Dragons were tricky creatures to treat. Hard scales and tough mussels made mending wounds in the traditional ways. Can’t sew up a cut if the needle breaks before piercing the flesh. Magic was also a tricky matter since they have a natural ward hugging their body. I leaned in closer to inspect the deep wound on Elizabeth’s keel (a large bone breastplate that covers the sternum and acts as an anchor to attach the mussels used for flight). A whiff of cinnamon emanated from the open wound, the smell of dragon blood. I soon came to the conclusion that I should just be quick and dirty with my approach, no need to dilly dally or do anything fancy. I drew my knife and stabbed around the wound at an angle, creating a ladder pattern. Elizabeth failed to react; however, the blade was coated with a powerful numbing agent.

The cleric certainly reacted though, but it was not at the expected part. She reacted when I brushed back a wing to grab my knife. With a soft gasp, she eyed the second knife on my belt with shock. It was a beautiful knife, yes, but it certainly did not warrant such a response. I continued on like I didn’t notice her little outbreak though. Steadily, I started to thread a rope through each cut. Making sure that once the wound was closed, the scales would be pointing outwards to prevent them from becoming ingrown. Giving my work final look over, I nodded to myself before placing an ointment that stimulates magic flow over the wound. With my twenty-fifth good deed of the day, I rubbed my hands and went to take my leave. Unopposed I sauntered off and up the small cliff.

With a soft rustling, I unfurled my wings and took flight, and after a small pitstop to grab my mask, I arrived back at the field hospital. Feeling much better after my little meal, I went around to double-check the patients who, despite treatment, are still in danger. One patient had been trampled by cavalry and was very messed up. A few others had some major bone breakage, which despite my abilities were still a pain to deal with. Despite my pleasant mood, an air of tension and uncertainty still filled the area. Many had lost their ability to fight and some even lost their ability to work.

All these negative emotions tended to bring undesirables to the area. And the lingering smell of blood certainly did not help. I had to keep my eyes peeled, despite being the presumable apex predator of the region, there were still many stupid enough, or blind enough, to disregard my presence. While I was checking up on a man who had to get his arm amputated, I discovered one such brainless individual. My patient was located in a makeshift tent, which was basically just a tarp and a couple of sticks.

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He was a young man, no more than seventeen, malnourished and wide-eyed. He likely lived in a harsh and unsanitary environment. Showing evidence of many past wounds and sicknesses. It’s the reality of war that there were always unwilling participants, and this kid was surely one of them. His blue eye showed a dull bleakness where a bright hopefulness should have been. I approached cautiously and gently, not showing any sign of malice, this kid punched me in the eye when I rolled him over to kart him away. He still has a bit of spirit left in him. I noticed something strange when the boy was still awake and alert despite the ungodly hour and showed a hesitation to come out of his little hidey-hole. He tried to hide it, but I could tell that the arm that was once very much gone, I was even the one who amputated it, was back. Either this kid was not exactly human, or something else had passed through.

I noticed at the entrance of the small makeshift tent, hidden under other prints, where a pair of solitary footprints. I failed to notice any trail leading up or away from them. They also were made with bare feet, a strange thing to do since all the soldiers were provided with boots by their respective countries. I felt a wave of uncertain malice emanate from my patient when he noticed my peculiar behavior. I could hear the bones in his fingers creak as he grabbed something tightly behind him. Well, this wasn’t exactly my problem, so I withdrew and walked to another tent. Keeping an eye on the kid all the while. I pulled out my notebook when I was out of sight and noted down that a humanoid has entered the camp and had also performed a particularly difficult feat. Regrowing limbs wasn’t simple, take it from someone that did it all his life.

The boy had only given me one name, Rudolf. At the time I had to physically restrain myself from painting his nose red. I still have that instinct. Know what, I’ll do that tonight. It’ll show the little man that I’m not to be messed with. The only problem was the fact that I haven't seen any fireflies around, which was a bit strange considering that we were in a field in the middle of what felt like spring.

It seems I will have to go with a non-glowing paste, much to my inner child’s disappointment. Maybe I should just skip a few steps and flat-out curse him into a reindeer. But alas, that would take too much time and leave too much evidence. After checking a man’s five arrow wounds, an unlucky guy, I snuck into the nearby Adle camp for some pigment. The Adle boy had stubbornly left a small troop of soldiers to keep watch over my apprentices and I’s operation. He left shortly after our little encounter, I apparently put quite the scare into him. My tendency to be un-ordinarily stealthy at all times made sneaking into the camp as simple as walking in and out.