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.

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.