"I just can't cook." Sarah lamented.
"Why so?" inquired Leone, who was as earnest in her query as a nurse, would be to her patient.
"Chopping is the key ingredient to sauté anything, and alas! I can't chop onions. They bring tears to my eyes." With that, she gave out a deep sigh that was as cold as if she just landed in the Frigid zone.
Leone was quick to hand a shield to her friend, "Wear this armor before you chop, it will protect you from the sooty vapors that the onions emit, and prevent tears from coming."
In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story that declares, shield your face. It can be a knight of old, a doctor, or a senior citizen. What is the circumstance? Who makes the declaration? Go where the prompt leads!