rye hoben (![]() ![]() @ 2014-02-23 20:24:00 |
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Once, as a small child, Rye had been bitten by a dog. They sometimes had dogs to guard crops, the bite of a dog being one of the more effective ways of persuading thieves to rethink their priorities. He hadn’t been thieving, either, not really. Just in the wrong place at the wrong time, and unlucky. The other boys his age had managed to escape, but Rye had always been bigger and not so light on his feet as his peers. Giggling and screaming they’d ran, but the dog had got his ankle before Rye could get away. But a bite wasn’t the worst thing that could happen, really. Rye sat, struggling to keep himself from shouting out in pain and giving away his location as he wrestled his shoe from his injured foot. Wasn’t a dog just like a smaller mutt? Lying to himself seemed to work, and he gasped as he finally got his foot free from the shoe. It wasn’t just any bite, the skin smothered in blood and worse. Rye grit his teeth, rummaging in his pack for whatever medical supplies that Machine may have had left but knowing that it was mostly gone. He could make a makeshift bandage, bind the foot up tight but that wouldn’t stop the infection that was already visible. That was why it was different, a bad bite with serious infection already setting in. Mutts weren’t much like dogs, but Rye didn’t want to be bitten again by either. |