It was a sickening colour, bright orange mixed with a filthy-looking brown slime. He retched again and once more spilled his guts. He coughed and fell on his side, breathing desperately. He rolled over onto his back and sidled up to a nearby rock, trying to at least sit up but only coming at his goal halfway. His head swirled, his stomach rebelled, and he considered the implications of what had happened. He knew what he did. He also knew that it was the salve he ingested that robbed him of his senses – he was clear sighted enough to blame his actions on that. It couldn’t be his fault, for he’d never willingly bite someone’s neck.