Chapter 403 – The Children’s Tent

Dozens, perhaps hundreds, of children filled the tent, and my heart ached as I surveyed them. Each lay on a medical cot, attended by a small staff of overworked medical and social workers. "Oh my god, Isabel," I murmured, my heart leaping into my throat.

"Who are… who are all these children?"

"They're the sick children from the camp," she said quietly. "Some have parents," she added, nodding toward a couple reading to their whimpering daughter. "But many are alone." Isabel took my hand, drawing my attention back to her.

The other orphans had gone to the city's adoption center, but these children—

"Need help," I said, my voice tight with determination.

"Yes," she whispered, then turned to Cora. "Can you… would you be willing to spend some time here? We could use all the help we can get."

"You'll want both of us," Cora said, consulting me. I nodded, then turned back to Isabel. "Are there children like this in the human camp as well?" I asked quietly.

"Yes," she replied. "A tent this size, maybe bigger."

My heart broke, but my resolve hardened. "Here today; the other camp tomorrow?" I asked Cora, who pursed her lips, assessing the crowd. "It depends on the severity of the cases," she murmured, crossing her arms.

"What are you talking about?" Isabel asked, looking between us and then at Conner, frowning.

"You're about to see something very cool," Conner replied with a soft smile.

"But just… let them work. They have their own system." Isabel frowned, but I kissed Conner's head and began working. Cora and I fell into our usual routine, honed while healing the men in the bunker. Cora spoke with a doctor about the worst cases, while I put Conner to work as a nurse—my old job. I moved from bed to bed, speaking to children and their families (when present), noting those in most danger or pain. I also greeted people, letting them see the baby, getting a feel for the room with Isabel's guidance. This didn't last long; Cora soon returned. "Come on, Ella," she said, taking my hand. "We need to act now. This one is… very bad." And so we began.

Time flew as we worked, coordinating with the staff to maximize our efforts. Generally, I healed the children while Cora and Isabel determined who was next. Conner cared for Rafe while I healed, keeping him happy.

"He's a really good baby," Conner murmured for the fifth or sixth time as he settled Rafe into his arms. "He's… very chill. I wasn't expecting that."

"Well," I sighed, smiling, "Rafe likes his dad better than me, and you probably remind him of Sinclair. You're both…" I gestured to Conner's large frame, "gigantic. He probably feels right at home!"

"I can't believe that's true," Conner said, grinning down at Rafe. "Everyone loves the Luna."

Rafe squealed happily, reaching for me. I kissed his hand and looked back at Conner. "You'll let me know if he needs anything?"

"Always," Conner murmured, winking and stepping away with the sleeping baby. I turned to the little girl with wide, pale eyes. "Hi," I said, smiling and sitting beside her, taking her hand. "What's your name?"

"Leah," she whispered.

"Well, Leah," I said, leaning closer. "I know you've been feeling badly, but I'm going to help you feel better, if that's okay with you."

Leah nodded slowly and closed her eyes. I squeezed her hand, my heart breaking at the empty chair beside her.

I pushed aside my grief; it wouldn't help Leah. I closed my eyes, accessing my mother's gift, letting it flow into Leah. I found considerable damage. "This one might take a while," I said, sensing Isabel beside me.

"That's all right, Luna," she replied quietly. I smiled at the use of that name. "Take your time."

Leah's injuries were extensive—battered and bruised from the war or the camp. But I also sensed something darker, deeper within her. I knew little about biology or the organs I sensed as ailing (I made a mental note to study), but it didn't matter. The gift sensed what was wrong and knew how to fix it; I was merely the conduit. I was grateful to my mother for this gift. It felt as if she knew it would bring me joy.

It took a long time to heal a lesion in what I believed was Leah's liver. Then, the gift flowed through her body, mending cuts and bruises, and gently eradicating what felt like tiny, wrong dots within her. I couldn't explain it. When I opened my eyes, Leah's hand was warmer. She slept peacefully, a small smile on her face. My heart squeezed with hope for her dreams.

"Okay," I murmured, standing, surprised by my stiffness. "Let's let her rest."

Isabel stood there, staring in shock. "What…" she muttered, "what did you just do?"

"I healed her," I said, shrugging. I knew it would take time for her to understand. We'd told her about the Goddess's gift, but seeing it was different.

"How long was I… out?"

"Over an hour," Cora snapped, striding over, glaring at me.

I groaned. That was far too long. If I spent an hour on each child…

"Well, if you'd simply done what I told you," Cora glared, "and just healed her liver, her body could have done the rest, or we could have returned—"

"There's no way," I said, my voice shaking, returning Cora's glare, "absolutely no way I was letting that little girl suffer another moment."

"Well," Cora said, gesturing around the room, "you healed every bump and bruise, letting other children suffer. Some really need you, Ella."

My heart sank. She was right. Guilt washed over me, drowning my anger. I thought of each child quietly suffering, waiting for me. And I burst into tears.