The Writer - Chapter 12

The Healer

Clara’s least favorite part about her new assignment was the Partner Program. Sure, she hated that she knew little information about how they were supposed to find this mysterious heir. And she definitely despised her role as “medic”, especially now that she learned there were only two other doctors on the journey. 

But the Partner Program was meant to ensure no one got lost, betrayed the rebels, or got lonely. Most of the soldiers already knew each other. That left Titus and Clara. 

It was awkward from the beginning. Clara had mentioned Marlene, asking if Titus was okay. He had looked at her as if she had grown antlers and Clara dropped the issue. Their marching was silent from then on. 

However, by the end of the first day, Clara felt like she knew Titus better. Few words had been exchanged and yet just Titus’ presence at her side had made Clara feel closer to him. 

Despite all of this, Clara still felt alone. She envied Forrest and Coral, who got an assignment of their own. She was even jealous of Emmeline, Newt, and Beckett. Sure, they were stuck in the mansion but at least they had each other. 

The army marched for miles until Clara lost track of where they were. She didn’t know where they were going, either. 

Clara longed for the time when she had worked with Emmeline and the others, when she knew all the details of what they thought lay ahead. Now she felt unprepared and useless, like if her friends needed her she wouldn’t be there. 

They didn’t stop to rest until midnight. The captain - who Clara had heard been called Captain Bones - shouted for everyone to stop and set up a mini camp. 

Clara watched helplessly as some of the soldiers began to raise tents. Her and Titus watched in silence before they realized they didn’t have any. Clara paled. Was she expected to sleep out in the open? 

Bones got closer to her slowly, he seemed just as confused as she was. “You don’t have a tent, darling?” 

“I wasn’t told to bring one,” Clara admitted grumpily. “I wasn’t told anything.” 

“You’re the Blessed girl, right?” 

Clara nodded. She wished could be recognized by something else, but at least Bones knew who she was. 

Bones thought for a moment. “You can have one of the soldier’s tents.” He began to call for some of the lower ranking soldiers but Clara stopped him. Her cheeks burned with shame, and she noticed Titus was silent beside her. 

“No,” Clara said strictly. “I’m not taking someone else’s tent. I’ll buy one in the next village, but for now I’m fine.”

Bones raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Finally, he turned around and strutted away. 

“Great, now we have to sleep on the ground,” Titus grumbled. 

“I’m sure someone might be willing to accept you into their tent,” Clara pointed out. “You are another soldier after all.” 

“Clara,” Titius whispered softly. “We’re the only kids here.”  

She felt stupid that she hadn’t noticed. No one would accept them, especially the other soldiers. They were either jealous or sympathetic, but Clara didn’t care which. 

Clara wouldn’t let that stop her, though. This was her assignment, and if she wanted to help her friends she needed to do it right. Without waiting for Titus, she took off into the rows of newly assembled tents. She found a small space at the very corner of the block, and she sat her bag down before someone could take her spot. 

She grabbed a few blankets that were hanging out of other tents and spread them on the ground. Then she used her bag as a pillow and laid on the blankets. 

Titus joined her a few minutes later, using his own bag as a pillow as well. 

The sky was painted black as pitch, dotted with pinpricks of lights where the stars formed constellations. Clara lay awake and watched them until her eyes fell closed due to heavy exhaustion. 

Dreams took the unpleasant form of Clara’s memories. 

Clara’s basket bumped the shore of the river, jostling her awake. She climbed out, her limbs stiff and her throat parched. The small girl was disoriented and lost. Her parents were gone, so were the rest of her siblings. Clara was hungry, thirsty, tired, scared, and confused. 

She wandered aimlessly for a while, trying to get her bearings. She knew she was in a forest that bordered golden fields. Could it be Zachryose? Clara wasn’t sure what region she was in, much less the kingdom. Her tiny body ached from the battering the river had given her, but yet she was still alive. The woman from the river’s face was embedded in her mind vividly. 

It wasn’t until the sun began to set that Clara was discovered. She was just deciding to settle in wait against the trunk of a tree when gleeful laughter caught her attention. It sounded like children and reminded her of the bustling activity that she missed from her old life. 

Clara followed the laughter through the woods, winding around trees and brush in attempt to find the source. 

It was then that she came across a field of colorful flowers. The petals rippled like waves in an ocean and a sickeningly sweet scent overwhelmed her. She waded through the sea of flowers, stopping occasionally to investigate especially pretty blooms. 

A certain pink flower caught her attention. Its petals were the color of the sky when the sun met the horizon. She was about to pluck it when a voice rang out from across the meadow. “Hey! Don’t pick my flowers!” Clara jolted upright, fear pulsing through her veins. A figure appeared just over the ridge, racing towards her with someone else at their side. 

It was a boy, maybe six years old. He had dark skin and dark hair, something that seemed peculiar at the time. Behind him was a lovely looking girl, possibly sixteen or maybe younger or older. Both were wearing golden outfits and holding bows. 

Clara tensed and held up her hands in surrender. The flowers around her seemed to hold their breath as the boy approached. His face was round like it hadn’t lost any of its baby fat yet. He glared at Clara intensely, taking her in cautiously and calculating. Then he broke into a smile and turned to the older girl. 

“Can we keep her? Can we keep her? Please, Gwen?” the boy pleaded. His voice was melodious and reminded Clara of the instruments her people had played back at home. 

The girl - Gwen - looked at Clara with incredible kindness. “What is your name?” 

Clara tried to speak but her throat felt like sandpaper. Gwen seemed to understand and handed her a canteen. Clara gratefully accepted and chugged the entire thing before gasping for breath. 

“My name is Clara,” she whispered. 

“That’s a pretty name,” the boy remarked. “I’m Johnny, which isn’t nearly as cool. Speaking of which, do you wanna see something cool?” 

“Johnny…” Gwen warned. 

“It’s fine,” Clara said. She wanted to get her mind off of home and the hole in her chest where her family had been. “What is it?” 

Johnny grinned from ear to ear, he reminded Clara of a Sprite - a legendary, mischievous creature. He made his way to Clara and gently moved her aside. They were young, not old enough to understand the importance of this meeting. 

Still smiling, the boy held out his hands. The flowers seemed to sprout in his presence, welcoming him like their king. Clara had heard of magic like this - the Blessed of the Goddesses. 

Johnny picked the pink flower and handed it to Clara, closing her fingers around the petals. “I picked it, so it will stay fresh forever now. Think of it as a greeting gift. It’s called a Death Daisy, but as long as you don’t eat it you will be fine.” 

He peeled her fingers away from the flower and placed it in her hair above her ear. Clara felt peaceful for once. “C’mon, we should get home,” Gwen called out. 

“Home?” The question came from Clara. 

Gwen and Johnny gave identical smiles. “Home.” 

“Clara!” someone shouted, jerking Clara out of her nightmares. She shook the sleep from her head only to be bombarded with something hard and heavy. Tentatively, she reached out to see what it was. Feathers told Clara it was a dead bird. She yelped, revolted. 

“What’s going on?!” Clara shrieked. 

Titus pressed a finger to his lips, his eyes wide. His skin seemed to glow with fiery energy and in his hands was a large, flaming sword. 

“The birds are attacking us - I think they’re some of Baelle’s servants or something.” 

At first Clara was confused as to why Titus didn’t want to wake the soldiers. Then she realized it was a way for Titus to prove his worth. If he and Clara could single-handedly take down a bunch of birds that worked for Baelle, they might be granted respect from the others.
“Grab a dagger and help me,” Titus whisper-shouted to her. 

Clara rubbed the remaining exhaustion from her eyes and pulled one of her daggers from her bag. Just on cue, a bird launched itself at her head. Clara instinctively slashed, and the bird fell to the ground, dead. 

She barely had time to wonder what all was happening because more birds flew in for the kill. Why was Baelle sending birds out of all of the creatures in the world? 

Claws raked across Clara’s shoulder down to her. Pain blossomed across her back, but her wounds almost immediately began to heal. With a start, Clara realized that wasn’t a good thing. The birds had to be venomous or something, because she began to lose feeling in her limbs. 

“Titus, they’ll paralyze you,” Clara barely was able to mumble, her words slurring. Shuddering, she fell to the ground in a heap. Her dagger rolled from away from her, lying lifelessly on the blankets a few feet away. 

Her tongue felt like lead, her mind the only thing functioning - but barely. Clara giggled as Titus attempted to kill the rest of the birds. Carcasses littered the blanket, the beady eyes gleaming even in death. Clara wanted to scramble away from them, but her body refused to move. Fear coursed through her veins, along with adrenaline. Her body tried to remove the poison, but it just sank deeper as her Blessing fought. 

Claws dug into her shirt and trousers, grazing her skin and leaving minor scratches. Clara realized that the birds were trying to lift her and carry her away. The fear and adrenaline made her Blessing work overtime and her stomach boiled as the birds began to fly. Titus was preoccupied in his own private battle to even notice and Clara had no way of calling for help. She would die. 

Baelle’s trying to take me away, Clara thought to herself. She wants to use me against Emmeline. 

Well, shouldn’t everyone want to kidnap you and be your friend? 

That doesn’t even make any sense. Where are these thoughts coming from? Clara tried to clear her head, but the fuzziness was seeping in with startling speed. 

However, the feeling was returning to her limbs. Clara struggled weakly against the bird. She was maybe six feet off the ground now, still flying higher. “Titus!” she managed to cry, though it sounded more like a warbled bird call. 

The noise still caught the boy’s attention, though. He looked up and saw Clara and the birds, his expression morphing into one of fear and then anger. 

Anger? Clara had time to think. Does he want to protect me? Why? Her questions were cut off by a blazing flash of light. Fire spiraled from Titus’s fingertips, enveloping him in a ball of flame. The fire shot everywhere, striking the bird but not Clara. She crashed to the ground, hard. Pain ripped through her with agonizing strength but faded quickly as the numbness continued to take over her senses. 

All Clara saw was fire, starting at Titus and ending never. It formed a sphere around the two of them, but it didn’t burn anything. Clara felt warm, like she had been in the sun for a little too long. 

But with the flames came smoke. It soon took over, overpowering the air. Clara coughed, unable to breathe. On a scale from one to ten on goodness, this night was definitely a one. 

“Titus!” she tried to yell, but her voice was drowned out by the roar of the fire. Titus seemed unable to stop himself, the flames poured from him. Consuming his life essence. Consuming him. Clara wasn’t sure where the overwhelming idea to save him came from, but she crawled to Titus's side weakly. It took what seemed like hours. 

His skin was feverish to the touch as Clara poked him. She slapped him without much force. He seemed to be dying. 

Clara worked on instinct. She poured her healing magic and Blessing to her fingers and into Titus. He shifted when the magic first made contact, but the fire died as his body accepted the treatment. Clara collapsed beside him, exhausted. 

“Thank you,” came his voice, no louder than a whisper. Clara gave a small nod, her body still working overtime to remove the poison. 

And with that, she fell asleep once again. 

She woke up early in the morning, her body protesting with every breath. Her ribs ached and her head throbbed. 

“What is going on over here?” came a loud voice, startling Clara. 

Her eyes flew open and she jumped to her feet, fingers grasping for her dagger. She couldn’t find it and panic blossomed in her chest. 

“Calm down, Clara. It’s just me,” the voice said. Clara’s vision cleared and she recognized Bones standing above her. His face was grim as he surveyed the many bird corpses scattered on the ground. “What exactly happened?” 

Clara took a breath before quickly explaining the attack of the birds and the fire that had come from Titus and saved both of them. With every word, Bones’s expression grew warier. 

“First village we see, you’re getting a tent,” the man decided. “And first thing we do here is get you to a healer.” He gestured for Clara to follow him, but she shook her head. A healer? 

“I am a healer, remember?” 

“Clara, try to stand up,” Bones ordered. She did and her knees gave out from under her. Blood rushed to her head and Clara struggled to even stay sitting upright. 

“How bad is it?” she asked quietly when her head had cleared. 

Bones hesitated. “You and Titus will be fine - if we get the medics over here soon.” He didn’t leave room for argument and began calling for the soldiers nearby. Clara felt heat rising to her cheeks. 

But he was the captain and she couldn’t disobey. Clara waited until the two other medics hurried over. One was a woman and one was a man, they both looked like they were going to collapse from old age at any minute. The woman dropped to her knees in front of Clara, her bag of supplies tumbling away. 

“Here,” Clara offered, but the woman slapped her hand away. Clara raised an eyebrow and the woman glared at her. “What?” 

“You will not move unless I tell you to,” the woman said harshly, waving her finger in Clara’s face. “We don’t need to worsen any injuries you have. Now show me where the birds attacked you.”
“Really, it’s fine,” Clara protested. 

The woman didn’t wait for a response, she grabbed Clara by the arms and flipped her around, lifting the back of Clara’s shirt. “I am Gale, and you need to roll up your sleeves.” 

Clara did as she was told, and immediately regretted it. 

“See,” Gale smirked when she saw Clara’s pale complexion. 

Where the birds’ claws had pierced her skin, the surrounding area was a dark blue like a bruise. The wounds themselves were an angry red, although they looked better than what Clara expected them too. Suddenly, Clara felt more tired and wanted to return to bed. 

Gale’s hands were gentle as she tended to Clara. “I understand your Blessing, child,” Gale explained as she worked. “Your Blessing is quite possibly the only reason the boy is alive. But it took a lot out of you, too. You’ll heal faster, but I’m afraid your body won’t be healing automatically for a little while.” 

Clara’s hands shook with the realization. She was out of commission for the time being, which meant she had no reason for even being with the army in the first place. They could send her back to the mansion with good reason. 

“How much does it hurt?” Gale asked her, seeming worried for once. 

Clara shrugged, making a fresh wave of pain wash over her. “It doesn’t hurt that much,” she lied. 

Gale frowned, like she could see through Clara’s lie. She probably could, but Clara felt like a baby. Her pain tolerance was just lower than everyone else’s, and she also didn’t want to waste supplies. 

“I’m going to treat the boy. You rest here,” Gale ordered. 

Clara was happy to oblige. Her thoughts raced through her head and her worry built when Titus still wasn’t waking up. Soldiers began to emerge from their tents, sending curious glances in Clara’s direction. She made an obscene gesture at one, feeling ashamed to be seen as wounded on the first day. Bones came to talk to her a little later about her kindness. 

Gale and the other medic - Keenan - pronounced Titus healed not long after. They disappeared, but Titus was still unconscious. 

Clara took her time gathering their blankets while all around her, the soldiers disassembled their tents. Titus only began to stir when the sun finally passed the horizon and morning officially began. 

She shook the boy gently, his skin still fiery at her touch. “Titus, wake up. Breakfast is on the road.” 

He groaned a few words that Clara had never heard before and decided never to repeat. “What happened?” He glanced around, his eyes finding the steadily rising sun. “Clara, where are all the birds?” 

Clara explained what had happened, careful to let Titus ask questions. She paused several times to make sure he was actually listening - his thoughts seemed far away. 

“The fire was draining your life,” she finally whispered. “I … I did all I could to stop it.” 

Titus met her eyes, his mouth stretched into the permanent frown. “I … I know.” He sucked in a breath before continuing. “I don’t know what came over me, it was like I was drowning in sadness. I felt like part of me had been ripped apart and killed, but I don’t know why. I gave myself into the fire, I thought maybe it could protect you like I couldn’t with … with someone else.” 

Understanding hit Clara hard. Titus had forgotten about Marlene. She didn’t know how, but she assumed it had something to do with his favor from Emmeline. Titus had forgotten about Marlene, but the pain was still there like a festering wound. 

And Titus had misplaced that protectiveness, thinking he was to save Clara like he couldn’t with Marlene. 

Clara felt incredible pity for him, but she didn’t say a word. Titus had obviously made the choice to forget Marlene, and she had to respect that - even if that meant dealing with him for longer. 

“Are you feeling better, at least?” she asked instead. 

Titus gave a weak shrug. “I feel fine. Now, what did you say about breakfast?”