This story is part of the Wanderer series.
Reaching the end of the row, there was yet another boy, this one much younger looking than the rest. He looked like he could not have been any older than twenty years. His abdomen was completely covered in bandages with traces of blood soaking through, but still fresh. Fresh enough.
Stretching out a hand, the young girl reached out with her energy to gauge his condition. As she did, the boy winced, his face subtly scrunching. She flinched inside, seeing herself induce discomfort to her patient, but held steadfast in her treatment. His internal organs were not bleeding. Another medic already sealed the wounds. The blood was residual, and all she could do was try to soothe his pain.
Commanding her energy to induce warmth, she let it radiate for a moment. Seeing his clenched expression relieve, the medic relaxed her resonance, her hand gradually dimming. Closing her fingers, she drew her fist to her chest, watching the boy a little longer. Finally, she turned away from his canvas bed, and, having reached the end, gathered a dirty bucket and slipped out the tent after a quiet nod to the nurse on watch.
Walking out from the dark tent into the bright desert sun, her eyes squinted down as she navigated back to the medic’s post. Emptying the bucket of its bloody water into the sewage bin, she left it with the others waiting to be washed. Having done all she can, she made her way towards the medic tent and entered.
Inside, Phoebe was sitting at her makeshift desk, scribbling away. The bronze-haired woman glanced up as the girl entered.
“Melanie, dear!”
Putting down her quill, she bolted up from her seat as the girl approached.
“I have no assignment,” Melanie monotonously spoke.
The woman shook her head, putting her hands on both of Melanie’s shoulders. “Rest for the time, sweetheart. It is already half past afternoon!”
Briskly breaking off, Phoebe shuffled through her cluttered desk for her canteen.
“Drink some water, dear. Is your flask out of water?”
“But…”
The woman cut her off with another shake of her head and an interjection. “For yourself, and your patients as well. I cannot have you treating the boys when you haven’t slept since last dusk.”
Dipping her head, the girl paused, her expression betraying her conflict, then eventually acquiesced with a quiet mumble.
“Here.” Phoebe hastily shoved her canteen into Melanie’s chest as she simultaneously grappled to remove the girl’s from her shoulders. “Take mine; it is cleaned up and full. Go rest up, dear.”
Melanie blinked as her canteen strap brushed her face, dragging along some of the long hair of her bangs. Her hands blindly gripped for the fresh canteen gruffly pressed against her torso. Grabbing her shoulders again, Phoebe turned the girl around and pushed her towards the exit, rushing her out.
“Go along, now! Rest up! I will call for you when you are needed!”
Pushed out the tent, with the heavy flaps closing behind her, Melanie squinted again. Her eyes strained as she realized how sore they were, her forehead feeling tension. She mindlessly stood there, ignoring the clatter of the camp, as her body began to shut down for sleep. Feeling herself veer to the side, she snapped out of it, catching herself with a step of her leg, and, strapping the new canteen to her shoulder, walked to her assigned tent.
Entering the small, cramped tent, spacious enough to fit a canvas bed on either side, her eyes could make out a shadow turning towards her on one of the beds. It was Chloe, whom she shared her tent with.
“Sorry, did I wake you up?”
Chloe groaned as she reached up with both hands to rub her eyes. “Can’t sleep,” she muttered.
Sitting down on her bed, Melanie uncapped her canteen and took a quick sip. Keeping it pressed against her lips as she swallowed, she realized her unquenching thirst, and raised the canteen back up again for a prolonged drink.
Lowering her hands to smack the canvas on either side of herself, Chloe blankly stared up at the dark ceiling.
“Well… How many people died after I left the tent?”
Lowering down her drink, Melanie took one last gulp. “I don’t know. I also left… to help another tent.”
Chloe curled up her fingers, clenching her fists by her side. “Idiots.”
Melanie glanced at her companion, expression unchanging.
“What were they thinking,” she began. “Gathering together as many juvenile weavers as they could to throw at the enemy? Thinking that will overwhelm them? You think they wouldn’t do the same?”
She sighed a long sigh.
“These boys knew how to cast nothing but fireballs and bigger fireballs. On both sides. Once the Wanderers joined the battle, they were defenseless hares, scattering as they were blown up by the dozen.”
Melanie silently listened, eyes anchored on the ground.
“At the end of the day, thousands of people are dead, and the front has barely moved.”
As if realizing she was ranting to herself, Chloe shifted the conversation.
“I feel so sorry for you Melanie. You shouldn’t have to see this.”
“This is not my first war,” she quietly muttered.
Chloe sighed again. “I know, but no young lady should have to put up with treating such a wasteful carnage.”
Feeling her head grow heavy, Melanie set aside her canteen on the floor and drew her legs onto the bed, laying down.
“Not that there is much we can do to change that. The entire continent is at war, and all the progress humanity made during the age of enlightenment is being turned on each other.”
Hearing no response or interaction with what she was saying, Chloe turned her head to the side to see Melanie falling fast asleep, arms folded in front of her face and legs drawn in like a baby. She looked like she belonged, and one could have easily forgotten what her role was in the army.
“You poor, poor girl,” Chloe said to herself. “Is this the world we want our children to grow up to?”