Sol didn't go home immediately, not like he could in this current mess. He smelled of blood, dirt, and sweat, and he refused to let Lyra and others see him like this. Knowing her, she would definitely lose her mind, panic and cry. And she might even try to go confront Vurok herself, which would just worsen the situation and reduce his chance of ambushing him without evidence.
"Can't have that," Sol muttered, clutching his side as he limped away from the village. "Keep the drama outside. Keep the hero face inside."
Instead, he dragged himself to the river, finding a secluded bend downstream, hidden by dense reeds and the overhang of ancient trees. It was dark, cold, and lonely… illuminated enough by moonlight to see things he needed.
He stripped off his ruined tunic and loincloth, the movement made him hiss through his teeth, every bruise screaming in a chorus of agony and taking a deep breath waded into the icy water.
Splash.
"Fuuuu—!"
