A/N – Thanks for the reviews everyone! Got a nice haul for that first bit, so I'm happy! Hope you guys will keep reading!

Unknown Author Guy – maybe you're right, Wil wouldn't say that. But I needed a third 'lad' and besides, giving him a little personality can't hurt! -

NOFSER – Shoujo ai? Where did that come from? 00' Anyway, given that Dorcas and Serra are the main characters, and Serra isn't in any mood to start hitting on anyone now (and certainly not on any of the girls!), the chances of shoujo ai in this fic seem slim at best! Never mind eh?

"Hey guys! Grub up!" Sain called.

"All right!" Wil cried. Everyone in the whole party dropped what they were doing and came running. As was fast becoming usual, dinner was far later than expected and by now everyone was ravenous. The boys raced to head the dinner queue (which Matthew always seemed to sneak to the front of, somehow) and stood, clutching their plates eagerly. When the women, and the more dignified men (Dorcas included) had arrived as well, Sain and Serra (or should that have been Arres?) started to dish up.

Dorcas was the last to be served (the price of being a gentlemen). After he received his portion, he went and sat down over by Rath, took a bite from the derisory meal on his plate and could tell at once that it was the work of Arres, not Serra. The fish, though thoroughly cooked, was plain, totally devoid of all seasoning and spice, and the potatoes with it were wet and soggy. Worse still, it was chock-full of bones making it near impossible to take a bite without having your mouth stabbed in several places from within. The more elegant eaters in the group were really struggling to remove them while retaining their table manners. Both Kent and Lucius kept pretending to cough so they could use their hands as cover. From the looks on people's faces, Dorcas could tell the general consensus on this meal. It was deplorable at best, a poor reward for the long day's efforts.

Only Rath was untactful enough to speak the thought on everyone's minds. He started by spitting out a spiky mouthful of bones into the tree next to him. "This fish is really bony," he stated, in a tone as bland as the fish's favour.

"Hey, don't look at me!" Sain protested as all heads turned his way. "I just grilled the bloody things! Serra was in charge of de-boning!"

Everyone looked to the pink-haired healer. She didn't even meet their eyes, just shrugged and kept on eating. "Pick them out yourself," she muttered between mouthfuls. "Why should I have to waste my valuable time doing it?"

"Maybe because you're the damned cook," Erk muttered, glaring at her.

"Shut your face Erk,"

Dorcas winced. Erk gasped indignantly, but said nothing more, while tangible concern sprang onto the faces of others around the fire. Lyn, Florina and Lucius all looked horrified. Who could blame them? That had been totally out of characters for their chirpy healer, as was this so-called meal she'd prepared for them. Usually she went to obscene levels with her cooking, chasing her cooking partner out of the kitchen so she could single-handedly create culinary masterpieces, with plenty of spices (no-one knew where she got them from) and often a side-salad as well. The dinner currently on their laps barely qualified as adequate, iron to the usual gold she dished up.

And furthermore, she was never hostile with them. Never ever ever.

"Well, I think this meal tastes great," Lyn put in lamely, more to keep the peace than anything else. Lucius backed her up with a nod though everyone else just murmured indiscernibly. To compliment this meal would be to lie.

Once the meal had ended (without dessert – another deviation from Serra's normal service) the party dispersed, many of them making straight for their tents. Most of them would be heading straight for their sleeping sacks, but Dorcas was willing to bet that plenty of them would be snacking first – he as well was still hungry. He was about to head for his own tent where he'd saved an apple when he saw, out of the corner of his eye, Nils heading in Serra's direction. The poor kid seemed oblivious to the trap he was walking into.

"Brave boy," he thought. "Or should that be foolish boy? Maybe naïve boy would be fairest."

He was too late to interfere, but he decided to watch. The boy came up behind the cleric, who was collecting up the dirty plates, and tugged innocently on her dress to get her attention.

"Um, Miss Serra?"

She whirled on him like a startled cat. "What is it?" she snapped irritably.

Nils shrank back in shock, his face suddenly alight with fear and disbelief at this scary Serra. "Oh, it's nothing really," he mumbled.

"Come on, out with it," she demanded wearily. "If it was important enough to bother me then it's important enough for you to spit it out!"

"Er…well," Nils stammered. "I…was…wondering if you could take a look at my arm. I scratched it quite badly on a thorn earlier on and it's still hurting a bit." He rolled his sleeve back to reveal a long thin trail of red stretching up to his elbow. It did look sore.

With a tired huff, she grabbed his arm and yanked it towards her with such abruptness that he almost fell forward. For the briefest moment she looked it over, then she tossed his wrist away with a snort of disgust, as though it was a folded hand in a poker game.

"Why are you bothering me with that little nick!?" she barked. "I am a fully-fledged cleric with more skill than any three physicians you can name put together! And yet you have the nerve to come to me with that tiny boo-boo and expect to be treated! How disrespectful!" Her eyes took on a feline aggression, she was hissing like an angry cat now. "Go on, go away and get your big sister to kiss it better!"

Nils eyes bulged, as if she'd slapped him. "Sorry, I'm sorry," he mumbled, ducking his head in disgrace and scuttling away with humility in his steps. Ninian, who'd been standing nearby and had heard the exchange, moved quickly to comfort him.

Even though he'd already known of Serra's intentions before hand, Dorcas was shocked. That was the most un-Serra-like thing she could have ever done. When they were in battle, she'd be waving that staff of hers around like a feather duster, healing everyone within reach, even those who didn't need it. For her to refuse to treat someone, even for a minor injury, was simply unheard of.

"Unheard of for Serra that is. Not for Arres."

But he looked at her then and saw that she wasn't Arres yet, at least not completely. So far Arres was a superficial being. For though she tried to hide it, and would have denied it empathically if questioned, there was a deep pain in Serra's eyes as she watched Nils flee. Pain that struck through to the very core of her compassionate nature. She had turned a patient away, perhaps the first time she'd ever done so. But she had the heart of a healer and so it had hurt her to refuse her services to someone, especially just for the sake of image. The longing shimmering gaze that followed the boy betrayed her feelings and Dorcas could tell that she wanted to cry.

"No matter how she pretends, she is still Serra inside and always will be," Dorcas thought to himself. "She suffers as Arres. How long will she keep this charade going on for?"

As he was thinking, she caught him staring at her. "What are you looking at? You have a problem Dorcas?" she accused him, suddenly Arres again after that momentary lapse.

He remained unperturbed and gruff. "Only one of us here has a problem right now," he murmured with folded arms.

"Hmmph!" Serra turned her nose up at him and strode away, just as she'd done to him earlier. Dorcas watched her go then retired to his tent, hoping that a decent night's sleep would bring the true Serra back out and wipe out Arres before she could hurt anyone else (including Serra herself) more than she already had. As he lay down on his sleeping roll and closed his eyes, he spared a thought for whichever poor fool would be sharing their tent with a demon tonight.