"Scream in my ear one more damned time, and I will charge you double," I grumbled to my very dramatic patient. It was an empty threat; I rarely charged for my services. People paid me what they could when they could, and rarely was it in coin.
People of the Outskirts had little to their names, and gold and silver were not among them. We bartered, we traded, and sometimes we did things just because it was the right thing to do, or at least I did.
My patient cried out again, disturbing one of the dozen babies waiting nearby for their turn. One wailed loudly, causing a chain reaction with the others.
"Now see what you did?" I grumbled. Grabbing the man's arm and swiftly pulling it back in place.
There was a loud crack, and it moved back in place. I laid out a triangle of old cloth and arranged his injured arm into the sling. He whimpered but looked a lot better.
"Stop getting into fights, you can't handle what happens after. Learn from this," I told him, gently patting his back, then turning to my assistant, or well, rather the urchin I randomly picked up like a shadow, "Get me the next patient, Mira."
The man stumbled away, leaving payment at the desk, five dark brown pelts. I smiled at them. They would come in handy. Mira could use some new boots.
She popped up from the other side of my workbench, cradling a crate to her chest. She had light blonde hair pulled back into two tiny ponytails on either side of her soft, angelic face. She was small, too thin, and the most stubborn person I had ever met, myself included.
"Yes, Lils, this is the last box of willow bark, by the way," she called, heading over to the next person in line as I wiped down the surface of my bench with a alcohol solution I distilled myself.
I barely listened to her, taking a mental stock of how many people were left. A pointless endeavor, the more people I patched up, the more people seemed to wander in.
A man carried a small boy to my bench. Small, sad eyes met mine, a lump choked me, as I saw the signs I dreaded. They were so bloodshot that almost no red remained. I placed a hand on his head, fliching at the burning heat that scalded my hand. Panic boiled through me as I stared down at the boy.
This was the seventh one I had seen this week alone. It was definitely escalating. Whatever disease was making its way through the Outskirts this time was like nothing I had seen or heard of before. Granted, I wasn't the most educated or skilled healer; I had only been instructed until I was eight, but in over a decade, it had never been like this.
Mira pulled on my sleeve; the sharp little creature knew something was wrong. I glanced around at the dozens of infants and children in the room.
If it were contagious, I had just exposed them all and her. I took a deep breath and knelt by my little shadow's side.
"Mira, can you do me a favor, please?" I asked, keeping my voice as calm as possible, a smile forced into place. She frowned up at me and nodded, too hard to fool. "Take anyone else this sick to my room and ask them to wait there, please, then I need you to go fetch Miss May."
"You never say please," she pouted, her frown deepening. I frowned back.
"Fine, go get May you lil brat, better?"
She grinned at me, looking relieved, and skipped away to do as I asked. I straightened, meeting the eye of one of the mother's nearest me.
Turning to another woman who sat nearby, nervously watching the boy on my table, she whispered, "If Voilet were still alive, she could have erased this illness with a touch. We have already lost three elders to this disease."
"Shh," the other woman hissed back, holding her baby tighter, "It isn't like there is anywhere else to go…"
I tuned them out, taking a deep breath, and assessed the boy. Panicking or what-ifs wouldn't help anyone now.
His fever was too high; it posed a greater danger than his other symptoms. So I started there, administering a fever reducer I had been making since I could toddle around behind my mother. Ginger, peppermint, and chamomile for the lighter fevers. Sage, Tulsi, and Moringa for medium, but this fever was too strong for the others. It would take willowbark, cold compresses, and maybe even a cold bath to bring his temperature back down to normal.
My eyes snapped up to the boy's father, who was watching me with bated breath.
"I need you to open all the windows," he opened his mouth to argue, it was cold out, and the first snow had just started to fall. "We need to air out the room. Hurry."
He moved to obey as Mira moved the patients with symptoms to my room, away from the others. People grumbled, pulling their pathetic coverings tighter around them, glaring at me.
I ignored them, knowing that airing out the cramped room was more important than comfort.
"Hey, I know this is going to taste super crappy, but I need you to drink it all," I said to the little boy. He gave me a brave nod and chugged the entire thing. I patted his arm, heart still racing.
This wouldn't cure him. It was a temporary relief at best. He was already past the early stages of this illness, and if the others were any indication, it was about to get a lot worse for him. So far, no one who caught it had survived, but I didn't know if it was because the ones who got it first were elders and thus had a weakened immune system, or because this was fatal.
"You can rest in the back room for a bit until it kicks in. I will check on you in just a few minutes," I told them. The father scooped up his son, giving me the wary look most people did.
I wiped my bench thoroughly and was about to call the next patient when there was a loud crashing sound from outside and people shouting. I sighed and pushed through the crowd that had formed a line out the door.
The red colors of the Ironhowl, a group of want to be warriors that picked fights more often than not. And the dark blue colors of the Fangshade, a group of so-called intellectuals who had an obsession with the long-dead humans and their tech, were at each other's throats right outside my door.
This was supposed to be neutral territory; everyone knew that. Fighting here was absolutely a no-no. I stormed to the two scuffling groups and whistled loudly with all my might.
They froze mid-fight, all eyes turning to me. Some had shifted, others gave me sheepish looks, brandishing their makeshift weapons. I walked over to the two in the middle of the brawl. Fenrick Vane, the leader of the Ironhowl, frowned down at me.
"Well, what in the goddess do you think you are doing fighting here?" I snapped, tugging the gruff, scared wolf down to me by an ear. I had to jump to snag it.
"Lilliah, look, they have human things, here in the Outskirts, we told them to keep it outside, and…" he explained, sounding more like a little kid with every word as he shifted back into human form.
He was massive, not as big as some of the other leaders, but still towering over six feet compared to my five-foot-two self. I was certain we made a comical sight.
"And we never agreed to that," the other leader snapped, pushing his broken glasses up his nose.
Quill Renn had formed his "gang" not that long ago, and ever since, they had been fighting with the other, more established gangs. They had been trying to get more people interested in the humans' old bits and bobs, but so far only the esentrics had joined them.
"Well, this is my territory, and I have one rule," I snapped, snatching Quill by the ear as well. "Anyone want to tell me what that would be?"
Both groups grumbled an answer, and I yanked harder, "No fighting!"
"That's right, now who wants to tell me why you are here?"
"I got an injured wolf," Frenrick grumbled.
"Looks like you have several more now, back of the line. Nothing looks fatal," I snapped, turning to Quinn. "And You?"
"I came to give you this," he mumbled, cheeks heating. It was a piece of metal on two long string-type things, ending in little bulbs.
"What is it?" I asked, taking it with raised eyebrows.
"The humans called it a smithaschope, we think. It lets you hear things in people," he shrugged, "Seemed useful."
"Don't take it, Lilliah, we don't know what it will do to you," Frenrick growled, reaching for the whatever-it-was-called.
I pulled it away, still studying it curiously. I didn't have the same prejudices that most wolves had. Humans used their technology to hunt us, sure, but they had once used it for other things, too. I thought they did anyway; they died over a hundred years ago, so who knew for sure.
"I will look into it," I muttered, shoving it into my apron pocket. "Now injured to the back of the line. Speak now if you are dying, and you had better not bleed everywhere."
The injured shoveled to the line, their gang huddling around them. They fought to be first for a few minutes before I gave them another stern look.
"Beautifully handled, my little flame," a voice said from behind me, sounding buttery smooth and extremely annoying. Cinder leader of yet another gang, approached, cradling one arm.
"Now what did you do?" I snapped, looking at the burn. It wasn't as bad as the others he had come to me for over the years. In fact, this one was practically mild.
He was covered in burns from head to toe, half of his face looked melted, and the line down his body looked like he had two halves. An apt description of his personality.
"Get in line," I sighed, shoving past the growing crowd and back into my shop.
I ignored Cinder's heated stares, working through the sick children first, mostly to get them back home and away from others. I was just seeing the last of them when Mira returned with May in tow, holding the elderly woman's hand.
She was my alpha, or the closest thing the Willowriver pack still had. We weren't allowed an alpha amongst ourselves in the Outskirts. We were a conquered pack, same as every other old pack in here.
"Hey, kid," she said, taking a seat next to my bench so I could keep working while we talked.
"Actually, I need a word in private, one moment," I handed the sick child back to her parents, giving them instructions to keep the fever down and what to look out for.
The next person in line grumbled, but I ignored them, pulling Miss May into my storage closet. She was ancient, with grey hair swinging around her waist, loose like a silk curtain; her sharp violet eyes were assessing and wise.
"We have an illness spreading through the elders and children. So far, no adults have caught it. I am not sure if it is viral or what, but it is spreading, and it is lethal."
"I see," she says, eyes darkening as I describe the symptoms. "I have never heard of anything like it. What do you recommend we do?"
"Isolate the sick, keep them in place. We administer as much medicine for the symptoms as we can, and try and stop the spread."
She nodded and sighed, "I will tell the other packs, but I am not sure they will listen."
"Warn them that if they don't, their children will die. They will die, hell, most of them are as old as you are."
She gave me a hard look with one eyebrow raised. I just shrugged.
"I will tell them," she grumbled, pushing past me, "Oh, right, do you want me to keep your father awhile longer?"
I swallowed a lump and nodded. I couldn't risk him catching this. "Is he… is he speaking today?"
She shook her head, giving me a pitying look. "Just her name over and over."
"Alright, so that wasn't the right combination," I muttered, making a mental note.
She left, and I returned to the impatient woman who glared at me. She opened her mouth to complain, but Cinder walked up behind me, draping an arm over my shoulder and glaring down at her.
Her mouth snapped shut with a click, and I got to work stitching up her minor cut.
"Are you going to hover all day?" I grumbled, shaking off his arm, as I wound a bandage around the woman's wound.
"Probably, " he chuckled, picking up a lock of my hair, sniffing it. I slapped his hand and called the next person over.
Mira stuck her tongue out at Cinder, who returned the gesture, snatching the tray of tools from the little girl to hold out to me.
"You'll lose your place in line," I grumbled, ignoring him pressing into my space.
"That's fine. I want to be last," he crooned, and I ignored him.
Several hours later, I had made it through all but the gang members. They were still bickering as I tended their wounds.
"Oh, hey, where is your brother? I got something for him," Quinn said, looking around.
I snorted a laugh, stitching up an Ironhowl member, "My brother hasn't been here in months. How am I supposed to know where he is?"
I made my words casual, but they hurt to say. Quietly, I added, he hates us too much to care if we live or die.
I turned to wash my hands, but bumped into Cinder, who met my eyes with a frown. He searched my face for a moment, but I pushed past him and cleaned the blood from my hands with a sigh.
"You're next, I suppose."
"Get out," he said to the others, who obeyed with a lot of muttering.
They might claim to be equal to the Ashclaw, but none of them wanted a fight with Cinder.
"You to kid," he said to Mira. She put her tiny fists on her hips and gave him a defiant look.
"I got a job for you anyway," I sighed, handing her a bottle of disinfectant and a cloth. "Go wipe everything down; we need it extra clean from now on."
She ran off to obey, looking pleased to have been given a task on her own.
"Well?" I asked, applying an ointment to his burn, "What did you do this time?"
"Set a caravan to the city on fire," he beamed at me like I should be impressed.
"Really, Cinder? You are going to get caught, and we will all be in trouble," I said with a sigh, leaving the burn uncovered beneath the ointment.
"Your brother asked me to," he said, grinning at my expression.
"And why would he do that?" I snapped, handing him a small pot of the same ointment I just used.
"Hatred, fear, grief, why do men do anything?" he shrugged. "But the real question is why I did it."
I gave him a deadpan stare, waiting for him to tell me, but he didn't. I sighed, "Why did..."
"He said I could court you."
"No."
"But I could…"
"Absolutely not," I snapped, turning away from him. Four years he had been trying these stunts since I saved him from the burns that scarred his body, and I had been rejecting him since.
"Fine, but if you change your mind…"
"No."
He shrugged, grinning at me and strolled away whistling like he was pleased with himself.