"Come on Hugo, you can keep moving. We are almost there!" The gangster holding onto Hugo’s arm yelled encouragingly. "You got us this far, so don't go dying on us now."
Hugo had been braving the pain since fleeing the stadium but now the arrow that had pierced his left shoulder had worked its way deeper into him. The taste of blood told him that the arrow had punctured his lung. If he took it out now, with no medical help, then he would suffocate on his own blood in no time. That would be the case if the Twisted pursuing them wouldn’t eat him first.