"Lindsay!" Donil cried. "Here, have a seat." She guided Lindsay to a chair and sat her down.
"Of course, take her first. I'm only the leader of your entire race, standing here bleeding out onto the floor," Sirix said, sarcastically.
"And if it wasn't for me, you'd be dead," Lindsay shot back. "What, three times now?"
"Two."
"I'm sorry, Bona Serat Corsar, you can't sit until I examine you. Otherwise you might tear something," Donil said in her most professional tone, writing board in hand.
"Oh sure, take her side."
"Can you take off your shirt, Lindsay?" Lindsay did as Donil asked. "And that other thing, too." Donil indicated to her bra with her writing tool.
Lindsay blushed; her eyes caught Donil's. Donil's cheeks whitened slightly and she quickly turned to Sirix as Lindsay removed her bra, allowing her breasts to hang freely in the cool night air. She could see Sirix's eyes on them, hungry.
"Raise your right arm, Sirix." She glared at him as he failed to move, still staring at Lindsay. "Sirix!"
"Oh, right." Sirix raised his arm and Donil carefully removed his shirt.
Oh that body! Lindsay wanted to stare but found her eyes drawn to the dripping patch of liquid gold where Sirix's hand was. Blood was running between his fingers. It was both beautiful and terrible. Donil frowned. She put her board down and grabbed a gauzy substance and a tool that looked like a large pair of pointed tweezers.
"Let me see it," Donil said.
Sirix tilted his hand away from the wound so it was still cupped against his side to catch any blood. Lindsay winced. Donil didn't. She went right in with the forceps. Sirix grimaced as she slowly extracted a long sliver of wood and placed it on the gauze. Then back in and soon a shard of rose gold followed it. Two more came.
"I hate these Nobillo spear heads," she said, clearly to Lindsay, though her eyes were focused on Sirix's wound. "They make them with these intricate gold designs that are meant to break off in the body of anyone who gets stabbed with one. So even if someone survives, they often get infections. Ugh." She returned to the desk and grabbed what kind of looked like a pair of glasses and put them on, returning to Sirix's side.
Oh hell. She looked even better in those! Especially with her beautiful mouth all tight in concentration. Those kissable lips pursed as she searched the wound.
"What are those?" Lindsay asked, trying to get her mind out of the places it was dying to go.
"Magnifiers. Sirix's grandfather invented them. Something he picked up from the human and changed to be useful for us."
"Ouch!" Sirix exclaimed.
"Don't be so dramatic just because Lindsay's here, I've seen you not even bat an eye with much worse than this."
"Is he being a drama queen to get sympathy?" Lindsay asked, teasingly.
"Normally, I'd be dragging him in here to get this treated." Donil pulled out a swatch of cloth. "Hold this on it. And if you even think of whining that it hurts, I'll just stitch it instead of giving you a skin graft." Donil turned her attention to Lindsay, taking a swab on a stick to her back.
"Chicks dig scars," Lindsay said, not sure who she was trying to provoke. Maybe Donil, maybe Sirix, maybe both of them.
"She makes a good case," Sirix said.
"Good, she can dig her own, then. Lindsay," she said, gently, "your wounds aren't very deep, but they are wide. I can either use the medical paper like I did for your arm and side, or we can try a skin graft."
"Do you think it will work?"
"I've done some tests and it is promising. Unlike the paper, it will only take a day or two to heal. The process won't leave a real scar, but the skin will be blue."
"And if it doesn't work?"
"I'll have to take it out and we can use the paper."
"How long with the paper?"
"Two weeks. And you wouldn't be able to train."
"I can't be out of the field that long." Lindsay shook her head. "See if it works."
"Alright, I'll be back in a minute."
"Won't they have questions when you go home?" Sirix asked.
Of course he was right. A giant ragged blue patch on her shoulder would certainly grab people's attention. But what irritated her more was that he'd said it. The last thing she wanted to hear from him was about her leaving. Yes, it was going to happen, of course it would - but he could at least do her the favor of pretending their time together wasn't on a ticking clock.
"I have to live long enough to get home. I'll think of something. Maybe get a tattoo. Why do you care, anyway? It's not like you want me to go."
Sirix stepped to her, leaving a trail of golden drops on the floor. "It's one of the last things I want, but it is reality. And I love you enough that I want you to be happy when you go back."
She rested her arms on his shoulders. "Go to hell, Sirix. How am I supposed to be happy without you?"
He looked at her through hooded eyes. "You'll find a way." His hands found her waist. She leaned up for his kiss.
"There'll be none of that here," Donil said, striding into the room carrying a few blue colored sheets and two bottles of transparent liquid, one clear and the other a light yellow.
They quickly separated, Lindsay with a slightly embarrassed smile, though Sirix didn't seem the least bit ashamed. Of course not. He was shameless.
Donil put down the blue sheets. "Sirix, are you carrying?"
"What do you think?" he said with a smirk.
"The rastoran root, then." She shook the yellowish bottle, poured the contents onto a gauzy square, and began wiping his wound.
Carrying? She means an egg, doesn't she? Lindsay thought. Probably with that messenger. The image of the face of the messenger lying lifeless in the dirt flashed through her mind. "Corlan's dead." she said.
"What?" Both Donil and Sirix's heads turned from where she was applying a patch of what looked like blue skin.
"Corlan. He's dead."
Sirix looked concerned. "You saw more than just the patrol, didn't you?"
"The Nobillo were attacking the camp. It was on fire. They tore apart babies... and ate them. I saw it!" She began shaking. "It was horrible! And one of them picked up this old Corsar, which must have been Corlan, and tore his egg sack out and then they dropped him. It must have been from two hundred feet. I watched him die!" She couldn't control her tears.
"Oh Lindsay!" Donil rushed to embrace her. "I'm so sorry!"
"Poor Nol," Sirix said, eyes cast to the ground. "And Veralosa. He was their father."
"Really?" Lindsay asked. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know."
"No, they really take after their mothers."
"I would never have guessed they were siblings. What should we do for them?"
"What we are doing. They'd want nothing more. Were there any survivors?" Sirix asked.
"I don't know."
"Look at the eyestone and concentrate."
"What?" Lindsay asked.
"Please, don't ask, just try."
Lindsay looked at the eyestone on her wrist and concentrated on the camp. Suddenly, she was there. It was just a blackened shell. She heard noise, movement. From beneath the burned-out showers a woman and two children who looked like they were maybe nine or ten emerged.
They heard a sound, turned toward it. A horrible shriek filled the air. They ran into the woods just as a Nobillo crashed into the area, thrashing about. Lindsay could see his wings were badly broken. He sniffed the place the woman and children just came out of, then scented the air. He quickly ran off on all fours after them.