Healing in the middle of a war is difficult, she thinks.
I prayed my mind be good to me
A harsh grunt passes her lips, dry and tired and angry, as she finishes off a tourniquet for one of the many Kingdom soldiers she has splayed out around her. The calluses building on her hands burn with every second of friction she puts them through.
Tired eyes fly up to another bed where another patient lies coughing and hacking into a bucket. She gives him some water - they've run out of ginger, and tea leaves are getting scarce - and checks on the one next to him. This one is already passed out, more from exhaustion and dehydration than blood loss, is her guess.
She isn't sure but his pulse is steady under fingers.
It's been three nights, maybe, she can't recall, since her focus has sharpened long enough for her to actually process each injury. There are too many, even for all the Bishops and Gremory's that scramble around her. Letting instinct and muscle memory work where her own exhaustion and magic has dried up is much easier.
Kagome slips past a Priest on her way out to the backyard, flinching at the distant boom of a cannon going off. Two more wounded are being carried from the side entrance and she snatches up a few rags before heading for them. Her knees dig uncomfortably into an exposed root but she ignores it to staunch the bleeding in an abdominal wound.
Cerlia rushes in from the other archway, hands laden with more clothes and hair a mess of tangles and dirt. Kagome looks no better but they don't have the luxury of stopping to take a bath or do more than keep their hands clean.
End.
Seeing as these chapters will be update and revised, I won't be keeping my former review responses on here.
As always, let me know if you liked it or saw something wrong. Until next time!