The medic's tent wasn't far from the commander's.
Canvas walls flapped in the cold breeze, and the scent hit them before they even stepped inside.
Strong herbs mixed with blood, sweat, and smoke.
Groans filled the air. Soft and broken, coming from wounded soldiers lined up on cots. Some were missing limbs.
Others lay still. Their armor stained dark red.
A tired woman in a blood-streaked apron looked up from a man she was bandaging. Her hair was tied back in a messy bun, and dark circles sat under her eyes.
"You five," she called. Wiping her hands on a cloth. "Over here. Sit."
Cassian didn't argue. He limped forward and dropped onto the nearest cot. Letting out a long breath through gritted teeth.
The medic pulled his pant leg up and frowned.
"Deep cut. You're lucky it didn't hit the bone."
She cleaned it quickly with a sharp-smelling solution that made Cassian wince. Then she stitched it closed with thin, steady hands.
