09.20 *WRITING* Challenge: A Day in the Life Of

I don’t wake. Not anymore.

A moment ago, I lay beside Oskar’s widow to await the morning sun. Neither of her sons, their sons, had roused from their beds yet. We held hands quietly in the growing light of the early morning, connected by our shared missing piece. Her husband, my partner. I don’t remember closing my eyes. Perhaps I hadn’t. How long had she stared into my unseeing eyes, frightened by the memory of her husband's death?

My eyes slid open, nothing more than a blink to me. The recessed blackout shades were drawn now, protecting me. The master bedroom was lit only by a small, antique lamp sitting on the far dresser. Unnecessary. I could see without it. I drew myself into a seated position.

“Corin,” Liliane called. “Leave your little brother alone and work on your schoolwork!”

“But Mama—”

“If you don’t get it done before dinner, you won’t get to see Jurdoc before he leaves for the night…” A warning tone.

I, a bargaining chip to be used with children? I puzzled that one as I made my way to the dresser and reached for my comb. It was a silly habit; I hadn’t moved at all since I’d lain down. I frowned into the mirror, studying the scars across my face and chest. A long sweep of a blade, six centuries ago on a muddy field in Azincourt, prevented me from cutting further into the line of English longbows. Even in life I’d had blood on my hands. After death… well, I wouldn’t have been my first choice as step-father to young boys.

A soft knock on the door.

“Liliane,” I responded quietly.

“You’re up early. Is everything all right?”

I turned toward the door and set down the comb. The hour did feel heavier than I was accustomed to. “You may come in.”

I heard her shift from side to side, pulse quickening as she hesitated. “I can’t. It wouldn’t be safe.”

“The sun still blazes?”

“It’s only mid-afternoon. Corin came home from school barely an hour ago.”

I strode to the door and placed my hand against it. I could feel her warmth, the day's warmth, through the wood. If she were to open it, the sun would stream in and kill me in seconds. If I still had a heartbeat, I’m sure it would have been pounding in my ears. Fear would have stolen my breath, made me quake. But no matter how hard my late partner tried, he never could give me his humanity. In this moment, I was thankful for it. Liliane needed my confidence. She needn’t know it was a sham.

“It happens, on rare occasion.” If there’s a much more powerful Master in the vicinity. Or practitioner of death magics. Or a demigod. Maybe a daemon. “It’s nothing to worry about.” I sighed, as a gesture. I knew she would see it as more authentic if I seemed annoyed by the whole thing.

“Oh.” She paused a moment. “How rare? Maybe I should see about finding a way to darken this hall…”

“It may only happen thrice more in your lifetime.”

She chuckled a bit at that. “I guess you can handle waiting around a little bit then, huh?”

“For today, I suppose that I can.”

“Well, be careful. I’ll come let you know when it’s safe to come out. I’ve got to get back.”

“Thank you, Liliane,” I whispered as she padded down the hall, back to her life, back to warmth, light, and Oskar’s boys.

It would be nothing for her to worry about. There wasn’t a force on this earth that I would let touch them. Oskar lived and died for his family. I would not, could not, fail him. 

The first and most pronounced thing was that my head was pounding. Each second, a little man with an ice pick, no, a mining pick for sure, struck behind my forehead. It didn’t produce the signature clang of metal on rock, but I was sure I saw sparks fly from each successful swing. The second thing was that I was certain I must have somehow changed from Shifter to Vampire, because the slim ray of light slipping into the room from behind the drawn shade threatened to blind me.

I eased up onto my elbows and immediately swallowed back the wave of nausea that accompanied my pain. The side of my right breast hurt, too. I glanced down. My chest was wrapped in a clean bandage. I frowned, trying to remember. It dawned on me then that this wasn’t the room I thought it was. 

With some effort, I sat fully upright and examined the room, eyes squinting from the painful light. At first glance, it looked like one of the bedrooms in the old farmhouse my Prowl had claimed for ourselves (claimed, bought, I think it’s sitting in a trust or whatever.) Peeling cornflower blue paint on stone walls, iron bars on the windows, an old, shabby rug haphazardly thrown on the floor with a corner turned up. But this room was bigger, for sure, and the window was on the south wall rather than the east. The furniture was nicer, too. It seemed to be from the same era, but kept in much nicer shape.

On the bed stand next to me were bandages, alcohol, forceps, a scalpel, a few vials and empty needles, and other assorted medical tools. Next to my bed stood one of those things with the bags of fluid on it, but I wasn’t hooked up to it. Unease growing in my gut, I pushed the blanket down further. Well… I wasn’t nude, but the skirt someone had dressed me in was most certainly not mine.I didn't know how I got here, but I needed to get home. Now. Despite the little man with the mining pick, my mind raced with possibilities. I slipped out of the bed—my right leg immediately gave out, a shock of electrifying pain shooting up from my ankle. I gasped. My arms reached out instinctively to catch myself on the side of the bed. Hopefully, whoever was here hadn't heard that. I sat back on the bed to get a better look at my ankle. It was wrapped tightly with a splint. My brow furrowed. For it to not already be healed, it had to have been one hell of a break. What did I do?

I collapsed back on the bed. Think, Cera, think! I helped Mama make dinner so that Papa could help Liramier with her English lessons... then I got dressed, but I didn't grab a jacket. Where was I going? Oh! I pressed my hand over my eyes. It was the full moon. I took a deep breath. Nadia, our Queen, had been training me in my responsibilities as an alpha, so I had to go. I was running late... when I got there, Nadia was gone. The only person still there--

It dawned on me. Rurik. I felt sick all over again. Rurik, the Prowl's King, had stayed behind to wait for me. I hugged myself. He was... 

"I know, Sweetie," a hushed voice reached me from the other side of the door. I froze. "That's why I don't make those kinds of promises. I told you I would try to be home by practice..." I recognized that voice. Liliane was one of the last lionesses left in France. She was a Queen herself, but she lost her Pride a few years ago. She's not a leopard, but Nadia took pity on her and let her join our Prowl. I didn't know her very well; she spent most of her time either working or with her two sons. She didn't really come by unless she needed something or we needed alpha support.

This wasn't her house. It couldn't have been, or she wouldn't be talking to her kids on the phone about not being home. I should have felt a bit more at ease with her here, but I didn't. She didn't lose her Pride in a tragic accident; she left them to die at the hands of hunters. I knew she wouldn't put Shifters first. I didn't know her personally, so I wasn't anything worth protecting.  

I heard her place her hand against the heavy wooden door. Liliane leaned into it and sighed. "If he can't give you a ride, let me know. I might be able to leave just long enough to drive you over." A pause. I barely heard a "Thanks, Mom," coming from the handset. "Do you know what number to call?" She asked. "Okay. Right; I forgot we signed up for caller ID. I have to let you go. Love you, Corin." Beep. 

As Liliane hesitated outside the door, I tried to come up with some kind of plan. Liliane worked for Nadia and Rurik in exchange for a place to live, a stipend, and protection. I couldn't imagine that Nadia would have been okay with... I shivered. I couldn't imagine that Nadia would have been okay with her mate trying to force himself on a teenage girl. Especially not if he hurt her while she was getting away. At least, I wouldn't think so? Nadia had always been so kind and maternal when she wasn't being scary. But what if Liliane were here on Rurik's orders instead?   

I didn't have any more time to consider an escape plan as she turned the knob and pushed the door open. She seemed startled, as if she hadn't expected me to be awake. For supposedly being one of the strongest alphas in France, she apparently wasn't very observant.

"Oh. Cera, I didn't expect you to come around for a few more hours yet." Her tone was meant to be soothing, I'm sure, but I wasn't so easily manipulated. 

"I can see that," I snapped, frustrated and tense. I eyed the medical instruments on the table.

Liliane, to her credit, didn't step farther into the room. "Do you recall what happened last night after you left the den?" Instead, she busied herself with adjusting the door hinges.

"No," I answered carefully, rolling the word out carefully as though I could take it back if I wanted to. "I... I remember making it to the tree line and realizing that Rurik wasn't the only one chasing me anymore..." 

Liliane let out a shaky breath. At first, I thought it sounded like fear, but when I got a look at her I realized her face was flushed with anger. Her brow furrowed, and though she still worked on the door, the muscles in her arms were so tight that they twitched periodically. 

"Do you remember your leopard taking control?"

My eyes shot wide. I never lost that kind of control. I was an alpha. A young alpha, but...

"Based on your reaction, I'd say not." She glanced in my direction. 

"Did I...?" Kill anyone?

"No." She stopped fussing with the door and finally ventured into the room, closing the door solidly behind her. "But you should have."

I reached up to hold my head, fighting a spike of pain. "Excuse me?" The stress drove my headache closer to what I could only imagine a migraine must be like. 

"Wounding Rurik has put your life in jeopardy. Before, he was after..." Liliane stumbled over the words for a moment. "Before, he was just looking for another chew toy. I'm sure the human part of him had no issues with that... ugh, what a disgusting man." She stepped forward, closer to the bed. With each step, it seemed the room dropped by several degrees, developing a draft that had nothing to do with the old architecture. Instinctively, I leaned back away from her display of power. "Now, Cera, it's personal. Sure, he'll heal that pretty face and no-one will know a thing. But you dared to lay a hand on your King. There's a reason leadership fights are usually to the death."

"What was I supposed to do?!" I exclaimed, voice quaking. "Let him have his way with me?!"

"Of course not!" Liliane shot back, picking up the implements from the bedside table. "You should have killed him when you had the chance--is what you should have done." She stomped toward the other side of the room and threw open the top drawer of the dresser. "Now you'll have to gather support and do things the right way, all the while watching your back while he's trying to have you assassinated. And. I. Can't. Protect. You!" As she shouted the last, she dropped the implements in a disarray and slammed the dresser shut so hard the drawer splintered, spinning back around, eyes wild. 

Get away. I can't...! Too much. There's nothing I...! Too much. Between the events that had unfolded, the injuries, the unfamiliar surroundings, and the fear of attack from this former Queen, I couldn't take it. I folded in on myself. My fingers twisted in my mahogany bob as my face crumpled into silent sobs, chest too tight. Each sob threatened to reopen the wound in my side, but I couldn't stop. "I...I...I...I can't..." was all I could manage to squeeze out of a throat that was suddenly too small. 

I watched Liliane press both hands to her face and take two deep breaths. Slowly, her palms pulled away, leaving fingertips pressed into her hairline. The room warmed slightly, but still I shook. 

"Why do you girls always have to make the same mistakes I did?" She whispered. I barely heard her.

I pulled my arms around myself tighter, despite the warming room. "I...I can't...I can't... I can't do..." I can't do it... I can't do this... 

Liliane closed her eyes, forcing a relaxed posture as she pulled her hands away from her face. Even relaxed, she frightened me. A Queen with a short fuse... "You can't do this. I know." She opened her eyes again, looking out the window. "I couldn't either. I ran away... continents away, I was so afraid." 

...what? I stopped trying to speak, but still I choked on my panic. With watchful, cautious eyes, I followed Liliane's every move. My hands fisted in the blanket I'd pulled tightly around my chest. Was she angry for me rather than at me? I didn't understand. I couldn't have done it. I wasn't even aware of myself. Now he's going to kill me...

"I can't protect you. I have three children at home. Three children who I would be putting in danger if I stuck my neck out for you. Even if Nadia supports you, I have to remain uninvolved. You understand?" 

I nodded silently. I was going to die. Rurik would play with me, and then he would kill me, make an example of me. I gasped for breath. 

Liliane locked eyes with me. Her brow furrowed. Something gentle, something maternal started to creep into her tone. "I brought you to the wolves' den." She began, pausing to be sure she had my attention, I'm sure. "They've had problems with Rurik since before the... the massacre. They'll be more able to help you than anyone else right now." I nodded too many times. I looked like an idiot, but I could barely control myself. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. "Cera... If you ask for help from the Prowl, Nadia, Nicolas, any of them, you're asking them to risk their lives. Don't take that step without a plan."

I broke my watchful gaze away from Liliane, staring down at the blanket instead, trying to steady my breathing. "What... what... what about... what about my family?" Visions of my little sister and my mother, or my gentle papa, being tortured, flashed through my mind. I peered back up at Liliane, hoping she would give me an honest answer.

Something sinister flashed across Liliane's face for just a moment. My mouth went dry. "Don't you worry about that. Your family will not be involved. Protect yourself." 

I looked back down at the blanket, unsure what to make of her answer. Slowly, I relaxed my fingers, the fight flowing out of me. This wasn't calmness. I was numb. Panic replaced itself with something blank. My leopard, once pacing in apprehension, was far away. My mind buzzed. "Can't I just go back to yesterday morning?" I whispered.

"No," Liliane replied, voice also dropping to a whisper. "You can't. You've shown yourself as an alpha now by refusing to back down. Your life will never be the same." She sighed and made to step toward me, then stopped, almost as if burned. Her hand fell to her side. "I'll... give you a few minutes to collect yourself. The wolves will want to see you before too long. Come out when you're ready." Without another word or glance, she exited the room, closing the door behind her.

I let the blanket fall back around my hips, dimly recognizing now that I'd seen Liliane wear this skirt before. I closed my eyes for a long moment. A few minutes to collect myself? There was no need. I had no tears left to give. I couldn't panic or cry or scream for help anymore, right? I wasn't Cera, an Afflicted teenager anymore. I was Cera, the alpha Shifter now, apparently. The leopard who could one day be Queen. There was no more room for weakness. No more room for... my eyes blurred. The nausea returned.

Behind a closed door in the wolves' den, for just a few minutes, a teenage girl grieved the loss of her remaining innocence. 

Behind a closed door in the wolves' den, for just a few minutes, a mother grieved yet another child she couldn't save.

“What do you seek?”

“Forgiveness.”

.

..

...

“Why come to me? You should know better. Forgiveness in this life must come from within.”

“I’ve ruined lives. I’ve ended lives. It’s not my place.”

“Is it mine?”

“You’re as close to God as I’m going to get, right?”

A bitter laugh. “You don’t want God’s forgiveness. If you did, your pilgrimage would have led you to the Vatican or the middle east to beg for absolution. Not here.”

…

“Maybe you’re right.”

.

A sigh. “Why come all this way, child?”

“I’m lost.”

“That is a truth I’ll accept.”

“I know I have done terrible deeds. I know I have hesitated when I could have done the right thing. I know I have betrayed both human and vampire...”

A solemn nod.

“I know I have supported and fought for the enslavement of shifters. I have hurt people who loved me and trusted me.” Grit teeth. A strained sob. “I know that my wife is dead and my daughter believes she is an orphan. I know my bastard son is out there, struggling. I know that the family that adopted me and swore to love me no matter what…” He can’t continue.

A hand rests upon his shoulder. “The family that adopted you, that swore to love you no matter what…”
.

..

...

“…is grieving my suicide… has engraved a stone in my honor… but I’m still running. I can’t go back.”

"Do you have to go back?"

A startled look. 

"I take it I am the first to suggest such?"

"After all the hurt I've caused. After the lives I've broken and my family has maimed, I have to make it right."

"Do you?"

"What?"

"Do you have to be the one to make it right? Is it your burden?"

.

..

...

"Sometimes, the best thing we can do is start over. God will send someone to heal their wounds. It is not your cross to bear. You, my child, need to make yourself right. Find your forgiveness, find the Lord's love, and do the best you can to do good work and touch as many lives as you can."

"Abandon them?"

A sigh.

"By your own admission, you already have. Won't your return simply cause further pain and confusion? Perhaps one day, you might be ready, but do you think you could remedy that now?"

"No."

"What did you say your name was, child?"

"Mavron."

"Mavron, come with me. If you don't mind, there is someone I would like you to meet. I think you could use some assistance in this new chapter of your life."

Hesitation. A look back.

"Are you going to have me arrested, Father?"

"Of course not. You came here seeking aid, wanting to do right. You won't find much of that in an executioner's holding cell. Besides... I notice you wear a cross around your neck, despite the burns--" A gesture to melted flesh peeking out from the back of Mavron's collar. "--you've endured. It seems to me that you've already worked very hard to cut out the evil in your soul. Who am I to judge those that He has chosen to accept?" A soft smile as he strides away.

"Thank you." Almost a question. Uncertain. Shuffling footsteps follow into a chamber beyond.

Dialing into an antique handset on the wall. Whirring between each digit. Mavron stands still. Dread grows...

"Yes, Heather. This is Father Barnes. Is Lorenzo available?"

.

"Yes, that would be fine."

.

"The number on file, yes."

.

"Thank you."

Click.

A slow turn. "How about a cup of coffee? Tea?"

"Father... I do not understand. Shouldn't you be damning me or performing some kind of ritual to purify me?"

A chuckle. "A lost child comes seeking aid in a place of worship. Help comes first, I think. The rest can come later. Am I correct in assuming you have nowhere to go?"

A nod.

"How long have you been without medicine, reliable meals, shelter from the sun?"

"...a while."

"Once you're settled in, Mavron, we can return to discussing your sins and how to move forward."

"I don't deserve it, but thank you."

The priest opens his mouth to speak. Ring. Ring. A lecture cut short. "Yes, this is Father Barnes. Lorenzo, ah, thank you for calling. I have a Living Vampire refugee here from..."

.

"Yes, a Living Vampire. He fled from Europe and is here now, without contacts or..."

.

"No, he is not dangerous... He may need medical attention."

Mavron steps forward abruptly. A finger raises to prevent interruptions. 

..

A nod. "Allow me to ask. Mavron?"

The pit in his stomach won't go away. "Yes?"

"Does anyone know you're here, or does the Order believe you dead as well?"

A flinch at the mention of the Order. "No one knows I am here, Father." Barely a whisper, but echoes impossibly loud in the chamber.

"Unaccounted for, yes. Reported as a suicide... thank you, Lorenzo."

Click. 

A mug of steaming tea is placed in shaking hands. "I can't say I know how your kind are handled where you're from, but here in the States, things are much more... controlled. Please, take a sip. It will help. The vampires have their Order, the Shifters their Alphas, witches their Council and so on. We don't interfere with that. But... everyone is managed through a department dedicated to tracking and preserving our supernatural brothers and sisters... and--now this is key--preventing large-scale conflicts and acts of terrorism, especially since human lives tend to be caught in the crossfire."

Controlled. Managed. Tracked. A hard swallow.

A strained whisper. "Like the massacre in Chinon."

"Yes." A heavy, sorrowful sigh. "Now that was a tragedy. So many lives, and the fighting after... I'm surprised you know about that.

You don't look nearly old enough to have been around then. Don't Living Vampires age?"

My family, he almost says. I was only a child. He bites his tongue. 

"You'll need to be registered if you're going to stay here in the States. They'll go over all of that. You'll have a case worker."

Eyes close. Fear sets in.

"They'll take good care of you, child. Keep out of trouble, do your best, and they'll bend over backwards for you."

"What if..."

"Yes?"

"What if I can't keep out of trouble? What if I can't... what if I lose control?"

A change in disposition. The mug is set aside. "Mavron, look at me." Earnest tone. "You are not the first, nor will you be the last supernatural that they've had to help gain control of their powers." He indicates the cross around the other man's neck. "Though it seems you're already receiving some assistance with that." A long pause. A step forward. Closing distance. "You won't be the first to have blood on your hands, either. What matters is that you want to make it right, and you are willing to try. They will help you. It benefits them, too, you know." Spell broken, he steps back. Lifting his mug again for a sip, he cracks a smile. "And when they have, please, come back. I would love to see your progress."

Too friendly. Too kind. He cannot trust this human. 

He has no choice.

Most of her kind leisurely stroll through the gardens beneath these boughs, basking in the dappled sun between the mallyrn leaves. The Galadhrim do not. They have a forest and a people to protect from the darkness that spreads from the mines to the west, the vale to the south, and the dark forest across the Anduin. Eltirwen does not. She scans forest floor, scrub, and tree for the herbs, mosses, and flowers she requires for her medicines. A leaf pinched off here, a plant lifted for its roots there, a few dozen stamen carefully removed from summer blossoms.

Then to the craftsmen and women, to have instruments sharpened, a crackled mortar repaired, to acquire thread and woven
cloth for bandages. To Valandil for a distilled alcohol, stronger than the wine her kind so love to drink.

Elves are not often sick, and while it isn't unheard of, most end up on her flet for less innocent reasons. She rouses from bed to
the cries of pain that accompany her newest patient. She has only just enough time to tie up her hair, out of the way so as not to
fall into any wounds, as the Marchwarden carries a young elf to the nearest cot.

"He missed his shot and pursued the scout," he explains, voice steady.

Eltirwen peels back layers of bloody fabric from the young elf's thigh. "Next to the washbasin, Haldir. Clean water, bandages,
alcohol, needle, thread."

The Marchwarden turns away to retrieve the supplies. "He was flanked; it was actually a scout party."

"Poison?" Eltirwen asks, accepting the items from Haldir.
"No."

"Are you certain?" She makes eye contact. Now is not a time for overconfidence.

"Yes."

She nods and returns to her patient. The wound isn't bleeding anymore, but it is blackened with filth. She gently washes it with
clean cloth. "Should we expect an attack?" Her patient gasps sharply as the cloth catches on the edge of the wound. "The blue
bottle by the window, Haldir, for the pain."

He passes her the bottle. "If that were the case, I wouldn't be here with you. He took out the scout party, four of them. There are
also wounds on his back, Eltirwen, though the one on his leg is most severe." He doesn't need to say it. She is already focused on the worst wound.

"Thank you." She tips the bottle to the patient's mouth. "Just a sip, if you can manage."

"He made it as far back as the nearest outpost before the injuries made him lame. Orophin brought him to me. He was bleeding
out."

Eltirwen casts him a sideways glance. "It seems you do pay attention, then."

"I try. We've been seeing more and more orc threats than I'd like. Today was not the first scout party we've dealt with this year. I
can't have Galadhrim dying on the border because we can't return them to Caras Galadhon in time."

Once the wound is clean and sterile, Eltirwen begins work to close it. "If you could undress his other wounds."

"Yes, Eltirwen."

"Perhaps it's time to consider training some apprentices..." Eltirwen murmurs as she works.

"Having healers on the battlefield isn't safe."

"Not having healers on the battlefield isn't safe, Haldir. Train them as Galadhrim if it makes you feel more at ease, but you said
yourself that it's become a problem." She takes a moment to brush hair out of the young elf's face. The potion has already
eased him into a light slumber. "He could have died. We should have healers out along the border."

He grumbles, a decidedly ungraceful act.

"I'll discuss it with the Lady if I must." Eltirwen warns.

Haldir fetches fresh water, then begins cleaning the wounds on the patient's upper body as Eltirwen had. They work in silence,
neither willing to cede ground to the other, despite both fully understanding the others' concerns. She moves to take over the
wound Haldir is working on. Without comment, he takes a step back and retrieves more supplies.

Only once Eltirwen is ready to flip him over does she speak again. "Could you assist?"

"You should train some apprentices," Haldir remarked as he helped move the patient over onto his front. "Doing this all yourself
is too much."

"I have done this for almost as long as you have been alive, dear Marchwarden." Eltirwen argues, despite her earlier statement.

"And if something were to happen to you? I do not enjoy the thought of you joining battle, though I know you enough to
understand if there were a battle within our borders, I would not be able to stop you." He says pointedly as he slices through the
back of the elf's tunic.

"Haldir..." Eltirwen pauses, the first loss of composure. "Do you truly think it may come to that?"

Haldir refuses to meet her gaze, unable to show how shaken the thought makes him. He busies himself with washing wounds.
"The Lady has spent much time pouring over her mirror, long into the night. From our patrols, I can say that orc activity has
been pressing in from all sides. But more... there is a darkness out there. When I stand on the shores of the Anduin, or step
beyond the tree line to the south or even west, I can feel it. Something is happening."

Eltirwen presses her lips together tightly. "The Lady has not spoken with you at all?"

"No, not yet. That worries me most." He responds quietly. "It is unlike her."

She takes over for Haldir, waving him aside. "It may not be a lack of confidence. Perhaps she does not wish to bother you until
she knows for certain that there is a greater threat."

"But clearly I--"

"There was a time you were not quite so observant. You should ask for an audience, if only to confirm your suspicions." She
pauses between stitches. "I know that confronting the Lady is not an easy task. I will be having an audience with her shortly,
myself. If it eases the tension, I could suggest to her that she approach you about some concerns you have."

Haldir stands by the wall of entwined branches, looking out over his beloved city. A city he could not allow to come to harm. "No,
Eltirwen. I am Marchwarden. I must not be afraid to approach her." He looks back toward the healer. "Do you have things settled
here?"

"Yes, thank you."

He nods. "Then I will go." He makes his way to the ladder. "Expect a report containing apprentice candidates from within my
ranks." And with that, he disappears out of sight.

Eltirwen shakes her head, allowing herself a small moment of mirth despite the present situation. He would find a loophole in
allowing healers on the battlefield, wouldn't he? After completing the last bandage, she rolls her patient back over with some
difficulty and covers him with a blanket. The night's chill is almost gone, but with his blood loss it would be better to be safe.

The healer stands, taking in the small size of her flet. Three cots, and barely enough supplies to tend to that many patients.
Less, if poison were involved. Only one of her. The arm of darkness grows ever longer. The light of Lorien must respond in kind
or be snuffed out. Yes, she admits. Perhaps it is time.