Blood. Injuries. I knew about it. When you grow up with a whip across your back almost every day, there's no way you won't know about it.
Camalot was sleeping, Ifrit right next to her. I sat on her other side watching her sleep. Thinking about how she was injured made the memories of my uncle flash past my eyes. The scars on my back seemed to tingle. I reached inside my left sleeve and touched my whip. For years I had been at the mercy of one just like it. I never dreamed it would become my weapon.
Camalot groaned in her sleep and jolted me out of my daze. I studied her a moment, then went back to my thinking. My gaze wandered outside. The darkening gloom of evening told me it was time for sleeping. Looking over, Ifrit was wide awake.
"Wake me if she needs medical care." I told him. He nodded. I scooted a few feet away then curled up tight in the hay. Closing my eyes, I went to sleep.