Trenton held the girl as he and Shea worked their way back down to the forest floor. They weren’t as high up as Shea had thought. Her previous calculations had been off.
It was a relief to reach the ground, though she kept one eye on the forest above them. The fear of another attack was ever present. She wasn’t the only one feeling it either. The Trateri they passed were preoccupied with the world above. Much more so than she had ever seen them before. Several soldiers kept watch on the canopy as others tended to the destruction on the ground. Healers assisted the wounded.
Trenton, carrying Mist, opened a path before them. The Trateri moved out of their way as they walked, some giving Shea a bow, others clasping their fist to their chest. Shea gave a small nod in acknowledgement before turning her eyes ahead. The attention made her skin itch.
“Why are they bowing?” she whispered to Trenton.
“They saw what you did for Mist. They’re paying you their respects.”
“I thought she was an orphan, not worth anything to the clans.”
“You put your life on the line for the least of us. It means something.”
She disagreed with the thought that Mist meant less than the rest of the Trateri, but she could see what he meant. She fell silent as they made their way to Fallon’s tent.
“Send a healer inside, now.” Trenton gave the order as he walked past the two Anateri standing guard. Both men looked at Shea, their eyes widening and shock turning their faces pale before one took off at a run to do his bidding.
She touched her forehead, her fingers coming away with blood. Judging by their reactions, she must have looked pretty bad.
She followed Trenton inside. He set the child on a chair in front of the table. He picked up a handkerchief and tossed it at Shea. “If you ever want to leave this tent without a full escort, I suggest you get yourself cleaned up before Fallon sees you.”
She took that to mean she was right, and she looked as awful as she felt.
He turned back to the child as Shea pressed the cloth against her head, wincing at the sting. Head wounds were the worst. They always bled way more than they should.
Chirron entered the tent while Shea was still mopping up the blood from her forehead and neck. It had dripped onto the collar of her shirt, and her pants were ripped and bloody from the scrapes on her legs.
Chirron’s face was carefully blank as he cataloged Shea’s injuries with a glance.
“Help the girl first,” Shea said when it was clear he planned to attend her first.
He spared a glance at the girl as Trenton gently lifted her arms and pressed against her ribs. Mist jumped, making a whimpering sound as she yanked her arm out of his hold and folded it against her side.
Chirron looked back at Shea. “All due respect, but the girl’s injuries, or even death, would not affect the Trateri as much as yours would.”
“Not to mention your Warlord is apt to throw things if he learned I was delayed in receiving a healer’s attention,” Shea observed.
Chirron inclined his head. “I’m glad you can see my view on this.”
Shea nodded. She hoped he could hold onto that feeling.
She held up a hand as he reached for her. “As much as I can empathize with your position, I still insist you see to the girl’s injuries first.”
She gave him a friendly smile. He didn’t look particularly moved by her smile. Perhaps it needed work. She touched the cloth to her forehead, or maybe it just needed less blood.
“Telroi. Fallon would not be pleased to learn I treated another before you.”
Shea snapped the cloth down. “I know very well what Fallon would want. Can you honestly tell me he wouldn’t wish one of his men treated before him?” She raised an eyebrow expectantly.
He met her stare with a stubborn one of his own. She took his silence as agreement.
“My injuries aren’t critical and hers might be. The sooner you check her out, the sooner you can move on to me.” She gave him a stony look, the one she gave Fallon when she wasn’t going to budge on something. “If you hurry, you might even be able to finish her examination before Fallon tracks us down.”
His lips firmed, and he treated her to the glare she was more used to. “As you wish.”
Good. She’d finally won one battle.
Trenton stood back, setting his hand on Mist’s shoulder as Chirron took a knee before her and gave her a friendly smile.
“Let’s get you checked out, shall we?”
She gazed at him solemnly, her lower lip sticking out just slightly. Mist watched as he felt along her legs and arms. When he reached for her ribs, she jerked away and looked at Shea.
“It’s alright, Mist. He’s not going to harm you. He just needs to see where you’re hurt,” Shea told her. “Can you show him where you’re hurt?”
Mist nodded, the dirt on her cheeks making her seem even younger than she was. She lifted her shirt and pointed to the already purpling band appearing around her midsection. There were also signs of older bruises lower on her stomach and small burn marks that definitely hadn’t been created when the eagle picked her up in its claws. In addition to almost being killed by a beast, the girl had been abused in the not so distant past.
There was a low curse above her as Trenton took a deep breath. Shea didn’t let any of the horror and pity she felt show on her face.
“Thank you, Mist. You did a good job.” Shea gave the little girl a smile and turned her eyes to Chirron whose face had settled into a grim mask. Wrath was in his eyes as he helped the little girl lower her shirt.
“Stay here with Trenton while I speak with the healer.” Shea jerked her head to indicate he follow her. She stood, her body protesting the movement, and led the way to the other side of the tent, far enough that Mist wouldn’t overhear their conversation.
Shea waited as Chirron joined her. He took several deep breaths, visibly trying to calm himself, before speaking, “Her injuries from the attack by the eagle are minor, all things considered. I will need to keep an eye on her for the next little while to make sure there is no internal bleeding and create a poultice to address some of the bruising.”
Shea watched him carefully. Despite his measured words, she got the sense he was seconds away from snapping. She liked him better for the obvious anger he felt over the apparent abuse the girl had suffered.
“And the rest?”
He took another deep breath and busied himself adjusting the bracelet on his wrist. Shea let him, knowing he needed time to compose himself.
“There are signs of long-term abuse. I can’t be sure, but I believe at least one of her arms has been broken in the past. There is also scar tissue from being burned.”