flesh, but it was smooth. The skin had pulled together, hiding the end of the arm in a smooth golden-skinned stub.
'Is it healing?' she asked.
He nodded. 'I believe so,'
'What do you need my help for?' she asked.
'I need a second opinion.'
She glanced at him. His handsome profile was serious, no smile, no teasing. He turned to her, full-faced. His green eyes studied hers. If it had been anyone but Konrad, Elaine would have said he looked uncertain.
'If this were a normal amputee, I would cauterize the wound to stop bleeding and keep infection from the flesh.' He ran his hand over the stub. 'Feel it.'
She didn't want to, but Konrad had never asked her opinion before. He had taught her to clean and bandage simple wounds. Her most common task was to preview the wounded and give Konrad a report of who was the worst injured. But once Elaine gave her report, she followed his orders, did as he directed. She Would not be squeamish now.
Elaine ran fingertips over the stub, The skin was soft, as a newborn babe's, smooth; no jagged bone jutted beneath the skin. The stub was fleshy, as if the end were filled up with meat. It was smooth, solid, and perfect.
'It's healed,' she said, softly.
He nodded. 'Should I burn the end of the stub, or not?'
'Oh, no. It's healed. Burning it would just injure it further. Don't you think?' Elaine knew that cauterizing the wound was the wrong thing to do, but she couldn't resist asking for his approval. She hated herself just a little bit for that last question.
He stared down at the elf, running his hand over the smooth stump. 'I think you're right. But this is so far beyond my poor skills, I almost don't know how to tend them.'
'You tend the wounds that aren't completely healed and leave the others alone,' she said.
'Do I? Have you looked at the other two?'
'I haven't seen to Randwulf's wounds yet.'
'Tell me of the first man's wounds.'
She did. When she had finished, he sighed and went to Fredric. 'See to Randwulf.'
Elaine sat there for a moment, angry. She was not in the mood to be teased or tormented. She had been embarrassed enough for one day.
Konrad knelt by Fredric, hands seeking the wounds she had told him of. He did not second-guess her by looking for other wounds, but went only to the areas Elaine had mentioned. It was a measure of trust. Once he had searched each body himself; now he simply took her word. He might not love her, but he respected her, and that was worth a great deal, worth enough to risk the teasing Randwulf and much more. Just because he didn't love her, did not mean she didn't love him. Love is like that. Once it exists, it is not so easily killed.
Randwulf had cuddled back under the covers. Apparently, it was too cold in the tent for such blatant flirtation. The sight of only his curly brown head sticking out made it easier for Elaine to go to him.
Perhaps he had been merely teasing, that when it came down to it, he would behave himself.
And pigs would fly.
Randwulf's smile was lovely, but there was a hint of evil in it, a knowledge in his eyes that was too intimate to be directed at a strange young girl. It seemed as if he knew what she looked like without clothes on, or wanted to.
Heat rushed up her face, but with the embarrassment came anger. Enough of this, she thought. She knelt before his covered figure, face set in a businesslike scowl. 'What are your injuries?' She made her voice cold and distant.
He didn't seem to notice. 'Oh, I am badly hurt, all over. I think you had best see for yourself.' With that, he whipped back the covers, and Elaine looked down. She studied the ground as if her life depended on it.
Randwulf's face appeared in her line of vision. He laid his head in her lap, gazing up at her. 'Don't you want to see my wounds?'
She stood up abruptly. His head thunked onto the frozen ground. He closed his eyes. 'Now my head hurts, as well.'
'I hope it does,' she said. She was angry with him, but more with herself for letting him bother her so. She had tended a few strangers. But none had made it so difficult. It was easier to pretend her investigation, her touch wasn't intimate if the patient pretended also.
'There, I've fixed it,' he said.
Elaine was almost afraid to look, but she did. He lay covered to his chin. His face looked very young, peeking from above the furs. He looked boyish and adorable, but the gleam in his eye was a little too grown-up for the act to be convincing. At least he was no longer naked. Elaine would take what improvement she could get.
Elaine knelt beside him one more time. Her fingers curled around the fur to pull it back. His cheek rubbed against her knuckles. She lifted the fur and her hand out of easy reach. If he had tried kissing it, she would have jerked away and left him to his own devices, but the movement was one a cat might make. An overly friendly cat.
She lowered the covers slowly, eyes searching his body for injuries. His skin was not as pale as the paladin's. He looked as if he would brown in the sun. His chest and arms were shapely but slender compared to Fredric's. He could not boast nearly as many scars. He was either luckier, a better fighter, or newer to adventure. Elaine thought the last., Both his forearms bore bite marks. It looked as if a wolf had grabbed each arm and held on. They were fearsome wounds, but nothing to die over. Rand-wulf's flat stomach was unblemished, skin smooth.
He lay back on the furs, a slow smile on his face. He looked very pleased with himself. Elaine fought the urge to slap him. It would probably have made him laugh. She did not want to amuse him. She realized, strangely enough, that she wanted to hurt him. Or at least make him as uncomfortable as he had made her.
Elaine took a deep breath and let it slowly out. She pulled the covers below his waist. She gave only a quick glance before moving on to his legs. If the death wound had been in a very intimate place, Kon-rad could bloody well search for it himself.
His legs were short, almost stocky, muscled from walking, but uninjured. A white scar like a bolt of frozen lightning traced his right thigh, but there were no new wounds.
Elaine sighed. 'Please, turn over.' Randwulf's wounds would of course be in an out-of-the-way place. He couldn't possibly have done it on purpose.
She glanced at the slow curl of his smile. He stretched, arms straight over his shoulders. Every muscle in his body strained. He was like a contented cat that had already drunk its fill of cream. His dark eyes stared at her as if she were the proverbial canary.
Konrad and Fredric were just an arm's length away. He couldn't possibly do anything to her. He was simply flirting or teasing, or both. But it meant nothing-nothing real. Randwulf had only as much power over her as she gave him, and she'd given him far too much already.
'Turn over, Randwulf, now.' Her voice was a good imitation of Tereza's when she'd had all she could stand of silly children and indoor games.
Randwulf blinked at her, his smile slipped around the edges. He rubbed his hands down his chest and across his stomach. Her eyes followed them, as he'd wanted them to. The hands started to slip farther, but she grabbed one bloody wrist, wrenching the skin in two different directions. He gave a hiss of pain.
'Turn over so I can look for injuries, or I'll put salt in these wounds.'
'You wouldn't dare,' he said, but there was doubt in his eyes.
'Salt cleanses a wound and prevents infection.'
His eyes narrowed as if he didn't believe her. But there must have been something in her face that convinced him. He began to turn over, slowly, giving her time to admire the way his body worked.
Elaine kept her best no-nonsense look in place. She consciously pictured Tereza at her most cross. The look that had always sent Elaine and herself running.
Randwulf never took his eyes from her face, looking for some reaction besides disapproval. He didn't find it. He gave a small sigh and settled onto his stomach, though he did keep his face turned so he could watch her.
Elaine was staring, open-mouthed at the back of his neck. His hair had been just long enough to hide it from
