Disclaimer: No Copyright Infringement occurred in the making of this fic. And only one camel was seriously harmed, but he's feeling much better now.
Author's Note: I had a lot of fun researching for this chapter. I can rest easy now, knowing that I am moderately well-informed, in the rare event a sand storm ever takes south Texas by surprise.
Author's P.S.: To all the wonderful people who took the time to review this story - thank you! Your input makes writing rewarding on a whole different level.
Day Six
Mei Chang had a very specific set of expectations for her world. Heroes were meant to be chivalrous, blond, handsome, and tall; love was romantic, and perfect, and eternal; and princes needed to behave appropriately for their station. As a girl of such well-defined principles, Mei did not always approve with many of the things which her future emperor said or did. His sense of style, for one thing, was hideous, and his mannerisms appalling. He joked much too often, and enjoyed heckling his friends more than most people. In Mei's opinion, Lan Fan deserved commendations merely for putting up with the man.
"Lan Fan," the future prince of Xing exclaimed happily. "You're a lifesaver! Well done. You've found us a feast!"
"It was nothing, sire," Lan Fan said modestly as she laid down the spoils of her hunt, removing her Yang mask with a sigh.
"Nonsense!" Ling insisted. "This is amazing!"
Also, he spent far too much of his time concerned with food.
In this case, however, Mei had to agree with his extreme enthusiasm. Lan Fan had outdone herself this morning, returning to camp with two snakes, a desert-mole, and four fat wild hares. This alone would have been enough to impress, and feed, their small troupe for a few days, but the true coup-de-grace lay draped over Lan Fan's shoulders: a small pronghorn, hide thick with tender meat.
And all of this, before the sun had risen! Lord Ling was correct; Lan Fan had done extremely well. Predictably, the girl reddened at her Lord's praise.
"Truly, sire, it was nothing." Lan Fan was frowning now at the array of animals in the sand, sliding the pronghorn to the ground with a grunt. "They were all of them still in their dens, and seemed rather disinclined to move. Even when I dug out their burrows, the rabbits did not run. And these," she held up the snakes by their throats. "These were already dead when I happened upon them." Lan Fan looked disturbed. "I can in all honesty say that I did nothing but collect."
A tiny quivering ball shivered underneath Mei's tunic. Xiao Mei had been upset all morning, also refusing to leave the shelter of Mei's shirt. The panda had not been this anxious since the fight with the homunculi.
"Ah, finally," Ling laughed. "Our good deeds in Amestris are being rewarded! And with food, too – the gods must have a special place in their hearts for me."
"An emperor must not speak so lightly of the gods, Ling Yao," Mei admonished severely.
"An emperor rules by the will of the gods," Lan Fan said, just as severely. "There are those in the higher circles who even believe that the emperor is a god."
Mei sniffed. "The god of empty bellies and unfunny jokes, perhaps."
"It's a tough job, but somebody has to do it!" Ling replied lightly.
Flipping her braids over her shoulder, Mei knelt to gather the rabbits and draw out her knives. Lan Fan made a small sound of protest, looking scandalized, and moved forward as if to snatch back her kill, but she halted.
Honestly, Mei thought as she watched Lan Fan falter, it was no wonder the girl cleaved to her mask so desperately. Her emotions showed across her face like a stain on silk!
Lan Fan frowned, then dithered, before frowning again. With an almost imperceptible huff, she gave Mei a reluctant bow. "I humbly accept your generous offer of assistance, young Mei Chang," she mumbled stiffly. "While you work, I shall prepare the fire."
Mei looked over to see Ling grinning foolishly, practically radiating approval. He had obviously spoken with Lan Fan at some point about her self-destructive hoarding of the work load – an act which Mei could finally approve. In her mind, a king must be able to control his people, even those who seek to show an unhealthy level of devotion.
"But it is not your watch, Lan Fan," Mei said, enjoying the way the young guard's eyebrow twitched at the reminder. "I can preserve the food during my watch. You and Lord Ling rest."
"Good plan, a very good plan," Ling said cheerily, yawning into his fist. "I'm about to collapse from exhaustion."
Mei pursed her lips with annoyance – a king must never show such laziness! – and Lan Fan's face burned. "If it pleases you, my Lord, I shall assist Mei Chang with the meat before retiring – please avail the space however you see fit."
With a stab of sympathy, Mei allowed Lan Fan to help in skinning the rabbits. It had not escaped her notice that whenever the young prince and his guard shared the tent, Lan Fan stoutly refused to enter until her Lord had first fallen asleep. She always claimed restlessness as an excuse, but Mei suspected that the intimacy of falling asleep, shoulder-to-shoulder, with her liege was too much informality for Lan Fan's keen sense of propriety to allow.
Mei could relate – for all his sunny stupidity, the young prince was still a boy – falling asleep in the same enclosed space was awkward.
It never seemed to bother Ling however. Even now, he merely shrugged and crawled into the tent eagerly. His snores came gurgling out shortly afterwards.
One of the camels snorted derisively. Mei agreed.
Together she and Lan Fan worked, skinning and eviscerating in silence as the sun rose. Morning light caught and heated the sand, painting the far horizon a glittering red. Lan Fan quickly boned three of the four rabbits and tossed their remains – grizzle and all – into the small cooking pot; they would have stew for breakfast.
Lan Fan sighed, and rubbed at her sweaty face. Two black smudges darkened the area under her eyes, and she stood to wipe down her blades and the metal frame of her automail before bowing once more. "Again, I thank you for your generosity," she said, and then turned to wearily enter the shelter.
The left side of the tent bulged, Lan Fan curling as far away from Ling as the small space would allow, before her own exhausted breaths joined Ling's grating snores.
Mei worked methodically, quickly and efficiently preserving the meat from Lan Fan's hunt. When she came to them, she held up the two dead snakes curiously.
"What happened to you two?" she wondered aloud, poking at their backs with a chubby finger. The skin was blistered, scales bubbly and burnt as if boiled by the sun. She could certainly believe it – the days had been growing progressively hotter and dryer – and she sent a quick prayer of sympathy and thanks to the snakes' spirits. Peeling the white flesh from their bones, Mei laid their meat out to dry in the sun.
Heat settled over the camp like a scratchy wool blanket, shrouding Mei in a suffocatingly itchy haze of sunlight and sand. The camels grunted periodically, Xiao Mei slept, and Mei cleaned and polished the blades of her knives for almost an hour before disaster found them.
Mei liked to think that she felt the danger coming because she was an alkahestrist, and therefore more in tune with the flow of energy within the earth than her comrades. Or maybe it had been the long months she had spent in the wild with Xiao Mei – perhaps they had afforded her with an acute sense for changes in nature.
More likely, however, it was Xiao Mei's sudden wail of dismay that jerked Mei out of her meditation. With a start, she dropped her oiled cloth and leapt to her feet, looking down at her tiny companion. "Xiao Mei? What's wrong?"
"What is it? What happened?" A slightly-groggy voice came from behind her. Mei looked to see the future emperor Ling Yao hanging haphazardly out of his tent, chest bare and hair mussed from slumber. Blinking his eyes tiredly, he appeared half-asleep still.
Lan Fan however, did not.
She threw back the flap of the tent brusquely, already tying up her hair into its customary topknot. She had slept in her gi pants, but the hood of her uniform had obviously been too warm for the stifling desert heat. Instead she stood on alert now in a light undershirt, automail arm exposed and glinting in the sun.
It wasn't the only thing doing so either – a blood-red stone swung heavily on a chord around her neck, throwing back sunlight like a jewel: the Philosopher's Stone.
All sense of immediate danger discarded, Mei cried out. "You are holding onto the stone? Why should you be the one to hold such an important treasure?"
"The fact that you are surprised proves the necessity," Lan Fan replied, eyes scanning the camp. "Any attackers are likely to expect the stone to reside either with Master Ling, as heir, or yourself, as alkahestrist. They would not expect a mere servant to carry the stone. Therefore my doing so gives us an advantage. Now, what is the trouble out here?" Instinctively, she moved to stand guard in front of Ling. "I do not sense any outside chi. What has disturbed the panda?"
Ling snorted with amusement. "Don't say that so seriously Lan Fan," he said as he exited the tent tiredly. Yawning, he rubbed the back of his neck and laughed. "'Disturbing the panda'. Ridiculous!"
Ignoring her accepted future king's unacceptably unkingly behavior – though she made a note to berate him later for his lack of shirt, and the way he'd peeked at Lan Fan's exposed tummy – Mei grabbed her knives. "It is not ridiculous, Lord Ling! Something did disturb Xiao Mei. I can feel it too."
"Bandits?" Lan Fan asked, bending into a crouch.
"No," Ling said. "I can't sense any chi." Still, he moved into a defensive stance, drawing out his sword slowly. Beside the camp, the three camels bellowed suddenly and stood, pulling at their tethers. Ling threw them all a dirty look. "Be quiet you!"
As one, they spat. Xiao Mei whimpered.
"My Lord," Lan Fan whispered urgently. "Listen."
Now mid-morning, the desert had quickly lost its tolerable night-time coolness – the air practically shimmered and swayed with heat. The wide expanse of sand rippled out behind it like an ocean of molten gold. Jagged rocks here and there cut into the scenery, but otherwise the terrain remained fire-yellow and barren.
How anything could live in this vast wasteland, she had no idea. But Mei could hear the whining drone of the desert insects. If she shut her eyes tightly and focused, the faint scratching sound of some small creature echoed across the way.
With every breath she tasted fire and dirt, could feel a burning on her brow and the salty sweat cracking her skin.
But she heard nothing more than bugs and rats.
Just when Mei had resigned herself to admitting that, perhaps, Xiao Mei had merely been having indigestion, a sudden rush of hot air blasted through the camp.
Its force blew Mei backwards, and she stumbled through the remnants of her earlier fire circle before regaining balance. "What was that?" she yelled frantically.
"Sire are you alright?"
"That was almost like when Gluttony opened its false portal!" The Xingese prince had abandoned all pretense of groggy light-heartedness. He stood now with sword in hand, scanning the area furiously. "It would send out a blast just like that before sucking in everything!"
As if on cue, another heavy gale whipped past them. Mei staggered at the sheer heat of it – if the desert had been unbearable before, the temperature had now reached a life-threatening peak.
Caught off guard, Ling fell to one knee. "But I don't sense anything!" he protested, holding a hand against his overheated face. "Nothing at all!"
"Mei Chang!" Lan Fan shouted. "Master – look!"
Mei obeyed, and felt her stomach drop. Xiao Mei peeked out of her tunic and let out a wail, clutching onto Mei's shoulder fearfully.
Approaching with a speed that was as awesome as it was daunting, was a mountain.
But it was no mountain as Mei knew them. This one billowed and roared, and most disturbingly moved, a tumbling wall of dust and sand and rock. It swirled in a mass of writhing blacks and browns, climbing well over thirty feet and spanning the distance of the horizon. And it was coming closer.
Mei watched, dumbfounded, as it rushed over a dune, kicking up more debris to join the towering cyclone.
"Ah ha ha ha!" Ling laughed hysterically. "Wow, you've got to be kidding me! A sandstorm? As if fighting the homunculi wasn't enough, now we've got to –"
But what exactly it was that they had to do, Ling did not get a chance to say. A third blast of boiling-hot air knocked the words right out from his mouth.
This time, the wind carried with it precursors of the rapidly-approaching storm. Thud thud thud thud thud – sharp rocks struck the ground like bullets, sending sand spraying into the air where it hovered before being swept upwards. The rush of dust in the air cut into Mei's face like a volley of needles.
"Sire, we must shelter ourselves!" A small trail of blood trickled from where a stone had struck Lan Fan's forehead; it mingled with sweat, becoming a pinkish smear all down her chin.
"What a wonderful idea, Lan Fan!" the prince shouted back, all humor gone from his voice. "Where, exactly, do you propose we go?"
The ground rumbled, sky darkening to a motley rusted-orange. The wall of the storm had grown painfully close. Mei looked around frantically, eyes lighting on the side of their camp where their camels had calmed considerably. They sat huddled close together, heads down and faced away from the oncoming storm. An idea struck her, and she called out:
"Get behind the camels," and tucked Xiao Mei back down into her shirt.
"What? Why?" Ling asked, though he and Lan Fan promptly followed Mei's lead. To Ling and Mei's great distress, Lan Fan paused to tie their belongings together. In a matter of moments, she had gathered their pots and weapons into a serviceable bundle. "Lan Fan!" Ling shouted. "The pans are more likely to survive the storm than you are!"
Lan Fan dashed over, carrying the bundle with her, and tied it securely to the back of her camel. "Yes my Lord. But our chances of survival are lessened if the wind blows your sabre into our backs."
Ling nodded. "Good thinking. Not so sure about the camels though, little sister," he said to Mei. At her direction, they all crouched down on the leeward side of the hunched creatures.
"'If you wish to find the flowers, follow the bees'," she explained. "These are desert animals by nature. They are best suited for enduring a sandstorm." She decided not to mention the two dead snakes, and how they had surely been desert animals as well.
Ling leaned against his camel with obvious distaste; Mei fastened her knives into their sheaths; and Lan Fan deftly used her bladed elbow to slice long strips of cloth from her pant leg. "My Lord, Mei Chang, tie these over your mouths. Keep your eyes closed!"
They fastened their make-shift kerchiefs and huddled close together. A beat. Between them both, Lan Fan grabbed Ling and Mei's wrists tightly. Sweat traced a thin river down Mei's neck. Xiao Mei sobbed.
Then the storm hit, and the world turned black.
Wind howled and moaned, the desert ground around them exploding in a whirling cloud of sand. Mei gripped Lan Fan's hand tighter, feeling her own small weight lift in the current. She buried her face in the camel's sweating hide, the animal shaking beneath her.
Heat billowed out over the camel's back like a solid force, striking and ripping at Mei's face til it bled. Through her mask, she could taste bitter dirt and dust, the tang of iron and salt. The air was so hot! So much worse than the uncomfortable warmth of a too-close fire, or the baking force of the sun. Breathing was impossible – the air so thick with heat that it swam like liquid. Her lungs burned.
The hand which wasn't gripping Lan Fan's clenched tightly over the lump Xiao Mei made in her tunic. Mei felt a disturbing, crackling sensation in her fingers. She remembered the dead snakes, and their bubbled and charred flesh, with panic.
"Lan Fan, what are you doing?" Lord Ling must have been shouting over the roaring storm, but Mei strained to hear him. It was as if he were speaking through a pillow – the wind whipped away his words ruthlessly. "Lan Fan! Do not let go! Stop!"
The hand holding Mei's changed grips, and Mei felt her wrist transferred over and placed firmly into a larger, grasping one. It clenched like a vice. "Lan Fan?"
"No," Mei called, confused. She felt Lan Fan crab-walk around her, settling down so that Mei was now in the middle. She laced her fingers with Mei's where they shielded Xiao Mei. "But I've got her! She took my other hand!"
"Why did she - "
The storm swelled; Mei vibrated with the force of it. Her scalp throbbed from where the wind yanked cruelly at her hair, and the knives in her belt grew hotter with every passing second. Mei could feel them, even through the many thick layers of their sheaths, her belt, her pants, and her tunic. They burned.
So many noises! The camel's were mowing, boulders and sand crashing and slapping against each other like thunder. Ling was shouting something unintelligible. Xiao Mei wailed, and Mei could not stop the tiny whimpers from welling in her throat. The camel next to Mei's, the one supporting Lan Fan, jerked and bellowed, twisting and kicking beneath her. Someone was sobbing.
Mei wondered if this was hell, and thought – bizarrely – of the homunculus Envy. Would this storm burst the tender flesh of her face as well? Would fire sizzle in her eyes, until they boiled and writhed?
Lan Fan screamed, screamed, and Mei heard it loudly. Clearly, too – the wind was calming. The storm receded like a tidal wave – having crashed, lifted, and swelled, it now abated almost demurely.
It left with a whisper, wind rustling through their clothes and hair. Ears ringing, Mei lifted her head to look out. Dust and sand fell in clumps from her hair and lashes, stinging into her eyes painfully. Blurred brown was the first thing she saw, her forehead scratched lightly by the wiry fur of her camel. She released Ling and Lan Fan's hand and took a breath, coughed.
"Re... re-group," she heard Ling whisper to himself. "Re-grou... Is everyone alright? Lan Fan? Mei? ...Panda?"
Xiao Mei chirped pitifully, rolling out from Mei's shirt to lay prone on the blasted sand. Mei cleared her throat and swallowed a lump of grime. "I'm – I'm okay, I think."
Silence.
"Lan Fan?"
"I am...not well," a high voice trembled. Mei looked over, and gasped. Lan Fan lay curled awkwardly, shoulder arched unnaturally away from the rest of her body. Ling was by her side in an instant.
"What's wrong?" he asked, face set and stern.
Lan Fan said nothing through her clenched teeth, but Mei could see the problem instantly. The thin straps of her undershirt had shifted to the side, exposing the flesh of Lan Fan's shoulder. On one side, the pale skin was completely fine – if not sunburned and sand-scratched. The other, the one connected to her automail, was far from normal. Ling reached out to lay a hand on the shoulder, and promptly yelped. He looked at his palm, saw it reddened and burned, and peered more closely at Lan Fan's automail.
"Mei!" Ling called, eyes wider and more panicked than Mei had ever seen them. "Hurry and heal her!"
The extreme heat of the sandstorm had been caught and held by the bright metal body of Lan Fan's arm. Mei remembered her knives, and how they had burned her skin even through her many layers of clothing. Lan Fan had had no such protection – the hot metal connected directly to the tender flesh of her body.
Mei stared, sickened, as Lan Fan twitched stiffly. "What are you doing?" Ling shouted. "Get over here!"
Snapped out of her daze, she dashed forward. "Grab the water sacks – we need to cool down her arm." Ling obeyed, and the water sizzled and steamed as it poured over the heated metal. Once the dirt and sand had been washed away from her arm, Mei could see the damage.
She felt ill. The areas farther from the arm did not look quite as bad, though still severe. Multiple folds of skin had peeled away, but the flesh was slick and glistening – meaning the sweat glands had not been burned away. The surrounding skin looked flaky and swollen, a blister the size of Mei's palm swelling on Lan Fan's clavicle. Excruciatingly painful and ugly, yes, but largely superficial. They would heal in time.
But the flesh in immediate contact with the automail had been seared as if touched with a branding iron. No, that was wrong...it had been cooked, broiled from the inside-out. The top layers of skin peeled, curled and black along the edges. What worried Mei most was the lining of pus, yellow and oozing out from where the automail joined with human tissue.
First, even second, degree burns were healed with relative ease – if the damage had gone deep, however, she doubted just how well she could heal the wound.
Without wasting time, Mei grabbed a fistful of wet sand and drew a simple alkahestry circle on Lan Fan's chest, spanning the distance from her sternum to the very edge of the minor burns. She concentrated on the flow of chi within Lan Fan, finding it erratic and wincing, and gently directed it towards the surface, speeding up the regenerative capabilities of the skin cells. The redness paled, and the enormous blister shriveled and shrunk back down.
Lan Fan had opened her eyes, and was staring steadily down into the sand. "I am sor- "
"Don't apologize," Ling ordered. "This is not your fault. Do you understand?"
She looked up, and Mei was startled to see something that, had it not been so outrageously against all Xingese customs, might have suggested something more than servile devotion. "Yes, my prince."
"So this is why you let go of Mei's hand during the storm." Ling said softly. He looked over to the camel which Lan Fan had crouched against. A thick patch of fur had been burned away, and the animal was licking the damaged area frantically. "You should heal the camel as well, Mei, once you fix Lan Fan."
His faith in her abilities would have been touching, in any other situation. Mei focused on the damaged flesh along the metal of Lan Fan's arm, noting with concern that the area along the seam of the automail looked charred, black and dry as ash. "Lan Fan," she asked worriedly, poking a finger gently against the affected skin. "Can you feel this?"
"No. It does not hurt as badly, Mei Chang, as the rest," she answered matter-of-factly, voice calm despite her unnaturally pale and drawn face. Mei frowned. Quickly drawing another circle around the area, she closed her eyes and felt for the flow of chi within the wound.
There was none.
Alarmed Mei delved deeper, growing increasingly distressed as the nerves around the burn sparked with blocked energy. She pushed more, extended her awareness further into Lan Fan's arm, and let out a sympathetic whimper.
Ling looked almost angry. "What is it?" he asked, pouring more water over the gradually cooling area.
Swallowing, Mei placed her palms over the pentagram. The points glowed a bright blue, the color sinking slowly into Lan Fan's skin. "The heat from her automail burned away many of her nerves and cells – I can increase the healing rate of damaged cells, but I can't create new ones." The alkahestry circle seemed to be taking affect, Lan Fan wincing as her burned nerves sent awakened alert after alert of increasing pain. "And that's just on the surface. The automail is joined directly to her nerve endings. Many are gone. The bone that's connected to the metal is also severely damaged."
She drew yet another circle and forced it deep into Lan Fan's flesh. "I don't think I can do much more than this."
Ling looked down at his bodyguard's arm, patchy and molted and raw. "Lan Fan," he said, voice low. "Move your arm."When nothing happened, he growled. "Can you move your arm at all?"
Lan Fan screwed her eyes shut tight. Her breathing came in short, pained pants, and Mei could see the muscles beneath her skin quivering desperately. "I...I cannot." Her black eyes, when opened, stared upwards with despair. "I cannot." Connected as she was to Lan Fan's presence, Mei felt the frantically-surging rush of the girl's aura ebb down to a defeated hum. Lan Fan tipped her head and looked blankly at her useless arm. "I am...again?" Her voice cracked. "Useless? ...my Lord..."
Mei was surprised when Ling did not share in Lan Fan's distress. "Right then. That's no good." And without preamble he reached over and plucked the Philosopher's Stone from around her neck.
"Here," he said. The stone fell innocently into Mei's palm. "Take however much you need to heal all the damage."
Life struck back into Lan Fan's eyes like a match. "Sire!" she protested, scooting away. But Ling held her down ruthlessly, unapologetic. Mei stared dumbly at the red rock, and felt its power thrum through her own chi paths.
"What use are you to me if your arm is gone?" Ling said with a cruelty that Mei understood as a great kindness. Lan Fan would not accept selfless altruism from her lord, and so Ling disguised his motivations. "It's no problem at all, Lan Fan. Hold...still...! Listen to me! If the homunculus Gluttony could regenerate his entire body multiple times with one stone, then healing a simple wound won't destroy the one we have." Still, Lan Fan struggled. Ling was forced to lean heavily on her injured shoulder to keep her down, and a cry ripped its way out of her throat.
"Hurry Mei!" Ling barked, face pale. Mei hesitated, struck stupid by the sight of her half-brother ruthlessly hurting his injured and dear friend. But she saw the hand that was not holding down Lan Fan's shoulder reach up to cup the side of her face, and she watched as Ling looked down at Lan Fan's clenched eyes with remorse.
Her hands were shaky, and her vision blurred, but Mei obeyed. She managed to draw a passable pentagram around Lan Fan's arm. The stone pulsed in her palm, power running through her veins like an electrical current. This time, when she searched for the flow of chi within the wound, an additional dimension of something hovered just over the damaged area. Like a shadow, or perhaps an after-image, of what should have been there naturally, Mei could detect the many nerves and cells and veins that belonged in Lan Fan's arm.
In fact, for one terrifying moment, Mei could feel an entire whole arm, free of automail, hovering just beyond her senses. The knowledge whispered through her mind, that if she only exerted a little more energy, she might restore Lan Fan's entire arm. But the whisper sounded too much like the envious homunculus that had drawn her back to Central City, and Mei blocked out the temptation. Besides, she had never healed with a Philosopher's Stone before. She did not know what would happen if she tugged at that image of a perfect human arm. She did know, however, that Lan Fan saw her entire body as a weapon. She must therefore want to keep the automail, right? Lan Fan would never forgive her, if Mei "wasted" the stone's energy by healing what, in the bodyguard's opinion, only made Lan Fan more deadly.
So Mei ignored the possibility trembling just outside her reach, and instead focused on rebuilding the deadened flesh. Lan Fan panted with pain as bone and tissue and sinew grew back and healed, and Ling looked on with grave solemnity.
"Sire," Lan Fan breathed through gritted teeth as Mei worked. "You are my prince. You must not do so much for a mere servant." Ling released her shoulders and sat back on his haunches, watching his vassal closely.
"Lan Fan," he replied coolly. "I am your prince. You must not tell me what to do."
Mei laughed as she felt the danger pass, and looked to see the flesh around the automail healed and unmarred. There was no trace, even, of the scars from where metal joined with flesh. The skin was as smooth and pale as a princess'.
Ling sighed with relief, and Lan Fan immediately shot to her feet. Her cheeks were red, and her eyes snapped with confused frustration. After a moment, however, she touched her shoulder gently. Slowly, deliberately, she moved her metal arm.
Mei noticed with surprise that the usual creaks and whirs which typically accompanied Lan Fan's movements were absent. A slow, almost invisible smile played across Lan Fan's face, and she turned and bowed so deeply to Mei that her forehead hovered above the ground. "I will treasure your gift, Lady Chang. My most sincere thanks."
Mei sat back and made an unattractive and exhausted noise. The stone had drawn back its power from Mei's chi, leaving a yawning absence in its wake. She stood and passed the stone back to Ling. Its size had not diminished, unaffected by the minor miracle it had worked. Unceremoniously, Ling tossed the stone into the air, catching it back up triumphantly.
"Definitely worth the trouble, don't you think?" he asked lightly, a satisfied smirk making his eyes narrow. Lan Fan looked down, clearly torn between gratitude and mortification.
She glowered at the wind-blown pebbles and muttered, "Master Ling, I appreciate your sacrifice. If you do not mind, however, I shall refrain from requiring your protection in the future."
A harsh bellow startled and interrupted Ling's response. With a sigh, Mei got up, stumbling, and made her way over to the deeply enraged camel, healing its shallow wound easily.
"Somebody else take over, now," she said, almost grumpily. "My watch is done."
The idea of the Philosopher's Stone having been used to heal a mere servant obviously violated a personal code of Lan Fan's. It took an entire day of flustered bafflement to get over the offense. It only took another hour after that, however, for her stunned gratitude to fade. "Mei Chang," she said with notably less animosity than usual. "I cannot believe you wasted so much of our drinking water, pouring it over my arm."
Mei promised to be less considerate, in the future.