The arrowhead was much deeper than she thought. Adrenaline is a convenient thing; it keeps a body going when under any other circumstances it would collapse. In this case however, the young warrior should have ceased long ago. Her persistent retreat had only worsened her wound.
She carefully pushed back the skin around the broken shaft. There wasn’t going to be an easy way to do this. Her head fell back against the boulder she say against. Now or never, literally.
"Bloody Hell!" A stream of curses and insults that shouldn’t be shared in this retelling rushed from her mouth. The amount of blood pouring from her shoulder was disheartening at best. Had she not experienced injuries like this before, her first reaction would have been panic. In fact, if anyone else had a similar or even lesser injury, their survival would depend entirely on their next, immediate actions.
But she wasn’t going to die. And she knew it.
Her first priority was figuring out where she was. That would determine her next move. She shifted on the ground so that her left hand could lay flat on her leg. It was a painful adjustment. Then she reached over with her right hand and slowly turned the ring on small finger. Within moments a stain appeared on her left hand. It grew from the center of her palm until it nearly reached her elbow.
The blurred discoloration became more clear with each moment until it was detailed and defined. What was knowing undoubtedly a tattoo of a map, lay sprawled across her lower arm.