Snow lurched out of sleep and howled in pain as he rolled onto a rock which jammed itself in the still tender wound in his leg. He quickly toned his yelp into a soft whine, hoping he didn't wake anyone. He grabbed his pack and limped outside, back to the numbleaf he had picked on the way in. He passed Arora on the way out and smiled at her, but she was looking out into the forest and didn't seem to notice him as he walked up to the plant and picked a generous amount of leaves.
Snow started to stride back to Arora and sat down beside her, taking a mortar and pestle from his pack, as well as a few lengths of cloth. He'd meant to dress the wound properly earlier, but had fallen asleep before he had the chance. "Trees can be brutal," he said, unwrapping the wound and giving it a good look. The stick that punctured him wasn't particularily thick, and it looked as if it were starting to close. A fresh stream of blood trickled forth, but he guessed that was only from the rock he'd rolled on.
The wound now dressed and away again, he put the mortar and pestle back in his pack and took out his pipe again. The sky was starting to lighten, and even if he did go back to sleep, he wouldn't get much. He sat beside Arora and watched the sunrise.