“Shira?”

Shira pulled her pink-dripping hands out of the water and glanced up at the woman in front of her. “Yes, ma’am, I’m Shira.”

“Egh, don’t call me ma’am.” the woman giggled softly. “You couldn’t be younger than my little sis! Anyway, I’m Anne. Just one of the medics, no one special.” Anne’s smile fell to puzzlement. “What? You look surprized.”

“You… A moment ago, you looked like my old roommate.”

“At the School of Mages, you mean?”

“Yes.” For a beat, Shira looked at Anne. “How did you know?”

Anne shrugged lightly, a nearly apologetic smile on her lips. “I heard from someone. Don’t worry about it. Word spreads fast around here. Between battles, gets slow.”

Shira looked down to her hands, which had stopped dripping. “How long until the next battle?”

Anne glanced at Shira’s hands and the light crimson water. “Here, throw that bucket out. I’ll show you where you can find a rainbarrel to fill it from.”

Shira dumped the water. Suddenly, the crawling feeling that she had felt in the inn started spreading across the back of her neck. Before Anne had taken two steps, Shira’s whole skin was tingling. Shira worked hard to just hold on to her bucket. The world grew unstable.

What am I going to do? I can’t faint here. I can’t… I have to…

Before Anne had taken five steps and turned to wait, the world had stopped spinning. Shira stepped after Anne.

“The medic are always last to know about battles,” Anne said as she walked. Her voice was subdued. “Some mage or else thinks up the strategies and sends the troops about. We just run to help wherever people are dying.” She and Shira reached a low shed, and Anne pointed to a barrel under its eaves. Shira tipped the bucket in and filled it. “And after you rinse, be sure it’s clean under your fingernails.” Shira dutifully put her hands in the water. Anne smiled. “Anyway, Wesley sent me to show you around. You want to see the rest of the camp?”

Shira smiled back.