Chapter 6 – The Clinic
888 Words
Vael doesn’t wait to see if I’ll bolt.
“Come on, Hollowpeak,” she says as soon as we’re out of Darian’s office. “Time to meet the only person here who listens to me.”
“I listen,” I say.
“You argue. Different.”
We wind through a narrower corridor that smells of antiseptic and herbs. She stops at a door marked with a hand‑painted crescent wrapped in ivy and pushes it open.
The clinic is three rooms knocked into one: cots along a wall, cupboards of bandages and jars, a metal cabinet that reeks faintly of human meds, big windows leaking grey light. Quieter than the rest of the house. Cleaner.
Erynn Moonglass stands at a counter, sleeves rolled, sorting dried leaves. She looks up, eyes bright.
“Delivery for you,” Vael says. “One traumatized Hollowpeak special. Don’t overwater.”
“Hi, Vexa,” Erynn says. “Come in. Don’t mind Vael, she has to be abrasive or she implodes.”
“Darian wants her here a few hours a day,” Vael adds. “See what she can do that isn’t dying.”
“Good plan,” Erynn says. “You can go terrorize the warriors now.”
Vael salutes and leaves.
The silence she takes with her is easier to breathe.
Erynn nods at a stool. “Sit. No one’s bleeding out, so you get the tour.”
“That’s good,” I say. “Less blood is ideal.”
She smiles. “You’d be surprised.”
She moves through the room, pointing things out. “Mundane supplies here. Locked cabinet for stuff that would give humans a stroke. You don’t get a key yet. Darian would combust.”
“Understandable.”
She taps a row of jars. “Herbs—sleep, pain, calming. This—” she lifts a black notebook “—is my unofficial bible. Dosages, what works on who.”
“Why unofficial?”
“Because the Council would faint if they saw half of it.” Her gaze softens. “Darian thinks you’d be useful here. So do I.”
“Because I can’t fight,” I say dryly.
“Because you feel everything,” she corrects. “You calmed Orrik in minutes. Milo slept after the bridge. That’s not nothing.”
“That’s being in the way, quietly.”
“Or noticing what the rest of us miss.” She studies me. “For now? Inventory, restocking, sitting with people who don’t want to be alone. Learning what’s what. Later, if you’re willing, we see how far your sense goes before you burn out.”
“Darian will love that,” I mutter.
“He doesn’t love anything that keeps his people alive until after it works,” she says. “Then he pretends it was his idea.”
Despite myself, I snort.
She hands me a clipboard. “Count what’s in those cupboards. Mark what’s low. I promise, no spurting arteries today.”
I start on the first cupboard. Labels, numbers, scratches of pen. The mundane rhythm settles my pulse.
The door creaks.
Orrik limps in, jeans torn, blood seeping at the knee. Embarrassment rolls off him in waves.
“Floor attacked me,” he grumbles, then freezes when he sees me. “Oh. Uh. Hi.”
“Hi,” I say. “Gravity again?”
“Cheated,” he mutters.
“Come on,” Erynn says. “Sit.” She tosses me a pad. “Pressure here. Firm, not brutal.”
My hands move automatically, pressing to the wound as Orrik hisses.
“Was it at least a cool fall?” I ask. “Flips? Dramatic music?”
He snorts despite himself. “More like feet wrong, everything wrong.”
His embarrassment spikes. It stings against my skin.
“Everyone eats dirt,” I say. “First time I ran with the older kids, I took three of them down. Bran still calls it the Great Hollowpeak Avalanche.”
Suspicion flickers, then a reluctant grin. His shoulders loosen. Erynn cleans and stitches while I keep talking, riding the way his fear ebbs when he’s not alone with it.
“Done,” she says at last, taping the bandage. “Try not to rip it open in ten minutes.”
“No promises.” Orrik eases upright. Glances at me. “Thanks. For… not laughing.”
“Give it time,” I say. “If it scars weird, I reserve the right.”
This time his laugh is almost real as he limps out.
The door closes. Quiet again.
“That,” Erynn says, “is what I meant.”
I look at my hands—saline, a smear of blood, not shaking.
“I didn’t do much.”
“You did enough he walked out feeling less stupid and less alone.” She tilts her head. “Don’t discount that.”
Distantly, the bond flickers—Darian’s brief, surprised pride when he picks up the echo through the pack.
I set the clipboard down, feeling a little less useless than when I walked in.
“Okay,” I say. “Show me where you hide the really strong tea. If I’m going to feel everyone’s feelings, I want caffeine.”
Erynn laughs. “Now you’re talking like a medic.”
- Writer
