Basecamp

Kurri approaches one of the bigger tents around the fire pit, dressed in his out of place city clothes and nice boots just a little worn from the journey. The tent is painted with the three parallel curves of the rune of Chi, a universal sign of medicine and healing. He pulls the flap open.

A person shorter than him and maybe even younger is busy organizing one of the bags of supplies he brought. She has Zal’s light brown skin and brown eyes. Her fine black hair doesn’t quite reach her shoulders, but is kept straight and untangled--ultimately she is nothing like Zal. A patch bearing the rune of Chi is sewn over her heart on her brown leather vest--it all looks homemade by an amateur but kept in good condition. Under that she has a long sleeved grey shirt, rough hempen pants, brown leather boots, and a grey bandana around her neck.

“Um, hi,” Kurri says.

“New person! Welcome to our place of medical refuge,” she says without looking up from what she is doing.

“I’m Kurri Koronova, I’m the new medic.”

“Oh! I’m Filla Koronova. But nobody says that, we’re all Koronovas here.”

“Right. But Razha did--”

“Ah, she’s so dramatic, love her though.” She speaks with a thick Zintaian accent like Razha and Krev. Filla pulls a square glass bottle out of the bag and focuses on its label.

“Carbolic acid,” Kurri says.

She looks up at him, dark brown eyes staring unblinking as she waits for him to go on.

“For sterilization, disinfecting dressings, wounds, your hands, you know?”

“Oh, that sounds great!” she says.

“Don’t you have some kind of antiseptic? How do you prevent infections?”

“Anything being clean is kind of a far off luxury out here, flatlander. We mostly just gotta deal with infection when it happens.” She gets up and pulls a jar off of a shelf. Whatever it once contained is completely enveloped in a light blue mold.

“Using that?” Kurri turns away to hide his repulsion.

“It’s segsdust, just one of the many helpful fungi found all through the Zintaian soil.”

“Oh, I’ve heard of some speculation that molds could have healing properties.”

Filla laughs. “Herbalists up here have been using segsdust for generations, y’all just never thought to ask us.” She replaces the jar and pulls a little glass bottle from the shelf above. “We make a decoction of segsdust and a few herbs that stimulate the body to fight disease, and it does pretty well against infected wounds.”

“Impressive! It must take a lot of mold.”

“Yeah, we grow some good fungi here at Helbender. That’s more my brother Perra’s specialty though, while I make it into nice things. But now we have you, and some acid. I’m sure we can do great things together!”

“I have no doubt! There’s surely a lot to learn from your field of...medicine.”

“And that cart full of supplies you scored for us is a real lifesaver, probably literally,” Filla says.

“I hope so. It'll be the last time I can just walk into a storeroom and take something,” he says.

“Oh, you'd be surprised how easy that is, actually,” she says. “We’ve about got it all organized how we like it now, although you could probably explain a few of these more later.”

“Oh yeah, I need some help, Filla.” He carefully unwraps the bandana from his arm to show the pink inflamed skin underneath. “I kind of touched a blight-vine.”

“Oh, now why in the Hel did you do that?” she says, turning and looking around for something among the jars on the shelf.

“But all the plants are so healthy way up here, why are there blight-vines anyway?”

“Oh, that’s one of Perra’s little pets. He wanted to grow a few of those blighted plants up here in a controlled environment so we could study it, maybe find better treatments for blight symptoms.”

“He could put up a sign or something.”

She laughs. “I’ll tell him.” She pulls a jar off the shelf. “Sit down, I’ll take care of you.”

He sits on the cot by the tent wall, and she kneels down in front of him and takes his hand, turning his forearm around to examine the affected area. “You’re lucky this didn’t catch much sunlight, we’ve seen it turn real bad real fast,” she says as she begins to spread a poultice over the pink skin. “This’ll help it heal in no time.”

“Thanks. I came here to treat patients but it seems like I’ve only become one.”

“You got a lot to get used to out here.” She takes a roll of gauze from the bag nearby and wraps over the poultice. “Look at this fancy city shit, so stretchy. This is all great stuff, Kurri, this’ll make a huge difference for us. Not to mention another pair of hands.”

“Glad I can help,” he says as she ties off the wrap. He looks it over, it’s excellent work. “Where did you learn medicine, Filla?”

“Oh, here and there.”

“From your family?”

“Nah, my parents died when I was little, and I was raised mostly by the village herbalist. And then, you know, a few years in the K.R.A. will teach you a Hel of a lot of things you never thought you needed to know about medicine.”

“I hope we can learn a lot from each other,” Kurri says.

“Me too! Great to meet you, new comrade. Between us I bet we can keep these strikers’ arms and legs attached,” Filla says.

“Uh, yeah, that would be ideal.”

A bell ringing outside the tent startles Kurri.

“Breakfast!” Filla says.

“Oh good, I don’t think I’ve eaten since midday yesterday,” Kurri says.

“Let’s go get some!”

Across from the medic tent is a larger canvas structure, open on two sides, mainly a roof protecting a few long wooden counters, boxes, and shelves full of vegetables and herbs. A variety of knives are strewn about the remnants of freshly cut potatoes, onions, and garlic.

A tall woman in a black cloth dress stirs the large cast iron pan positioned over the fire, with a sizzling sound and a cloud of steam. She sways rhythmically, singing something softly to herself in a language Kurri doesn’t recognize. Her hair is covered by a grey scarf, and her skin is a darker brown than Razha’s.

Filla calls out to her, “Kalen! Have you met Kurri?”

“No.” She lifts up the heavy iron pan and sets it down on a table. “Come and get it!”

Filla picks up one of the drakebone bowls on the table, and Kurri follows her. The pan is overfilled with fried potatoes and peppers and onions. It smells of Sabakuan spices, reminding him how hungry he is. He takes some brown rice from the bowl next to the pan and then fills up the rest of his bowl from the pan. He holds it up to his face and breathes in the spicy steam.

When he lowers it again he sees the cook looking at him across the table with her striking amber-colored eyes. “Saw you earlier but you seemed in a hurry. I’m Kalen, been cooking for the Helbender crew since winter. You wouldn’t believe the garbage they were eating before I got here.”

“This all looks amazing!” Kurri says.

“Obviously, what did you expect at a resistance camp?” she says.

“I’m Kurri, I’m a medic, let me know if you ever need any--.” His eyes catch the glint of her necklace, the upward arrow of Thea. He touches the silver of his own matching holy symbol.

Her eyes acknowledge this and she nods to him. “Goddess protect you, Kurri.”

“Oh! Goddess protect you Kalen!”

Kurri follows Filla to take a seat next to her on a log by the fire. He takes a bite--a symphony of flavor, better than any restaurant in Mallikus City. But it also tastes like fire. He breathes sharply, opening his mouth and trying to take in cool air. Filla holds out a canteen, and he takes it and drinks. It provides only momentary relief.

“Oh yeah, this is Kalen’s classic ‘volcanic rocks,’ it’s a family recipe apparently. She brought some great spices,” Filla says.

Kurri nods, his eyes are open wide and a few tears form.

“You might not be used to it, I guess,” she says.

The pain gradually starts to subside, and he takes the rest of it at a much slower pace. “Dear Arkon it’s so hot, but it’s so good.”

“Thanks!” Kalen says.

He looks up just as Razha and Zal arrive. Razha wears a black field jacket, black pants, and her black leather boots. A very large knife and what looks like a short sword hang from her belt, and her black alchemical rifle is slung across her back. Her long hair is loose now, and its thick, wavy locks reach almost all the way to her waist. Zal is dressed now in their layers of patchwork clothes, mostly covering up whatever they might be carrying. They have found another grey bandana to tie around their neck.

“Comrades!” Zal says.

“Good morning y’all!” Filla waves her hands excitedly.

“Filla?” Zal says.

“Filla!” she says.

Razha gets her breakfast and takes a seat across from the medics. “We’ve got some errands to run in town today, meet with the union, pick up some supplies at the store, and the temple has requested medical aid if y’all are up for a side trip.”

“Let’s go, Kurri, we’ve been desperate for another set of hands down there,” Filla says.

“Alright, it’s what I’m here for,” he says.

“We’ll move out as soon as we eat,” Razha says.