Continued from Part 3
The arrow penetrates my heart.
I feel horror, but no pain.
I black out.
A man wearing a toga and a sweatband stands over me.
H. How are you feeling?
E. Um, not bad for having an arrow in my chest. Can you give me a hand with that?
H. Hmm, I can probably cut off the end of the arrow. And rig up a brace to hold your cracked ribs together enough for you to breathe. That should keep you going.
E. Wait, aren’t you the god of healing?