(My
character injures yours (or vice versa))
“Is
he going to be alright?” came a frantic voice from the medic’s
side. The Night Elf looked over. The Prince of Stormwind, who hardly
came up to her waist, was looking at her with wide, scared eyes. It
was hard for her, so long-lived, to guess a human’s age, but she
supposed him to be eight or so.
“He will be fine,” she said,
then nodded to the cot before her. “It -”“Hardly
hurts,” Varian interrupted. He was propped up on the cot by a small
throne of pillows. Despite the large arrow shaft sticking out of his
left shoulder, he was smiling. “I might actually keep it in. It’d
be good to hang notes to myself on it.”“Dad,
that’s not funny,” Anduin said, but despite the nervous edge in his
voice, he smiled warily as he spoke.Varian
laughed. “I thought it was.”“Dad,
I shot you with a bow and arrow!”“And
a good shot, too. Maybe you can do the other shoulder next time so
I’m balanced?”“Dad!”