack looks good on me. Granted, I'm not gonna be stupid enough to admire myself often in this blizzard. I'm not that much of a narcissist.

  Wincing as sharp snow crystals attacked my bare skin, I quickly pulled back my trousers and searched for whatever had cut me. My legs, however, were free of blood and blemish. There was nothing there.

  "Weird," I muttered, sliding my hand into my pants. Numb fingers touched the warm liquid coating the inside of my legs. I pulled it out, dropping my gambeson as I sniffed my hand.

  A pungent odor forced its way through my nostrils, catching me off guard. Gagging, I wiped my hand off on the bottom of my gambeson. Whatever that stuff was, it smelled awful.

  Note to self: don't smell mysterious fluids that come out of my body ever again.

  As I started fixing my clothes, I heard Frost's boots crunching through the snow.

  "Hey, Flake?" he called.

  "What?"

  "My stomach feels weird."

  I spun on the spot, concerned that something might've slipped past [Lesser Radar] but he was...fine. Frowning, I punched his shoulder, knocking him back a couple of steps.

  "Hey!" he complained, rubbing the spot where I'd hit him. "What was that for?"

  "Getting me worked up over nothing," I snapped back. "Now get back to your post and stop bothering me."

  "But I wasn't-"

  "We could have another training session if you don't wanna leave."

  Frost scowled, adjusting his bow as he slowly retreated. As he turned, I heard him mutter, "That stick is so far up his ass..."

  Picking up my spear, I called after him, "What was that?"

  He hunched his shoulders, keeping his back to me. "Nothing!"

  Rolling my eyes, I went back to keeping watch.

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