Sunday -- Illness
Lowering herself gingerly to a large rock by the side of the footpath, the General groaned quietly and wiped the sweat from her forehead. Another wave of dizziness passed over her, and as it faded she swallowed the pooled saliva in her mouth, undid the lacings in the front of her shirt and looked down at the blood pooling between her breasts.
It was a mistake getting into that last brawl, not that brawling was ever a smart idea. The Elf had been high on helas, and she had had one too many drinks herself. Additionally she had neglected to remove the insignia from her jacket before entering the bar, and in this part of the province, that was careless. Memories were long here, and battles of fifteen years ago could have been yesterday, as far as some beings were concerned.
She winced and pressed her hand to the festering wound, lip curling in disgust at the matter oozing out over her fingers. It was too soon for infection; the blade must have been poisoned. It's hell getting old. Reflexes go to shit...
She pulled herself to her feet and wavered unsteadily for a moment. The nearest village was several hours' walk from here. They may or may not have a Healer, and walking would probably spread the poison faster through her body, but staying here and getting sicker wasn't really an option.