The soft rap of knuckles against weathered wood stirred Aleria from her restless slumber. Bleary eyes blinked open as a muffled voice filtered through from the other side of the door.

"Lady Aleria? It's Haddy, with your breakfast."

Aleria pushed herself upright, clutching the thin blanket against her chest to preserve her modesty. "Come in," she called out, stifling a yawn.

The door creaked open, and the plump young woman sidled into the chamber, carefully balancing a laden tray in her hands. The aroma of fresh-baked bread and rich broth wafted through the musty air.

"Morning, m'lady," Haddy chirped, setting the tray down on the small table with a clatter. "Brought you some food to start your day. Bread still warm from the ovens, and a hearty bone broth besides."

"Thank you, Haddy. That's very kind." Aleria mustered a wan smile, still feeling the lingering fog of fatigue clinging to her senses.

Haddy bobbed her head. "Oh, and Mayor Blackfist sent over a few of his soldiers, too. They're already down in the clinic proper, setting to work on giving the place a good cleaning."

Aleria nodded remembering Bernard's promise from the night before.

"The mayor always takes care of his own, and you're one of his now, like it or not." Haddy added.

She crossed to the small washbasin and upended her pitcher's contents, filling the chipped ceramic bowl with fresh, clear water. "There you are, m'lady. Cool and refreshing, for you to wash up with."

Sinking back against the pillows, Aleria regarded the well-meaning girl through the gauzy filter of her fatigue. "You're too good, Haddy. I'm really not deserving of such attentions."

Haddy fixed her with a reproachful look, hands on her wide hips. "Now don't you go getting maudlin on me, Lady Aleria. We're all just doing our part to get you settled proper-like. Take your time and come down when you are ready. I'll be downstairs whipping the lads into shape."

Haddy bustled out of the cramped chamber, gently pulling the door closed behind her. Aleria listened to the sound of the girl's footsteps receding down the corridor before finally rolling out from under the thin blankets.

Her bare feet met the chill of the wooden floor as she padded over to the small washbasin. Scooping up the coarse rag lying beside it, she dipped it into the clear water and began briskly sponging herself down. The icy liquid sent a shiver coursing through her, but it effectively banished the last lingering tendrils of sleep still clinging to her mind.

Once finished, Aleria let the damp cloth slip from her fingers and simply stood there, naked and dripping, as she allowed the cool air of the dim room to dry her skin. She closed her eyes, drawing in a long, steadying breath through her nostrils. The musty scent of damp wood and old plaster filled her lungs, mingling with the warm, yeasty aroma wafting up from the breadbasket on the nearby table.

Her stomach gave an insistent rumble, reminding her it had been far too long since her last meal. Wrapping the blanket about herself once more, Aleria crossed to the small table and sank down onto the hard wooden chair. She tore off a chunk of the crusty bread, relishing the feel of it tearing apart between her fingers, and took a ravenous bite.

Chewing slowly as she pondered over the prospect of settling down permanently in this ramshackle town. How long had it been since she'd last enjoyed the simple comforts of a true home? Fifteen years? No... closer to twenty.

She was just a girl, no more than 16, when the war came rampaging through her corner of the Kingdoms. Back then, she was just an apprentice healer in her village's small clinic, her biggest concerns being which herbs needed harvesting or which boy's clumsy courting she'd entertain…

But then The War came - and luxuries like home became something only the southernmost regions could entertain.

Aleria finished the last few morsels of bread, swiping up the crumbs with her finger before popping it into her mouth. Only the broth remained, the rich aroma teasing her senses. Grasping the bowl in both hands, she raised it to her lips and drank deeply, letting the warm, liquid slide down her throat in long gulps.

When the bowl was drained, she set it back on the tray with a contented sigh. Already, she could feel the nourishment reviving her tired body and clearing the cobwebs from her mind. Aleria stood and crossed to where her travel pack lay open on the floor.

She tugged on a pair of soft doeskin breeches first, sliding the tight fabric up over her calves and hips before lacing the front. Next came a simple blouse, and bodice as she slipped them over her head and down her torso, her fingers deftly pulling the strings tight.

Sitting back down on the edge of the bed, she pulled on the sturdy leather boots, expertly weaving the crisscrossing laces up over the arches. Finally, she retrieved a leather cord from her pack and swiftly bound her long auburn tresses up into a practical bun resting at the nape of her neck.

A few stray wisps slipped free to frame her face, but she ignored them for now. Aleria rose to her feet, squaring her shoulders. The clinic awaited, as did her new role within this worn community. It was time to get to work.

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The morning passed quickly as Aleria and Haddy spent it organising and taking stock of what supplies would be needed to get the clinic functional again. The three soldiers Bernard had sent busied themselves with cleaning the facility with military efficiency.

Aleria marvelled at their diligence. Not a single corner or surface was left untouched as they scoured away years of built-up grime and dust. Rags were wrung out repeatedly in buckets of steaming water until the liquid turned an opaque, murky grey. Still, the soldiers persisted, trading off rags and replenishing the water as needed without a word of complaint.

Whatever Bernard had said to them clearly resonated. Aleria could only imagine the tone he'd adopted - that unmistakable edge of stern authority… and threats, there were probably threats…

Aleria moved from shelf to shelf, taking meticulous inventory of the clinic's dwindling supplies with Haddy's help.

"We'll need more bandages for certain," the younger woman muttered, making a note on the parchment balanced precariously on her hip. "And antiseptic tonics."

Aleria nodded absently, already moving on to the next set of half-empty jars lining the shelves. Her fingers danced over the cracked stoneware, mentally cataloguing what would need restocking. Fortunately, Perchfoot had kept a decent supply of poultices and salves. Aleria's own magics had no need for such things, but the traditional medicines and treatments would be good to have to aid those she could not tend to herself.

"Do you think we have enough needle and thread here for stitching wounds?" Haddy's voice cut through her musings. "I'd hate for you to be caught short when some poor soul comes stumbling through those doors."

Aleria nodded, brushing an errant lock of auburn hair from her eyes as she surveyed the supplies once more. "The list should suffice for our immediate needs. We'll take stock again once the clinic is fully operational."

Though she kept her tone even, inwardly Aleria's stomach twisted into anxious knots. How exactly were they going to pay for everything they required? She had coin saved from odd jobs during her travels. She supposed that for now it would suffice, but those funds were dwindling rapidly. Certainly, it was not enough to fully restock and maintain a place like this for long.

And then there was the matter of compensating Haddy for her assistance. The younger woman's knowledge would prove invaluable, but Aleria had no means to pay her a proper wage.

She opened her mouth, intending to voice her concerns to Haddy, when the sound of footsteps in the doorway drew her attention. Bernard strode into the supply room, ducking slightly to avoid the low-hanging lintel.

"Looks like you two have been making good progress in here," he remarked, squinting around at the newly cleaned space approvingly.

Aleria inclined her head. "The soldiers you sent have been immensely helpful in restoring some order."

Bernard grunted. "Aye, they're a good lot. Hardworkin' and loyal." His gaze slid to the parchment clutched in Haddy's hands. "I trust you're taking stock of what's needed?"

"We are," Aleria confirmed with a nod. "Though I must admit, I'm uncertain how we'll manage to pay for—"

"That part's covered," Bernard said with a dismissive wave of his calloused hand. "Way I see it, this clinic is a necessity for the town. Folks need a place to get patched up when things go sideways. It'll be budgeted for, same as the garrison's supplies an' upkeep."

Aleria felt her shoulders sag with relief. "That's... very generous of you, Bernard."

The former soldier's expression softened briefly. "You did us all a great service showin' up here, 'Ria." He cleared his throat gruffly. "Way I figure it, I owe you a debt. Least I can do is make sure you're fairly compensated for your work here an' given enough to keep your staff paid as well."

Bernard reached into the folds of his worn cloak and produced a hefty leather coin purse. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed it to Haddy, who caught it deftly despite her surprised expression.

"That should hopefully cover the essentials for gettin' this place back in workin' order," Bernard said gruffly. "And if there's anythin' left over after that, just squirrel it away for when you need to restock."

Haddy bobbed her head enthusiastically, clutching the coin purse to her chest. "Thank you, m'lord! I'll see that every copper is well spent, you can count on me."

Her eyes shone with gratitude as she turned to Aleria. "I'll take the list to the market straight away and gather what we need." She tucked the parchment carefully into her apron pocket. "If you'll excuse me?"

Without waiting for a response, Haddy scurried from the room, her footsteps fading rapidly down the corridor. Aleria felt the corners of her mouth quirk upwards in a faint smile as she shook her head.

"Eager one, that girl," Bernard remarked, his own lips twitching with amusement. "You'll have your hands full keeping up with her."

Aleria arched an eyebrow at her old friend. "Are you quite certain giving her free rein with your coin is wise?" She kept her tone light, teasing. "For all you know, she could be lining a nest for herself somewhere rather than procuring necessities."

Bernard snorted loudly. "Haddy's the one who really ran this place back when Perchfoot was around, 'Ria. She's got more integrity in her little finger than most the men in my garrison."

Aleria couldn't help but laugh at Bernard's staunch defence of Haddy's character. "If the men in your garrison are anything like the louts we served with during the war, I'd wager a goat would have more integrity than the lot of them combined."

She shook her head in mock exasperation, though her eyes danced with mirth. "Still, I suppose I should give the girl the benefit of the doubt. She hasn't done anything thus far to make me question her trustworthiness."

Bernard harrumphed loudly, folding his arms across his broad chest. The motion made the faded fabric of his cloak strain against the swell of his shoulders.

Bernard held Aleria's gaze steadily, his weathered features set in an expression of earnest concern. "I meant what I said, 'Ria. If there's anythin' else you need to get this place shipshape, you've only to ask."

Aleria felt a pang of gratitude towards her old friend. After everything they had endured together during the war, she shouldn't have doubted his sincerity. Bernard had always been gruff around the edges, but his loyalty to those he deemed worthy of it was unshakable.

"You've already done more than enough by providing the funds to restock our supplies," she assured him. A teasing lilt crept into her voice as she arched an eyebrow. "And don't you have a town to attend to, Mayor Blackfist? Surely the bureaucracy is calling for your attention."

Bernard snorted loudly, waving a dismissive hand. "Last Gate can do without me sticking' my nose in official matters for a day." His expression soured briefly. "Truthfully, all the parchmentwork and form signin' can get rather tiresome after a while."

If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

Aleria couldn't stifle the soft chuckle that bubbled up from her throat. "Is that your roundabout way of admitting you'd rather be anywhere else than cooped up in that dingy office? Come grab this crate, if you insist…"

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Aleria surveyed the chaotic scene before her with a mixture of dismay and resignation. It seemed word of the clinic's reopening had spread like wildfire through the streets of Last Gate, when Haddy went to market procuring supplies.

The small waiting area was packed to overflowing with people of all ages and walks of life, each one clutching an injury or ailment in desperate need of treatment. A cacophony of coughing, groaning, and muffled sobbing filled the cramped space. The air was thick with the mingled scents of sweat, unwashed bodies, and sickness.

Several more hopeful patients loitered just outside the clinic's entrance, unwilling to be deterred by the throngs already waiting within. A young mother cradled a feverish infant to her breast, rocking back and forth anxiously. An elderly man leaned heavily on a gnarled walking stick, his rheumy eyes fixed on the doorway with single-minded intensity.

Aleria's gaze swept over the press of bodies, her healer's instincts already cataloguing the most dire cases. The malnourished child huddled in a tattered shawl, the labourer whose face was awash with the telltale crimson streaks of blood-poisoning, the crone wracked with fits of violent coughing...

She turned to Bernard, raising her voice to be heard over the din. "We'll need to establish some order, and quickly. At this rate, we'll be overrun before we've even properly opened our doors."

Bernard caught her eye and gave a curt nod of understanding. He barked a rapid series of orders, and his three soldiers materialised from the crowd to flank him.

"You heard the lady!" Bernard's gruff bellow cut through the clamour, causing the mass of people to fall momentarily silent. "We're institutin' triage procedures. Emergency cases only until further notice!"

He gestured sharply to the waiting throng. "If your injury or illness is chronic 'er not in immediate need, clear out an' return on the morrow. We'll re-evaluate the situation then."

A sullen muttering rose up, but Aleria felt a fleeting sense of relief as the soldiers began efficiently separating the masses into two distinct groups. Perhaps they could bring some semblance of order...

Aleria turned to Haddy and placed a reassuring hand on the younger woman's shoulder. "We'll need to triage the most urgent cases first," she said, her voice level despite the pandemonium swirling around them. "Once the soldiers have separated them, direct the parties in order of immediate need."

Haddy's cheery demeanour hardened into a businesslike mask of efficiency. She gave a crisp nod of understanding. "Aye, I'm on it."

Confident that Haddy and Bernard had the waiting area well in hand, Aleria shifted her focus to a young dwarven man supported between two of his kin. What little could be seen of his face beneath hair and beard was pale and sheened with sweat, jaw clenched against the agony of what was clearly a badly broken leg. The limb hung at an unnatural angle, the fabric of his breeches darkly stained.

"You two, bring him this way." Aleria gestured for them to follow, already turning on her heel and striding down the narrow corridor towards the treatment rooms. She pushed open the door to the nearest one, ushering the dwarves inside. "Get him up on that gurney."

The dwarves manhandled their companion onto the narrow pallet with surprising gentleness despite their bulky frames. The injured dwarf's breath escaped in a shuddering hiss of mingled relief and residual pain as he was finally allowed to lie flat.

Aleria wasted no time in rolling up her sleeves, revealing the corded muscle of her forearms. She flexed her fingers, feeling the familiar tingle of mana thrumming beneath her skin in response to her silent summons.

Aleria gently rolled up the man's pant leg, revealing a gruesome fracture. The jagged edge of bone protruded obscenely through the dwarf's sweat-sheened skin, crusted with dried blood. She grimaced inwardly at the sight, schooling her features to remain impassive.

"Must've been one hell of a blow to break dwarven bone this badly," she commented, unable to completely mask the note of grudging respect in her tone.

The eldest of the three dwarves - undoubtedly the father from his protective hovering - gave a solemn nod of confirmation. His expression was grim, the creases in his weathered face deepening.

"Aye, a nasty fall from a fair height, that," he rumbled, the low timbre of his voice resonant. "We were framin' up a new buildin' site on the east side o' town. Ceidin' here was workin' the second level when a loose board gave way beneath his boots."

Aleria felt a pang of empathy for the unfortunate dwarf - Ceidin, his father had called him. Workplace accidents were a common occurrence, especially in the more physically demanding trades. The pain he must be enduring...

"How long ago did this happen?" she asked briskly, already gathering her focus. The familiar thrum of mana hummed beneath her skin, awaiting her call.

"No more'n an hour past," Ceidin's father supplied. "We brung 'im straight here soon as we could fashion a bindin' splint."

Aleria's instincts took over as she assessed the severity of Ceidin's injury. Broken bones were an all too familiar sight after her time tending to the grievously wounded on the battlefields.

"This is going to be unpleasant," she said flatly, holding the dwarf's pained gaze. "I'll need you to bite down on this."

She plucked a strip of leather from a nearby tray of supplies and proffered it to Ceidin. The dwarf's ruddy complexion had taken on an ashen cast, but he accepted the makeshift bite guard without protest, jaw clenching around it.

Aleria turned her attention to the other two dwarves hovering anxiously nearby. "You two need to hold him steady. No matter how he may thrash or beg for mercy, do not let him move that leg until I'm finished."

The pair exchanged an apprehensive glance but obediently moved to pin Ceidin's shoulders and uninjured leg to the gurney.

"Ready?" she asked.

The injured dwarf's eyes went wide with sudden trepidation, but he gave a minute nod of resigned understanding.

Aleria felt a fleeting stab of remorse for the agony she was about to inflict upon the poor man. But it was a necessary cruelty - she couldn't properly heal the bone until the jagged edges were realigned.

Drawing a steadying breath, she firmly grasped Ceidin's calf and thigh, steeling herself. In one deft, practised motion, she jerked the limb back into its proper alignment with an audible crunch of bone grinding against bone.

Ceidin arched off the gurney with an agonised scream that was mercifully muffled by the leather strap clenched between his teeth. The other dwarves grunted with the effort of holding him down as he bucked and convulsed.

Aleria didn't allow herself to be deterred. Her hands were already aglow with the telltale emerald shimmer of healing magic as she cradled the dwarf's mangled leg with surprising tenderness. She reached out with her magic, delving through torn flesh and shattered bone to knit the damage back together from the inside out.

It was delicate work, coaxing the intricate latticework of fractured bones to re-knit while simultaneously repairing the shredded muscle and ruptured veins surrounding them.

Gradually, Ceidin's thrashing subsided into small, whimpers as her magic took merciful hold. The furrows of pain etched into his brow began to ease as her ministrations dulled the worst of his agony to a gentle ache.

Only once she was certain the break had re-knitted properly did Aleria allow the verdant radiance enveloping her hands to slowly fade and wink out. She let out a long, slow exhalation, rolling her shoulders to alleviate the lingering tingle of mana prickling along her nerves.

"Barin's beard, lass," the elder dwarf rumbled, awe tinged with gratitude colouring his gruff tones. "You've well and truly worked a miracle here today."

He extended a hand, calloused palm engulfing Aleria's in a firm shake. "Oriv StoneDelver, at your service. An' this stubborn son o' mine is Ceidin."

Ceidin managed a weary nod of greeting, the simple motion still tinged with residual discomfort. The colour had returned to his complexion, though his brow remained lightly sheened with sweat.

"A break like that could've crippled the lad permanently if not properly tended," Oriv continued gravely. "Cost him his livelihood on the construction sites, most like."

He shook his head slowly, expression solemn. "We owe you a debt that canna’ be easily repaid, Mistress...?"

"Just Aleria will suffice," she replied, returning the dwarf's firm handshake. Humility warred with a faint sense of pride at having her skills acknowledged. "I was merely doing what I'm here to do."

Oriv's bushy brows drew together in a sceptical frown. "Don't go sellin' yourself short, lass. The way you went wagging your fingers an' mendin' flesh an' bone alike?" He shook his head again, more emphatically this time. "That's a rare talent, make no mistake. You've a gift for the healin' arts, one I'd not have thought to find even in the grandest cities of the dwarven realm."

Aleria felt a flush of warmth tinge her cheeks at such high praise. She cleared her throat, suddenly self-conscious. "You're most kind, Master Stonedelver. But I assure you, I've merely had... extensive practice mending such wounds in my time.

"In any event, Ceidin will need to keep off that leg for a few days to allow the new bone to fully set and knit properly," she said, tone brisk and all-business once more. "After that, start him on some light exercises to rebuild strength and flexibility. But nothing too strenuous until the limb has had a chance to heal completely."

She levelled Ceidin with a pointed look, one corner of her mouth quirking upwards in a wry half-smile. "No going straight back to hauling heavy lumber about, understand? You'll undo all my hard work and land yourself right back here."

Ceidin returned her look with a chagrined one of his own, his shoulders lifting in a small shrug. "Aye, I'll mind your advice to the letter. You've my word on that, Mistress Healer."

Oriv clapped his son lightly on the arm, pride and gratitude mingling in his expression as he regarded Aleria once more.

"Should you ever require a stout pair o' hands to patch up this place, you've only to give the word," he offered, gesturing to indicate himself and the other dwarves. "After a bit o' care like what you've shown here today, it's the least we can offer in return."

Aleria offered the dwarves a gracious smile as she excused herself. "Thank you, Master Stonedelver. I may well take you up on that generous offer once we've got this place properly on its feet again."

Leaving the dwarves to help Ceidin down from the gurney, Aleria slipped back out into the corridor. The cacophony of noise from the waiting area washed over her anew as she approached - a steady undercurrent of pained groans and muffled sobs punctuated by the occasional child's wail.

She steeled herself with a deep, steadying breath before pushing open the door. The scene that greeted her was one of barely controlled chaos. Despite Bernard's efforts, the triage lines had devolved into an unruly jumble of bodies, each person jostling for a better position.

Haddy was doing her level best to maintain some semblance of order, her round face flushed and tendrils of hair escaping her hasty bun as she flitted from one patient to the next. She caught Aleria's eye and gestured helplessly.

"I've got the most dire cases separated to the best of my ability," she called out, raising her voice to be heard over the din. "But folk are getting restless and..."

She trailed off as a commotion near the front of the line drew both their attention. A well-dressed nobleman in finely-tailored garments was attempting to shove his way past the other waiting patients, all but shouldering them aside with an indignant huff.

"This is an outrage!" he blustered, pale face mottling an angry crimson as he fought against the tide of bodies barring his way. "I absolutely refuse to be made to wait any longer like some common beggar!"

Aleria felt her jaw tighten with barely-restrained irritation. She'd recognize that overstuffed sense of entitlement anywhere - it was the same arrogant condescension that had so frequently accompanied the nobility and wealthy elite she'd encountered during the war. The very same supercilious airs that would see the poor and downtrodden trampled underfoot without a second thought.

It took every ounce of willpower not to allow her irritation to bleed through into her expression as she shouldered her way through the press of people. Presenting a serene, unruffled front was key - the last thing this situation needed was to escalate further.

"You there!" the nobleman blustered upon catching sight of her, stabbing an accusatory finger in her direction. "This sorting of patients is simply unacceptable. I demand you see to me at once!"

Aleria lifted a single, imperious brow as she drew to a halt before him, squaring her shoulders. Despite the man's considerable girth and embroidered finery, she refused to be cowed or intimidated.

"And what seems to be the nature of your ailment, sir?" she asked, pitching her tone to one of cool detachment.

The nobleman spluttered, his already florid complexion darkening further. "Well, I... that is..." He trailed off, grasping for a justification even as Aleria's steady gaze bored into him.

Finally, he straightened his shoulders with a haughty sniff. "A most terrible case of the grippe, that's what. Simply dreadful. I can scarcely draw a full breath without being set upon by a fit of the most miserable coughing."

Aleria's eyes narrowed imperceptibly as she studied him. His red cheeks and laboured breathing could just as easily be attributed to the exertions of his tantrum - she saw no other outward signs of true illness. Certainly nothing to warrant being seen ahead of the myriad other, more dire cases currently awaiting her attention.

"I see," she said at length, keeping her tone infuriatingly neutral. "Well then, I'm afraid you'll simply have to take your place in line with the other patients, sir. Cases are being evaluated by severity and urgency, not status or coin purse."

The nobleman's eyes bulged with indignation at Aleria's calm dismissal. "Do you have any idea who I am, woman?" he sputtered, puce splotches rising high on his jowled cheeks.

Aleria noted one of Bernard's men shouldering his way through the throng, no doubt alerted by the commotion and aiming to intervene. She lifted one hand in a subtle gesture, warding the man off before he could escalate the situation further.

Keeping her gaze levelly fixed on the irate nobleman, she replied in an even tone, "No, I'm afraid I don't know who you are. Nor do I particularly care."

She allowed a faint note of challenge to bleed into her words as she continued, "You can either wait your turn in line like everyone else, or feel free to take your coughing fit and arrogant bluster back out those doors. Your choice."

The nobleman's already crimson face darkened to purple at Aleria's insolent dismissal. Clearly not one used to being talked down to, he raised a meaty hand with the intent of striking her.

"How dare you address me in such a fashion, you impudent bitch!" he snarled, the words wheezing from between clenched teeth.

Aleria didn't so much as flinch. In one fluid motion, her hand shot out to clamp around the man's up-raised wrist with surprising strength. She didn't tighten her grip - not yet - but the threat of force was implicit in her easy restraint.

The nobleman's outrage faltered, eyes widening in sudden uncertainty as he found himself locked in her vice-like grasp. He tugged fruitlessly against her iron grip, his expression rapidly shifting from indignation to dawning unease.

With a subtle twist of her wrist, Aleria deftly pivoted the man's arm, applying just enough torque to force him down to one knee with a grunt of effort. All without the slightest strain marring her placid features.

The gathered crowd fell abruptly silent, the pained groans and restless shuffling stilled as every eye turned towards the spectacle. Even Bernard's soldier seemed taken aback by the deft manoeuvre, holding his position with an expression of bemused uncertainty.

Aleria held the nobleman's startled gaze for a long moment, allowing the unspoken warning to sink in. Then, slowly, she released his wrist and took a measured step back.

"I believe we've reached an understanding," she said, her tone cool and even once more. She lifted her gaze to the dumbstruck soldier, "Please remove this man and instruct him not to come back until he's learned some humility."

The soldier nodded, breaking from his stunned stare at Aleria's command, gripping the sputtering nobleman firmly by the elbow and hauling him to his feet. The man's outrage had been replaced by a sullen, red-faced humiliation as he allowed himself to be frogmarched towards the exit.

A heavy silence hung over the waiting room in the wake of the confrontation, the gathered patients gaping in stunned disbelief. It was Bernard's gruff chuckle that finally broke the stillness.

"Well now, 'Ria," he drawled, leaning against the doorframe with arms crossed over his broad chest. "You certainly have a way of makin' friends 'er you go, don't ye'?"

Aleria exhaled a long, slow breath, rolling the lingering tension from her shoulders as she turned to face the crowd and blowing an errant strand of hair from her face. She could feel the weight of their stares pressing in on her, a mixture of awe and trepidation writ across their expressions.

"Next patient, please…"