"Of course," Raistlin mutters to himself, coming back from the stream to find Guts staring like a stunned oxen at the dripping wound on his upper arm. And then the fool starts trying to undo his armor!

"Stop that! For Lunitari's sake - one moment." He sets down his tin mug, now full of clear-enough water from the creek. The rock he'd found steadies it near the flame, close enough to boil without posing too great a risk of burning him when he retrieves it. "Arm. Now."

And without really waiting for Guts to comply, he starts inspecting it. The wounds appear largely clean: no nasty little spikes or other surprises, which is a blessing. And no major arteries pierced, though one is perilously close. No smell of infection, either. Good. They need to be dressed and bound, though, or that state of affairs won't continue.

"I'm taking the pauldron off, now. Tell me at once if you feel any pain or sudden dizziness."