Sleepy Fox Hollow seven ate nine

@Ketzia

He'd retreated to the secluded valley following the aftermath of his run-in with the acherontic youth with the intentions of nursing his ailing wounds, but, given their placement and his lack of opposable thumbs, found that tending to them would become a challenge he had not foreseen. Normally such a hurdle would not usually cause him such restlessness but here in the midst of winter while he was at his most vulnerable, well, a complication such as this easily became a setback that could mean life or death for the wayward rogue. 

The wounds had already started to fester and if left untreated, would like take to infection and begin to rot from the inside out. So in a frantic attempt at holding off any unwanted illnesses, the crepuscular man lowered himself along the bank of a nearby stream and on the count of three slipped his injured shoulder into the wintry waters. It left him winded and gasping for air and after but a moment of being submerged, he tore away and began muttering a handful of colorful curses directed at none other than himself.