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   Peter looked over the wound while the water sat over the fire. It didn't look deep. Only a tiny rivulet of blood ran from the puncture, which he thought was a good sign. The water was still cold. He wondered how high he was here - thirteen thousand feet, maybe? He wasn't sure. Dreading the pain that surely awaited him with the removal of the bullet, he gnashed his teeth and began laying out his first aid supplies and sterilizing his knife.