Heal

Mayra stared at the General, who fixed her with a fatherly glare before walking away to tend to pressing matters. He obviously had much to organize, order, and deal with. The weight of responsibility was already resting heavily on his broad shoulders as he sent a man for paper to make a list of the dead and inform their families. The bodies of the enemy should likewise be treated with respect and properly buried, as they had not been willing participants in the attack.

He heaved a sigh and moved along, issuing orders to make sure the wounded were tended to and removed as quickly as possible, and that the guards be properly disbursed across the city to fill in this hole in their defenses. A barricade would need to be erected until this portion of the wall could be rebuilt, if it could be done at all.

He ordered an aid to have the surrounding sections of wall checked for stability and shored up to prevent further collapse. He wanted a report on how extensive the unseen damage from the explosion might be.

Mayra watched the General leave and felt a surge of pity for the man who bore all the city's sorrows and responsibilities. For once she was glad to be a relatively unimportant young lady of whom not much was expected. It was a freeing thing.

Her eyes finally slid to the man the General had directed her to treat with her limited medical skills.

"Peter?" She recognized the young soldier, who, along with Ashley, had accompanied Finn and herself to Klain. The soldier managed a weak smile.

"Mayra? It's good to see you." He was beginning to feel a bit dizzy, and maybe a little unfocused.

"Here, why don't you lay down for a moment?" Mayra brushed the dust and pebbles from the stone so that he had a flat place to lay his head. She helped him remove his uniform coat and folded it for a pillow. It was a little bloody, but so was his face. At least it would cushion his head. His shirt underneath was torn in several places, and she grimaced at the thought of the fierce fight he must have endured.

Gathering her composure, Mayra tried to take stock of his wounds. She hadn't lied to the General about having some healing training under her mother, and she'd also watched Roland treat Finn and helped Dr. Sherman once or twice. She would be useful, even if there were others better in the city. She was already here, and often time counted just as much as skill.

The bloodiest wound was on his bicep, and she tore the fabric around it away. It looked to be a tooth or claw mark; likely the latter as it seemed more of a gaping slash than a puncture. Pressing down on it to stem the flow of blood, she spoke calmly to Peter as she worked.

"I'm going to start here with your arm. How much does it hurt?"

"It's not too bad," He lied with a wince as she applied pressure. "I can take it."

"Can I get a water skin?" Mayra called to a passing soldier, who obligingly tossed her one. She cleaned that wound as best she could, along with some other lesser cuts and claw marks he'd endured. She looked around, and not having any clean bandages, pursed her lips.

"Keep pressure here, and look away for a minute," She finally said to Peter.

"I can handle the pain, whatever you're about to do," He responded flatly, placing his opposite hand on the wound as she instructed. She noted with relief that his pupils were even and appropriately sized, and he seemed alert and responsive.

"That's not it. Just... turn away, will you?" She tried to imitate her mother's most commanding tone.

Confused, he obliged, turning his face upward to gaze at the sky. It was sunny but cool. How odd that such deadly occurrences should happen on such a beautiful day. In his imagination, battles always happened in stormy, dark, or cloudy days, with the sun breaking through when victory was finally declared. He heard a curious ripping sound but resisted the urge to check on it. Mayra had been oddly insistent that he not look.

"All right," She said, and he moved his head to watch her move his hand away from the wound, clean it again, and commence bandaging him.

"Where did you get a clean bandage around here?" He asked a little dazedly. He hadn't seen her carrying a bag, and he didn't think women had pockets in their dresses large enough to carry rolls of bandages. Of course, he knew next to nothing about women's clothing.

"It's part of my petticoat. The best I could do until a real doctor gets here. It should stop the bleeding, at least."

"You're wrapping me in your petticoat?" He asked, blinking at her.

"You don't have to say it like that!" Blood rushed to her face, but he seemed unfazed and tired. "A few simple wounds and you lose your manners entirely. Come now, Peter, and be a gentleman."

"I'm sorry. Thanks, for bandaging me," He said simply, and she smiled at him.

"You're welcome. You can repay me by telling me exactly what happened here!" She exclaimed. He slowly and breathlessly gave her a brief summary of the events while she finished treating his wounds. As much as she wanted to know what had happened, she also wanted to keep a running evaluation of his mental state. Keeping him talking was one way to do that.

"You're going to be fine, Peter. Rest here a minute and I'll get someone to take you to shelter." He nodded slightly and closed his eyes. Mayra stood and looked around, really looked around, for the first time.

The General had called her over almost immediately upon her arrival, whereupon her attention was occupied by him, and then by treating Peter. She hadn't taken in any of the details of the battle's aftermath.

The carnage she observed turned her stomach. She had hunted in the woods many times, and so the slain animals had little effect on her peace of mind, but the amount of rubble and injured and dead people was shocking to her.

Many of Klain's soldiers were on the ground, but the majority of the slain were in the sandy-colored garb of the Rhone. She was grateful the enemy had been defeated in this engagement, and had not entered the city to harm innocents. She idly wondered exactly what the enemy looked like. Were they that different from the people she knew?

She bent down to examine one as she passed, expecting him to be alien in some way. His visage was bloody, but looked just like the faces of everyone she knew. In fact...

"Phillip?" Mayra froze, looking at the unconscious figure of Finn and Gabriel's father amongst the debris. "PHILLIP?"

She frantically knelt beside him, putting her hand on his chest to see if he was breathing.

"Please, please be alive. Gabe is all right, he's safe, he escaped. Finn has been doing amazingly, she's safe and well in Klain! Please don't die. Please live for them." Tears were clouding her eyes as her best friend's father lay unmoving before her.

She felt the ground rumble some distance away.

_____________

Finn took a shuddering breath, trying to steady her heart rate as the little troop took yet another path to try and find a way out of the tunnels.

With each blocked exit her anxiety increased. The men around her were also growing noticeably anxious, with the notable exception of Kristoff. His demeanor remained collected and easy. Given, Riley's appearance of calm would probably be convincing to a stranger, it was just that Finn had known him most of her life and saw through the façade.

The set of his shoulders was tense, and his face was tight around his eyes. At least, it seemed that way in the lamplight.

She dreaded how it would be once they started running out of oil. Surely they would be out long before then, she hoped.

They stopped searching long enough to eat some provisions from their bags. The time was interminable and they decided to ration what they had for now. The water, likewise, was rationed until they had a better idea of just how trapped, or not, they were.

"Will we make it out?" She whispered to no one in particular as they finished eating.

"Of course," Riley assured. "It hasn't been that long. Even if we don't find our own way out, they'll come looking for us and get us out."

Finn nodded, and the others mumbled their agreement. Kristoff stood, signaling the end of the rest and meal, and the resumption of the search for an open exit. They walked for a time, and it seemed the floor was sloping steadily upward. That seemed like a good sign. The closer they were to the surface, the better Finn would feel.

"All right, we're getting close now," Kristoff said, examining the map. "The exit should be not too far ahead."

Finn didn't dare hope until she saw sunlight. She swallowed the anxiety as her eyes tried to peer around the men in front of her to see the end of the hallway. Riley tried to give her an encouraging smile, but she was too focused to notice his efforts. She took a deep breath and raised her lamp with a shaking hand, willing the exit to appear ahead of them at any second.

Instead, another crowd of rocks blocked the hallway, barring them from the freedom they were coming to desperately need.