It was nearly dawn by the time the first of the wagons pulled up in front of Doctor Paicus’ clinic, though ‘pulled up' might not have been the correct word. The first Centaur ran through the picket fence, huffing and puffing, completely blown out. He collapsed on the lawn, the wagon pulling after him a few more feet as his momentum slowed to a halt. The rest of the wagons similarly pulled up with a crash, their drivers sagging in their traces. A few windows opened up and down the street as the neighbors gazed out curiously, until finally the front door opened and a huge head poked out.
“Oh dear!” Paicus said. He ducked back inside and everyone could hear him yelling. “William! Pol! Get the beds ready! It’s an early load!” The door banged open and Paicus bustled out, arms overflowing with bandages and wrappings, his jacket pockets bulging, and a stethoscope hanging off his neck. He rushed over to the Firstborn who were starting to pile out of the wagon. “Someone get these Centaurs some water! There’s a trough by the corner.” He stopped a pair carrying a comatose Elf and bent over him quickly. “Wait! Let me see him!” He bent low, inspecting him closely, then gestured to the lawn.
“Quickly, place him there.” He stood up and waved his hands. “Place all wounded on the lawn. William, Pol!” he called, seeing them appear in the doorway. “Set up a triage station here: send the most serious cases inside!” They nodded and began to scramble as the Firstborn began to unload patient after patient onto the lawn.
Paicus watched them for a moment, his eye narrowing as he cataloged the various injuries he was seeing, till something he saw made him turn abruptly. “Maine? Maine! What are you doing here?!” He rushed through the crowd to where Maine and Thumbell were helping unload Dandy. The doctor blanched as he saw the boy and he swiftly took over, lifting him out and carrying him to the lawn. He laid him down gently and started to check him, peeling back one of his eyelids, while Dandy continued to groan. “What happened?” Paicus asked.
Maine stood nearby, tugging nervously on the strap of her bag. “We were going after the Firstborn…”
The doctor gave a great sigh. “Oh course you were…” He started to probe at the boy’s ribs, causing Dandy to wince suddenly. Maine flinched as she watched
“Is he going to be okay?” she asked.
Paicus said nothing at first, instead removing a small bottle of orange paste from his pocket. He lifted up the boy’s shirt, exposing deep red welts in his side that were already starting to darken and bruise. Maine sucked her breath in as she saw the extent of the damage. Paicus dipped one finger in the paste and started to draw a sigil over his chest, making sure to encircle the largest cluster of bruises. He lifted his hand and tensed, and Maine felt the tingle of magic on her skin.
The orange paste seemed to brighten and then smoke, sinking into Dandy’s skin. The welts immediately began to contract and fade, until they looked to be weeks old in a matter of moments. Doctor Paicus gave a nod and stood up.
“He’ll be fine,” he said, and Maine gave a sigh of relief. “He’s been knocked about a bit and his ribs are bruised, but this one’s as hardy as a weed.” He looked around the yard. “Wish I could say the same for the rest.”
William and Pol were scrambling around the grass, running from patient to patient. Some they sent inside after but a glance, others they left lying there, after giving terse instructions to the other Firstborn gathered around.
Paicus started to join them, pointing his finger at Maine. “You and I are going to have a long conversation with your brother,” he warned her. Pol called anxiously to him and hurried over. “Don’t you dare go anywhere in the meantime, Maine!”
She frowned, folding her arms. “I wasn’t planning on it!” she yelled back, but he was too preoccupied with the next patient to hear, so it didn’t really make her feel any better. She waited, kicking at the dirt as she stood by Dandy. He seemed to have slipped into a doze, but at least he was resting peacefully now. The bruises on his chest continued to fade, but she looked nervously at his split lip and some abrasions by his eye. “Sorry,” she muttered to him, though she knew he couldn’t hear her.
“Get your damn hands off me!” Marsha cried, making Maine jump. An unlucky group of Firstborn were trying to lift her out of the wagon without much success. Dakota, still in his dog form, ran barking around the wagon excitedly. One of the Firstborn jostled her against the side and she snarled, lashing out with a kick and sending him tumbling. The other Firstborn drew back quickly. Even Dakota crouched down, tail between his legs.
Marsha snarled at them all, one arm still wrapped around her stomach, pressing a blood-stained cloth to her gut. “Leave me in the wagons! I’ll just die here or get better on my own!”
“No you won’t!” Celeste told her, climbing up into the wagon herself. She took hold of Marsha’s shoulders, waving for more to come. After a moment’s hesitation, they scrambled forwards, carrying Marsha, kicking and screaming, towards the yard.
William rushed forwards to meet them, risking life and limb to get close. He pulled up the cloth around her midsection, ducking a punch as he did so, and blanched. “Bring her inside, immediately!”
“Oh don’t let the Human tend to me!” Marsha complained. “At least let the bird do it!”
“I assure you, madam, I’m quite capable!” William told her, trailing after. He turned to Paicus. “It’s a gunshot, sir! Looks to be bad; the bullet’s still inside.” His face then brightened up momentarily. “Does this mean we can use the Expander again?” he asked excitedly.
Marsha stopped thrashing long enough to ask, “The what?”
Paicus looked up briefly from his latest patient. “Not with a gunshot wound, you’ll just end up tearing the hole wider. Oh! But do have Pol show you how to use the Mending Needles,” he added. “She’s got quite the talent for sewing, and crochet!”
Marsha rolled her eyes, her going gray. She saw Maine watching nervously, and she managed a grin. “Don’t worry, Maierson! No matter what they do to me, I’ll live. I’ve got Giant blood in me, remember!?”
They carried her inside and the door swung shut with a bang, leaving Maine standing outside. She turned slowly, looking out over the yard. The Firstborn lay in droves, many still groaning and injured. Some of the more stable members, like Thumbell or Vaux were fetching water or helping to tend with the wounded; even Lichi, her head still missing several chunks, was hard at work. Others though…
Some lay covered, jackets or rags over their faces. Others just gazed, glassy-eyed towards the morning sky. Maine jerked her eyes away from them quickly, looking automatically towards Uncle Paicus. She found him kneeling by a young Elf, gasping weakly for breath. Gently, Paicus pried the boy’s bloodstained hands away from his chest, then after a moment he put them back. He was young, she thought, barely older than herself probably. The boy gasped, choking, then tried once, twice more, and then fell back and was still. His Glammour began to dissolve then, crumbling like ash. Scars and pockmarks began to appear on his skin, and she saw that both of his ears had been trimmed, the long ends hacked away in someone’s cruel idea of a joke. She turned her face away as Dakota sat back on his haunches, giving a long howl of grief.
“Perhaps you should go back home, Maine…” Paicus said softly. She shook her head at once and he sighed. “Well, then… Perhaps, you could help gather water then?”
“Okay” she said, her voice subdued.
She would never know how long she spent that morning, toting water from the nearby pump and back, helping injured Firstborn drink or wash their faces. As the morning wore on, more people started to arrive. Word traveled fast in Old Coney, and soon there were more and more hands eager to help. A pavilion was spread up over the lawn for shade, and many of the more fortunate of the Firstborn were starting to be moved, in stages to friendly houses, where they could start to recover. Maine had started her tenth trip to the pump, (or maybe her twentieth) when a familiar voice started to call for her.
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“Maine! Maine, where are you?!” It was her brother. He was walking, no - running up to the Clinic, straining to see over the crowd. She dropped her bucket. “Matthew!”
They collided with each other, her brother hugging her so fiercely that she nearly felt her ribs would break. She clung to him as well, crying. “Matthew! Matthew!”
They held each other for some time, then a voice spoke up. “Glad to see you’re still in one piece there, Ms Maierson.” It was Donovan, smiling broadly from the driver’s seat of a nearby wagon. Maine and Matthew pulled away, both a little flushed with embarrassment. They stood awkwardly apart, not looking at each other. Maine noticed that Sweet Pea stood in the back of the wagon, gazing out over the yard with flat indifference. She glanced once at Maine, and then casually looked away.
Donovan cocked his finger at Matthew. “Your brother here’s been threatening me with all manner of cruel retribution if anything should’ve come to you.” He raised his hands in apparent innocence. “Please tell him you’re alright, and that you did this all on your own with no prompting on my part.”
“Yes, I’m alright,” she nodded. “And Donovan didn’t have anything to do with it, it was all my idea.” Even though Sweet Pea was looking away, Maine could almost see her ears perk up for that part. She figured she owed her that much.
Matthew was staring at her. “What were you thinking? You could’ve gotten yourself killed! You could’ve– Dandy! Where’s Dandy?” He looked around quickly.
“He’s okay too! He just got a bit hurt and…” Her voice trailed off and she bit her lip.
Her brother’s face went hard. He grabbed hold of her arm tightly, and Maine had the sinking feeling that he wasn’t about to let go.
“You’re going to go back to the house,” he told her. She opened her mouth, but he raised his hand. “I don’t want to hear another word about it! You’re going to go back home, and I’ll take care of telling Dandy’s parents about all of this. How does that sound?”
There were nearly a dozen things she could’ve said in protest, but instead Maine let her head drop. None of them seemed right to her at the moment.
“Aww, don’t be so hard on the girl,” Donovan said, hopping down from the wagon. “You both came to me looking for the same thing, after all. If you’d been up instead of her, would you have done any different?”
“That-That’s not the point!” her brother stammered.
The big man laughed as he walked to the back of the wagon. “In any case, it’s time we got back to the docks. Just one more drop off to make.” He pulled open the back gate of the wagon and gestured to them. “He’s all yours.” Her brother moved in closer and Maine followed, peering in curiously.
It was Fengmi. He lay splayed out in the back of the wagon, naked and covered in wounds. Someone had thrown a tarp over him, but they could see the deep bruises and cuts on nearly every inch of him and the way the blood had run down his arms and legs. He lay there for a moment, looking more dead than alive, then grunted and gave a great snore. One arm came up and scratched at his chest idly, before falling back down. Maine saw the deep reddish-brown stains on his hands and shivered, remembering the roar from that great dark shape last night.
“We found him sleeping it off in an alley by Gravesend,” Donovan explained. He regarded the sleeping Marshall a little fearfully. “Truth be told, it wasn’t that hard to find him. He left quite the trail behind him. Hopefully, Trimble wasn’t counting on all of his men making it back.”
“He won’t care,” Sweet Pea remarked flatly. “He can always find more of that sort. If we really want to do something about him, we need to strike at the head.”
Donovan nodded, but his voice was firm. “That’s for the Lady to decide.” She shrugged and looked away, as if unconcerned with it all.
Maine looked up. “You went by Gravesend? How does it look? I mean, are the fires-”
“It’s bad,” he said shortly. “The fires are out now at least, but there’s been a lot of damage.” He sighed. “There’s gonna be a lot more homeless on the streets tonight.”
“We’ll help,” Matthew promised. “I’ll send a work crew over, maybe they can rig up a few shelters along the shore…”
“It’s a good start, I suppose,” Donovan shrugged. “I’ll see if the Lady can do something for them as well, while you come up with a more permanent solution. It’s your responsibility after all.”
Matthew blinked, looking slightly confused at that comment, but then Fengmi gave a great grunt and cleared his throat. His huge shoulders rolled and he turned over, scratching at his backside. As he pulled the tarp over himself, Maine saw a wide flash of pale skin, and covered her eyes. Matthew coughed and looked away.
Then there was a scramble of feet and happy barks, and the spotted hound leapt into the wagon, licking Fengmi’s face and dancing around him. Between one bark and the next, there was a shimmer, and Dakota was there, naked and leaning over, shaking him. Finally, The big man groaned and started to push himself up, blinking sleepily.
“Well good morning, your fair beasties,” Donovan saluted them. “Here, make yourselves decent!” He tossed a bag into the wagon, spilling out an assortment of pants and shirts.
Dakota smiled gratefully. “Thanks! That’s always the worst part of it, you know?” He started to root through the bag, comparing pants closely before he found one that suited him. “I spend money on nice clothes and then I end up having to leave them in an alleyway or bush. Half the time there’s not even there when I get back either!” He frowned then, studying his choice of shirts.
Fengmi wasn’t that picky. He crawled into the first pants that fit him and pulled a jacket over his shoulders, leaving his gut to hang out. He blinked, staring around. “Where are we?” he grunted. “What time is it?”
“It’s morning, and this is Doctor Paicus’ clinic,” Maine told him. He looked down at her sharply and then saw her brother. “Maierson? Both of you, eh? I thought I smelled you last night.” He shook his head as he rolled out of the wagon, standing a bit unsteadily. “Don’t know when to keep out of trouble, do you girl?”
“She did end up helping last night,” Dakota pointed out. He hopped down out of the wagon and gave her a winking grin. “We’d never have got the Firstborn out without her.”
“Whoopie for her,” he grunted sourly. He cast an eye at Donovan and Sweet Pea, giving the little girl a close look in particular. “You people,” he grumbled.
Donovan tipped his hat. “You’re welcome, by the way. We don’t usually go out of our way for you John Law types, but the Lady seemed to think it only right. Bigger fish to fry, so to speak.”
At that, Fengmi had to nod. “Speaking of which, where are the fish now?”
Donovan burst out laughing. “Well the ones that saw you are probably still running!”
“At least the ones that were faster than the others,” Sweet Pea added with a smile.
Fengmi grunted. “No wonder I’m not hungry. Did they clear out of Old Coney entirely?”
“For a few hours at least,” Donovan told him. “They crawled back into Gravesend like rats just after dawn– sorry, darling,” he said to Sweet Pea. “We couldn’t get too close, but it looks like he pulled workers right out of his factories. From the sounds coming out of Gravesend, it’s like he’s tearing the place down to its foundations. No idea what he’s looking for though.”
Fengmi and Dakota shared a quick, worried look that Donovan noticed. “Anything you’d care to share?” he asked.
“Not with you,” Fengmi said bluntly. “We’ll handle it from here.”
Donovan sighed and tipped his hat again. “Have it your own way, beasties.” He then bowed to Maine and her brother. “Farewell you two. You’re a better lot than I thought you’d be. May you always be grateful to see the Lady’s smile.” He climbed into the wagon with Sweet Pea, and started off, back towards the docks, a Gaelic song drifting after him.
Fengmi spit. “Good riddance.”
“You’re in a rare mood,” Dakota said lightly.
“It was a good fight,” he shrugged. He stared around the makeshift hospital. “Is this all the Firstborn that made it out?”
“Not sure.” He pointed towards the clinic. “Their leader got the worst of it. She’s inside.”
Matthew meanwhile was craning his head, checking out the patients worriedly. Finally, he ran up to a nearby street light and climbed up, shading his eyes to try to get a better view. “Where’s Henna?” he asked. He slid down, looking at Maine in distress. “Have you seen her? Was she hurt?”
Maine blinked. With everything that had happened last night, she’d honestly forgotten all about her. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen her at all!”
Dakota nodded. “I’ve already looked around; I couldn’t pick up her scent anywhere. If she was with them, she’s not here now.”
“Let’s go have a talk then,” Fengmi said, looking towards the clinic. “I want to hear what the Firstborn have to say for themselves.”