The first thing to break through her unconscious state was the heat. It was sweltering, leaving her drenched in sweat. Rough snoring followed shortly after. Farha cracked her eyes open and was met with a smudged piece of canvas. Such a combination of unusual stimuli created an altogether disorienting environment. Where was she? Had she fallen asleep in one of the storage rooms again? Those thoughts took far longer to form than she cared to admit. The next was far quicker. Why am I sleeping on rocks?

She rolled over, wincing. A familiar large figure lay mere feet away, dead asleep. She was inside some sort of tent? It made zero sense. Gradually, flashes of the night came back. It was like a dream. But no, her hands were stained with blood, as was Edgar's shirt. She shook her head in disbelief. Then they had made it to...somewhere. Ahven! Where was he? Certainly not hiding under the sacks tossed in the corner. Wait, was he even alive? Now she was awake.

Silently as possible, she slipped out from under a frayed blanket and maneuvered towards the light streaming through the doorway. Drawing the flaps apart, the harsh light triggered a previously dormant headache. She grimaced at her old enemy but was quickly distracted by the hordes of people milling about. At first glance, each one was dressed identically. Basic brown leather armor, sword or quiver at their side, tanned skin. However, there was more variation to be noticed, if only you looked closely. Some armor was stained and cracked, a few swords even carried a layer of rust. However, it was difficult to tell the rust from the dirt. Besides, the vast majority were sheathed.

With a pang, the thought of Ahven again rose to the forefront. She turned back to Edgar...should she wake him? Surely he would know. But he was sleeping, so that meant Ahven was fine. Or that he wasn't? He did deserve to rest after such a flight down the mountain. Another loud snore and she made her decision.

Outside the tent, the heat was only a shade less oppressive. She twisted her back around a nasty kink, eyes scanning the unfamiliar environment. Rows upon rows of identical tents to the one behind her stretched out in both directions. She glanced up at the sun, midafternoon? Nearby, another tent was propped open to catch what little breeze there was. Sitting in that tiny triangle of shade were three people, two men and a woman, who looked reasonably approachable. Farha marched over, head still pounding.

"Hello, do any of you know where the injured man who came with me is?"

The man furthest to her left leaned forward and squinted against the sun. He scratched at his unkempt beard.

"Who did you murder little lass? A jilted lover?"

"Oh, she's far too young for that. Probably tried to gut herself to escape this miserable camp."

"Ah, you're right Pelomna, pity she failed."

"Like you would do any better."

"Cook one more meal for us and I'll be forced to. My stomach would thank me for the mercy."

Farha stood in shock at the harshest exchange she had ever witnessed. Also at the state of her clothing. Predatory grins broke out at her reaction, all three now leaning forward.

"Looks like we got a fresh one."

"Almost looks like a noble's tunic under all that blood."

The man in the middle spit to his left forcing Pelomna to dodge the projectile.

"Nobles...I hate 'em worse'n Captain strutting by for weekly 'spections."

"You think we like 'em any better? Shut up and keep your phlegm to yourself"

"Oooh, who's bed did you have to share to learn that one?"

Farha's shock continued but it did clear the last of the cobwebs from her mind. With the clarity, Ahven's plight became her sole focus. She had to find him.

"Excuse me! My trainer was injured and I'm trying to find-"

"Ha, see? She's got a trainer. Go eat a bulb girl. Or finish what you started." Beard gestured to her ruined clothing. "We ain't your lackeys so run crying to someone else."

A sinister light gleamed in the center man's eye.

"In fact, four tents down and three over will have someone who can help. Look for a tall man with a horrible haircut."

"But that's Tomnthy's tent."

"Shut up you idiot."

"Call me an idiot will you? If the blasted sun weren't so hot I'd string you up for that."

"Only thing you could string is an instrument."

"What kinda insult is that? I'll have you know I once-"

The bickering faded into the background as Farha gave up and walked away; not towards the aforementioned tent. Instead, she scanned each and every one as she walked by. Many contained similar collections of reprobates hiding in their shade. She overheard several conversations that left her ears burning, further encouraging her to find someone, anyone, with a shred of respectability. At least one person had to know where Ahven was.

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A particularly loud jeer at the state of her choice of adornment diverted her singlemindedness. Would anyone take her seriously with this much dirt and blood clinging to her? Beyond the tents, she could see a wall. It was nothing like the stout stone walls of home, these were just rough logs, stood in a row. They were a clear landmark to aim for. Farha made her way to the nearest one and followed its curve until she arrived at the gate.

It could be the same one from the night prior, or maybe they all looked as similar as the people walking through them. For her purposes, it didn't matter in the slightest. She held her breath as she passed between the guards standing at attention, waiting for them to call out a challenge. Beyond a stern look at the dried blood, they ignored her presence.

Outside, she could finally feel a breeze. It was dreadfully slight but she'd take anything at this point. Small rolling hills blended into dense forests on all sides, a dusty road the only irregularity. That was all she had time to observe as the urgency of Ahven's unknown condition continued to grow. Farha scanned the area frantically. A camp this size must have water nearby. Ah! A line of people marching back to the camp, turning the dust to mud as they walked. The amount of water dripping from their clothing was an encouraging sign.

She traced back their steps and rushed to clear a small rise. There on the other side was a lazy stream meandering between two ridges. It was covered in a swarm of activity reminding Farha of a certain hive of bees that 'happened' to have a rock thrown at it. She jogged down the incline and splashed into the shallow water. Shuddering at the contaminated liquid, there were hundreds of people upstream, she held her nose and plunged fully in. A bit of scrubbing at her hands and arms, and she was running back up the hill.

This time, the guards didn't glance her way once. Surely they would know what happened.

"Excuse me...uh...sir. Do you know where the injured man who came through here last night is?"

His eyes flicked to her, then back to their constant searching.

"What? I don't recall any...oh, I think there was a commotion. Last shift mentioned something about it. Why do you ask?"

"I'm looking for the injured one. Do you know if he's alright?"

"Sorry, can't help you there...you'll have to check at the infirmary."

"And where is that...exactly?"

The guard gestured off into the distance.

"Over there, can't miss it."

"Oh. Alright. Thank you?"

He didn't respond.

Farha set her course, as best she could with the ambiguous heading, and kept a sharp lookout for anything resembling an infirmary. A couple hundred steps later...the guard was right. She really couldn't miss it. Between the countless rows of tents was an actual building. It leaned to one side a bit too much for her tastes but it was a structure. Rough posts and beams supported a thatched roof that extended out above a few people wandering about the entrance.

She marched right up to the door and ducked inside. Her progress was immediately halted.

"What ails you child?"

The cleanest person she had seen so far stood before Farha, a patent expression across an equally pleasant face.

"The man. The injured one...I need to see him. Is he alright? Where is he?"

"Slow down, take a breath. Are you hurt in any way?"

"No...no I just want to see my trainer, Ahven. Is he here?"

"Oh, the one from last night. Yes, he is here, but I'm afraid you can't visit him. It's much too gruesome for little girls."

"I'm not a...I was with him in the wagon. I tended the wound through the whole night."

Surprise flashed across the nurse's face. With practiced eyes, she spotted the flecks of blood still evident in Farha's hair. With a resigned nod, she gestured for Farha to follow.

"In that case, well done. You can see him but I believe he's still resting."

She led the way deeper into the dim interior. At least the heat wasn't quite so bad in here. Why was it cooler in here anyway?

"Is he okay though? The monster sliced his whole side open."

"I'm well aware." Her flat tone dampened Farha's inquisition. "I've seen worse but it's still not good. We aren't completely sure he will recover."

The nurse stopped in front of the 'door'. She rested a hand on the thin cloth and turned towards Farha.

"Which is why you must not disturb him. Be as silent as you can. I'll come back for you in a few minutes."

With a gentle hand on her back, Farha was guided into the room, the cloth dropping back down behind her. There she stood, she couldn't say for how long. The room was sparse. A rough wooden chair sat next to a low table in one corner. The other was filled with the bed. Ahven looked dead. Had the nurse lied to her? A minuscule rise of his chest! But he was so pale.

That's when the guilt hit Farha, full force. She padded over to the chair on shaky legs and perched herself on the edge. This was all her fault. Running over the fight in her head, she went through every possible variation. So many ended without injury. All she had to do was attack, move, do anything. Disgusting! How dare she let fear take control? She felt sick.

Turning away, she couldn't bear to look at the too-still Ahven, she traced the cracks in the wall with her eyes. The knots glared back at her in judgment. All of her training and practice, for what? A single beast defeating her without landing a strike? Deplorable, absolutely reprehensible. Her eyes welled up and spilled over, sending silent tears running down her dusty face.

She imagined what Ahven would say…his instruction, occasional harsh correction. Would he ever draw a sword again? Would he walk again or even survive? This was her fault, no one else could be blamed. If only the beast were here now...she would stab it through its evil heart.

Or would she just fail again?

This was not sustainable. There was too much guilt and regret. She couldn't go on like this. Searching her heart, there were few options. Something had to change, no matter the cost. It was too much. She found a corner of her heart and grasped it. It hurt. The pain was even worse knowing what this would cause, but the price wasn't too high. With a metaphorical yell, but very real agony, she ripped it free and let it drop away.

Farha stood again, shoulders lighter, yet with heavy feet. She wiped away the frivolous tears and stepped to the entrance. There she paused, there was still a chance to change her mind. No, it was too much. She crossed the threshold, the curtain rippling behind her. The room was fully silent once more. Broken only by the faint whisper of breath from the man on the bed.