Timothy finds the chicory plant downstream when he hears the screams. His blood freezes, and the flesh and the hairs on his arms stand rigid. After a bit, he rose, listening intently. It had become eerily silent.
Ah, probably a fox just whining, Timothy muses to himself out loud, entering the camp. He began to slice up the chicory and aloe vera to put on the burns on his leg. Who knew eggs from a chicken womb could be so dangerous?
The love of his life wakes, faces him with a smile, and pins a gentle kiss on his leg.