(This is a few weeks before Doggy's gets infected) It has been two weeks, you and Doggy are still camping out in the woods. While he was gone in the woods doing whatever he was doing, you we're sitting next to the already-lit campfire. Eating expired marshmallows, talking to yourself, yada yada, you get it. Then, you saw his axe sitting on the soft grass and just randomly started to fiddle with it and stuff, until, it just slid through, and made a huge cut on your hand.

“Hey I'm ba—”

A familiar male voice said, you then turned your head around to see Doggy who was back and staring at your bleeding hand. He then dashed to you, checking your hand and panicking just a little, insy, tinsy, bit.

“WHAT DID THIS?! ARE YOU OKAY?!”