"Yelling is what you should be doing."
Mara, ancient, poked my back bandages with her gnarled, tree root-like fingers. She hardly touched them, yet they felt on fire again. The healer's hut smelled of dried herbs, bitter ointments, and my blood's mild copper scent.
I laid stomach-down on a bed facing the dried moss-draped wall. I remained silent. Never considered screaming.
She removed the cloth Caelan had put on her. Her harsh breath sounded like dead leaves moving. Nothing remained. A long, heavy silence.
"These are deep," she whispered to herself, not me.Barb weeps."Hot as coals." "Should be swollen and red." She fingered the cut-area skin. "Awesome. "Too fast closing."
I breathed steadily. The ghost in my machine met the lash and returned inside, leaving a strangely efficient cell
