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... small pouch hanging there. His fingers fumbled with the clasp before finally getting it open.

He pulled out a handful of crushed herbs, the green and brown mixture looking like something scraped off a forest floor.

Without hesitation, he shoved his hand under his shirt, pressing the herbs directly against the stab wound in his belly.

"Ghh—fuck—" The curse tore out of him, his body going rigid.

"What are you doing?!" Mira grabbed his wrist. "You can’t just—"

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