Guro Challenge #1: Amputation
#11 of 33 Day Guro Challenge
He wasn't going to make it. Agarnu sprawled face-down on the forest floor, weeping into the mulch. He hadn't noticed his injured leg had got caught between two roots until he'd fallen. Bad sign. Numbness might have been a blessed relief from the pain, but if he'd heard correctly in his lessons, it meant the limb couldn't be saved.
He had been fortunate in a way; he hadn't received a full dose of venom. If he had, he'd have died quickly. That might have been better, he thought, wondering how long he could be trapped. Inhaling the leaf mould had refreshed his sense of smell, and he wished it hadn't. Oh seasons, the stink. He buried his snout in the musty soil again instead, held a pawful to his nose as he curled up to examine the bloated blackened mess of his footpaw. It was cold as a dead fish, and when he pressed lightly on it, clear fluid and another burst of that carrion smell emerged. He tried again to pull free, but the blood and pus was too sticky to lubricate the way, and the swelling was only getting worse.
He didn't know if any of his father's crew had survived, so he couldn't rely on rescue. He didn't know if the snakes had survived, or if there might be other predators or territorial locals around. He didn't know how long it would take him to starve to death, or if his injuries would kill him first.
His sword had fallen out of his reach when he got trapped. He stretched as far as he could, and his claws merely pushed the hilt further away.
Agarnu swallowed hard, twisted his head down to his knee, and started chewing.