The sun was a heavy orange yoke already beginning its westerly descent as Erilda led Shay through the lines that had formed around various makeshift stalls and stands her colleagues had set up in the little town. In the hours since they'd arrived, the dozen or so individuals with the worst injuries had been treated -most would likely survive, Brandon included, but two or three others only had, at most, another day- which meant it was now time to treat increasingly minor injuries and aliments until everyone had as clean of a bill of health as possible.

Shay's poor eyes darted from line to line, likely trying to determine the reasoning behind each grouping. Soon enough, Erilda would tell her, but first, food.

"This way," she said, hand on Shay's back to guide the girl to the back of Second Chance's wagon, where Balsere Athmalen had set up a meal station.

The line that had formed in front of it was long, and the people were restless. Judging from how they were licking their lips and the dark, fearful looks they threw at Erilda and her colleagues, the restlessness was both from hunger and nervousness. Erilda couldn't blame them, though she hoped they knew any aggression would be met with force and discipline. For now, though, Kaladil's presence -even without his weapons- seemed enough to keep everyone in order.

"Balsere," Erilda greeted as she led Shay to the front of the line. Behind them, the line of humans grumbled and growled about unfairness. Kaladil clicked his tongue sharply, and they all quieted down. "I hope your day is going well."

The Dunmer female blew away a lock of dark hair that had escaped its confinement in a blue hairscarf. "A busy one, at least, Head Healer."

Erilda hummed in agreement. "A meal, please, for my friend here and I. And another one should be sent to the young man in the white house with the red door."

"I can't exactly leave my post here, my lady," Balsere said. "Kaladil is kind enough to help me by washing the returned dishes, but I could still use another two sets of hands."

She gestured to the large wooden table someone had dragged over. Half of it was covered in the ingredients she was cutting and seasoning for the massive pot of stew set up next to the table, along with large loaves of bread waiting to be sliced. A tankard of apple juice -chilled by magic' took up the other half of the table. The sweet scent that wafted out from the back of the wagon indicated that Balsere had another batch of sweet rolls going in the small stove within to be added to the four remaining on a covered platter. Underneath that table were stacks of wooden trays, bowls, and mugs. Many of the humans had brought their own collection of dining ware for the occasion, but it never hurt to be prepared. So long as these dishes were returned to the dirty dish station nearby, they were free to use.

The gray-green-skinned female peered at Shay with the burning red eyes indicative of the Dunmer people. "How's your brother doing, girlie?"

"Better. Thanks to Ms. Erilda here," Shay said, shifting only slightly under Balsere's gaze. Impressive. Then she blurted out, "Why do you two look different? Aren't you from the same place?"

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"Aren't you the curious one?" Balsere snorted. "She and I aren't the same. Suggesting otherwise to the wrong person will get you rightfully hurt."

Shay drew closer to Erilda at the cold words while the healer scowled at the assistant cook. "Enough of that, Athmalen. Two meals. Saoirse and I have much to discuss. As for more help… see if any of the villagefolk are willing to aid you. Considering the assistance that we are giving them, at least a few should agree."

Balsere's lips pursed, but she silently served up two bowls of stew and two slices of the rough, dark bread with mugs of juice. The fact that she didn't add a sweet roll for Shay was a slight that did not go unnoticed by Erilda. For now, though, she stayed silent. Considering Shay was practically shoving her face into the bowl of stew, it seemed the girl didn't consider it a problem.

Once more, Erilda led Shay away with a hand on her shoulder to a small bench outside what looked like a bakery—temporarily closed with several small holes in the glass front from which many fractures erupted.

"How is it?" she asked the girl, tearing off a small piece of bread to dab it into the thick broth.

Shay shoved another massive spoonful into her mouth and swallowed. "This might be the best thing I've ever eaten," she grunted, already going for another spoonful. "That lady wasn't very nice, though."

Erilda chuckled. "No. Balsere's place on this expedition is… contentious. She desperately wanted to be a part of it, yet she failed nine of the ten tests I created for potential expedition members. The baseline threshold for joining is passing at least five, with different positions having different requirements."

"Then why is she here?"

"Because of a tale as old as time," Erilda sighed. "Her family is quite wealthy. Not nobility, but enough coin to get people to listen. So she got the right people to send the right letters and offer the right amount of money and other types of support. Eventually, I decided the benefits of accepting her along outweighed the negatives. However, I told her that the only position was as an assistant cook. When Balsere said she didn't know how to cook, I told her she had three years to learn. And, for better or worse, she was there when we started to prepare for departure. She doesn't enjoy cooking -that much is clear if you spend time with Balsere while she's working- but she's willing to do it to be here."

"Hmmm," Shay hummed around another spoonful of stew. She swallowed again, pulling the spoon from her mouth. "So what job do you want me to do? I mean, I'm not good at much."

Erilda didn't believe this for a moment. The girl had already proven herself quite capable of a number of skills -in addition to an impressive amount of internal grit.

'Of course, when you spend your entire life being told you're good for only one thing or nothing at all, you start to believe it.'

"We'll get to that in a moment. Keep eating. Your body needs the fuel," Erilda said, a small smile growing on her lips.

Shay didn't argue, and once she was nearing the bottom of her bowl and her chewing had slowed down, Erilda pointed to the different lines of people filing toward different tends—each with a different-colored canopy top. The largest tent, however, had a white top and three general assistants working in it.

"Do you see what is happening?"

Shay cocked an eyebrow. "I can't see anything, remember?"

Erilda rolled her eyes.

"-but I guess you're talking about all the different lines? They're for different types of help, right?"

"Exactly," the Altmer nodded. "Do you know what triaging is?"

A crease formed between Shay's honey-blonde brows. "I… think I've heard the word before. It has something to do with medicine. Or maybe the military."

"You aren't wrong on either count," Erilda said, impressed. "Triaging is conducting a preliminary assessment of patients to determine the urgency of their need for treatment and the nature of treatment required. Or if they need treatment at all. And it is often used on battlefields."

"And that's what they're doing there?" Shay nodded toward the white tent.

"Yes. The assistants in there are looking over everyone who comes in to see what ails them and getting a colored armband that signifies the type of treatment they need. That color matches up with the tent they need to go to first. After your fellow villagefolk go through their treatment, they're either released from the system of care or move on to another tent to get some other ailment addressed."

Shay used some of her bread to mop up the remains of her stew. "Seems like a lot of work. Confusing too."

"Yes, you would think so, yet time and time again, it has been proven that this is the best way to treat large groups of people."

"Hmmm, if you say so. What does that have to do with me?"

'Back to that point, huh? Smart girl.'

"I need an assistant? No, not a medical assistant -though you proved yourself quite adept in that area too. I would like you to be my administrative assistant. Basically, you'd be helping me keep my notes organized and my records in order."

"That sounds really boring," Shay said with all the sincere eagerness of a young girl who doesn't see the need to be tactful in her words.

Erilda threw back her head and laughed, drawing more than a few stares. "You aren't wrong, Shay. It is the most boring part of the medical process. Well, that and waiting to see if treatments are effective. That's part of why I'm outsourcing the duty to you."

"What's the other part?"

"I'm saving time. As the head healer and the leader of the expedition, it is my duty to go over all and properly file the patient reports of all my subordinates and my own. Along with any other paperwork and correspondence needed."

"That sounds really, really boring."

"Indeed," Erilda agreed. "Having you take over some of those duties, even in the short term, would immensely benefit me and all my work."

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"My handwriting isn't good," Shay said before sucking down the rest of her juice. "My teachers and basically every other adult I know has complained about that, even Nicky. But I can't help it. It's my eyes, you know? I have to practically be nose to nose with the page to see what I'm writing clearly."

"I assure you that neither mine nor my colleagues have examples of stellar penmanship."

That wasn't entirely true. Yes, everyone who spent time in a field that required them to write large amounts -often quickly- undoubtedly would suffer a decline in lettering quality, and Erilda was no exception. Yet years of childhood lessons and many strikes to the palm or back of the hand over slanted writing could never truly be forgotten. Erilda could write neatly when required; it just took focus. Focus that took time away from her work.

"Hmmm. Me doing this for you, is that how I would repay you all for saving me and fixing my leg?"

"What? No. Of course not, Shay. We don't expect anyone to pay us back for the aid we provide. If we did, this expedition would be nothing more than a business venture," Erilda said, squeezing the girl's knee so she'd look at her. "I apologize if that is the impression I gave you. No, it would be a job. For at least as long as we are in this village treating people. If you would like, we could even think up some sort of payment for-"

"My glasses," Shay blurted out.

"What?"

"My glasses," Shay repeated. She swallowed. "Working for you with this is how I'll pay you guys for my glasses. I get it if you don't want payment for helping others since helping is something you do, but my glasses will be something that you give me. So I think it's only fair that I find some way to pay for them."

Now, it was Erilda's turn to hum in consideration. "You are a stubborn, willful girl, Saosire. You proved that much when you decided to trudge across who knows how many miles of barren land in search of help for your brother. And if this is what will make you accept the… glasses that I intend to gift you, then so be it. I do not think I could talk you out of it."

She held out her hand. "We have a deal."

Shay paused… then grinned as she took Erilda's hand, her grip surprisingly strong for someone so young and small. With a nod, Shay confirmed, "Yes, we have a deal."

"Excellent. Since you are done eating, we can get started right away."

"Wait… Huh?"

"The patient suffers from multiple lacerations of different degrees of seriousness to both shins, along with some minor heat burns. The injuries were caused by… Can you tell me, sir?"

"Oh, uh," the older man jumped at suddenly being addressed. "Jeff Turner, M-Ma'am. When those ruffians came into town, I tried to fight back with my old rifle. 'Course, my aim isn't what it used to be, so I'm not sure how much good it did. But when one of them saw me firing from my front door and grenade at me. It bounced off one of the porch beams, so things weren't as bad as they could have been. Still, it blasted me right off my feet and cut my legs up good."

The man, Jeff, scowled then and mainly said to himself, "Still didn't compare to how viciously my wife ripped into me, though. I don't think I'll ever recover from that."

Shay snorted in amusement from her seat, her face hidden by the notebook she was writing in. On a different day, Erilda would chastise her for her lack of professionalism. Today, though, even she found the statement amusing.

"Debra is a good woman," Jeff continued solemnly. "She cleaned and patched my right up, even as she scolded me. Some of them keep bleeding, though."

"Marriage is a unique song and dance for all," Erilda said. "And your wife did an excellent job of cleaning your wounds. I do not see a single sign of leftover debris. As for why the wounds continue opening back up, it is because the muscles and shins of your calves are constantly shifting as you walk or bend."

She cleared her throat to slip back into her 'auditor voice.' "Pay attention, Shay. Because of the area and types of wounds the patient suffers, I will use the closure method, including sutures, tissue adhesives, and skin-closure bindings in my treatment -depending on the depth of the laceration. After that, I will prescribe a standard post-wound blisterwort tea to aid in healing and further prevent infection."

And with that, Erilda picked up her needle and thread and went to work.

Three patients later, Erilda and Shay were visited by an unwelcome visitor.

"I hear you're the woman in charge of this little circus."

The speaker was a tall man with the build of one who was once strong, too, with broad shoulders and large hands. But whatever strength he may have had in the past, he was one of the few individuals in this settlement with a noticeably large gut.

Erilda barely glanced up at his blandly handsome face -in the way she understood human males to be attractive- before returning her attention to her patient.

"That term seems inaccurate for the service my colleagues and I provide." Then, after a moment, Erilda added, "How can I help you?"

The only reason -beyond the properties of basic courtesy- Erilda didn't dismiss this stranger completely was that, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Shay stiffen.

"Bill. Bill Cargill."

Biting back a sigh, Erilda looked at the man once more. "That did not answer my q- Oh, yes, now I recall. Shay mentioned you. You are the water man, correct?"

Water Man Bill scowled, jowls flushing red. For a moment, Erilda wondered if he was going to start yelling. She intended to stun him if that was the case.

But then Water Man Bill swallowed, took a deep breath, yanked a hand through sweaty, dirty blond hair, and said, "Well, I wanted to introduce myself. After all, if you and your other strange kin are goin' to be hangin' around for a while, then we should know one another. After all, my family runs this town."

"Tanya Murrey is the mayor," Shay blurted out, only to clamp her mouth shut when Erilda and Water Man Bill's eyes darted to her. With a shy shrug, she added, "Just saying."

The man's scowl deepened, and Shay seemed to shrink into herself. She wasn't even looking in his direction now. Erilda promised herself she'd stun Water Man Bill if he spoke to the girl unkindly.

What he did instead, however, was arguably worse.

"Is Shannon bothering you, ma'am?" he asked, all false smiles and cheer. "I heard she was the one who brought you into town, but there is no reason to keep a little girl around. I'm sure she's been gettin' in your way."

Shay all but collapsed into herself at the mockery. The change in demeanor was so noticeable that even Erilda's patient -a tanned young man who looked of similar age to Nicky- sat up from the cot he was lying on.

"C'mon now, Mr. Cargill. Shay has never caused anyone any harm. Just 'cause she's a little different-"

"I mean, the girl's got problems." Water Man Bill plowed right through the younger man's words and continued. "You must have noticed by now that she's not right in the head. Don't get me wrong, Shannon is a cute little thing, but she's clearly a little slow."

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"Saosire," Erilda pronounced the name with cold care, anger like venom dripping from every letter. "Has graciously agreed to become my assistant while I am in your town, treating its people. Something, as you yourself pointed out, we are only able to do because Shay directed us here. And if you do truly run this town, then I'm sure you'll want to shower her with your thanks. At a different time. Right now, she and I have important work to do."

To make her dismissal of the man clear, Erilda turned back to the young man and, in a forced, cheery voice of her own, asked, "Now, how did you end up with two fish hooks stuck in your hand?"

"I, uh, thought I could cut the first hook out with the second one."

"...Well, I hope you learned your lesson about that line of thinking. I will get these out of your hand, clean and stitch the wound, and then bandage. After that, I'll send you to get a tea that I want you to brew and drink twice a day, once in the morning and once at night. It'll be bitter, but the tea and regular cleaning will prevent infection. Shay, are you writing this all down?"

"Yes, ma'am!" the girl said, pencil moving quick. "I'm just stuck on the spelling of-"

Then screaming filled the air.