The tension in the air was thick. Volatile. Ainsle’s gaze remained locked on Ann, who returned a defiant stare of her own. The hairs on the back of Ben’s neck prickled. He felt an oppressive aura emanate from the scarred woman.

“If you want an apology, you won’t get it,” Ann said, without a hint of fear or remorse. “I did what I had to do, in serv-”

“Shut the fuck up,” Ainsle growled. “You don’t understand… They never understand.”

Ann did indeed shut up at the interruption. The short-heavily armored woman paused. She gripped the shaft of the great mace, took one step forward and swung it effortlessly in a rising arc. Chaos. The ground exploded as the mace dug a deep furrow on its upward trajectory. Time seemed to skip a beat for Ben as he tried to take in the scene of destruction before him.

Before he realized what had happened, Ainsle stood in a crouching stance, the head of the great mace behind her bit deep into the dirt. Her right hand held the shaft with an iron grip. He looked at the trench dug by the woman’s weapon. Panic. He turned to see Ann safe behind him, apparently undisturbed by the show of force.

“You know what the worst thing is? If the Captain was here, he wouldn’t have let me have my way.”

Ainsle stood upright and raised her chin. She released her grip on the shaft. The great mace remained embedded in the ground, its shaft at an angle.

“Count yourself lucky, missy. This is the last thing I do for Willy.”

She turned and looked up toward the sky. Ben could make out a whisper.

“…sider us even now, you bastard.”

The scarred woman walked away toward the forest without a word. Ben started to follow, but Jor put a hand on his shoulder and shook her head.

“Give her some time. Captain Wilheim was… very important to her. She needs to grieve.”

“But she’s injured!” Ben protested.

“She’s used to worse. Trust me.”

She tilted her head to the great mace, standing like a monument in the packed ground.

“Where do you think a Berserker’s strength comes from? She may have held the position of Vanguard in the Black Swallow squad, but that was just a role she filled.”

Jor’s eyes went distant, no longer looking up at Ben.

“She followed him here, you know. To the Fringe.”

“Who, your Captain?” Ben asked.

“Yes. Nobody comes here willingly. It’s more of a … place that troublemakers are sent to. That or people who have crossed someone important are sent here to die. It’s the closest thing to a death sentence that isn’t quite a death sentence.” Jor sighed and looked up into his eyes.

“Before you ask, the answer is no.”

“No?”

“No, I won’t tell you why the Captain was sent there, and no, I don’t think pestering Ainsle about it is a good idea either.”

Ben remained silent and nodded. Jor turned to address Ann.

“Look. I don’t know, and I don’t care what your reasons were for what you did. We’re here now.” She paused and seemed to consider something. “Though my Vanguard would refuse your help, I ask that you help her.”

Ann looked at Ben almost questioningly. He returned the look, unsure as to what she was asking.

Eh, I haven’t spontaneously developed telepathy just yet.

She turned and nodded to Jor.

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“You’d have to travel with us for a few days. I can’t heal anything that wouldn’t have healed naturally on its own.”

“Perfect,” Jor replied instantly. “I think that traveling in numbers would benefit us all. I'll take some time to rest and replenish my quiver. Is that agreeable?"

Ann nodded wordlessly.

Oh, that’s what she meant… Ben felt denser than a bag of rocks.

“Okay. With that sorted… Do you have anything to eat?” Jor asked sheepishly.

The trio hovered around the camp for a while. Ann offered Jor some of the danger mushrooms that she had foraged the day before. The Squad Leader accepted them, if a bit apprehensively. Ben wondered how the slight woman would handle the explosive diarrhea that was sure to follow. Ann insisted that she rest while she took Ben to forage for food and to fill their waterskins.

The rest of the morning passed without much incident. They reached the water source, and they took turns bathing downstream. The water was cold but not unpleasantly so.

Ann taught Ben which mushrooms were safe to eat and which weren’t. He looked at a particularly suspicious species and decided that foraging was probably not among her strengths. He was elated to find some large mud crabs in the loamy soil on the bank of the stream. Ann looked skeptically at the dirty crustaceans but didn’t comment as he strung several crabs by their pincers.

The pair returned from their foraging trip to find Jor, face-down amongst the furs at the back of the cave. Ainsle was yet to return if she would ever return at all. Ben got to work on starting a fire with the deadwood they collected. He thought he should make an effort to learn basic survival skills. Eventually, after applying what he observed Ann do the previous evening, he managed to start his first-ever fire. The not-Healer appeared to be in a cheerful mood. She hummed the same strange tune that he heard her do back in the med bay.

“Annie?”

Ann’s eyes lit up at being addressed by the pet name. Ben felt guilt poke his gut once more. He felt like he was subconsciously manipulating her.

“Yes, my darling?” she cooed.

“That song you’re humming, what is it?”

“What song? Oh!” She smiled sweetly, then blushed. “It’s not a song. It’s a chant. Most Healers can chant their respective Auras wordlessly, but well, my education did not place much emphasis on the school of Rejuvenation...”

Ben felt as if it was a sensitive topic, so he decided not to pry. She would open up to him when she was ready. Ann continued.

“There’s more to casting and maintaining Auras than the verbal component, but I won’t bore you with the details.” She paused. “Let’s just say that it takes the strain off my delicate body.” She winked. “If an Aura is unfamiliar to me. I can recite the incantation in my mind and verbally anchor it to Aetheria. The hum... is mostly me trying to replace words that I don't know. It's not as effective as a trained Healer's Aura, but the important components are there.”

Ben stared at her blankly. Ann frowned.

“You know, we should d-”

The woman was interrupted by a loud, sharp whistle. The pair spun their heads to look for the source and heard another one further away in the opposite direction. She looked panicked.

“What was that? What’s wrong?” Ben asked.

“Stay behind me, my heart. I will protect you,” she said, her voice reflecting her demeanor.

Ben tried to protest, but they were interrupted by two groups of three men approaching the cave. In the distance, he could make out that they wore a mix of the black-grey armor the soldiers had worn at the camp and other miscellaneous bits of leather or clothing.

Scavengers?

The six men approached at a leisurely pace. Ann tilted her head toward where Jor was lying. Ben rushed to wake the Squad Leader. He shook her, in hindsight, probably more violently than was necessary. Jor sprung to her feet, hand reaching for her bow that wasn’t strapped to her shoulder.

“Ben? What’s going on?” She asked sleepily.

“We’ve got trouble.”

As soon as the words left his lips, the band had neared the camp. A tall man wearing a full set of the soldier’s armor let out a low whistle. He spoke.

“It’s a fine day to meet such fine folks on the road,” he drawled.

The men maintained their steady approach.

“Say, good sir. What brings the lot of you out here?” The leader addressed Ben.

Ann stood steadfast in between the approaching men and the mouth of the cave. She spoke up.

“Gentlemen, I think you’ll find nothing of worth here. Best to leave a group of tired travelers to their business and be on your way.”

Ann seemed like an entirely different person to Ben. Where was the ditzy, sultry priestess he knew? This persona spoke of authority and will.

“That’s a shame. It truly is milady. You see, the boys and I just so happen to be quite weary ourselves. We hoped that you would prevail on fellow travelers and offer succor, as is the will of ________.” The man spoke in a mocking tone.

“I want the one with the small tits,” said a particularly large-bellied man.

The leader rolled his eyes and addressed the one who spoke.

“Yes, yes. You can have the one with the small tits.”

He turned to face the trio when suddenly, he appeared to have grown an arrow from his eye. Ben’s mind couldn’t comprehend the powers of these people. It was so unreal that random folks could summon ammunition from their orifices. He wondered if Jor could do the same. The man fell over.

Oh.

He turned back to look at Jor, who had nocked another arrow and was aiming at the fat man who spoke.

“They’re not small! It’s just the armor that… You know what? FUCK YOU!” Jor cried.

She loosed the arrow, and the fat man joined his leader on the forest floor. The remaining four men looked on in shock. The creaking of some forest insect was a mocking backdrop to the scene.

Huh. Short sword. Flat board. The pot calls the kettle black…