The Clan of Outcasts (Seasons 1 and 2)

Part 19: "Bluefire"

The Wilderness, 20 years ago...

Dawn barely cracked the fog down in the belly of the Cascade. Soldiers milled about the campfires, checking their chain-maille for any last-minute flaws from the previous six skirmishes, scanning the lofty crags against the dark sky for any signs of preemptive spies--in case their adversaries decided to strike before the planned attack at dawn.

A young cadet with magenta hair stomped into view and slumped onto a stump near the fire.

"Medic!" she growled, holding her arm aloft, the sleeve around it hanging in ribbons and oozing with blood.

Her request drew chuckles from the knot of soldiers loitering nearby.

"Ho, there, Nahlia! Find a bear to wrestle while you were waiting for the sunrise?" one jibed.

"Must be marvelous, having no armor or equipment to maintain!" groused another.

The young woman scowled at the verbal barbs. "Better bears than the village maids you've been wrestling every night since we left the Forest!" she shot back.

The cheers and laughter that followed clearly denoted the victor of the spat. Nahlia smiled smugly and barked again, "Medic!"

"Coming!" The short woman in the blue cloak elbowed her way through the gathered onlookers, a basket clutched against her side. She knelt beside the patient and immediately began pouring on disinfectants and daubing the wound with sterile cloths.

"What was it this time?" she muttered, examining the gashes closely with practiced eyes, even as her hands fluttered rapidly on and around the limb. "These aren't bear claws--"

"Why does it always have to be bears?" Nahlia grunted at her. "Dumb can-heads have no idea--"

"Then what was it?" The medic's blue eyes fixed keenly on those of her patient.

"Just a few brambles I crossed, that's all."

"Lie."

Nahlia scowled. She didn't like meeting the medic's gaze. "Well, that's all the truth you're getting out of me, so there!"

"What was it?" The irritating girl never raised her voice, but she wouldn't leave well enough alone, either.

The cadet hesitated only a moment. "Wolf," she responded bluntly. "Big one. Just waiting over on the east side. Still can't get used to the lack of depth perception in the red eyes."

The woman finished tucking the last bandage securely and looked up at the cadet. "Red eyes?" she echoed. "What are you--"

"Agent Denahlia!" The rich, rolling voice carried on a temperate breeze. "I was hoping you would return, but I didn't expect you so soon."

Denahlia shrugged, flexing her fist and twisting her arm to test the bandage, and stood. "I found what I was looking for." As an afterthought, she bowed low to the bearded man standing before her. "Your Majesty."

King Balwyn Seramis nodded to the arm. "I see you found a bit more besides," he remarked.

A teasing murmur rippled through the camp.

Denahlia tried to shrug, but the wound still smarted a little. "Who said this wasn't my target?" she pointed to her wounded arm.

A stiff gust whistled between the canyon walls as King Balwyn laughed. "Ah, Denahlia, it is truly refreshing to find one in my kingdom who is both willing to serve and not to mince words around me!"