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The Girl in the Red Cloak Ch. 01

By: peaches07



Clara pulled the crimson hood of her cape over her head and mentally braced herself for the trek through the woods. It was late in the day to begin a forest journey, but the wails of the suffering children she left behind spurred her steps onward. Darkness would probably have fallen by the time she returned, but she'd been in and out of the woods so many times that she hardly needed light to find her path. Only in the heart of the forest could one harvest the valdir, and without the herb she might never break the fever of the children.

The plague had swept quickly through the town, the worst of it affecting the young children and the very old. Few strong healthy adults had been at its mercy for than a few days, but the elderly had sickened at an alarming rate, and the children had been almost universally affected. The babes cried in their cradles, unable to yet put into words their discomfort and pain, and Clara had worn herself down to near exhaustion trying to heal them. 

Her red cloak marked her as a healer, ensuring that she was welcomed wherever she went, and given free room and board at any village. It also signified to any soldiers of Mahania that she was not to be harmed. Mahania and her own country, Lotharis, had been at war for years. Each wanted to claim supremacy over the other's country and resources, fueled onward by greedy monarchs. King Roderick of Lotharis was said to have an entire room where the furniture was entirely made of gold. Clara rather doubted the truth of this, but enemy soldiers seemed to have no trouble believing in it, spurring their desire for conquest of Lotharis. 

Born with the innate ability to heal the sick, Clara had been identified at a young age and taken from her family to train at a special school for healers. Lotharis and Mahania agreed on almost nothing, but a general truce had been made about the healers of either country: they would wear a uniform red cloak to identify themselves and be spared by either side, regardless of their country of origin. Healing was a rare and special gift, and useful to both sides. Clara had spent many years training, learning how to channel her own inner magic as well as using healing herbs and remedies to supplement her own skills and energy. Every healer was required to spend 2 years at the border of Mahania and Lotharis, where attacks and battles were common and sudden. It had been draining both on her energies and on her spirit, to see the atrocities the men committed against each other, and she had been relieved when her years were over and she was allowed to roam the countryside, providing aid to whatever village or town she came upon or that called for her services.

She could still recall the stench of sickness and death, a smell her teachers at the school had not prepared her for. At school, working alone or as a group, they had healed all but one of the sick who were brought to them, and the one fatality could not compare to the horror of a battlefield. Men cried out to her to help them even as they held their insides in their own hands, and she knew they were beyond saving. Heart torn and tears streaming, she offered them the one gift she could bestow: the healers kiss. She breathed energy and will between their lips, and a numbing sensation would sweep downward from their lips, throughout their ravaged bodies, as the pain slipped away. They were still relaxed and numb when the kiss took its full effect and stopped their hearts. This, she had learned in school, was the kindest thing you could do for one suffering and beyond a healer's abilities. 

Here, near the border, she still sometimes saw the aftermath of attacks from Maharia, but they were few and far between. Most soldiers did not venture this far inland without being stopped, or if they did, they generally headed north to the capital city, and would not bother with trifling little villages. Her main work consisted of healing the sick, setting a broken limb or two to rights, and aiding in childbirth. Occasionally she was even called upon to heal livestock. Although some healers felt this beneath them, Clara was always glad to help a poor family hang on to the cow they so desperately needed, or mend a lamb's broken leg so it could be sold at the market. She found the work much more fulfilling than the endless stream of wounded men at the front lines who would only be sent out to fight again once she healed them.

Right now she sought the valdir, which would help relieve the fever and in turn save more of her own energy for driving the sickness out. She could have sent a villager, but they harbored a fear of the woods, claiming they were haunted. Clara scorned such superstitions; she'd been in many woods and never come across anything remotely resembling a ghost. Wild animals were a minor concern, but if she avoided the big game trails she could generally keep out of the way of bears or wolves, and unless they were very hungry indeed they usually avoided humans. There was a little more risk at night, she knew, but she was willing to take a chance to replenish her stores of herbs. A healer who relied on her magic alone would not have the strength to care for than a couple people at a time. She had already sent word out for more healers to come and help with this terrible plague, but for now she would have to rely on her own strength and supplies. 

The sun was just beginning its descent as she entered the woods. Instantly she felt the change in temperature as the cool shade enveloped her. The birdsong and lush, green smell were comforting to her, and she breathed deeply, allowing herself a moment of respite from the day's work. Clara always felt more energized after spending time out in the woods, as if somehow she could draw energy from the very trees and earth. Her closest teacher, Bimi, had felt the same, and it had been she who had taught Clara how to find the herbs that would help and heal in the woods, while avoiding the toxic and poisonous ones. Valdir only grew in the depths of a forest, near the heart trees of the wood. Every wood of sizable nature boasted at least one heart tree, and most had several. Clara loved the heart trees, they were the very soul of the forest, pure and yet mighty and forceful. When she laid hands on a heart tree she could nearly feel its soothing energies pouring into her. Bimi had laughed at this, and declared that Clara was romanticizing what were merely very old and rare trees, but Clara would not be dissuaded. 

She had been in this wood in particular several times before, she enjoyed this more quiet corner of the country and had spent much time in its villages. She knew there were several heart trees in the depths, and she allowed her instinct to guide her to it as she made her way through the trees. A squirrel darted in front of her feet, and she smiled to see the little creature make his way up the tree and watch her intently, as if she might be a very small, hairless bear who fancied a squirrel dinner. She reflected on the nature of the plague as she walked. Where had it come from? The water was good, so that was not the source. There was seemingly no connection in food between the afflicted families, and many of the infants could not eat solid food anyway. The town was not overrun with rodents, ruling out rats as the carriers. 

She knew that sometimes these things were just carried by air or from person to person, but it would be better if she could find a source. The villagers were already whispering that such a plague must be Maharia, either by curse or some other method, and the last thing Clara wanted was for such rumors to get out. Those in power might take it as fodder to refuel the stagnant war effort, which had lost enthusiasm as the years went by and neither side seemed to gain or lose any ground for long. Villagers like those in this town were quite sick of the whole thing, as they were always short of men who were sent to front lines, and the supplies which were commandeered by the king's men to be sent to front lines as well. A notion like this plague coming from the enemy could renew interest and prolong things even more. 

The patriotic among the citizens would swear that it was their time honored duty and sworn right to battle Maharia until Lotharis finally triumphed, but Clara and many of the other healers were holding out hope that Prince Randall would put an end to it when he assumed the throne. He was not much in the public eye but the few reports of him that reached the general public indicated he didn't hold much enthusiasm for the war. It had dragged on for decades, surely a new ruler would be able to see the logic in ending things for good; assuming the Maharian rulers could be convinced of that as well. Clara knew there was a Maharian princess close in age to Prince Randall, perhaps marriage of the two could unite the countries. She wasn't sure how such a union would affect the economies of the nations, but anything was better than this never-ending war.

Her musings were disrupted by a low groan, and she froze in her tracks. It had sounded.... human. She held her breath and waited. A few moments later, there was another groan, and the sound of something being hauled through the underbrush. Clara's had went to the knife she kept strapped to her side. It was sharp,suitable for cutting through human flesh when the occasion called. She'd never heard of a healer being attacked by bandits or robbers, but she was alone and chose to be cautious. She crept forward carefully and quietly, placing each foot with precision, working her way toward the sound. It could be a hurt woodcutter or peasant, and it was her duty to investigate and heal the injured if it was needed.

The noise was coming from a small clearing. The trees overhead were especially dense and verdant and at first Clara could make out nothing, but then she spotted the blood on the ground. Caution thrown to the wind, she raced forward, following the trail. The first thing she saw was a foot, poking out from under a bush. She leaned down to brush aside the small branches in estimation of where a head would be based on the foot's placement, and and hand burst forth from the bush, grasping her wrist tight. Clara gasped and tried to pull away but the grip was unrelenting. A man's face, smeared with blood, rose up slightly from the bush. His lips were pulled back in a snarl, and Clara was terrified for an instant that he was going to kill her. His eyes lit on her red cloak and his hold on her arm loosened.

"Healer?" he asked. 

His slight accent gave him away instantly. Clara had never heard it from anyone so young before. The man was near her own age, by approximation, and the only others she'd heard it from had been very old indeed. Ever since the war started, there were no others crossing the border with that accent; only those who retained it from their youth still spoke it. Maharian. 

Slowly, Clara nodded.

Officially, the policy of both Maharia and Lotharis was that a healer would heal whoever she came across who required help, regardless of nationality or status. The status part was enforced, and healers were free to aid all those in need, not just the wealthy. Unofficially, the policy of Lotharis was to never heal a Maharian. Clara's teachers had been divided upon the matter, with some agreeing that it was in their own best interest not heal one of enemy nationality, and others who felt it was their duty to heal all, no matter what their country of origin. Clara had never before encountered a full blooded Maharian who had not married into Lotharisian blood. Even at the front lines of the battle, the wounded had been carefully separated, preventing any Lotharisian from crossing to the enemy side and vice versa.

Now, the injured man stared at her, his gaze loose and somewhat unfocused, probably due to loss of blood. He let go of her arm and pulled the branches aside to reveal his abdomen – a raw, red mess. The sight of the blood made up Clara's mind. She knelt beside him, trampling the branches of the bush flat as she did. She pressed her hands against his body and  felt. It was a stab wound, and he'd lost a lot of blood. The blade had been jabbed upwards, under the ribs and into his lung. His labored, harsh breathing told her she didn't have much time. Weariness forgotten, she drew deep inside herself and found the energy needed to heal. It was delicate work, being mindful of the body and healing without hurting. It was impossible to protect the body from all pain, but with care it could be minimized. Her power flowed out through her fingers while she closed her eyes and visualized the lung healing, the wounded tissues and muscles repairing themselves, knitting back together. The man drew in air sharply as his collapsed lung re-inflated. Clara's brow furrowed as she focused, the body responding to her touch and her will as the wound became smaller and smaller. 

When it was nearly healed, she sat back. The body could take it from here. It would take him a few more days before the worst of it was over, but if she completely exhausted herself now she would have nothing left for the sick villagers. In fact, she would probably need a rest before moving onward. Her eyes felt heavy and she belatedly realized she had expended more energy than she had thought. Darkness swam up in her vision and she felt herself falling backwards... it seemed a strong pair of hands grabbed her at the last minute before she hit the ground, but then the darkness claimed her and she knew no more. 

* * *

Clara awoke to the sound of birds. Her head felt thick and and her eyes grainy, but she forced herself to open them and look around. The clearing. The Maharian. It all came flooding back to her and sat upright in a hurry. Her bleary eyes struggled to see. She was on the ground, her cloak tucked in around her, presumably by the Maharian. The nights were warm enough now that her cloak was ample cover, and she was grateful for that, after her helplessness of the night before. If it had been winter when she'd keeled over like that she might not have lived to tell about it. She chided herself for her carelessness. She'd put herself in danger, and for what? A Maharian who appeared to have run off without so much as a thank you, never mind the cloak tucking. 

"Well what did you expect," she grumbled as she stood up and dusted herself off. "It's not as if he'd stick around to find out whether I'd turn him in or not." She wondered what a Maharian was doing this far from the border, and in the middle of the woods, no less. Was he a spy? Part of a covert group sent to infiltrate deeper into the heart of Lotharis? She'd probably never know. "Probably best not to know," she said, still annoyed with herself. 

"Do you always talk to yourself in the mornings, or just when you're alone in the woods with strange men?"

Clara whirled around at the sound of the voice behind her. The Maharian was leaning against a tree, largely obscured by the underbrush. 

"I – I thought you'd gone," she stammered.

"No, Healer. I appreciate your efforts but I won't be up for long journeys for a few days yet. Besides, who would watch over you when you pass out and snore loud enough to wake a hibernating bear?"

"I do not snore!" Clara was indignant and instantly furious. How dare he, and after she'd expended her power to save his life! "You sir, are an ungrateful cad!" She turned with a flounce and made her way out of the clearing.

"Wait, wait, I'm joking! At least let me introduce myself. Truly, madame, I am in your debt, and you have my most profound gratitude. I think almost dying has made me forget my manners. Please."

Clara reluctantly turned, her own good manners preventing her from turning her back on the man. He made a kind of half bow from his seated position.

"Lukas Wulff, at your service. So long as you don't require anything too strenuous. I seem to have this terrible stitch in my side." His tone was joking, but his grimace as he gingerly touched his wound told her the pain was real. She felt equal parts glad and bothered by it; the healer in her wanting to relieve his suffering, the woman in her mollified to see the bounder get what was coming to him. 

"Clara," she said, grudgingly introducing herself. "But as you seem well enough to no longer require my services, I must be on my way. There is a village of sick children I must return to." She turned and walked away again.

"Aren't you going the wrong way?" Lukas called. "You're going deeper, the nearest village is the other way."

"I need herbs that grow further in," Clara responded without looking back. The rustling sounds behind her told her that Lukas was following her. 

"What kind of herbs?" he asked. 

"The kind a healer uses," she said evasively. "You really should stay still and try not to move much for a few days. Your wound will heal faster." She brushed aside an overhanging cobweb and tried to gather her bearings. She needed to find the heart tree grove and get back to town. 

"But I'm curious now, I must know these secret mystical herbs that healers use." His breathing seemed a little short, but not dangerously so. Clara snorted.

"It's no secret, anyone may harness the power of medicinal herbs if they know how to find them and use them. In that respect, healers are like anyone else." She glanced over her shoulder. Lukas was behind her, his pace slow but steady. "You're going to aggravate your wound if you keep following me. You need to lie down."

"And miss all the excitement? Or do you just want me to stay where you left me, to make it easier to lead a squad of Lotharisian men to me later?" His tone was dry and serious.

"I wouldn't do that!" she said, truthfully. She was curious what a Maharian was doing this far in Lotharis, but to lead a crowd of angry men to capture – or kill – an injured person was like leading lambs to the slaughter, and every bone in her healer's body railed against it. "I don't know what dealings you've had with your Maharian healers, but here in Lotharis, our mission is to heal and help the sick, not to ferret out spies and get involved in brutal, bloody war politics. I would have left you there and never said a word to anyone." This was also true, and if her silence was as much for her own protection after healing an enemy soldier as his, well, it should hardly matter to him. 

"You seem so sincere I could almost believe you, Red." He nodded slightly at her cloak. "But a man can't be too careful."

Clara's heart thudded hard against her ribs. What did that mean? Surely he didn't mean to kill her just to stave off any chance of her saying something? Her fear must have showed on her face, for his next words were of reassurance. 

"I can never repay my debt to you for saving my life. I am humbly your servant, but that doesn't mean I have to trust you. Once you're out of sight, I'll make my own way, and neither of us will have to worry about the other, hmm? But for now, let me escort you on this fine morning. I've never seen a healer in action before and I am curious."

Clara felt relieved, annoyed, and somehow pleased that he wanted to accompany her. As there seemed to be no getting rid of him, she paused until he caught up and then they proceeded to walk side by side. Lukas made as if to offer her his arm, then thought better of it, instead pressing his hand ever so gently against his ribs as he strolled. 

"How did you get injured anyway," she asked finally, feeling as if she had a right to know.

"Got into a fight with a Lotharisian soldier," he promptly replied. Clara froze.

"Is he wounded? Does he need healing?" The healing instinct in her was strong and could not be denied. Lukas shook his head.

"No. No amount of healing could save him."

Clara felt a shudder of fear at the coldness in his voice, but dismissed it and kept moving forward. If the soldier was dead he was dead, and there was no point in worrying over it. A healer could not raise the dead, and those who tried often drained themselves to the point of death. She continued toward the valdir, and Lukas followed. 


The Girl in the Red Cloak Ch. 01



"Why are you so far in Lotharis?" she asked. If she was going to be spared no matter what she might as well be impudent. 

"Maharian business. Let's leave it at that." His strained voice told her his wound was paining him with every step.

Clara shrugged, it really didn't matter one way or another to her why he was here. If he'd been Lotharisian, she'd have been able to persuade him to sit still and let his wound heal, but a Maharian had every right not to trust her, and frankly she didn't blame him. She could have finished the healing job completely and sent him on his way – to Maharia, or further in the woods, whatever his plan was, but she needed to save her energy for the plague back in the village. She stole glance at him from the corner of her eye. He was certainly not bad to look at. Tall, with the darker coloring Maharians usually had, and bright blue eyes that seemed to sparkle against his swarthier skin. Lukas turned as if he could feel her gaze upon him and she quickly looked ahead and cleared her throat.

"We're nearly there. Since you've decided to tag along you may as well make yourself useful in harvesting herbs. I'll show you what to look for." He made one those half-bows again, and her annoyance returned. The man was really insufferable, was it any wonder a Lotharisian had stuck a knife in him?

* * *

Lukas turned out to quite adept at gathering the valdir, once Clara showed him how to identify it. She inspected his pile carefully for similar looking but ineffective or harmful plants before grudgingly nodding her approval at his work.

"Have you done much plant gathering in the past?" she asked.

"Not specifically, no, but as a soldier I did try to learn which plants could sustain me if I wound up stranded with no food, and which would kill me. Little things like leaf placement and shape can mean the difference between life and death, so I pay attention to the details." He shrugged as he plucked another leafy cluster from the ground. "It's come in handy more than once."

"How long have you been out on your own, foraging?" Clara's curiosity got the better of her.

Lukas eyed her askance for a moment before replying.

"This time? Three months. It hasn't all been foraging though. We do have allies, even here."

"In Lotharis?" Clara was surprised, although when she thought about it, it made sense. Why shouldn't there be a few sympathizers here? Probably those with Maharian ancestry who'd never entirely lost touch, or possibly those who stood to gain if Maharia ultimately won. 

"Mmm hmm." He plucked listlessly at a few strands of grass and abruptly changed the subject. "What's a healer doing out alone in the middle of the forest anyway? Shouldn't you have some sort of escort to protect you from wild animals or dangerous men?" His smile glinted as he revealed entirely too many teeth for Clara's taste. Perfectly straight and white, his smile was broad and cheeky. Clara sensed he was poking fun at her again.

"I can take care of myself, thank you. Besides, the villagers think the woods are haunted. If you had a lick of common sense, you'd be more worried about protecting yourself than pretending to be a threat. If I hadn't happened along when I did, you'd be dead now. You're lucky as it is that there don't appear to me more Lotharisian soldiers about, for I can assure you they would be quite serious about protecting a healer from the grip of a Maharian." She turned her back on him in a huff and strode to the far side of the little clearing, as much to get away from him as to harvest the good crop of valdir she'd spotted.

"Don't be mad, Red," called Lukas. "I can't help myself, your beauty quite undoes me. No wait, maybe it was your undeniable humbleness and modesty over your healing power. Nothing excites a man quite like the implied 'you owe me', even when it is true."

Clara's spine stiffened and she looked over her shoulder. 

"I can assure you, if the chance comes up again I'll leave you to die, and consider our debt settled."

Lukas laughed, but it turned into a cough and despite herself, Clara's healing instincts sent her rushing to his side.

"I told you you would aggravate your wounds, following me this far! You should have stayed when I told you to. Now you've extended your recovery time, and don't look to me to help you, for a man stubborn enough to not listen to his healer is a man stubborn enough to recover from a flesh wound on his own. Besides, I've wasted enough time, I must get back to the village." Lukas winced as she probed his wound lightly, feeling. If her fingers happened to jab him just a little harder than was strictly necessary, well, how would he know? "You'll be fine," she continued. "A few more days and you'll be good as new. Or bad as new, in your case." She glanced up at him while her fingers stayed on his flat, hard stomach. His eyes, blue as a crisp morning and large and expressive, seemed to dance with amusement even as he pulled a slight face at the feeling of her fingers on his tender flesh. His abdomen was warm beneath her hand, and for a moment Clara wanted to run her fingers higher, over the broad chest she'd glimpsed the night before. She wondered what it would feel like to twine her fingers together behind his neck and pull his mouth down to hers -

As if she'd been burned, Clara snapped back to reality and snatched her hand back. She was overworked, that was all, and the mind went funny places when the body was exhausted. As if she would ever want any sort of romantic entanglement with any Maharian, let alone this one in particular! He'd been a thorn in her side all morning, and really had detained her far longer than she should have taken in the woods. The children and elderly of the village needed her, not this obstinate oaf. 

"I have to get back," she said simply, and gathered the valdir into her little satchel. Lukas added his own findings to her pile without another word. Once she'd safely packed it away, Lukas said he'd escort her to the edge of the woods and she could find no reasonable objection, at least none that would stop him. She set a moderate pace, in a hurry to be back and yet somehow reluctant to leave the woods, though she could not fathom why, unless it was just her overworked body had so appreciated the much needed reprieve. Lukas matched her pace, and to her surprise, offered her his arm. To her even greater surprise, she took it, her small white hand stark against the contrast of his black uniform. His body radiated warmth against her arm, and she found it not at all unpleasant in the slight dewy chill of the morning.

"I don't suppose I need to tell you that whatever you're for, whatever mission, it better not involve the village, not after I helped you. They have enough troubles now as it is." She said after they'd walked in silence a ways. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"I wouldn't dream of it, milady. Consider your village sacred and untouchable." His dry tone annoyed Clara, and she pursed her lips as they walked. This would be the last time she ever helped a Maharian, that was for certain. Were they all so insufferable, or had she just had the terrible luck to save the most insolent among them?

"You needn't use formal titles with a healer, you may call me Healer, or Clara, or Healer Clara if you wish, but your mockery through the use of seeming respect is not lost on me." She glared upward at him over her shoulder, and made to withdraw her hand from his arm, but he squeezed it tight to him, despite being on his injured side. 

"Forgive me then, Clara, perhaps we Maharians weren't raised with the manners of you Lotharisians."

"Or perhaps you were, and your poor mother would box your ears if she knew how you flouted them now," Clara said snippily. Lukas laughed again, trying to suppress the cough at the end. She frowned at hearing the cough, and wished he'd listened to her. She was tempted to spur the healing process along for him further, but only because of her healer's instinct. They were nearing the edge of the woods now, and Lukas slowed his pace.

"I think here is where I leave you, milad – Clara. No sense in me getting too close to your precious village and angering some rogue farmer with my brutish Maharian manners. Not to mention the damage your reputation might face, emerging from the wood with a man on your arm after staying out all night?" His tone was mocking. "People will talk."

Clara rolled her eyes, but could not entirely suppress a smirk at the thought of the gossip that would fly. Not that anyone would dare say a word to her, they needed her skills and healers were not subject to any church teachings that would say it was wrong for a man and woman to lie together if that was what they both wanted. Still, there would be talk.

"Well, goodbye," she said. Lukas made a little bow over her hand, smiled at her, and turned and walked away. She watched him go for a minute before turning and beginning to make her own way out of the woods. 

"Red," she heard his voice behind her and turned. "Thank you. I don't know if I said it. But thank you." His charming smile sent a flurry of butterflies through her stomach and before she could stop herself she called after him.

"I – I could come back and check on you! On your wound, I mean. To make sure it's healing properly. It's standard healing protocol." Why was she offering her services to this man again, why? "If you wanted to wait in the clearing, I could come tonight. If I have time. Of course I have other, more important priorities, but I could check up on you, if you wanted." She didn't know why, but it was suddenly very important to her that he say yes.

He studied her for a moment before making that half bow again.

"I would be flattered by more of your attention, Healer. I shall wait all night."

She turned to leave before she could say something else stupid, silently cursing herself as she made her way to the edge of the woods. What was wrong with her?

**



The Girl in the Red Cloak Ch. 02



Although Lukas crossed her mind occasionally that day, on the whole Clara was far too busy to give him much thought. Between administering the valdir and using her own powers to help the sick, she scarcely had a free second to eat, let alone ponder the mysterious Maharian. Her work was rewarding though, and she saw with relief that the valdir was doing its job. It appeared there would be no more fatalities from this plague, provided she continued her careful observation and care. By the time she'd seen to the last baby, the sun was nearing the horizon, and as she stood, her weary body complained and she wondered what had possessed her to offer to return to the Maharian that night. She briefly considered reneging on her promise, but the healer in her balked at the idea, and if she was being completely honest, she had a strange longing to see him again. 

As she neared the woods, she wondered if Lukas would still be waiting. Perhaps she was foolish to trust the word of a Maharian, and her effort tonight would be nothing more than a fool's errand. Perhaps, but she did not believe it. Something about his promise rang true, and she believed that though he might be a bit of a bounder, when he gave his word he meant it. Why she felt this way, she could not say.

 You like him. 

The thought sprang up unbidden, and she was quick to brush it aside, dismissing it as the product of her overtired body. Healers had no time for such folderol as romance, and if she did it certainly wouldn't be with that arrogant Maharian! A fellow healer, perhaps. In her training, she had grown rather close to one of her fellow students, a boy named Thomas. There were very few male healers, but he was one. They had been the same age, and so thrown together often by their teachers. She mused over the memory as she entered the woods and made her way to the clearing.

Thomas had already been there when she had been brought to the temple for training, though only by a few weeks. At first, he had been an insufferable know-it-all, boasting about his skills and being rather bossy to Clara, as if she were far younger than him. Her quick aptitude and eagerness to learn soon saw her surpassing him, and though he was a bit put out at first, he eventually came to respect and admire her skills. Within 6 months they were friends, and by the end of their first year they were nearly inseparable. Clara had felt very warmly toward him, though as they neared the end of their group training and prepared to go their separate ways for apprenticeships, Thomas had made a declaration of love for her. 

Clara had promptly discouraged him, reminding him of the long years of training and separation still ahead of them. Thomas had persisted, claiming time and distance were immaterial to such a love as his. Though Clara loved him very much, it was not with the passionate fervor that Thomas displayed, and she refused his advances. Thomas promised that he would always love her, and held to it until they were separated for their apprenticeships. They had kept in touch initially through letters, though there were long gaps in between; healers were hard to stake down to a specific location. 

Eventually the letters became even more scarce, and now Clara heard only about Thomas through fellow Healers she happened to meet on the road. Still, she'd always imagined when she was ready to settle down, if she ever was, that it would be with someone like Thomas - stable, strong, and perfectly able to understand the demands on a Healer's time. The few Healers who had married outside their own ranks almost all seemed to have troubled marriages. Their husbands, who at first had been captivated by their wives' powers and abilities quickly became jealous of the time spent away from them on others. Very few were understanding enough to cope with what marriage to a Healer really meant. 

It was said that Queen Amelia had initially been sent to Healer training, but after meeting then-Prince Roderick, she had forsaken her training, ignored her gifts, and become his wife. It was only rumors, and none of Clara's teachers would confirm or deny the truth of the matter. Clara could not imagine turning her back on her powers, they were such a strong part of her. They were ingrained in every fiber of her being, and she might just as well decide to stop breathing air as to stop using her powers. All her teachers had said her gift was exceptionally strong, but even if it had been less powerful she believed it would be painful to ignore it. How Queen Amelia must have suffered! Of course, the Queen's troubles had been over for many years now, and more was the pity, for perhaps her Healer's heart would have guided her to influence her husband against the war. 

"Red."

Clara jumped, startled out of her thoughts. Lukas slunk out from behind a tree, giving her a little half-smile.

"I didn't think you would really come." He seemed genuinely pleased, and Clara felt a warm little tingle at giving him pleasure. 

"A Healer always keeps her word," she said simply, betraying none of her nervousness over seeing him again. 

"And alone, too. I'm a little impressed."

"Well," said Clara with a little toss of her head, "You don't know about the alone part. I might have an entire Lotharisian squadron behind me, closing in on you."

"I've been following you almost since you entered to forest. If you had another person following you, let alone a squadron, I'd know." He stared her down and Clara felt quite unnerved. She'd had no clue that he was there; he must have moved very quietly indeed. 

"Then let's get down to business," she said brusquely, to hide her surprise. "If you would be so good as to remove your shirt, I'll examine you."

Lukas grinned broadly and made an elaborate show of setting down his weapon and pack, and very slowly pulled his shirt over his head. Clara tried to be professional and not gawk like a love-struck school girl at his firm, bronze body. His muscle definition was visible beneath his skin, at least until it came to his chest, which was slightly obscured beneath his curly chest hair. His arms were large, but not bulging, and his trousers hugged against his hips in a way that made something inside her ache a little bit. She'd seen plenty of undressed men before, some completely nude - Healers saw all - so why should this man with only his shirt off be affecting her so? She moved toward him hastily, zoning in on his wound. Somehow on him, the slight imperfection only increased his visual appeal.

"You see these red marks around the wound," she said, her finger gently tracing the edges, "If you had listened to me this morning and spent the day resting, they would not be here. You might even be nearly healed by now." His stomach was warm under her touch, and she knew it wasn't just the energy the wound was giving off as the healing process made it knit itself back together again. The night had grown a little chilly and she relished his warmth against her fingers. "It seems to be coming along nicely, though. I'll just check for any signs of infection." She pressed her hand against him and felt, though she doubted she'd find anything. She'd purified it the first time she'd touched it. Still, it was nice to be touching him, and by the way he was smiling down at her he didn't mind much either.

"Are you always so hands-on, little Healer?" he asked.

"I have to touch to get a sense of the injuries, and without touching, I cannot heal. The power flows through me, out through my hands. I have heard legendary tales of the Healers of old, who could heal without touch, but if the tales are true, those powers have long since been lost to us." She continued her magical probing at his wound, for there was no sense in having him get an infection just because of her hubris. After all, he had been traipsing through the underbrush this morning, and doing who-knows-what after she'd left him. A little bit of sensing and probing was such a trivial drain on her powers that she did not fear a repeat of the blackout incident of the night before. 

"Your hands are extra sensitive then? Or are they merely a conduit for the powers?" Lukas seemed genuinely curious.

"A conduit," said Clara, still probing. "I need my hands, but I'm afraid that there is nothing special about them, other than being attached to a Healer, of course." Satisfied that the wound was clean, if a little aggravated after his non-Healer-prescribed activities, she removed her hand. She was slightly disappointed that the search had turned up nothing, for it would have given her a valid excuse to lay hands on him longer.

"And the rest of you? Is anywhere else particularly sensitive?" Lukas' eyes seemed to gleam in the light of dusk.

"N-no." Clara stammered, feeling suddenly shy. 

"So for example," said Lukas, raising a hand to her face, "If I were to touch you here" - his thumb moved over her bottom lip in a gentle caress- "you feel nothing extraordinary?"

Clara was all of a sudden aware of just how close he was to her, his body mere inches from hers. Her lip trembled at his touch, and she yearned for more.

"No, a simple touch of a finger does nothing to me," she said with a slight arch of her brow. Even Clara was astonished at her boldness. Why, she was practically asking him to kiss her. Her stomach flopped at the thought, yet she couldn't deny her desire for his mouth against hers. 

"Hmm," said Lukas, and leaned closer to her. "Perhaps we should try something else." She could feel his hot breath on her face, and without knowing exactly what she was doing, she found herself tilting her head back, the better to match the angle of his. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, Lukas leaned closer to her, till finally he was only a hairsbreadth away from her. Her lips parted of their own accord, and he must have taken it as consent, for suddenly his mouth was hot against hers, his tongue plundering her and evoking feelings deep within her that she'd never felt before. Her hands crept up his still unclothed torso, twining themselves into his chest hair. His own hands grasped her waist, slipping under the red cloak and pulling her yet closer to him. If she'd felt warmth radiating from his wound earlier, it was nothing compared to the heat emanating from his full body pressing into her. He pulled her up and closer, and she was nearly on her tip-toes, lost in the kiss, lost in the moment.

His lips were surprisingly soft, in stark contrast to his stubbly facial hair which rubbed against her cheeks. His tongue probed at hers as she had earlier probed at his wound, and she completely surrendered herself to him, voicing no objection even as he slid a hand up her body to stroke the outside slope of her breast through her bodice. She hungered for more, feeling the passion pulse through her every vein. She must be crazy, to allow a Maharian such liberties, yet she seemed unable to stop him, nor to make herself want him to stop. He withdrew his tongue and bit tenderly on her bottom lip, the sensations it caused making her knees go weak. She wanted everything and yet nothing from this enemy soldier, her body craving for more even as her bemused mind worked overtime to figure out what she was doing with him. 

At last Lukas drew back, and Clara was disappointed, though she immediately composed her face, as if she did this sort of thing every day and it meant nothing to her. For all he knew, she did routinely kiss or couple with her attractive male patients. Not that he was that attractive. For a Maharian, maybe, but of course like any loyal citizen of Lotharis she was not seriously interested in the enemy. Alright, maybe he was good looking, but he was still arrogant and ill-mannered, which practically canceled out the looks. 

Lukas watched her changing facial expressions with his own look of amusement.

"I see you are quite sensitive there after all, mila- Clara."

She huffed at him and hastened to salvage her dignity.

"I suppose in Maharia it's considered fine for a gentleman to steal a kiss from an unsuspecting lady, but here in Lotharis we have more polite standards. You merely caught me unawares, Sir, and unable to defend myself in time." She realized as she spoke that her hands were still pressed against his warm, firm chest, and dropped them to her sides instantly. 

Lukas merely smiled at her, that coy half-smile she found so irritating.

"Oh no, Healer Clara, in Maharia the rules are quite the same- " Clara opened her mouth to make a sharp retort, only to be cut off by Lukas. " -for a gentleman." With that remark he swiftly brought his lips to hers again, and to her chagrin she was instantly returning the kiss, hot and burning beneath his mouth. Her own tongue sought his, dancing against it as he once again pressed her against him, an unmistakable hardness growing between them. Clara had healed quite enough men to be familiar with male anatomy, and the firm, insistent presence brought her back to her senses as nothing else would have. She pushed back from him, her hands having clutched at him again without her being aware of it. 

"I really should be getting back," she said, with a haughty toss of her head. "I'll need a proper rest to continue my Healer's duties tomorrow." She made to take a step back, but found his hands held her fast. 

"I'm afraid I can't let you go," said Lukas, his grip firm. 

Clara stared at him, aghast. Surely he didn't mean-

"I can't let you go," continued Lukas, "Until you admit that you like and even wanted that kiss."

"How dare you," Clara drew herself up her full height, though it was hardly imposing next to his large stature. "I am a Healer and and I have Healer business to attend to! You would stand in the way of that?"

"Not at all," said Lukas, that devilish amusement dancing in his bright blue eyes again. "If only you'll admit this one tiny thing." Clara struggled against his hands to make an escape, but to no avail. 

"I could have you hanged for this," she said. "It is against the law to detain a Healer." She wondered if her bluff was fooling him at all.

"Your Lotharisian law means nothing to me," said Lukas. "If they caught hold of me, I imagine they'd have far more exciting charges to levy against me." He raised an eyebrow slightly, challenging her to prove him wrong. 

Clara saw the logic in that argument and swiftly abandoned it. An enemy soldier on home territory, who had been skulking about on enemy business and had killed at least one Lotharisian soldier here, and probably more? His minor offense against a healer would mean nothing at all if he was caught, and it would serve him right if he was. 

"You should think of the children, if nothing else," she pleaded, unwilling to admit even to herself how much she'd enjoyed the kiss.

"And if you are still here come morning, when the babes awake and need your services, I shall surrender to your imperial will and beg your pardon with my humble apologies, and send you on your way. However, it looks to be a long night till then." He gazed skyward, at the stars that were just beginning to show themselves. 

Clara sighed. She could see no way around it, for she certainly could not afford to waste an entire evening's rest in the company of this brute. And, perhaps, if she was being completely honest with herself, she had wanted it a little? Only as a reprieve from her exhausting duties as healer, of course, definitely not because she liked him. Any farm boy or shopkeeper's apprentice close to her own age would have suited. Lukas - this Maharian - only served because he happened to be near when she happened to need a distraction, and nothing more. His arms about her waist reminded her that although any lad would have done, this one in particular was holding her tight, and she could see no other way of escaping short of giving him the answer he desired. 

"I suppose," she said slowly and reluctantly, "that it might be construed, or perceived that I did, perhaps, enjoy it a little. A very little. Only as it served as a necessary distraction from the hard work of the day. It might have been anyone," she declared more loudly, seeing his triumphant smile, "who could have served the purpose, you just happened to be the first..." she searched for the right words "Able-bodied, unwed specimen of masculinity I came across." There! That might knock some of the wind out of his sails!

To her surprise, he only grinned more broadly. 

"Such an honor it is then, to be such a specimen."

Clara sniffed and pointedly looked back in the direction she had come. He parted his hands and allowed her to step back. She immediately went about the business of straightening her clothes and her cloak, brushing imaginary dirt from them where he had touched her.

"Might I escort you, Healer Clara, to the edge of the forest?" He was making that ridiculous half-bow again. He was so arrogant! So sure of himself, and she'd only fed into it by letting him believe she wanted him to kiss her. 

Clara glared at him, letting ice creep into her tone as she responded.

"I will find my own way, and I'll thank you to find yours!" With that, she turned and flounced off, her cape billowing out behind her as she heard his laughter follow her.

"I'll be here again tomorrow, Red, just waiting on you!"

Honestly, was the man dense? That was never, ever, going to happen. 

**

Clara woke grumpy the next morning, still annoyed at the Maharian. If she was honest, she was also annoyed with herself, for in her heart of hearts, she could not deny she had wanted the kiss, had enjoyed it, and even now she grew heated and flushed thinking of it. Part of her wanted another, and more, and part of her wanted to run to nearest outpost and inform the Lotharisian soldiers of his presence. She wouldn't, of course, no matter how annoyed she was. Only if he'd done something truly dreadful, like coming into the village and taking innocent lives would she resort to that. She spent an extra few minutes in bed allowing herself to feel annoyed before rousing to begin her rounds. Regardless of his lack of integrity, he had not hurt her, and she had duties. Trying to put the Maharian from her mind, she donned her red cloak and left the inn to check on the little ones. The inn-keeper's wife pressed a warm loaf of bread and a flagon of cider on her before she left, and Clara smiled gratefully. She nibbled at the loaf as she walked, for if the babes needed much of her attention she might not have time for food till much, much later. 

To her surprise, when she reached the make-shift nursery that had been set up in the Mayor's common room her old teacher, Bimi, was already there. Clara had sent out word requesting more healers, but she had not expected one to come so soon, and certainly not Bimi, who was like a mother to her. 

"Bimi!" she cried, and Bimi looked up from the baby she was attending, broke into a grin, and dashed across the room, meeting Clara halfway in an embrace.

"It has been too long, little one," said Bimi, pulling Clara to arms' length so she could get a good look at her. "You've grown. Taller, and more beautiful."

Clara blushed.

"Beauty is as beauty does," she replied, which had been a favorite saying of Bimi when Clara had been an awkward, gangly teenager, looking at the beautiful older girls and despairing of ever looking like them. The two shared a little laugh over the old joke.

"I didn't expect you to come," continued Clara. "Last I heard, you were over near the coast." The Healers took it in turns to teach at the Temple of Healing, some choosing to stay longer than the required 2 years, and some leaving the day their time was up. Bimi had stayed until Clara had moved on to her apprenticeship and left the temple, but now she was another wandering Healer, like Clara. Time and age had slowed her a little, but only a little, and her impish eyes still sparkled with laughter and love as they had when Clara was a young girl.




The Girl in the Red Cloak Ch. 02



"Oh, I was, for a time, but of late I have been near the marshes. There was a sickness there, rather like this one, though not entirely the same."

Clara nodded gravely. She had heard of it, but at the time had been much too far away to be of help. By the time she would have reached the marshes, the worst would be over, and other Healers who were closer would not be better able to assist. 

"I found the marsh dwellers a very pleasant lot, if a little odd, and spent many moons in their company, traveling from settlement to settlement." Bimi shook her head. "It takes a certain kind of person to withstand the loneliness out there on the marshes. The people are built differently, somehow. For one, they don't seem to mind all that damp!"

Clara laughed, and the two of them turned to the children. There would be more time for catching up later, right now their services were needed. The children were visually healthier than before, after all of Clara's work, but that was no excuse to slack and allow them to relapse. Clara's thoughts wandered to the marshes as she examined the babe in front of her. She'd heard stories about the marsh dwellers. They were a singularly solitary lot, much preferring the company of their own kind or even of their own selves over normal city and village dwellers. Healers were welcomed of course, for Healers were welcomed everywhere they went.

Clara had always been curious to see the marshes, for it was said that while they were gloomy, and cold, and damp, there was great beauty to those who could appreciate it. Her rounds had never taken her far enough that way, but she was still young and she assumed she would see them sooner or later. Eventually a Healer saw the whole land, if they traveled. A few Healers kept to their chosen regions, and even fewer set up a permanent home in the big cities, where they were always in demand. She'd never found the idea appealing; ever since she'd first learned what she was she'd wanted to be a wandering Healer, and see the sights of all Lotharis. She'd been many places already, and seen many things, but there were always more places to go.

I wonder what Maharia looks like.

Clara shook her head, trying to rid herself of the thought. It didn't matter what Maharia looked like, she didn't care. Yet the thought persisted, and wouldn't let go. 

"Do you suppose the Maharians have had such plague troubles this year?" She hoped Bimi would read nothing extra into her question. Her former teacher looked mildly surprised, but not at all suspicious as she replied.

"Surely you're not buying into that nonsense about these plagues being sent by Maharia, are you little one? I would have thought with all the research and your teachings you would know better than to listen to the rumors of war-mongers."

"Of course not, I know better than that. I just wondered if their luck has been exceedingly foul this year, as ours has." Clara shrugged. She was actually burning with curiosity about Maharia now, a topic she'd had only perfunctory interest in before. 

"Well." Bimi studied her a moment. "If I were to guess, I'd say yes. Their lands are not so different from Lotharis. More mountainous, perhaps, but on the whole very similar, given its close proximity."

"Have you been there?" Clara asked. Bimi seemed to speak with authority on the landscape of Maharia, as one who knew.

"Of course not, child! You know the great war has been going on since I was a young girl! When would I ever have had the opportunity to explore strange lands outside of Lotharis?" she laughed at the notion. Something about the laugh rang false to Clara, though. Was her teacher lying to her? Had she in fact been in Maharia?

You're overworked, Clara, you're imagining things.

Her most beloved teacher would never lie to her, and she spoke the truth: with the war going on, when on earth would she have had a chance to be in Maharia?

* *

With the children making a steady recovery and the few elderly plague-stricken having been seen to, Clara and Bimi found themselves able to take a leisurely dinner, leaving two of the babies' mothers to watch over the rest, just in case.

"I thank the gods you arrived when you did, Bimi," said Clara. "The healing was growing quite taxing to my powers."

"Bah," said Bimi with a dismissive wave. "You're one of the strongest among us, and you'd already guided the babes through the worst of it. I'm coming in on the tail end. Though it has to be said, there's not many as could take on an entire plague-stricken village and live to tell the tale."

Clara shrugged.

"It was mostly the children and the elderly. I could never have managed an entire village, but this plague fortunately seems to strike only those not in their prime."

"You can be modest all you like, it's still impressive." Bimi eyed her meaningfully, and Clara flushed with pleasure at her tutor's praise. "I wish we'd been so fortunate in the marshes," she continued, "But that plague showed no bias based on age. If we'd had you with us, perhaps we could have saved a few more. Or if the plague had been as it was here. Still, at least it has passed now, and this one is on its way out the door as well."

"Good, perhaps that will quell the Maharian rumors," said Clara, and wondered why she was turning the topic back to Maharia again.

"Mmm," agreed Bimi, "Though that alone won't end this cursed war. It's a waste of lives and supplies. And a waste of all the Healers sent to the front lines who could be tending to the nature-given troubles of the land. There are certainly enough sicknesses and accidents that occur on their own to keep all the Healers busy without wasting lives in a pointless battle that yields nothing, day after day." Clara nodded and picked at her dinner, thinking of Lukas.

"Do you think the Maharian villagers feel the same way?" she asked.

"I don't doubt it. Wars are not fought for the benefits of the villagers, they are only to make the rich and noble more rich."

"Most of the soldiers I healed at the front lines seemed to feel it was their honour-bound duty to fight, and win." Clara remembered the desperate looks on their faces as they spoke of honour and glory, and wondered just how much of it was bravado.

"Soldiers are trained to think that way," said Bimi. "It makes it much easier to control them if they feel unified under the banner of their country. In the right situations, it can be a fine thing, but this war..." her voice trailed off as she shook her head and turned her attention to her foods. 

"Are Maharian soldiers taught the same?" Clara could not help asking.

"You are certainly full of questions tonight. Yes, I would imagine so, else why would they spend all this time fighting Lotharisians?" She snorted. "I'm fairly certain no Maharian woke up in his bed 40 years ago and announced, 'I feel like killing some Lotharisians today!'"

"What would you do if you met a Lotharisian soldier, Bimi? If he was wounded, and needed your help?"

Bimi gave her a hard look, scrutinizing.

"You know my stance on this. A Healer heals all, and does not see the flags of country, nor the shade of skin, nor the size of one's larder before doing so. It is our gods-given duty."

Clara nodded. She'd known that's what Bimi would say, but it was good to hear the words spoken aloud.

After dinner, Bimi retired to her quarters, claiming exhaustion.

"I'm not as young as I once was, nor as you are," she'd said before kissing Clara on the cheek and heading up the stairs.

At a loss for what to do, Clara walked over to check on the sick children, only to find them all sleeping and the mothers watching over them perfectly at ease. She decided perhaps a walk would clear her head, and set off toward the village square.

Should she tell Bimi what she'd done? She knew her teacher's only concerns would be for Clara's safety, and not for any counts of 'treason' or whatever a government official might deem it. Yet, despite her declaration that she would heal, Bimi had never said she would keep the soldier in confidence and not turn him in to the authorities. Clara believed that Bimi would feel the same way she did about it, but was it worth the risk?

Then again...

Clara recalled the sense of falseness she had perceived from her teacher when Bimi spoke of not going into Maharia. Truly, it could be the work of an overworked Healer's mind. She had been draining herself of powers nearly every day for the last five days, and with the added stress of her encounter with an enemy soldier, perhaps she was seeing things where there was nothing to be seen. Bimi had never lied to her before, why should she start now? Even if she had been into Maharia, Clara was certain it was for the most noble reasons, such as herb gathering or to heal a sickness too near the border of Lotharis to ignore, or allow to cross. So why deny it? Why hide it from Clara, of all people, who would take Bimi's secrets to the grave if asked. 

And then there was Lukas.

If he was so evil, so corrupt, as Maharians were reputed to be, why had he not slain her when he had the chance? Of course, there might be some thread of honor, or custom held out of respect for Maharian Healers, that had spared her life, but why then had he not wrought terror and death upon the village? Certainly they were an easy target right now, preoccupied with the sickness and tending to their ill ones. What sort of mission had he been sent here on, if not one of general mayhem and with the goal of taking out as many Lotharisians as possible? The rumors that were spread said that Maharians would spare no one, woman or child. Yet Lukas had seemed perfectly content to wait in the woods, tending to himself and harassing no one, other than Clara herself.  

Just what was his mission? He was a long way from the capitol city where the king lived, and she doubted he had been sent as an assassin anyway. Surely he'd had a small crew with him to guard his back and protect him along the way if that were the case. Perhaps he was only a spy, gathering intel. Then again, it seemed a spy would take care to speak the local dialect without the slight accent of a Maharian, and surely there were fairer skinned Maharians who could blend in more easily with the Lotharisians. All in all Clara was mystified. 

Looking up from her thoughts and wanderings, she was only half surprised to discover that she was in front of the woods again, near the path that led inward. 

Curse that Maharian and his pull over her. Well, since she was here...

Head held high, Clara entered the woods again, determined that this time she would get some answers.



The Girl in the Red Cloak Ch. 03



* * *

Chapter 3

The shadows grew long overhead as Clara made her way deeper into the woods. She wondered if Lukas was watching her, following her again. 

"I can hear you," she lied boldly to the empty air, hoping to spur him from his cover if he was indeed following her. She paused for a moment, waiting. When she heard nothing other than the sounds of the forest and saw no sign of him she continued on her way.

"I can't believe I'm doing this again," she grumbled to herself. "He's probably fled by now anyway. No doubt I'm wasting my time." Yet she kept walking.

Clara screamed as a pair of hands grabbed her behind, and one of the hands swiftly moved to cover her mouth.

"Quiet, you little ninny, it's only me," Lukas hissed in her ear. Clara attempted to shove away from him and voice her anger at being surprised in such a way, but Lukas held her firm and would not budge. Despite her hot feelings of animosity toward him for startling and holding her against her will, she was aware of just how close to him she was, one of his arms circling her waist and pinning her arms down as he held her tight against him. She could feel his firm body against her back and recalled how it had felt the night before when she'd leaned into him, exploring his torso and chest. Clara blushed at the thought, and was slightly relieved that because of the way the Maharian was holding her, he couldn't see her face. 

"Now listen," said Lukas, in a low, murmuring voice right against her ear. "I will let you go, but you have to promise to be quiet. Do you promise?" Clara nodded. "Good girl." Lukas removed his hand from her mouth and slackened his hold on her waist, though he did not release her completely. Clara fought the urge to turn and shout at him, and maybe give him a slap. There must be a reason he requested silence. Perhaps a bear was foraging up ahead, or a wolf pack. Though they much preferred the deer of the forest over humans, it was best not to take chances.

"What is it?" she whispered, making no attempt to run. It was strange that she should feel safer with an enemy soldier than a simple forest creature, she mused. Lukas leaned down to answer her, putting his mouth next to her ear so that his scruff of a beard brushed against her sensitive neck, and Clara fought back a shiver. 

"Further in, there are Lotharisian soldiers. I don't think they're looking for me, they don't move like trackers. I think they're just passing through. If I'm not mistaken, it's shorter to cut through the woods rather than go around, isn't it?"

"Yes," Clara nodded, "Though most don't. Most believe these woods are haunted." No two villagers could agree on just which ghosts haunted it, but the general consensus held that were spirits of some kind.

"You don't?" Though she couldn't see it, Clara could feel his broad grin behind her. She snorted.

"Of course not. These are just regular woods, no matter what the old wives' tales say. The worst thing I've encountered here is you." She darted a poisonous look at him over her shoulder, but she only half meant it. Somehow she was warming to his teasing. 

"Ouch, Red," he said mockingly. "You've cut me to the heart. I thought we really had a connection." Clara rolled her eyes, but still made no move away from him. "We should probably move further out, just in case," said Lukas, releasing her. Clara felt a slight twinge of disappointment. "I'm sure that in winter, despite the haunted rumors, the villagers will come at least a little into the forest to gather firewood." He looked at her for confirmation, and she nodded. "Then we'll head to the outskirts where there are already signs of people passing through. No point in taking chances." He offered Clara his arm and she accepted, and they quietly picked their way back to the entrance.

I'm helping a Maharian to hide from soldiers. Does this make me a traitor?

The need for quiet meant that they were not talking and gave Clara ample opportunity to mull this over. Her actions could be construed as that of any Healer and her patient, Healers always took it upon themselves to see that those they healed had time to rest and were not taxed with anything too strenuous which might trigger a relapse or re-open a wound. It was a form of protection, not too dissimilar to what she was doing now. She wasn't even doing that much now, to be frank. Oh, she supposed a normal citizen would have been yelling at the top of their lungs for the Lotharisian soldiers to come and capture the Maharian, but it wasn't as if she was offering Lukas shelter. She was merely following her patient as he carefully put some distance between them and the Lotharisian soldiers. 

The war was such a waste, anyway. Why should it matter whether she helped a Lotharisian or a Maharian? They were more alike than different. The Maharians tended toward a duskier complexion, but no one cared about such things. A Lotharisian farmer who spent his days in the sun was just as bronze. They spoke the same language, though of course the Maharians had that slight, lilting accent. Still, they were perfectly understandable. She did not know what gods the Maharians worshipped, if any, but there was so much variety in Lotharis already on that subject that it hardly seemed to matter. 

She'd heard rumors that the Maharian mountains were full of gold and precious gems that King Roderick desired, but lumps of cold metal and stone seemed a poor trade for the lives of the men of Lotharis. It was only rumor though, who would ever know if it was true? Well, actually - 

"Lukas," she said, keeping her voice low, "What's Maharia like?" She turned to watch his face, counting on him to steer them around trees and other obstacles as she held tight to his arm. He seemed surprised, and then pleased, to be asked.

"It's a lot like here, actually," he said. "The poor struggle while the rich prosper, and countless lives are lost in a meaningless war. Our king is just as bloodthirsty as your King Roderick. It's beautiful though. Those who have never lived in the valley of a mountain can never appreciate the beauty and the awe it inspires. Imagine having a snow-capped giant, beautiful and potentially deadly rising above the landscape, visible for leagues and leagues. They don't look as big in the distance, but as you get closer you realize just how enormous they are. I lived below Mt. Kilien, the largest mountain in all of Maharia as a boy. I still miss it." His tone turned wistful, and Clara had the strangest urge to embrace him and kiss him, to offer him comfort and banish the trace of home-sickness. "I've heard the Lotharisian coastline is just as awe-inspiring though."

"It is quite a sight," Clara agreed. "I've only been there once but I shall never forget the ocean. It's so endless, so vast... A person could get lost just staring into its depths." Lukas turned and met her gaze, and Clara felt as if they'd somehow made a connection, something deeper and purer than the heated kisses they'd shared. 

"I should like to see it someday," said Lukas.

"I wish I could take you," sighed Clara, and to her surprise, she meant it.

"Let's stop here awhile." Lukas gestured to an almost-but-not-quite clearing that was close to the forest's edge. "This should be far enough out to avoid the soldiers, but far in enough to shield us, well, me anyway, from prying eyes. I know a Healer, of course, has every right and reason to be in the forest gathering her herbs." His eyes danced with amusement, as he poked fun at their first conversation. Clara grinned despite herself, and quickly turned her head to hide it.

"Here is fine," she said, and settled herself against the trunk of a large oak tree. After a moment's hesitation, Lukas joined her, his arm just touching hers.

"Do you think the war will ever end?" Clara turned her face to him as she asked. Lukas gave her a level gaze and appeared to mull the question over. 

"It will, though not soon. Wars can't go on always and forever, eventually one side runs out of supplies, or men, or both. I believe it will end before things get to that point. King Otto can't live forever, and when Princess Kasimira takes the throne, there will be changes."

"Won't it depend on who she marries?" Clara was curious. Lukas gave her a half-smile and shook his head.

"Not in Maharia. Kasimira was the first born, and we don't discriminate based on sex. I happen to know the princess is in no hurry to marry, save for the gain of her people, before she sets the country to rights."

"Oh, are you so intimately acquainted with her then?" Clara felt the stirrings of something – jealousy perhaps? - as she thought of Lukas and the princess. Surely not, why should it matter to her what the Maharian princess and this Maharian soldier did. She didn't care.

Lukas gave her another long, level look. 

"Because you saved my life, and because I can see that you are truly against the war, as I am, I will tell you the truth." He took a deep breath before continuing. " Princess Kasimira has formed a private coalition, if you will, that is loyal to her, with the goal of putting an end to this war. Though I play the part of a loyal Maharian soldier, my true duty is to the princess, and to end the war. I've been sent to Lotharis to Prince Randall, and not, as you might think, to kill him, but as an envoy of peace in Kasimira's name. It is her hope and belief that when Randall takes the throne, the two of them can make an agreement of peace, end this pointless war, and perhaps form a partnership of our nations, either through a marriage or treaty."

"But you killed that Lotharisian soldier in the woods," objected Clara, "How can you call that a mission of peace?" Lukas shrugged.

"That was self-defense. I didn't set out to kill anyone but if it comes down to me or a Lotharisian soldier, I will defend myself and my mission to the death." The steely tone in his voice made her shudder.

Clara was silent for a minute as she thought things over. The quiet forest made no interruption of her thoughts save the occasional bird call or rustle of wind through the leaves. 

"Then I am glad I healed you," she said slowly. "I had my misgivings at first, but I see now it was the right thing, and I am glad."

Lukas laughed.

"Me too, Red. Me too."

Their faces were close, and as Clara stared into his dazzlingly blue eyes, she found herself lifting her face and angling it towards him, inviting him. As if he had only been waiting for such an invitation, Lukas dove in. His lips parted hers and his tongue was insistent on hers, drawing her deeper into the kiss. Clara's hand stole up and around his neck, pulling him deeper still. The heat coursed through her blood and she kissed him back fiercely.

Suddenly Lukas' hands grabbed hold of her waist, and in one deft movement she was no longer sitting beside him, but astride instead, the bark of the tree digging into her knees. Clara could not have cared less about that, and pressed into Lukas. Her skirt was bunched up, revealing a good portion of her legs, more than polite society would deem appropriate, but she couldn't be bothered with that. All that mattered was Lukas, and this kiss, and the warmth that was spreading through her body, emanating from her core. 

Lukas broke the kiss long enough to untie her bodice straps, and in a few short moments, Clara's breasts were free. She shivered for a moment at the cooler evening air on her rosy nipples, but Lukas' warm hands were quickly over them, warming them and sending tingles of delight through her as he caressed the tips and gently teased them with his thumb. Clara began to feel hot, and longed to be free of the rest of her clothing as well. As if he could read her mind, Lukas unfastened her cloak and threw it behind her on the ground.

"Hold on to me, Red," he said, and Clara obliged, her arms and legs wrapping tight around him as he lurched forward and up, his hands grasping her bottom, and then gently settled her over her cape. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, his mouth against her ear. He nuzzled at her earlobe and dropped a string of kisses, each lighter than the last, around her neck. Clara had kissed a few men in her time, nothing much more than kisses and once a quick fumble under her bodice, but none of them had set her on fire like this. His kisses might well have left a burning trail around her neck, so intensely did she feel them. His body pressing down against hers indicated that he, too, was growing aroused by them.

Clara wanted him. It was as simple as that. She wanted to throw off her skirts and undergarments and let him take her here, in the wilderness. Her body and mind were in complete agreement over what she wanted, though her mind wasn't sure it was such a good idea. Lukas dropped lower over body, his mouth found her nipple, and suddenly Clara's mind was quiet, any power to voice objection gone as the warm stimulation of his mouth and tongue teased them into silence. Clara whimpered a little at the feeling, her hands clutching his broad shoulders. Lukas looked up and smiled, clearly pleased. He dropped his gaze to her skirt, and reached out to undo one of the side buttons holding it up. Clara licked her lips in nervousness, but allowed him to continue, till he was sliding her skirt down over her legs, and then lifting her hips ever so slightly as her undergarments followed suit. 

Lying bare on the cloak, Clara felt suddenly shy, and looked away from his penetrating gaze. She heard the rustle of more clothing, and peeked back over to find Lukas shirtless, his bronze body glowing in the light of the newly risen moon. He leaned over her again, coaxing her face to his with a kisses, and Clara gasped with pleasure as he slipped a hand between her legs and found her folds slick and wet. 

"Mmm," he said, and then his fingers began to tease, and touch, and Clara found herself panting against his mouth at the feelings he was inciting. His touches continued, building her up towards something – well, she knew what it was, Healers were taught about sex and what happened, they had to know all about the human body to help heal it, but Clara had never experienced this herself. Lukas heaved himself off of her for a moment, and Clara realized he was undoing his trousers. Oh. This was really going to happen. She wanted it, she wanted him, but... She had never done this before, and she was overcome with sudden nervousness, despite the willingness of her body to go along with it.

"Be gentle," she squeaked, and Lukas laughed, then froze.

"Wait. Are you... a virgin?" His face was concerned. Clara nodded. A long silence stretched between them, and she wondered what was going on. "Oh, Red," Lukas sighed. "I can't take that from you, not here and not like this. Your first time should be somewhere proper. A bed, with a man you at least fancy yourself in love with."

"I don't care about that," said Clara truthfully. The ache inside of her demanded that he satiate her now, never mind beds and other ridiculous niceties.

"But I do," he said ruefully. " And you will too someday. Maybe another time, Red. Another life. Not because I don't want you, the gods know I do, but I don't want you to hate me later." He shoved off the cloak and stood, dressing himself. Feeling miserable and altogether too naked and vulnerable, Clara wrapped the folds of the cloak around her as she sat up and began to gather her things. Lukas handed her the skirt, a sad look in his eyes. "Someday you'll understand, Red, and be glad." 

Clara was at a loss for words. She was hurt, angry at his rejection, and yet she couldn't bring herself to voice her feelings. What on earth could she say? 'How dare you not make love to me?' sounded silly and petty, even to her mind. A very small part of her wished that he wasn't quite so honour-bound. But perhaps he was right, and it was best to wait for a real love, and not this silly infatuation or whatever it was she felt for Lukas. Obviously it wasn't the real thing, for either of them. She fastened her cloak back on and stood, fully covered again. 

"I suppose I should escort you out," said Lukas, with a trace of regret in his voice.

"Don't be silly, I haven't yet examined your wound. Er, in my official capacity, that is." She'd seen it a few minutes ago, of course, but the last thing on her mind had been checking for infection. Lukas gave that half-smile he was so prone to, nodded, and removed his shirt again. Resolutely ignoring how his bronzed, muscular arms flexed with the movement, Clara moved in and put her hand over his wound. It was healing nicely, though no doubt the activities they'd nearly engaged in would have put some strain on it. Probably best they had been avoided, on the whole. 

"I think in a few days it will be nothing but a fresh scar," she said, pleased with her work. "Though you should be careful to not to anything that might tug at it, that will slow the healing process and might reopen it. Will the rest of your mission be as dangerous, do you think?"

"I told you we have allies. I will have shelter and food, at least, though there is always risk being a Maharian in Lotharis. Princess Kasimira has a man on the inside of the castle, close to Prince Randall. It is he who will arrange the meeting, and I'll be able to pass on the information. Of course, there is still the return trip I'll have to make. No one ever said working to end a war was any easier than fighting in one." His smile was baleful. "The mission would already have been a loss, if not for you."

"I only did what is natural to Healers."

"Still. I'm sure there are those among your kind who would have ignored a Maharian, or called for soldiers." He pulled his shirt back on as he spoke. 

"That's true. I did not know how I would react in such a situation til I found myself in one. It's possible even those who say they wouldn't help, might help when faced with it. The healing instinct is very strong. Whether or not they might regret that choice later is a different story. I nearly did."

"Nearly? I think a small part of you regrets it even now," teased Lukas. 

"Only because it was such an arrogant cad of a Maharian," said Clara. "I'm sure a more respectful, grateful, man of your country, or a woman, would not have bothered me a whit." She paused for a moment. "Your Princess Kasimira sounds like a good woman. I wish we had more like her here, in places of power. Of course, if she were in Lotharis, she wouldn't be able to command the same respect; Lotharisians would scorn the influence of a woman. As a Healer, I am owed a small measure of respect, but only because of my abilities."

"That's one of the main differences between our two countries, and why they split in the first place."

"Split?" Clara was confused.

"Long, long ago, before anyone today alive was even born, Lotharis and Maharia were one country." Clara eyed him skeptically, but he continued, "It's not widely known and almost never discussed. The kings of our countries don't like to admit to sharing roots, so great is their hate of each other. The name of our unified country has been lost to the ages, but the story goes that there was a king our the land who had twin children, a boy and girl. The girl was born first by a few minutes, so by rights should have been the ruler. Not everyone felt the same.

"As the children grew, the male child gained more supporters, who whispered into his ear and poisoned him against his sister. They also fostered supporters in the villages and cities around the castle, inciting riots on his behalf. The old king was bothered by the angry mobs, but by the law of the land could not disinherit his daughter, the first-born, in favor of his son. The daughter had her supporters as well, those who followed the law of our country and weren't foolish enough to discount a woman as ruler. The country was at war with itself, and it only grew worse and worse as the king grew older.




The Girl in the Red Cloak Ch. 03



As the coronation day of the daughter neared, when the kind would abdicate his throne and retire, things got so bad that the king called for a meeting of his advisers, and they spent many days debating what was to be done. Those who supported the son would not bow to the rule of the daughter, and those who supported the daughter refused to bow before the son. Numerous assassination attempts had been made by both sides, though thankfully the son and daughter were well-guarded, and every attempt was foiled. At last the king came to a decision, and before a great crowd of his people he declared that if his country could not be unified under one rule, then he would divide it equally among his children, and let the citizens choose for themselves who they would serve under. The daughter got one half of the country, which she called Maharia, and the son took the other half and named it Lotharis.

"The citizens went their separate ways, sometimes entire families were divided, and the countries each grew and prospered in their own ways. After a couple generations, the two began to trade and became allies, which continued for a few hundred years. Only in the last few decades did the troubles start and the war break out. Kasimira has hopes of one day re-uniting our shattered countries, amending what that long-ago king did."

Clara was astonished. She'd never heard anything about the two countries having been one. She was surprised there were no stories about this, but she supposed it helped the war effort if they were just fighting strangers from a foreign land, rather than people that were descended from the same ancestors.

"I can't believe this isn't more widely known," she said.

"It is in Maharia. Not everyone knows, but far more than you Lotharisians. Everyone in Princess Kasimira's coalition is well acquainted with the details, at least as much as we can glean from the few scrolls of that time. It isn't as well recorded as we would like, but there is enough to understand the general idea. Personally, I would be content to merely end the war, and have peace between our two countries, but Kasimira longs for a reunion. She has hope that perhaps a marriage to Prince Randall will put an end to things once and for all, which is part of my message as envoy, though more generously worded, of course."

"But she's never met the Prince," said Clara. "What if she doesn't like him?" Lukas laughed.

"She's a princess. She's grown up knowing it was her duty to marry someone suitable and produce an heir for the royal line. So long as Prince Randall is agreeable to the idea and willing to give his female heirs the same chance the Mahrians give theirs, she is willing." Lukas pulled a wry face. "Royalty may have great power, but they also have great obligations as well. I wouldn't wish to be royal for the world. I like being able to choose my own women."

"Poor Kasimira," pondered Clara. "I never thought I would feel sorry for a princess, let alone a Maharian one. I hope for her sake Randall is a good man." An owl hooted somewhere in the darkness, and Clara wrapped her red Healer's cloak around her, suddenly extremely grateful for her position. 

"He is against the war, if the news that has reached us is to be believed. For now, that is enough." Lukas rubbed his brow, and Clara could not help thinking that he had his work cut out for him. "I will ascertain the truth of the matter when I meet him in person, and find out his true character myself. I will not see my Lady Queen betrothed to a cruel or proud man." His hands clenched into fists as he spoke, and Clara had a fleeting moment of pity for any who would dare to speak against the princess in his presence, followed again by that hot feeling in her stomach, that feeling she didn't dare name jealousy.

"How well do you know the princess?" she asked, eaten up by the feeling in her gut.

"Quite well. I was assigned to her personal guard for a few years before she took me into her innermost circle." He glanced at Clara, amused. "Are you jealous, little Healer? Is that why you ask?"

"Of course not," scoffed Clara, hoping she was convincing. "It is immaterial to me whether you are courting one or a hundred girls back home, be they princesses or slaves!"

Lukas' laugh echoed off the nearby trees before he could silence himself, though by now the Lotharisian soldiers must be too far off to hear them anyway.

"Not to worry, Red, the princess is more like a sister to me, and as for other girls at home, well..." He swooped in and stole a kiss from Clara. "How could they compare to your exotic Lotharisian beauty?" Clara pulled a face of outrage at his impudence, but her knees still went weak at his touch. She could not deny her relief at hearing him dismiss any notion of a romance with the princess. After all, a Healer could never compare to royalty. 

For a moment, she allowed herself a small fantasy, where the war was ended, the prince and princess wed, and the lands joined, and she and Lukas were together. He was used to traveling, perhaps he would not mind so much the nomadic life of a wandering Healer. Or they could settle down near the coast. If ever there was a place Clara could manage staying, it was there. Or- perhaps, they would end up near Lukas' majestic mountains. They sounded dazzling and amazing. Surely she could be happy staying there, if she had Lukas.

"Of course, my lack of relations with the princess doesn't mean I'm a free man, Red." His words ripped her from her reverie. "I still have my mission to complete, and until this war is over – which could be years from now – I can't afford to have anything tying me down. I might as well be wed to this cause. Until it's over, I'll be in perilous danger, and I couldn't put anyone else at risk. You understand that, right?"

Reluctantly, Clara nodded. His words made sense. She'd been a fool to dream otherwise. This war was bigger and more important than either of them, and his cause was a noble one. She couldn't ask him to abandon it for her. It would probably never work in the long run, anyway. She knew next to nothing about him, and he very little of her or a Healer's ways. Very likely they would both be unhappy in a matter of months, or less, and then it would all be for naught. The owl in the woods hooted again, a sad, lonely sound that seemed an echo of her heart. How quickly she'd turned from despising the arrogant man to envisioning a future with him. She must be very overwrought indeed. No doubt a few days rest and she'd never think of Lukas again, except a fleeting thought now and then. 

So why did her heart wrench at the thought of never seeing him again?

"I'll leave in the morning. I've spent enough time here, though you are a mighty pretty distraction, and the only reason I'm able to continue. Still, better for both of us, hmm?" Lukas' mouth quirked over to one side, as if he didn't really believe what he was saying either. 

"Of course," said Clara. "You must continue your mission. It's important for the good of all."

"I guess this must be goodbye then," Lukas sighed.

"I guess so," Clara agreed. Hesitantly, he leaned down, and pressed his lips to hers, softly, sadly, and with none of the urgency and hunger of earlier. Clara returned his kiss, her arms about him, embracing him, even as he cupped her face gently in his hands as though he was holding a rare treasure. They lingered that way for several moments before he finally broke away and offered to escort her the rest of the way out of the woods. Clara accepted, and they walked slowly, neither in a great hurry to part.

"Goodbye, little Healer," said Lukas upon reaching the edge of the woods. "Perhaps one day when all of this is over, we'll meet again."

Clara nodded. "Perhaps." She didn't believe it, and she could tell he didn't either, but she pulled herself together, gave him a small smile, and turned away, making her way out of the forest. Every footstep of hers seemed to fall as heavy as her heart. She glanced over her shoulder, and saw Lukas was still watching her walk away. It was unbearable, and she turned to face forward again, moving farther away from him bit by bit. Her steps grew even slower; she did not want to leave him. 

"Lukas." She turned again. "Take me with you." She didn't know where that had come from. She had no business going out and attending to matters of war, other than healing soldiers. He laughed softly.

"No, Red, it's far too dangerous."

"Not for me," she persisted. "I'm a Healer. We go where we wish." It was true, no one would question a Healer moving through any town or city, though they might beg services of her. "Besides, if you got yourself into more... trouble, I could help you. I could heal you."

"No, I can't do that to you," Lukas said, shaking his head. "What if you were caught aiding a Maharian?"

"I'd just pretend you captured me for your own nefarious purposes. Healers are trained in the arts of healing, not self defense." She could see that for a moment, he was considering the idea. "Please," she continued, "I want to help end this war too." That appeared to affect him as none of her earlier statements had, and he sighed and stared at her.

"Alright, Red. I'll no doubt regret this, and so will you, but alright. Be here at dawn, in the clearing. We leave at first light." His voice was riddled with chagrin, but Clara's heart took flight in her chest, and her feet followed suit as she flew back to the village. She had to tell Bimi she was leaving, and pack her few belongings – a change of clothes and her Healer's herbs, but she would be back.

Tomorrow her adventure would begin.



The Girl in the Red Cloak Ch. 04



"Bimi," whispered Clara into the darkness, gently shaking her former teacher's shoulder. The two had elected to share a room, both to save expense for the innkeeper and to be close to one another so they could visit. Clara had been looking forward to the time with Bimi, but the pull of Lukas and the urge she felt to help play a role in ending the war was too strong. She needed to gather her belongings, but first she had to tell Bimi the truth, and where she was going. Well, the general direction of her plans; the specifics of their destination only Lukas knew. 

Bimi rolled over and was alert instantly, a byproduct of years of being awakened abruptly and called to aid a sick or injured person. "Clara? What is it? Are the babes -?"

"They're fine," Clara reassured her quickly. "But I must speak with you on urgent personal matter. I'm sorry to wake you, but I'm leaving."

"Leaving?" Bimi sat up, rubbing sleep from her eyes. "Has another village summoned you?"

"No, it's nothing like that. I..." How could she explain this to Bimi? "Three nights ago, I went into the woods to gather valdir." The whole story came spilling out, though she omitted the details of just how far things had progressed between her and Lukas physically. "I have to go with him. I have to. I feel it in my core, Bimi, and I know I'm meant to help him stop the war," she finished. 

Bimi had been silent, listening. "That explains your sudden interest in Maharia."

"Do you think it's wrong for me to go?" Clara was desperate for her tutor's advice. 

"No. You have good instincts, Clara, and you should rely on them. If this is what your heart is telling you, you must listen." She placed her hand, palm down, over Clara's chest. "This knows best. It is not for love alone you do this, but for the good of two nations."

Clara blushed. "I don't love him," she said, wondering if it was true.

Bimi gave her a look. "When you're as old as I am, you will recognize the signs of young love. Your mind is not yet willing to admit what your heart already knows."

"I've only just met him!" Clara objected. "I hardly know him at all, I couldn't possibly love him!"

"Sometimes love is wiser than we are, and it does not wait for us to catch up and realize the truth. You will believe what you must, little one, but the truth is evident. I only hope your mission is a success, and your love story does not turn out to be a tragedy." She moved her hands to Clara's shoulders, drawing her into an embrace.

Clara threw her arms around Bimi's waist, burying her face in her teacher's shoulder. If only she could just stay here, where things were simple. A part of her longed to be a little girl again, spending her days learning about herbs and directing her powers, where any hurt could be healed by her favorite tutor. Clara felt safe, here, and she knew it might be a very long time before she had that feeling again. Her and Lukas were undertaking something dangerous, and though she'd dismissed the threat to her because of being a healer, there was still a chance she might be accused of treason and put to death. 

Was he really worth dying for? Not him, she silently corrected herself, but the mission. The chance to end the war and save thousands of lives, that was worth it. Even if her death meant only that more people might sit up and take notice, to join the cause, it would still be worth it.

And so is he.

She shook her head, refusing to accept the depth of feelings Bimi credited her with. She was merely infatuated with a good-looking man, the matter of most importance was the cause. She'd been at the front lines, she'd seen the men dying needlessly on both sides. It had to stop, and she had a chance to help make that happen. 

"It won't be a tragedy," she reassured her mentor. "If nothing else, our actions will bring more notice to the cause, and encourage others to take up where we leave off."

"I hope you're right," said Bimi, "And if I can help you at all, let me know." She rose from her bed, and went to rummage in the haversack she always carried. She produced a little parcel, which she thrust into Clara's hands. "Here."

Clara unfolded the package, wrapped with a handkerchief, and found a sizable pile of gold coins. She was so astonished they slid out of her hands and into her lap. "Bimi," she said in awe, "Where did you get this?" Though a Healer would never want for food or shelter, they were paid in room and board, or not at all, depending on the family. When a Healer became too old to work they returned to the school, where they were well-cared for until their death; but though they might never be hungry or out in the rain and cold, a Healer was never wealthy either. Occasionally a wealthy family might press a few coins on a Healer out of gratitude, but the stack in front of her now was more than just a few thankful families. 

"It's best you don't know," said Bimi with a strange smile. "Just know that I have been saving it for such a time as this."

"I can't possibly take this," said Clara. "This is yours, you could retire in a nice home, with every comfort!" 

Bimi took Clara's hands in her own. "Child, I wish with all my heart that I might come with you, so much do I believe in this cause, but I am old and would only slow you down. My thoughts and prayers will go with you, it will do me good to think of this little bundle of coins helping you along the way. What do I need with them? The people will provide for me."

Touched, Clara could only squeeze her hands and swallow the tears that threatened. This was no time for crying, there was still much to be done. "Thank you," she managed at last. "I will honor this gift."

"I know you will," smiled Bimi, and she rose from the bed. "We must gather your things. How is your herb supply? You must be prepared for every danger out on the open road."

"Not so good," admitted Clara shamefully. "I spent most of my time tending the babes, and the rest, well... I just haven't had much time."

And the rest of the time I've been spending kissing an enemy soldier.

"I thought not," said Bimi, with an amused air. "Take some of mine then." She withdrew several small, wrapped parcels from her haversack and placed them into Clara's. "Do you have your warmer clothing? The gods only know where this quest may take you, and what attire you may need. Best to be prepared for everything."

"Yes, I think I have all but the herbs," said Clara, who could not help but smile and feel warmly toward Bimi and her mothering attitude.

"Well then I don't know why you're hanging about talking to an old fuddy-duddy like me, when there's a handsome man waiting for you in the woods," Bimi teased. Clara smile, and threw her arms around her mentor one last time, fighting back tears. What if something happened and she never say Bimi again? She tried to dismiss the thought; imagining the worst wasn't going to help anyone.

"Goodbye," she sniffed, and Bimi gave her one last squeeze before releasing her.

"Goodbye child, and may the gods go with you."

Clara picked up her sack and left before her emotions got the better of her and she cried. The inn was quiet as she left, everyone still asleep. She stepped outside into the slightly chilly air, and walked to the edge of town.

The sun was barely breaking as she entered the woods, and Clara decided she had time for one more stop. She knew Bimi would have laughed if she saw what Clara was about to do, but it was going to be a long, dangerous mission, and she needed all the strength she could get. Deviating from the course she knew led to the clearing, she headed deeper into woods, to the very thick of it. When she saw the patches of valdir, she knew she was close. Turning, she spotted what she'd come for.

The heart tree was large and gnarled, its branches twisting and turning over the top of one another, but it was still beautiful. Clara settled onto the ground with her back against it, smiling to herself. Bimi would shake her head at what Clara was doing, but whether it was true or just her imagination, she always felt stronger and more energized after time spent with a heart tree. Leaning against it, she closed her eyes and focused on soaking up the energy. The sounds around her told her the forest was just beginning to wake up. 

The still of the morning was punctuated by a bird trill here and there, and the occasional rustle of something through the underbrush. The wood at her back felt warm and smooth, and though there was discernable pull or push of energy, as there was when she healed, it seemed to radiate light into her back. It was gentle and smooth, and she supposed it could be her own body head reflecting off the wood, and the 'energy' might come down to the relaxation and sense of peace she felt from the quiet time in the forest, but if there was even a chance that it was real, she was taking it. If nothing else, she'd be able to catch a little nap before setting off, since her late night with Lukas and Bimi had left her no time for sleep. The buzz of the forest around her lulled her into a calm state, and soon she drifted off.

* * *

"Well, well, what do we have here?" drawled a Maharian accent. Clara smiled as her eyes fluttered. Of course Lukas had found her, he'd probably been tracking her since she entered the woods.

"Looks like a little treat someone left out for us," said a second voice, and Clara's eyes sprang open fully, darting around till she found the source of the voices. Two men were in the little heart tree clearing with her, soldiers by the looks, and Maharians by their accents. She fought back a moment of pure panic, reminding herself that she was a healer, and under the treaty both countries had signed, healers were safe. She rose slowly, raising her hands to show she was unarmed and allowing her cloak to swing around, displaying its red color. 

"I'm a healer," she said. "Are either of you two gentlemen in need of my services?" They looked perfectly healthy, if troublesome, but you could never tell. One might have an injured wife or child at home. 

The first man grinned a very nasty grin. "What exactly are you offering to service?" His hand made an obvious gesture to his breeches. She recoiled in horror, then drew herself up to her full height. It wouldn't do to let them see her fear. 

"If you have no need of my healing abilities, I'll be on my way." She made determined step back the way she had come, but the first man reached out and snagged her arm. His fingers dug in cruelly as he tugged. 

"Hold up a minute, we've got some questions." 

"Yes," continued the second, "Don't be running off in such a hurry." Their black armor would have given them away if their accents hadn't; it was identical to what Lukas wore. 

Clara forced herself to remain calm, her expression level as she jerked her arm back and turned to face the soldiers. "Yes?"

"If you've been out in these woods, you might have seen something. We're looking for a... renegade soldier. Maharian, like us." The first man was grinning again. "He's not civilized like we are, you see, and he might make straight for a village and take out the nearby women and children. We just want to reel him and make him fight decent, honourable warfare." He paused, giving her a look. "Then we'll be on our way, back to our own country. You haven't seen anything, have you?"

"N-no" Clara lied. "I only come out here to look for herbs." Her haversack was brimming with herbs, at least she'd have something to back her up if they demanded proof.

"You're sure?" pressed the second man, taking a step closer.

"Quite," reassured Clara. The two men exchanged looks.

"I find that very hard to believe," continued the second man. "I think you might have seen something, maybe you just didn't realize it."

"Maybe we can help jog her memory," said the first.

"Maybe what she needs is an example of what that renegade might to innocent women, if he were to catch one." The second man took another step toward her, and Clara turned on her heel and bolted away without a second glance, fleeing at top speed. She thought about calling for help but decided to save her breath. If she could make it to the village she'd be safe; they'd never attack her in daylight in view of all the Lotharisian citizens. She poured all her energy into running, the forest trees slapping against her face and body as she streaked by. The entrance seemed so far...

She risked a glance behind her. They were close, but she might be able to make it. The few seconds she spent looking behind her instead of watching her path cost her dear: a root that was sticking up from the floor of the forest caught her foot, and she tumbled to the ground, the wind knocked out of her. Desperately trying to suck in air, she scrambled upright again, but it was too late. The men were upon her and throwing her to the ground in an instant. 

"I'm a healer," she hissed in short gasps as her air returned. "You'll be hanged for this."

"I very much doubt that," said the one with the nasty smile. She reached for the knife at her side, determined to defend herself, but the other man jerked it from her grasp, throwing it from her and holding her hands tight. She screamed with rage, trying to force her way upright again, the better to make her escape, but she was unceremoniously shoved down. The first man grabbed the hem of her skirts and tossed them up over her waist. Clara kicked out at him, but he pinned her legs beneath his body.

"Get off!" she screamed, wrenching her body sideways and trying to dislodge him. The other man held her hands tight above her head.

"Shut her up, will you? We don't need the whole village to hear" the first man said, and the second pinioned her arms beneath his knee as he reached for her mouth.

"LUK -" she started to scream, and then found herself fighting for air again as the massive hand covered her mouth and nose. She was probably too far from the village for anyone to hear her even if she was able to yell, she thought miserably.

"That's better. Watch that mouth though, they can kill a man with their Healer's Kiss." He was tearing at her undergarments, while holding down her legs. She tried in vain to kick out at him, to free her arms, to do anything, but her struggles were for naught. Bare from the waist down, she was vulnerable and exposed. The first man undid his trousers and his erection sprang free. He grinned down at Clara and began to lower himself over her. She screamed against the hand on her mouth and struggled harder, managing to jerk a knee upwards and drive it into the man's groin. His cry of pain was most satisfactory.

Ooof, you bitch!" he doubled over, glaring at her. "You're going to pay for that!" He lunged toward her again, then suddenly stopped, a surprised expression on his face as a knife handle appeared to grow from his neck. A trickle of blood ran down his shoulder and chest, and his body keeled over sideways and backwards, still with the expression of surprise. Clara felt a rush of relief as Lukas stepped into view, barely even glancing at the first man as he reclaimed his knife and advanced on the second man.

"Wulff!" the man exclaimed, releasing his hold on Clara and leaping backward. She took advantage of her freedom and straightened her clothing, trying to cover herself back up as quickly as possible. 

"I don't know why you're surprised, Kiefen. Weren't you sent to find me? Well done to you then." 

"Now wait, Wulff, you don't know the whole story. We were just sent to bring you back, that's all. Just to talk you out of this madness you and the princess have cooked up. There's no need for any of  that. Kiefen gestured toward the body of the first man. "We were just having a little fun with this peasant girl, surely there's no harm in that?" he gave Lukas a wheedling smile.

"She's no peasant, and you know that, however the station of her birth shouldn't matter. Is this what King Otto intends if he claims his desired victory? The rape of innocent women and the loss of sanctity for our Healers?" The two men were slowly circling each other, on guard but not yet making the first move. Clara had crawled out of the way, and she stopped now, paralyzed with fear. What if Lukas was injured or killed? She wouldn't have a chance to try and heal him, not with Kiefen around. She edged toward her knife, which Kiefen had thrown from her. If she could get a chance, if he turned his back on her, she wouldn't hesitate to plunge it into him. Her hands closed around the cool metal handle and she stood, trying to be discreet. 

"It was just a bit of fun. We wouldn't have seriously injured her. Now, come on home with me and our good king says all will be forgiven. There's a place in his private guard if you'll give up this ridiculous quest."

"So I can simper and strut about like you and Singzer?" Lukas waved a hand at the body of the first man. "I don't think so. And I don't think you'll be reporting this back to Otto either." He lunged toward Kiefen, his knife flashing, but the other man was prepared, and his own blade leapt out of its holder at Lukas. They were obviously well matched; each managed to avoid the others knife. Clara knew that the Maharians preferred their long knives to swords, and traditionally any battles of honor were fought that way. She'd heard that a well skilled knifeman was a sight to see, and as the two men lunged and parried, dodged and dove, she comprehended the truth of it. Had it not been her own Lukas or a fight in which she personally stood to lose all, it would have been a pleasure to observe such skill. 

Lukas feinted right, but Kiefer was prepared, and slashed at him, his blade drawing the first blood on Lukas' arm. Clara gasped in horror, then reminded herself that she must be quiet and wait for her opportunity without drawing attention to herself. The wound on Lukas' arm was shallow, and she could have it healed in a moment once she was able to lay hands on him. Keifer hit the ground in a rolling dive as Lukas lunged at him, coming up with a bleeding ear. Clara had not even seen Lukas make contact, but the blood on his blade and his grim smile confirmed it had been inflicted by him. She silently cheered for him.

Keifer touched his ear in disbelief, the blood on his fingers clearly a surprise. Clara decided it was her moment, now while he was distracted, and raised her knife, running up behind him. Lukas could not help the look of fear that crossed his face as she moved to the other man, and his expression was not lost on Kiefer, who turned around. Clara had come too far to stop now, and her knife began its descent even as she saw Keifer move his own knife wielding arm. In that moment, she knew all was lost, and Kiefer would kill her. At least Lukas will be safe, she thought, and then her legs were swept out from under her and she hit the ground hard, her knife slipping from her grasp. She looked up in horror, expecting to see Keifer bearing down on her, but the man was still, blood gurgling from his mouth as it ran down to meet the blood pouring from his chest around the protruding knife blade. Lukas withdrew his knife from the man's back and let the twitching body fall to the side.

"Are you mad!?" he exclaimed, dropping to a knee next to Clara. "You could have been killed, what could have possessed you to come after an experienced knifeman like that?" He grabbed her shoulders and shook her. "Are you hurt? Answer me!" 

Clara, quite to her own surprise, began to giggle. There was nothing funny about the situation, but the nervous laughter rose up, and the expression on Lukas' face only made it worse. The hysterical giggles continued to bubble up, and she could hardly draw breath. Her eyes began to fill with tears, and the laughter abruptly switched to great, wracking sobs that shook her whole body. Lukas sighed softly and sat on the forest floor.




The Girl in the Red Cloak Ch. 04



"You're in shock," he said. "It'll be alright." he drew her into his arms, his warm embrace soothing her as the tears continued to roll. Her sobs were muffled by his sturdy chest, and she buried her face and cried. "Shh," he said, his hand stroking the back of her head. "You're safe now. I'm here, I'll protect you."

"Oh, Lukas," she sobbed. "It was horrible!" she was sniffling and rubbing her eyes, his shirt growing damp beneath her tears, but he didn't seem to mind. 

"I know, little Healer, I know. But now I'm here. I've got you."

"I thought you said men in Maharia respected women!" she shoved away from him, her words tinged with anger. "That is not respecting women!" she gestured wildly at the carnage behind her. 

"We do, on the whole, but there are a few bad apples in every barrel, Red. Those two were part of King Otto's personal guard, and they'd long ago let the power go to their head. They are the exception, not the rule, though I shudder to think what might happen if Otto does end up winning this war. That's why the work I'm doing is so important."

Clara heaved a long shuddery sigh into his shoulder in response.

"You don't have to come. It's not too late to back out, Red." His words were gentle, as his hand rubbed her back, still comforting her. "There could be more danger, like this or worse on our journey. I would never, ever, let anything happen to you if I could prevent it, but I won't always be right there and able to protect you." He sighed. "I never should have agreed to let you come in the first place. This is no life for a girl like you." She sat back and considered his words.

She'd known it wouldn't be easy, but getting off to such a terrible start seemed a bad omen. Of course, not everyone they met would be an agent of King Otto, but she hadn't even considered that as a risk before. Her main concerns had been King Roderick and the possibility of being accused of treason. Now she had an entirely different set of concerns from a different country. The life of a healer wasn't easy, but rarely were they fighting for their life. If she continued this course with Lukas, she might well be, and on a regular basis. Was she strong enough for that?

She was distracted from her thoughts by the realization that her right arm was drenched in something sticky and liquid. Lifting it, she saw it was blood, and remembered Lukas' bleeding arm. Without a word, she reached up and felt, pouring a trickle of energy into the wound and encouraging it to knit itself closed. She could feel the tear in his flesh becoming one again, the two sides bonding together. As Maharia and Lotharis might one day do, if the rift between the countries could be healed. Who knew more about healing than a Healer?

"I'm going." Her words were determined, brooking no argument. She made sure his wound closed properly and cleanly, chasing out any trace of lingering dirt or debris. Her eyes rose to meet his and he sighed again.

"I was afraid of that."

"You need me." She indicated his arm. 

 And I need you.

The thought was on her mind, but she held it in. This wasn't about feelings right now, this was about the simple truth of the matter. "Healers are always welcome. If all else fails, you can be my mute assistant, or bodyguard. We'll be able to move freely, instead of hiding out in forests. I know you haven't told me the details of your plans, but surely you must agree we'll get more accomplished if we're not hiding under cover all the time. What happened today," she suppressed a little shudder, "Only serves to strengthen my resolve. I don't want to live in a country at war, where women can become the spoils. I'm going with you and that's final." She stuck out her chin.

"The gods only know why I'm agreeing to this now, especially after that idiotic attempt of yours to go after Keifer yourself, but I can't think of a sensible argument against you, nor can I find it in my heart to tell you that you can't take action to fight for what you believe in. It's one of the ideals Princess Kasimira holds dear, and she'd have my guts for garters if she knew I denied someone that right, particularly if she knew it was a woman, and a Healer at that." He met her eyes and held her gaze. "To be honest, it'll be nice to have the company. I spend too much time on these missions alone."

Clara felt a hollow sense of satisfaction. She was getting what she wanted, what she'd demanded, but was that all she was to him? Company? It must get very lonely sometimes out on the road, but didn't they have more of a connection than that? She dismissed the thought, focusing instead on the matter at hand.

"We'll need to find my haversack. Bimi - one of my fellow healers - stocked me full of herbs before I left and we may yet need them. I dropped it when I was being... chased."

"You go back and look for that. I'm going to hide these bodies, just in case an overzealous woodcutter decides to explore too fat into the woods or a royal patrol comes by again."

"Do you need help?" she asked, praying the answer was no. She'd seen enough of the two men and wanted nothing more to do with them. Even laying hands on their cold corpses was likely to nauseate her. 

"No, Red. I can handle this. Go get your bag, and maybe see if there are any other herbs you need in the woods. I might be a bit." He smiled at her.

Clara nodded and rose.

"Hey Red," he called after her as she began to retrace her steps. "Did you even feel the urge to heal these two?" She thought about it, and realized that it had never even occurred to her. The healing instinct had always been such a strong, driving force of her psyche that she had never considered she might one day see a dying person and not feel the urge to help them. Yet Keifer and Singzer had aroused no such urges in her, in fact she had been glad to see them die. 

"No," she said. "Not at all."

"Well," he cast a grin in her direction, "Maybe there's hope for you yet. 

* ** ***