Ranulf screwed his eyes shut, digging one claw into the wound. He clenched his teeth, smothering a yell, and popped the shot from inside of his arm. Geoffrey paled a little, emptying the powder horn over the bullet hole. “You sure about this?”
Ranulf nodded. “Moon’s not for another fortnight, Geoffrey, and I’m not going to die of French gangrene. Do it.”
With a sigh, Geoffrey fired the dogwood flint, igniting the powder. It flashed, and Ranulf yelled as the fire sealed the wound. He cursed, tugged his jacket on, and slapped his brother on the shoulder.
Ranulf nodded. “Moon’s not for another fortnight, Geoffrey, and I’m not going to die of French gangrene. Do it.”
With a sigh, Geoffrey fired the dogwood flint, igniting the powder. It flashed, and Ranulf yelled as the fire sealed the wound. He cursed, tugged his jacket on, and slapped his brother on the shoulder.
“Back to it.”
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