I was staring out of the door of the plane, looking down towards the mob of confused people and bleating goats struggling to come to terms with our pending ordeal. The sun was covered by clouds, the wind was biting cold and there had been fresh snowfall the night before, Everyone was struggling to figure out the snowshoes and cloaks our rescuers had brought. And we had already gorged ourselves on half the rations that had been brought to us.

It was nearing midday. We had wanted to leave earlier in the morning but when it comes to these matters nothing ever goes according to plan. There weren’t nearly enough goats to carry all of our luggage; much less the more unhealthy passengers. And a group of around fifty people were refusing to leave the safety of the plane even with the escort provided by Dragon’s Cleft.

A part of me agreed with them. Back in London I jogged every morning if I wasn’t on call the night before. But there is a huge difference between walking on level city streets for an hour and hiking through the wilderness for several days. Especially since the packs that stored whatever couldn’t fit on the goats were haphazardly sewn with whatever tools we could scavenge.

I was supposed to be leading our litter bearers while Jeremy, as he couldn’t walk with his disabled foot, was riding a goat and keeping track of our medical supplies. The Dragon’s Clefters had brought a few medical experts along with the expedition. Most were treating the militia who had been injured in the wyvern attack; but two were assigned to help our infirmary. The first was a young satyr woman named Eoala, She had brown fur with white patches around her eyes and she was wearing a grey tunic and white witches hat. The second was Helena, a dark skinned human priestess of Madrigal. I couldn’t understand a word of what they said. But their help the night before had been miraculous.

Helena’s magic was different to Gorn’s. Her chant sounded more like a nursery rhyme than the bardic baritone of the dwarf skald priest. And the light that streamed from her fingers came in streams of coloured thread that wove into Meacham’s body as she prayed.

Within minutes of the chant ending Meacham was on his feet and ready to return to duty. I was forced to order him to bed rest. Even if the magic healed his head trauma unconsciousness isn’t a substitute for real sleep.

She spent the next few hours treating the rest of my patients. She made sure to prioritise check ups for all the children. And when Sipho couldn’t sleep her magical lullaby knocked him out within minutes.

Eoala’s assistance was more subtle. She gave some sort of draught to several patients with diarrhoea that cleared up within moments. And her herbal tea was much more effective than any anti anxiety medication I have heard of. After one sip I felt completely relaxed. And when Melissa had a tea break she noticeably became less on edge.

I was drawn out of my musings of the night before when I heard shouting coming from underneath one of the wings. After telling Jeremy to watch the medical supplies I made my way towards the sounds hoping they wouldn’t need my services.

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“… you can’t take all of the fucking food. We’ll fucking starve!” Screamed a burly blond man with a South African accent.

“The supplies were bought to help us get to safety. Staying here isn’t an option!” Ferucci screamed back.

“Do you really think I’m going to let my family go with these fokken devils? You kaffirs are mad in the head.” The man pushed Ferucci onto the ground.

A girl who looked like his daughter ran up to Ferucci while screaming at her father in Afrikaans. She then said to Ferucci, “I’m sorry. He was never like this before. The stress is getting..”

Ferucci rolled away from her and rose to his feet as two militiamen tackled his attacker to the ground. He then shouted to the crowd. “If any of you idiots want to stay here that’s your decision. But if you wanted supplies you should have asked for them days ago. I’m not risking the pass freezing over while we argue about who gets what… Oy, what the fuck are you doing.”

He was pointing towards a large group of people unpacking supplies off the goats. They started working faster after hearing the outburst. Ferucci added, “Stop. If you don’t stop now I’m sending in the militia.”

A few of them grabbed what they could carry and ran off. The rest stopped and pulled out clubs, knives and improvised spears.

‘Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.’ Ferucci groaned. I could barely hear him over the noise of the crowd. “Reynolds, tell our guests to stay out of it. And make sure the militia knows to stand back. I don’t want a bloodbath.” As he was saying this more people were grabbing weapons and joining the mob by the goats. It looked like there were maybe fifty in all standing guard over the supplies we would need for the march.

The war council was meeting on the second deck of the plane. The Dragon’s Clefters had their leader, Paris, Eoala, Helena and a couple of lieutenants in attendance. On our side I was the chief medical officer, Brigadier Smith as the highest ranking retired military officer was the head of the militia, Ferucci was our elected leader and Major Reynolds was his second in command. And none of us were happy.

“You had better keep your people in line master Ferucci. Our agreement was to help lost travellers. Not thugs.” Paris said with a frown. There was intensity to that statement that I had rarely felt before. After hearing her speak it seemed perfectly natural for me to agree that the protestors were criminals that needed to be suppressed.

“She has a point,” Smith said curtly. “This behaviour is unacceptable. If they want to stay so badly I see no reason to argue.” Despite wearing no uniform he had the presence of someone used to giving orders.

While I was in no way sympathetic to the motivations or goals of the protestors I knew I had no option but to play devil’s advocate. “These people will die if they remain here. Even if we leave them supplies they will run out long before the end of winter.”

“This Lindisfarne place is on our side of the pass. I know they can’t support our entire population; but maybe they could keep alive those that want to stay.” Reynolds said, face in hand.

Paris ran her hand through her short curls. “The holdfasts don’t have much to spare. They need to reserve as much food as possible in case the winter lasts longer than expected.”

“This is all beside the point,” Ferucci countered, “They’re blocking our access to the goats. They’ve got control of the supplies. We can’t do anything without them.”

“Send in the militia,” Smith said. “This is sedition. None of us will survive if the minority can dictate these sorts of terms without a response.”

“How?” Reynolds asked, “We don’t have the numbers to deal with them non-violently.”

I was terrified but I had no option. There was only one decision I could make. “I’ll go speak with them. There must be some sort of arrangement we could negotiate.”

“No,” Ferucci retorted. “We’re not losing our only surgeon if this goes badly. I’ll do it. I’m in charge. God help me but the buck stops with me.”