"...I doubt it." Saturday is looking up, away from Guts basically kinda putting his head in her lap, with no idea why it's suddenly making her uncomfortable. "It's from one of those boars, I think - I thought it just bruised me. Shit. See, this is worth fussing over."

She sighs. "Maybe the place we're headed knows what this? If they've been dealing with these creatures, they have to have seen it before."

Her fingers explore the little splotch of blight. It feels spongy, not like proper flesh, and hurts; hurts like a bone bruise. What she doesn't say, because she doubts she needs to, is that knowing what something is ain't the same as knowing how to fix it.

"It's not that bad yet. I'll keep an eye on it and look for a doctor once we're in town."