"Uncle Alette, I…"
"Never mind. It's no use talking about that now. Let me see your wound."
"It's nothing. My wound is already bandaged."
As he spoke, Alette pulled Lagman into a nearby tent, where he could see Lagman's arm clearly by candlelight.
The so-called bandage was just a strip of ragged cloth.
Alette took a pair of scissors from a box and cut the cloth strip. As he carefully peeled it away, Lagman twitched. The tattered rag and other fabric had fused with his flesh and blood.
Alette stopped, took a scorching hot stone from the campfire, and placed it on a waterskin, which began to boil and swell. He then poured the hot water over Lagman's arm, rubbing it gently.
Lagman gritted his teeth and endured the pain. Finally, the strip of cloth and the inner sleeve came off.
"Are you kidding me? You've lost a lot of blood."
"I'm sure you've seen worse. Didn't you say it's normal for a Viking Warrior to shed blood?"
