"A female, Elder Mira," Roshan said respectfully. "She's injured. She needs healing."
He moved to set Faelyn down, and she quickly got her feet under her, face burning.
'Please let me stand on my own. Please. I have some dignity left. Somewhere. Maybe.'
Elder Mira's eyes narrowed, focusing on Faelyn with an intensity that made her want to squirm. The healer's gaze kept returning to her hair, that single white streak in her own hair almost seeming to glow faintly in response.
The old healer walked in a slow circle around her, and Faelyn became acutely aware that she probably looked like a disaster. Torn clothes, dirt everywhere, white hair tangled with leaves and twigs.
"Where did you find her?" Mira asked, still staring at Faelyn like she was a particularly interesting specimen.
"In the forest," Roshan said vaguely. "She was alone. Injured."
Elder Mira's gaze sharpened. "Alone? A female? In the forest?"
"She doesn't remember where she came from," Roshan added quickly. "We found her near the neutral zone."
Mira's eyes flicked to Nyx, who was standing at the edge of the clearing like a dark, blood-covered sentinel.
She gave him a small bow of respect. "Panther Chief."
Nyx returned the gesture silently.
Roshan's mind: ฅᨐฅ'Please don't ask why he's here. Please don't make this more complicated. I don't even know why he's still here except that he won't LEAVE and I can't exactly throw him out of the village when we're supposed to be maintaining the truce.'ฅᨐฅ
Nyx's mind: ฅᨐฅ'If she tells me to leave I'm going to have to leave and I don't WANT to leave because what if something happens and what if she's more hurt than she looks and what if—'ฅᨐฅ
Elder Mira turned back to Faelyn, and there was something almost reverent in the way she looked at the younger woman's completely white hair. Her fingers twitched slightly, as if she wanted to reach out and touch it but restrained herself.
"Come, child. Let's get you looked at." She paused, then looked at both chiefs. "Alone. You two stay out here."
"But—" Roshan started.
"OUT." Mira's voice cracked like a whip.
Both chiefs looked like they wanted to argue but didn't dare.
Mira grabbed Faelyn's wrist, surprisingly strong for someone who looked like a stiff breeze could blow her over, and pulled her inside.
The interior was dim and smelled like a combination of a botanical garden and a pharmacy. Dried herbs everywhere, clay pots, strange glowing stones providing soft light.
"Sit," Mira commanded, pointing at a cushioned bench.
Faelyn sat.
Mira immediately went into what could only be described as Full Healer Mode. Her eyes started glowing faintly, a soft amber light that made Faelyn's skin prickle.
She grabbed Faelyn's right arm, the one with the nasty scrape, and examined it with the precision of a surgeon.
"Hmm. Superficial. Good." She pulled out a clay jar filled with something that smelled absolutely vile. "This will sting."
"Wait, what—OW!" Faelyn hissed as Mira slathered the paste onto her wound.
It burned like someone had dumped alcohol and hot sauce directly into the cut.
But then, almost immediately, the pain started fading. Not completely, but enough that it went from "actively being tortured" to "mild annoying ache."
"Primitive but effective," Faelyn muttered.
Mira's ears twitched. "What was that?"
"Nothing. Just. Thank you."
The healer wrapped the wound with strips of clean cloth, her movements efficient and practiced. Then she placed her glowing hand over the bandage, and Faelyn felt a warm, tingling sensation spread through her arm.
Magic.
Actual magic.
'Okay. So magic is real. Good to know. Great. Fantastic. My life is a fantasy novel now.'
Mira stepped back, the glow fading from her eyes.
And then she just... stared.
Faelyn stared back.
The silence stretched.
And stretched.
[This is awkward,] Puffball whispered, somehow making it worse.
'No kidding.'
Faelyn shifted on the bench. "Um. Is there—"
"Two minutes," Mira interrupted.
"What?"
"I'm thinking."
More silence.
Faelyn counted in her head. 'One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Mississippi...'
She made it to one hundred Mississippi before Mira finally spoke.
"Tell me, child," the old healer said slowly, carefully, like she was testing the words. Her hand unconsciously went to her own white streak. "Did you, by any chance, come from a land of strange creatures called... Hue-mahns?"
Faelyn's brain screeched to a halt.
'Hue-mahns.'
'She's saying it wrong but I KNOW what she's trying to say.'
'Humans.'
'She's asking if I'm HUMAN.'
'How. HOW does she know? I look just like them! Same body! Same face! No weird ears, sure, but females can choose not to show their ears anyway! How can she TELL?!'
Elder Mira's ancient eyes bored into her, waiting for an answer.
Faelyn's mouth opened.
Closed.
Opened again.
'What do I say? Do I lie? Do I tell the truth? Does she KNOW about humans? How does she know? WHY does she know? Is being human bad? Is it dangerous? Will they kick me out? Kill me? What—'
"Well?" Mira prompted, one silver eyebrow raised. "Are you, or are you not, one of those Hue-mahn creatures I've heard tales about?"
Faelyn's heart hammered in her chest.
[Ooh, this is getting GOOD,] Puffball whispered.
Outside, she could hear Roshan and Nyx pacing, their thoughts a jumbled mess of worry and frustration that they couldn't be in here.
And here was this ancient healer, looking at her with eyes that had seen probably two centuries of secrets, asking the one question Faelyn had no idea how to answer.
'Well. Damn.'