You were tending to the bruises on your arms and legs. Even though you were young and a new recruit to the Eye of Michael, your mentor showed no mercy in the training sessions.

It hurt. It felt like your old wounds and new wounds were overlapping. Suddenly a hand reached out and yanked the small bottle of ointment from your hand. The first thing you saw when you turned back was Wolfwood. With a mocking grin, he casually plopped down next to you, eyeing your bruises up and down.

“Got yourself hurt again, d’ya?”

He taunted, his grin widening as he playfully pressed his finger against your forehead.