You're dead on your feet. Besides, it's cold enough to make a mammoth shiver. You're not venturing back out there, at least not until the sun rises.
You're just at your bedroom door, about to push it open, when a voice stops you.
"Gideon Mercer!"
It's Minjo. She's hurrying towards you, the medical kit tucked under one arm.
"Gideon Mercer, wait! I still have to take a look at that cut on your forehead."
Minjo draws abreast with you, seizes your hand, and drags you down into a nearby armchair. You watch suspiciously as she sets down the medical kit on the armrest and pulls out...
"What the fuck is that?"
"A needle," she answers.
It looks more like a fish hook, and not a particularly sharp-looking one.
"You'll heal on your own," Minjo says as she attaches some black thread onto the needle. "But it'll take longer. You'll probably have a scar either way, but with stitches it'll be much less noticeable."