Young Writers Society

Sawyer nodded. “We’ll set traps.”

“Scout events attended by criminals.”

“Search the occasional home.”

Dakota paused from where they'd grabbed a roll of bandages. "That... would be illegal where I'm from, if you don't have a warrant. Ahem. Anyway, those three are fine for a start. Now, do you make more money from catching criminals, or selling random people you catch in your traps?"

Dakota started to unwind the bandages, desperately trying to remember the first-aid training they'd had when they'd first been employed by Chicks for Children.

"Depends on the day, depends on the criminal." Sawyer shrugged. "We keep our hands in both pots."

Dakota frowned disapprovingly. "Well then. Perhaps we can find a more morally right and more lucrative alternative to selling people." They knelt next to Artemis and tried to steel themself before looking at her wound. "So, what about hunting? That also involves setting traps, so you would have the skills necessary. Plus, everyone needs to eat."

“Doesn’t pay as well. The Prime Minister doesn’t care about a deer or two.” Sawyer shrugged. “But an igni? Even the rare chance of finding an Ukayan? Now that’s enough money to live a comfortable life for a while.”

The wound was still bleeding, but it seemed small enough. There was no exit wound, which met the bullet was still inside.

Dakota suppressed a gag. They were willing to give a free consultation to mercenaries, carry Artemis to safety, and maybe even bind her wound... but there was no way they'd dig around inside the wound for a stray bullet.

They looked up at Sawyer and the other mercenary. "I'd be interested in discussing these 'igni' and 'Ukayans' more, but for now, do you happen to have a doctor?" They looked around the tent and reconsidered. "Or anyone somewhat trained in the medical sciences?"

Sawyer scoffed. “We’re not patching up the devil.”

Artemis just gently laid her head across Dakota’s legs. It’s fine. It’d all be fine.

Dakota looked at Artemis and bit their lip. Was Artemis laying her head down a sign of increasing weakness? Blood loss could make people faint, right? This was not fine. Not fine at all.

Heliodor Everett

Hev frowned, looking at the doctor. “Are you sure your contraption is correct? Humans don’t have hollow bones.”

The doctor raised an eyebrow at Hev. "Yes, that's right... It is quite strange indeed; the X-ray machine is less than a year old."

Will burst out, "I-I think that's just Professor Lee's whimsy. He has wings, see?"

Hev nodded. "That is true. Birds have hollow bones, you know. It makes sense for a winged person to be the same."

The doctor slid a phone out of his pocket. "Either way, I'm afraid we can't treat your arm here. Hold on a second while I call 911. Let me know if the pain is too bad, okay?"

Will glanced at Hev frantically. "Wait, why 911?"

Hev frowned. He didn't understand how calling for three numbers that weren't sentient would help the situation. "Sir, I'm sure that's unnecessary."

The doctor ignored both of them. "Hello? Yes, this is Doctor Farris, at the Dewspire Academy of Whimsicality. We have a patient with a broken arm here." He paused for a moment. "Mhmm. Here's the address."

Will looked between Hev and the doctor. On the one hand, Hev probably did need treatment, but he also needed to get back to... wherever he came from... and being stuck in a hospital wouldn't help with that. "Uh! Um. Arghhh," Will sputtered.