Leprosy was a condition few understood. Appo had never met a leper himself, and in fact had done his best to avoid leprosariums whenever he heard of them. To be afflicted with leprosy was more taboo than witchcraft, more insidious than blasphemy, and far harder to conceal than either. Appo’s mentor, Parbast, had taught him that a single touch was all it took to be afflicted for life.

None of this escaped Appo’s mind as he felt the leper’s hand clutched his neck. It scared him far more than the knife he brandished.

“Uten!” a voice screamed. It was Tomi. “Let him go!”

“Quiet!” Uten hissed, speaking to her without taking his eyes off Appo. “The sister I know would never be so dumb to risk her life for outsiders. He must have threatened you.”

“They’re not raiders or poachers or bandits or hunters! They’re healers!”

“Healers?! Oh, come to cure us then? Spray your God water and bless our sores? What good is a healer to us now?”

“Hulla!” Tomi screamed. “Think about Hulla, ya big oaf!!”

As Tomi and Uten bickered, Appo allowed his eyes to wander. The Thornewood they stood atop was wide, providing somewhat of a flattened space for a tree. Its thick branches mostly fanned out into curls that turned to the ground, but a few smaller trunks continued to rise in the air. From what Appo could see, there were at least a dozen others in the tree. All exhibited variable degrees of leprosy. A few of the younger lepers had only a sore or two, but scabs and plaques of various sizes smothered the older ones. All of them wore crusted and ragged robes several sizes too large, as if to cover as much of their bodies as possible. Appo imagined the sun would’ve been extra cruel to their blistered skin.

“Tomi?” A worried voice crooned from the other side of the tree, coming from a tall middle-aged woman. Even though blemished by a few growths, she had a beautiful angular face. The woman climbed around the misshapen tree branches to Tomi, holding her briefly in her arms before quickly slapping the side of her shoulder.

“Ow! Mom!”

Tomi’s mother bent over, shaking her hand exaggeratedly at her face. “We thought you were dead, stupid girl! Leaving in the middle of the night without food or water? After everything that’s happened?” She slapped Tomi’s shoulder again before hugging her once again, this time much longer.

Tomi struggled against the hug, pushing her away. “I’ve found someone that can help Hulla, mom. Someone with medicine.”

“Oh girl,” her mother whispered. “There’s nothing we can do for him now.”

“No! I mean it!” Tomi turned and pointed at Appo, who had remained stiff in the grasp of Uten. “I watched him cure a man of a dagger to the chest!”

“Mother, can you please talk some sense into Tomi?!” yelled Uten.

As the argument continued, Appo tried to ignore the greasy touch of Uten’s palm and the blade not a finger’s width from his cornea. He spotted Gizzal lying against one of the internal branches of the tree. He appeared alarmed, but drowsy.

“Uten.” A voice called from behind Uten, distinctively smooth and baritone. It came from a man in his fifties. The man’s upright posture made him tower over the other hunched lepers. He walked gracefully over the tree, holding his hands within his beige desert robes as he peered at both Appo and Uten. He too was a leper, his face covered in a cluster of lumpy growths, though unlike Uten he had maintained all his thick facial hair, even sporting a broad mustache.

Uten frowned, releasing his grip on Appo’s neck. Appo swallowed, thankful that he hadn’t needed to gasp for much air. Under less duress, Appo saw that the knife Uten brandished was nothing more than a dull cooking utensil. He took a step back as the mustached leper stepped in front of Uten.

“To make it this far without contracting the Screaming Plague, only to be accosted by lepers… very unfortunate circumstances, stranger. My name is Garabi Yald. I am this one’s father.” He nodded in Uten’s direction. “I am the patriarch of what remains of my village. You are?”

“Appo Illonnorot. I’m a healer from Jyväsk.”

“Jyväsk? You’re far from home. What brings you all the way to Thornestone Wood?”

“I seek aid for my wounded companion. We mean no harm.” Appo replied half truthfully.

“Yes, that is what Tomi shouted at us,” Garabi replied. Appo caught Tomi dramatically folding her arms on the other end of the tree. “Still, you didn’t answer my question: what brings two healers this far out in the desert?”

Appo didn’t bother to correct him about Gizzal. “We fled from Ash. There was nowhere else to go.”

“Hmm,” Garabi almost sighed, as if disappointed. “So you fled through the Rust Waves? With no self-defense? And survived? Seems illogical.”

“When someone cuts off your hand,” Appo raised his left stump, directing it at Garabi, “you tend not to think where you’re going.”

Garabi peered forward, angling his body around the stump. Appo had re-bandaged it in the tower, but would need to replace it again soon.

“Shadeon Law,” Garabi murmured. “I’d recognize it anywhere. No surprise Ash would resort to such barbarism… Were you attacked by the demons?”

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“If I was, we wouldn’t be speaking right now.”

Garabi looked down below the tree. The screamers had come back around, settling into their state of moaning and clawing at each other. He then returned to meet Appo’s gaze, this time more gently. “Okay, Mr Illonnorot. Regardless of what brings you here, I cannot spare supplies. I look after many. But there is space in the tree for you to take care of your friend. We will keep our distance. I simply ask you not to overstay your welcome, for we are in mourning.”

Before Appo could agree, Tomi approached the two of them, her mother following closely behind her. “So you’re just going to let Hulla die?” she yelled at Garabi. “He can help him!”

“Watch your tone.”

“He’s a healer! ‘HEAL-ER!’ What do you think they do every day?”

Garabi sighed. “Healers don’t help lepers, Tomi.”

“Maybe, but… I passed out from playing the worm game. They could have killed me if they wanted!” Tomi pointed to Gizzal. “This one would have, but Appo stopped him. And then he fixed his ‘new pored ass!’”

“Pneumothorax” Appo reflexively corrected in his mind.

“So,” Garabi said, “you admit to sneaking away as your brother lies here, half-dead, to risk your life by playing with magic?” His tone remained calm, but the accusation rattled Tomi.

Tomi bowed her head, embarrassed. “I was looking out… didn’t mean to scare everyone.”

Garabi pursed his lips, restricting what he clearly wanted to say. “You did. We thought you perished as well. You will apologize later, especially to your mother. Regardless, they can’t stay.”

In response, Tomi barreled past Garabi, placing herself between him and Appo. “You can fix Hulla, right? You said the brain is important, so you know how it works! I know you’ll know what to do!”

“Tomi!” her mother exclaimed.

Tomi continued, undeterred. “Look at my brother. Please. He hurt his head in a fall, and-”

“Sit down!” Garabi commanded. His baritone echoed, silencing the murmuring of the other lepers. The screamers groaned below, agitated by the argumenting. “You are out of line. Do not speak again until the sun rises!” Tomi grimaced, locking eyes with Appo before turning her back. She pushed past her mother and walked around the trunk of the tree.

It wasn’t Appo’s place. It had become clear that Tomi brought him here for her own gain. His focus now was to patch up Gizzal, return to the tower, and beg Isbibarra for forgiveness. Then they would continue onward towards Zabukama with a day wasted, now likely infected with leprosy.

But Appo couldn’t help himself. He never could.

“Excuse me,” Appo said. “If there is someone who needs medical attention, I could look.”

Garabi waved his hand dismissively. “It is a lost cause. Besides, we have no way to pay you.”

“You saved my life. None of you had to. It’s the very least I can do.”

Garabi paused. Appo didn’t blame his hesitance. The few colleagues he knew who worked with them were less interested in curing their affliction and more likely to test concoctions on them. Many people mistrusted healers, but Appo admitted lepers had a good reason.

“Okay.” Garabi finally said. “Come.” Appo followed, caressing Lowya’s pendant with his fingertips.

Appo followed Garabi around the smaller tree stump. Below, the branches diverted into a natural sinking point. In this divot lay a small, skinny boy no older than seven. Tomi crouched on his right, caressing his hand. A thick blanket made from animal skin covered him. A bandage covered his head, with a small blood stained clotted above his right ear. As pale as he was, Appo thought he was looking at a corpse, before he recognized the barely perceptible rising and falling of the boy’s chest.

“What happened?” Appo asked.

“Hulla fell,” Garabi said. “We were crossing over a dune trying to outrun screamers and he fell over the other side. Hit his head on a boulder.”

“I’m so sorry,” Appo wondered if the Yalds’ traveling were the reason his own journey through the Rust Waves was so uneventful.

“He was fine at first. Hit his head so hard it reminded me of a hammer splitting ore. But he got up and was unphased. He didn’t even cry. He walked with us for a few more hours and then he collapsed. No warning at all.”

As Garabi recollected his story, the other lepers gathered around from the side. Uten stood by his mother, glaring. Appo was certain he was still squeezing his kitchen knife. They all shifted their gaze from Hulla to Appo. No one was crying, as if they had already done their mourning over the night.

“He must have fallen right in front of us. Gizzal and I were camping a short distance away. We saw your torches.”

“We waited as long as we could for him to wake up, but he never did. I’m afraid he never will.”

Appo sighed. It sounded to him as if Hulla fractured his skull. Not a death sentence in itself, but he had been without consciousness since at least the previous night. His prognosis wasn’t good. Children were tougher than many thought, but even the most malleable had their limits.

It had been a very long time since Appo had physically examined a patient. He felt like he was putting on clothes he forgot he had. Tomi briefly glanced at Appo as he approached, before returning to caress Hulla’s hand. His breathing was rapid, but extremely shallow. Appo slowly put his hand on Hulla’s head, feeling its heat before he even touched it. He then checked his pulse. It took him a few seconds to find it, but it was there, dutifully pumping along. Appo then lightly tapped Hulla’s knee. The motion flustered the other lepers. The boy responded with the slightest bounce of his foot. It was a good sign if the boy still had his reflexes, even if diminished.

Appo then moved his hand to the boy’s eyelids. His left eye looked relatively normal, aiming out if slightly upward towards the branches above them. The right eye was a different story entirely, directing downward and out, completely dilated. Appo knew that meant that something was filling the space behind the eye, pulling it in an unusual direction. There was only one thing Appo could think of that could cause everything, considering the history and the exam.

The Yalds would not like what he was about to suggest.

As Appo rose, he realized that every single leper had their eyes trained on him. Even Uten had relaxed his anger, now replaced with curiosity.

“Well?” Garabi asked.

“He has a hematoma… I believe he has blood collecting in the space between the skull and his brain. Judging by your story, it matches pretty well with the few cases I’ve treated.”

“You’ve seen this before?”

Appo nodded. “Soldiers mostly. A large hit to the head, walking around totally normal before deteriorating… Very specific presentation.”

“Can you save him?”

Appo wanted to be optimistic, but he quickly realized that he was only being allowed good graces by this circumstance. He didn’t want to get their hopes up without cause, but being too drastic wouldn’t be good either. “I’m… not sure. Many my mentor treated died. The few who didn’t… didn’t get much better. Most didn’t wait this long before being treated, either.”

A few of the lepers gasped. It clearly wasn’t the answer they wanted to hear. But Appo pressed forward. “However, he is young. Children are remarkable at recovery. Perhaps if we treat him now, something could be done.”

“I don’t understand.” It was Tomi’s mom. Tears welled in her eyes as she spoke. “What can be done?”

“Hulla has blood collecting beneath his skull. It’s putting an immense amount of pressure on his brain. If we can remove the blood, we can remove the pressure.”

“How?” this voice came from behind Appo. It was Tomi. Like her mother, she was also crying. Only she did nothing to hide it. “How do we remove the blood?”

“There’s only one way: we need to open up his skull.”