At the camp

By the time we finally dragged ourselves back to the edge of camp, my legs felt like shaking jelly, and every single step was a pure test of willpower. I had done my absolute best to wipe off the worst of the evidence with leaves on the walk back, but the raw, dripping soreness in my lower half made walking normally an utter nightmare. Baelog wasn’t looking much better beside me, wincing with every stride and keeping his jaw locked tight.

The rest of the party barely glanced up from the crackling fire as we emerged from the dark treeline.

“Took you long enough,” someone called out casually, tossing another branch onto the flames. “Run into any trouble out there?”

I cleared my hoarse throat, forcing my spine straight while trying to subtly shift my weight away from my throbbed-out backside. “Just... a very rough patch of terrain,” I managed to squeak out, trying to sound as dignified as a prince covered in dried orc spunk could possibly sound. I carefully, agonizingly lowered myself onto a soft pile of bedrolls, holding back a whimpering gasp as my wrecked insides protested, and silently prayed nobody would ask me to move again for the rest of the night.

“Where’s the firewood, then?”

I looked at Baelog... Fuck, we had forgotten all about that!

“It matters not, I’ll just keep watch, I can’t sleep in the woods that well anyway.”, Korant said. “Just get some rest... you look like you need it.”