“Hand me the zavia, child.”
I jolt, realizing I’m staring into space. I grab the salve and lean over, handing it to Moni. My gaze can’t help but be drawn to where Sarissa has pulled up her dress, her calves on display.
Long, winding scars cover her lower legs, and I blink.
The corner of her mouth tips up as she watches me.
“Pretty gnarly, huh?”
“What happened?”
Her eyes turn wounded, her face paling, and I instantly regret asking. I open my mouth only to jump as one of Rakiz’s warriors storms into the kradi.
“We need healers,” he snaps. “The Dokhalls attempted to take their ship back. They took our warriors by surprise.”
I jump into action, running for my own kradi. One of the first things I did when I was back on my feet was create a first aid kit. I haul it with me, joining Moni as the warriors hurry her along.
They don’t argue when I reach Hewex, who is mounting one of the mishua.
“Tagiz won’t like this,” he mutters as he pulls me up in front of him.
“Save it,” I snap, and he chuckles but turns the mishua toward the forest, urging her into a teeth-rattling gallop.
Relief is clear on the warriors’ faces when we arrive. Rakiz is already there, holding one of his warrior’s hands as the guy chokes on his own blood. Moni hurries toward them, and I scan the clearing. The trees are still burned-out husks after Dragix fought the Dokhalls here a few weeks ago. To the left, the ship is still standing, and it’s evident these warriors guarded it with their lives.
Three of them are already dead, and my heart hurts at the sight. I push it away, focusing on what I can control right now. Five more warriors are injured, not counting the one Moni is treating. One of them is holding a blood-soaked shirt to his head, and I kneel in front of him, pressing two fingers to his neck. I attempt to ignore the frustration that rises. What I would give for a pulse oximeter or an EKG. Even a simple wristwatch would be handy.
His pulse isn’t thready or irregular though, so I pull a skin of clean, boiled water from my first aid kit and irrigate his head wound.
“What’s your name?” I murmur as he winces.
“Gravis.”
“I’m Zoey.”
“I know,” he says.
He gives me a tiny smile and then winces again as I move his head slightly so I can get a better look as I check his pupils.
“What happened here?” I’ve heard about the attack already, of course, but I want to see if he’s dealing with any confusion or forgetfulness.
“Dokhall bastards,” he scowls. “Came out of nowhere. They must’ve been watching us for some time, waiting for their chance.”
“Thank you for guarding our ship.”
He smiles at me again, and I reach for the antiseptic paste Moni favors for these types of wounds.
“This will sting.”
He takes it like a man, although his jaw clenches as I smooth the paste in place. The biggest worry on Agron is infection, although I sometimes wonder if the Braxians are less prone to infections compared to us humans. They seem to recover from wounds more quickly as well.
“It doesn’t look like you’ll need stitches,” I tell him. “Hold this for me and I’ll bandage you up.”
He does as I ask, and I examine his face. “Any other injuries?”
He shakes his head, and I tie the bandage in place. “You’ll need that changed. Come to the healers’ kradi in a few hours or earlier if it bleeds through.”
“Thank you.”
I smile at him and turn to the next warrior, who has a deep slice in his shoulder.
“Zoey.”
I turn at the sound of Tagiz’s voice. His jaw is tight, and he looks displeased with me. Again.
I sigh. What else is new?
“How soon until we can move everyone back to the camp?” Tagiz asks.
I turn back to the warrior currently sitting with his back against a tree. His dark eyes are hazy with pain, but like all the Braxian warriors, he’s silent and stoic.
“These guys are both okay to move, but I’m not sure about the others yet.”
“We need to leave. Soon.”
I glance back over my shoulder at Tagiz, but he’s scanning our surroundings. He gestures to a few warriors, who move closer to Rakiz, and I get it.
He doesn’t think we’re safe here. And he’s probably right.
I survey the warrior. He’ll definitely need stitches, so I cover the wound with a thick bandage, wrapping it tight in the meantime.
“Any other injuries I need to know about?”
He shakes his head. “I took them down.” He gestures toward a pile of purple bodies behind our blackened tree, and my stomach swims. I usually have a rock-solid stomach, but that was a massacre.
I glance away from the detached limbs and heads and turn to the remaining injured warriors. Rakiz lays his hand over a warrior’s eyes, closing them as he breathes his last breath, and my throat aches at the look on Rakiz’s face as he gets to his feet.
The other healers pronounce the remaining warriors good to go, and they’re loaded onto the mishua. Hewex gestures for me to join Tagiz, and I narrow my eyes at him, but he ignores me, helping one of the injured warriors onto the mishua in front of him.
Tagiz is silent behind me. For about two minutes.
“I don’t want you leaving the camp,” he murmurs in my ear, and I almost shiver. “It’s too dangerous.”
“I’ll take that under advisement,” I say.
I can practically hear him grinding his teeth behind me.
“You’re still healing.”
“I’m almost completely recovered, Tagiz. I know you think I’m fragile, but I’m not.”
“You’re human.”
The way he says human pisses me off, and I glower over my shoulder at him. “Braxians aren’t exactly invincible, you know.” I gesture at the mishua, who are being guided by stone-faced warriors
