“Shaped like an arrowhead”

Dallas opened the wound further and Artimus grimaced but somehow managed to stay still.

“There definitely something in there, boy.” Dallas prodded a gloved finger deeper into the gushing red slit on Artimus’ side. The pain, nauseating, made Artimus see black spots. “What the hell were you think! Busting into a den like that, all alone?”

Artimus grunted, “They had Hannah.”

“Well,” Dallas said grabbing a pair of surgical tongs, “They still have Hannah, and now you’ve almost gone jeopardised months of work, almost killing yourself in the process.”

Artimus was in love with Hannah, and Hannah in love with him. It was their secret. Members of the Assains Grove weren’t meant to date, they were sworn to solitude and servitude. There was no way in hell he was going to let Hannah rot in that den with those blood-sucking fae-maggots.

“So are we going to get this fricking thing out of me or not?” Artimus managed to say in between the stabbing pain to his right.

“Now we’re talking!” Dallas boomed, lowering the surgical tongs to the wound, with a mischievous grin.

He plunged the tool deep down into the gash and began to dig for the tip of the weapon that had left its mark. With every jab of the tongs, every wriggle of a finger, Artimus grew more woosy. If it wasn’t for his desire to be reunited with Hannah, he would have just let go.

“Now that’s a sharp little bugger,” Dallas said finally removing the sagittate-like object and quickly packing the wound tightly.

Now, Artimus thought to himself, all I have to do was heal, fast.

Then he could start mission: Save Hannah 2.0.