Roscoe, Tara, and I went out to see if conditions were safe enough to continue on our way. They weren't. My foot is fucked. The smell of the burned flesh made me want to vomit, and I definitely saw charred bone. I marked my ankle at the top of the inflammation I could see before it got wrapped, because now I'm paranoid this thing is going to get infected. All I can think about is how Hernan had to have his leg amputated above the knee in the middle of Eolas after being bitten by an undead creature...