"I will admit, I expected that you would be more excited to be returning home," Erilda said, staring down at the girl seated next to her on the wagon's bench seat. Are you worried your brother and others have worsened since you've been gone, Saoirse?"

The girl shrugged, reaching out to brush her fingertips against the rough surface of a nearby outcropping. "Yes and no. I am worried, mostly about Brandon. Other people too, I guess, but he's the most important to me. He's strong though. So I'm positive he's still hanging on."

'Childish certainty, yet I can't bring myself to crush it. The coming hours may hold a harsh lesson, but I do not want to be the one to cause pain where there may not need to be.' With a small nod, the Head Healer continued. "It is understandable that you value your brother's life over others. I remember how fond and protective of my younger brother I used to be."

"Used to be?"

Erilda nodded. "Yes. He passed away many years ago. Such as the fate of many who go to war. It was so long ago that even my love is a memory of an emotion."

"Oh," Saoirse's brow furrowed. "That sucks. I'm sorry."

On her other side, Kaladil snorted, a noise he immediately smothered with a fake cough. Erilda shot him a sharp look -which the young man refused to acknowledge- before returning to the girl.

"It is quite all right, Saoirse. As I said, he passed long ago. It is not something I spend much time thinking about these days" she said. "Back to you though. Are you worried about the repercussions that will come from your family and environment for leaving your community in search of aid?"

"Nah, not really," the girl said, shaking her head. "I know I'm going to get in trouble. I've accepted that. I guess it's just a matter of what punishment I'll get, but Brandon isn't very creative so I'm guessing it's going to be one of the ones he always uses. I'll be hauling a lot of water and firewood over the next couple of weeks, I think. Also, you can call me Shay. It's an easier name."

Personally, Erilda thought Saoirse was a beautiful name. Unusual and slightly hard to pronounce, yes, yet Erilda found she enjoyed the feeling of it on her tongue. Still, she would respect the girl's preference.

"As you wish, Shay," the Head Healer said, emphasizing the name. "What weighs on your mind then, if not the possibility of your brother's worsening health or your own impending punishment?"

Another shrug. "It's just… I'm disappointed. In myself, and everything that happened."

"You should not blame yourself for being injured, girl," Kaladil cut in. "The attempt alone shows great strength of character, how far you made even more so. Many who were older and more skilled than you would have likely fallen to misfortune as well."

"Thank you. That doesn't make me feel better but it was nice of you to try, Mr. Sillonour." Sao- Shay replied, pronouncing Kaladil's family name incorrectly. "I've always loved books where the main character went on a grand adventure. Frodo, Dorothy, Roland, and even Alice… They got to go amazing places and see amazing things, even if things went wrong for them sometimes and people got hurt. I always loved these stories, and I always wanted to go on adventures too. So, when I set out, if felt like I got the chance to go on an adventure of my own… And not only did I fail horribly, but the entire thing kind of sucked! Even without the almost dying party, it was hot and dusty, I was so scared I barely slept at night, I was always so hungry and thirsty, and I didn't meet any fun companions."

She glanced at Erilda out of the corner of her eye. "No offense."

"None taken," Erilda said wryly. She did not recognize any of these names and made a mental note to ask the girl to elaborate on these characters' so-called adventures at a later date.

"So I've concluded that adventures are a bunch of nonsense," Shay continued. "Or, at the very least, I'm not cut out for them. And I guess that's okay, I know not everyone can be an adventure. But it still leaves the question of what I'm supposed to do with my life."

"Hmmm, that is quite the problem."

It occurred to Erilda that she had already known the basic outline of what her life would be like by the time she was Shay's (approximate) age. As a noblewoman from an old, respected family who was well-skilled in the magical arts, Erilda was expected to find a way to use her skills to advance the Aldmeri Dominion. She was expected to marry well for the sake of alliances and public appearance, then produce offspring that would continue the bloodline and provide future members of the Aldmeri Dominion. Above all else, she was expected to always act in a way that upheld the values and the tradition of the Aldmeri Dominion.

And Erilda had done all those things. All those things and more.

'And what good did it do me in the end?'

The Head Healer banished those thoughts from her mind. "Well, what do you want to do?"

Shay's face scrunched up in thought. "Hmmmm… I don't know. I like books. I like learning. I even like writing stuff down, but my handwriting sucks. Mostly I just want to be helpful though."

That description of interest was hardly helpful, yet it really wanted to encourage the girl. If, when she was young, someone had encouraged her to consider a different path than what was expected, how different might Erilda's life have been?

"Perhaps you could be an instructor? Or a writer?"

"An instructor? You mean like a teacher?"

Erilda nodded. She hoped the girl would aspire to a more prestigious title, though it was as good a description as any.

"I would like that. I talked to Mrs, Cross -oh, that's my teacher- about being trained as her replacement. And she liked the idea, I think, but that it wasn't allowed. That's for a writer… I'm not sure there are any more writers. Maybe in the bigger cities, but not in Haven's Pass. Unless you mean writing the town Bulletin, but I don't want to do that. I already know way too much about my neighbors, I don't want to write about them. Plus, writing is kind of hard when you got to be nose to nose with your paper."

There were many threads Erilda could pull out of the girl's words to examine. For example, why wasn't she allowed to become a teacher? Why was there no more writers in this world? Was it purely for practical reasons, a scarcity of resources, or was there no way to distribute printed material? All the texts of this world described it as a desolate, unfortunate place -a description Erilda certainly agreed with judging by all she had seen and heard of it so far.

Also, where were these big cities?

That last one was perhaps the least important of all potential talking points. Yes, it would be nice to know. Yet it would be a good long while before Erilda decided to make contact with any of them. Cities had more people, people to help, if there was also more danger involved. No, for now, they would stick to smaller, more isolated settlements like the girl's home.

'Haven's Pass… What, or who, exactly is passing through?'

In the end, Erilda decided to bring up none of those lines of questioning. "What's in a week, your poor vision can be addressed. By then, the necessary equipment will have been assembled to create an appropriate pair of spectacles."

While she had been excited about this possibility earlier, now the girl looked more dubious. "How? Do you have a glasses-making machine?"

'Glasses. Odd term.'

Underneath them, the wagon creaked and let out a long, low groan as it rolled over a raised patch of dirt and stone. The even terrain meant that Kaladil did not push the horses too quickly, preferring the safety of a more leisurely pace -despite the severity of their predicament- to the uncertainty of a quicker one. From overhead, the sun beat down powerfully and without mercy. And though it didn't do an overwhelming amount to guard against the heat -she'd have to have their enchanter do some work on the wagon later-, Erilda was grateful for the cloth canopy that shielded them from the most vicious of the rays.

The wagon could not truly be called a carriage -not nearly comfortable enough- yet the cloth walls and ceiling did an admiral job at blocking out the sun and dust -at the cost of also blocking the cooling wind. Through the thin barrier, Erilda heard the muttered conversations of her associates and the clicking of the glass potion bottles at they tapped against each other.

"We have a way of making you… glasses. They will likely look different from the ones you are familiar with, however."

Shay appeared to mull this news over before nodding slowly. " I would like that. It would be nice to see everything clearly, even if it would take some time to get used to. And maybe having glasses would mean that they'd let me be Mrs. Cross' apprentice. When I asked her why she wasn't allowed, she said her superiors didn't think that a girl who couldn't see would be able to teach. With glasses, I might be able to prove them wrong. Still, I hope you won't be too upset when I say that I'll believe you can make me a pair of glasses when I see it."

Erilda let out a bark of laughter. It was more genuine than her normal laughs, drawn out by the girl's strange frankness. It was undignified, and perhaps that was why Shay looked surprised, yet pleased by her reaction. "As a noblewoman, I would be insulted that you questioned my word and honor. Yet, as a woman of intelligence, I would approve of your skepticism."

Shape perked up, lips party into a broad smile. "Thanks! Some people say it's annoying."

"People who say that are likely people who have thought about doing you harm, little lady," Kaladil said, lightly flicking the horse's reigns as he steered them around the increasingly rocky terrain. "If I may, cut into your conversation, have you considered becoming a librarian? And the proper city, that's a very prestigious position. They are keepers of knowledge. More than that, they're keepers of the past and of people's imaginations."

That… wasn't a poor idea. Erilda personally had great respect for librarians, as well as close working relationships with many. The head librarian at her college of study had been instrumental in getting her the proper text to advance her skills. Dor that, the Head Healer would be forever grateful.

'Shay is clearly intelligent. If she likes books, surely working around them would be an ideal environment.'

The girl, however, became dejected at such a suggestion, her shoulders slumping and the smile sliding from her lips as her head bowed. "I'd like that. I'd like that a lot. My town already has a librarian -my best friend, Nicky! I told you about him early.- And I'd love to be able to work with him, but he wasn't allowed to take on an apprentice period! I think it's cuz the librarian position was just made to give him something to do because they didn't trust Nicky to do anything else."

"Why not?" Erilda asked. Was it that this boy, like Shay, had been deemed too unusual or too defective to work with the general populace? The potential of that mindset made her wince, knowing it was all too similar to the one that existed in her own homeland.

"Oh, Nicky? He can't hear," Shay said, pointing at her ear. "He can't talk either. He's real smart though, probably the smartest person I know." Her frown deepened. "Not that most people spend enough time with Nicky to notice. That's why we get along so well. He listens to me, and I listen to him. We write stories together. That's how we communicate. Mostly."

"How interesting." And it was interesting. interesting and sad. If she was right about this young man, his intelligence was being ignored due to how it was expressed differently than with others. "Do you know why your friend has these afflictions?"

Shay shrugged. "He was born like that. I know his mom got hurt when she was still pregnant with him but I don't much about that. She died, and Nicky doesn't like to talk about it."

"Understandable." Deceased parents were always difficult to speak of, even under the best of circumstances. "Well, I look forward to meeting This young man you hold in such high regard."

Kaladil decided to speak up again. "I thought you said there weren't any more writers."

"Huh?" Shay asked.

The guardsman looked away from the horses and the landscape to smile at the girl. "You said there weren't any more writers in this world, but it sounds like you and your friend fill that role well."

Shay blushed, much to Erilda's amusement. "Well… We write, but that doesn't make us writers. They're just short little stories. It's a game for both of us. Sometimes he chooses an idea and we both work on a story that centers around it, and then I pick the idea next time. Or I write a page of a story and then he writes a page of a story and we just pass it back and forth. There's not much to do in our town, especially if people don't want your help."

"That is…" Conflicting emotions flickered across Kaladil's face. Erilda imagined it was amusement from the girl's description of the game or anger on the Shay's behalf for her clear dismissal from society. "It is lovely you and your friend have found an activity that brings you both joy."

"Yeah, well, it's not like-" Shay's eyes went wide and she shot up, wobbling on her feet for a moment before steadying herself and pointing at a tall, slightly curved pillar of stone that rose on the horizon. "Look! You see that rock there? We call that the Giant's Claw. It means we're almost there! You just got to turn left when we get to the secret gate. Just look for some rocks that have a bit of yellow paint on them and we can start down toward the town."

"I can't wait," Erilda said, confident that it was only half a lie.

"Stop! Who goes- What the fuck!?"

Erilda supposed the voice was supposed to call out something authoritative and intimidating. Instead, it was more humorous than anything. Especially since the face of the man it came from was plain and unobtrusive, slightly doughy looking with sandy blond hair that was due for a haircut. Even the shape of his body was unimpressive; neither particularly tall nor broad with not nearly enough muscle to compensate for his other failings.

That was, however, except for the weapon in his hand. It was shaped roughly like a misshapen metal pole yet the man was holding it as one would a large crossbow. Something at the front of it glinted in the oppressive sunlight.

'Firearms. Guns. Pistols, rifles, shotguns,' she thought, recalling the descriptions of these devices in the texts written of this world and warnings that one should be wary of them as they were dangerous weapons. Sparks gathered at Erilda's fingertips as possible scenarios flooded her mind. From behind her, within the cloth walls of the wagon, she heard the others go still and quiet. 'I do not want to hurt this man. In fact, it is the exact opposite of what I hope to do here. But if he does not put that weapon down, I may be forced to.'

She would heal him afterward though. That would make them even and allow Erilda to stay in line with her mission of aiding those from this world.

"Please, do not be alarmed," she called out, projecting her voice in a strong, confident manner that came easy after years of practice. "My associates and-"

"Duck Rogers, you put that rifle down right now!" Shay yelled with all the ferocity she had in her small frame as she sprung to her feet on the wagon's bench. "And, yes, I know it's you! Even with my bad eyes, I can recognize that awful orange vest you always wear! Might as well be wearing a sign that says 'Aim here'!"

Erilda forced back a snort. It was true, the young man was wearing a puffy vest that was the most eye-wateringly garish shade of orange she'd ever seen 'You'd be able to pick this man out of a crowd in the entire battlefield away.'

Kaladil caught her eye and mouthed, 'Duck?' Erilda rolled her eyes and mouthed, 'Be quiet,' back at him.

"Shay? Shay Reed, is that you?" The young man -unfortunately known as Duck- shouted back. "By god, we all thought you were dead!"

"I would have been if not for the people-" she waved a hand at Erilda "-with me now! And now they're here to help, so lower your damn gun and let us through!" Shay demanded.

Erilda decided now it was time for her to speak up. "I promise you that we are here on a mission of peace. We seek to bring medical aid to your community. We've already provided it to Shay, as she can attest. And she has informed me that you have other sick and injured among you."

The man hesitated, yet lowered his strange weapon -his rifle- ever so slightly. "Shay… You did a damn fool thing running off! And no matter what you say, we can't just be letting people in left, right, and center. Not after what happened! Not after those bandits-"

Shay cut him off. "Those bandits shot your wife in the shoulder! The last time I heard anything about it she can't even wiggle her fingers now! And tell me, does she still have that fever? It was real bad when I left. 103, right? That's the kind of fever that can kill a person."

That it could, especially if it lingered or grew even hotter. It was also the sign of an infection. And not being able to wiggle your fingers after a shoulder injury? That was also an ill omen.

"If it would put you at ease, I permit to search myself, all of my associates, our equipment, and our wagon, for any weapons. I promise that you will find none," Erilda added, twitching her fingers at Kaladil's sword to cast a silent invisibility spell. "We will also always stay in sight of you or one of your fellow guardsmen as we do our work. Please, we only wish to treat those who are suffering."

The others would go along with whatever Erilda said, no matter how unhappy about the search they may be.

"I don't-" The man rubbed it his forehead with the back of a forearm, let out a loud sigh, and then fully lowered his weapon. "How many people do you got with you?"

"There's myself and Kaladil," she said, gesturing toward the guard. "And then five more of our associates within the wagon. I will warn you, we all look different from anyone you are used to. Please don't be alarmed, there is nothing wrong with us, we are simply pilgrims from a …strange Land."

" Pilgrims? Are you on some sort of holy mission?"

Erilda hesitated a brief moment before answering. "Some would… see it that way. To me, take care of you it is a moral mission above all else."

Another sigh from the man. "You all wait here for a moment, I'm going to radio in for some backup. Then we'll check you to make sure nothing suspicious is around. After that… we'll see what happens."

Shay sat back down, a bright smile on her young face. "I knew I could get him to listen. Mr. Duck isn't a bad guy. Most of the time, I even sort of like him. He's just kind of… duckish."

Erilda didn't know what that meant, but she nodded anyway. The girl had done well. Despite openly admitting to being something of an outcast who was rarely listened to in our hometown, the girl had spoken with authority and strength that plenty thrice her age couldn't maintain. And she had gotten the man to listen to her.

Most importantly, Shay's words would give them a chance to help!

"I thank you for your help," Erilda said with a nod.

But any joy the girl might have had was dashed with the words that Duck Rogers called over his shoulder. "I'm glad you're back, Shay. Brandon… He's in a bad state. It's good you'll be able to say goodbye."

Immediately, all the blood drained from Shay's face and she turned to Erilda with those wide gray eyes. "Does that mean-"

Erilda grabbed the girl's hand and squeezed it. "I will examine and treat him personally. Before anyone else."

It may be too late. But the simple act of trying would make the girl feel better, at least temporarily.

The house that Shay lived in with her brother was a small, dusty off-white, square box set among some scraggy bushes and trees. Erilda had seen worse dwellings in her life, but this still wasn't a place she would step into willingly under most circumstances. still, nothing about it outside could compare to the unpleasantness that Erilda found inside.

Among some broken furniture and broken glass that had been half-heartedly swept into a pile in the corner, a dying young man was sprawled across a couch. Tall, slender, and muscular, this man, Brandon Reed, resembled his sister greatly. His hair was darker -a shade of chestnut brown- yet the shape of the chin, nose, ears, and even the mouth matched perfectly. If Brandon were to open his eyes, Erilda knew she would see that same shade of striking grey. However, it wasn't the resemblance that the Head Healer noticed first. No, that was the blood-stained bandage wrapped around the man's waist.

"Brandon!"

Shay darted inside ahead of her, of for her trajectory was interrupted when she was swept up into the embrace of a second man. This one was even younger, even thinner, with darker wavy hair that came down to his chin, an olive complexion, and solemn yet intelligent dark eyes.

He hugged Shay tightly, something she returned even as she half-sobbed against his chest. After a moment, the dark-eyed man pulled back, grabbed Shay by the shoulders, and shook her fiercily. It was then Erilda realized that this had to be Nicky, the deaf young man that Shay spoke so highly about.

"Nicky, I'll explain soon. I promise. But first-" Shay whipped her eyes, grabbed Erilda's hand, and pulled her to the couch. Sinking down beside her brother, the girl looked up at her pleadingly. "Please, save him."

Erilda said nothing at first, instead resting two fingers against the pulse point of Brandon's pale, clammy neck. His body was hot with fever, an infection so intense that Erilda not only smell it, she could practically taste it in the air. His breathing was rough and rattling. His pulse was slow, thready, and weak. Yet it was there, and that was something Erilda could work with.

Erilda banished all thoughts of the indignity of being searched and her and the horrified looks of the townsfolk when they saw the faces of herself and her associates from her mind. Until this man either survived or died, nothing would exist outside this room.

"I will do my best."