His hand was bleeding, a torn glove and shaky hands.
He was so cold he could barely think, much less notice such a tiny cut. But yet he noticed the almost miniscule thorn in the greenish cut on his palm.
The town, possibly the whole state right now could be under Undergrowths control, and here he was, floating through the ghost zone looking for anything that could warm him up.
He shivered at the thought (not that he already was).