The medical tent smelled of blood, sharp healing herbs, and the faint metallic tang of magic. Lanterns hung from the ceiling poles, casting warm but unsteady light over rows of cots filled with the injured.
Leo sat on a rough cot while a healer pressed careful fingers around his bruised shoulder. The spot where falling rock had struck him in the tunnel throbbed steadily.
"You're lucky," the healer said, wrapping the shoulder with clean bandages in quick, practiced movements. "Seen worse tonight. Much worse."
Leo nodded. He had no words for the man. Across the tent, maybe ten feet away, the elf rested on another cot. A different healer checked her over and offered her water. She looked utterly drained, pale skin smudged with dust and dried blood.
The four wounded students they had carried were deeper in the tent, receiving more serious care. Without her constant healing during the escape, those students would not have survived. Thanks to her, they still had a chance.
