Reflections

Haelyn's POV

After my fight with Weston, one of the elite guards approached me and ushered me to a mess room. It was the first time I had been in a place like that one. Well, I was a child even when I was around so running over to the warriors' quarters didn't make much of a sense to me.

"Don't think that you're one of us just because you get the opportunity to be in here," he said, as if warning me not to get any nice ideas, or to get my hopes up.

The mess room was empty, save for one man. He had curly hair and he looked at me with big round eyes. He was wearing a robe that could have been white when he first bought it, but had stood the test of time and fallen to a color that stood between grey and colorless.

"That's Rand," the elite soldier said, pointing to him. "He will take care of your wounds from now on, when you can't heal fast from them."

I nodded at the man called Rand and he just dipped his chin at me.

The soldier showed me an inner room where I could wash up and change my clothes.

Something occurred to me right there and then so I asked, "We're using this place with the elite male soldiers?"

"No," he said, looking irritated. "We've gotten an upgrade so this place is for you lots that survive every match in the ring. Won't have you thinking you've already arrived, can we?"

"What does it matter?" I asked, shifting my feet. "It's just one man standing that's needed not the whole of us, right?"

He said nothing. In response, the elite soldier walked away from me.

I knew I'd have a problem using the same mess room with the others. I couldn't have them knowing that I was a woman, and not a man. I realized that I would have to take my injury to my hideout and wait for it to heal instead.

I stumbled out and sat on one of the benches. Rand watched me like a curious hawk.

"Need my help?" he asked.

I sat so that I could see him coming. "You could help me by stop watching me."

He picked up a medicine bottle and moved towards me. "Just that you remind me of someone."

"I look like shit and I remind you of someone?"

That seemed to crack him up. Rand handed the bottle to me. It was corked. There was blue liquid in it.

"You're funny. Drink this."

"What's that?"

"It'll help you to heal faster."

"Is that right, sir?"

"Oh, I kid you not. Something new I've prepared for the elite warriors so I don't get to fix them up every damn time."

"Sure they'd be happy to know that you're giving it to me? I don't think they like us."

"They don't have to like anyone. They got a job and I have mine. Anyone who comes into this mess with a wound, it is my job to see that wound doesn't result in death."

"You good at your job, sir?"

"As good as I can be," he said and held out his hand to me.

I took it. Better that than having him peel my clothes off my body just to look at my injury. No way he wouldn't see my nipples peeking out. And I couldn't allow that to happen. So it was a good thing he was offering something that could fasten the healing process.

Rand sat on a bench and watched me gulp the liquid down. It tasted like gutter, but I ground my teeth and kept it down. Nothing good ever tasted good.

"Welcome to the life as a warrior," Rand said. "You'll get to take that every damn time you get an injury. Other times, I'll have to work on you."

"I'll get better so I don't get to take this."

He nodded his head. "So what's your story?"

Yeah, I had been working on that too. I knew people would ask that of me when I arrived. Winning a battle or more would obviously trigger questions. Like where the hell was I from, where did I train.

"Nowhere," I said and handed the empty bottle back to him.

"That's vague, and not really a response."

"I don't really remember where I'm from. It's hazy. I just wander around, eating scraps wherever I can find. Not much of a life for me."

"There's not much in life for either of us. Tell me your name."

"Bernard."

"There's not much in life for either of us, Bernard. Spent my whole life working with my father. Didn't have a mother while growing up. My dad, he told me that she died during childbirth. So it was just the both of us. Then he died in a fire when I was twelve and I had to find my own way. You probably don't know what it feels like to lose your dad or mom in a ghastly way."

I did but I didn't tell him that. Just swallowed and kept my mouth shut. It brought back memories, not good ones at all. Right from when my own father declared his judgment up to the point where my mother was beheaded.

I felt Rand's liquid begun to work inside of me. My flesh, finding its place again and blood vessels trying to stitch themselves again. It was painful, but that was how we were made.

Someone stumbled in. He held his right hand, blood dripping from it. I saw he had lost two fingers and his face reflected so much pain that I could almost taste his tears.

"Where the hell is the doctor?" he yelled.

"Excuse me," Rand said, rose and went to offer the man aid.

It was just the tip of the iceberg for me. The rest of the men walked in with different cuts and stab wounds. I heard grown men cry, watched them bleed, I felt their pain, and even one or two died right there in the mess hall.

The elite soldiers made a song about that. It seemed to sound like this:

'Why they bring an injured man from the battleground

When he'd die in the mess with all the pigs around?

No, he came right by himself thinking he'd bested war

Ho ho ho, dig him a messy grave, dug with hands and a saw.'

I realized that my mission was getting more impossible.