The Witch

The plastic hubcap impacts the magic user's head before she's able to realize what's happening. You grin as Argentum, now a staff in your hands, vibrates with power and you use it to vault yourself toward the group at behind you.

The other ruffians, realizing their artillery is already out of the fight charge you. They're not yet firing their weapons, perhaps realizing that it would bring unwanted attention. You do see the glint of sharp weapons in the moonlight however.

Logan throws several trumps at the group you were headed at, while simultaneously diving for the ground.

The punks you're facing slow as they see the flashes of light and hear the loud bestial roar that erupt near the other group. You grin as you hear them scream.

You hunch into a defensive stance, the ambush slowed by the punk's sudden indecision.

Just then the dim street lamps providing their limited light in the alley explode and shatter glass over the groups. Blue lightning flows along the ground and licks at the punk's feet.

Before you can attack them they're writhing on the ground from apparent shock. The cobalt tendrils of electricity seemingly flow from every where and illuminate them. The lightning slows and doesn't touch you.

You watch for a few moments as a lone, lithe figure steps into the alley way in front of you.

You sense Logan standing next to you, and another presence at your other side. You glance for a moment and find a massive snow tiger stretching its legs.

"Logan... Haman... Khan..." the figure says as it slowly moves its way through the moaning figures on the ground. "I hear you're looking for me."

You see the figure, now clearly a small Asian girl, apparently no more than twenty. She's dressed in denim skirt and a black jacket.

"Uh, yeah... um... Hi." Logan says. You hear something in his voice... fear?

"I saved your ass again. Who's your funny looking friends?" The girl asks. "More buddies from that place you'd never take me?"

In trouble with the law since...

"Told you, that you should teach me that word..."

Logan coughs.

"We are fine, officer, thank you." then, whispered, "Logan, now would be a good time, Logan..."

"The word doesn't work here." Logan seems intently looking at each building.

"Hey, that guy is bleedin'!" The cop says.

"We're taking him to the doctors." You reply.

"I'm gonna need to see some I.D., right now!"

Logan turns to the officer and begins to reach into his jacket.

"Un uh!" The cop says as begins to draw his pistol.

"Officer." Logan says, "I'm going to show you my I.D."

"Slowly!"

You step back as Logan pulls what appears to be a blank trump from an inner pocket and hands it to the policeman. "Here you go officer."

As he hands the trump to the officer who reaches out and grasps it. The officer stares at it for a moment. "What the fu.." The policeman starts to say.

Logan, still holding the trump, speaks a word and the policeman vanishes.

"Remind me before this is over to retrieve the constable." Logan says as he places the trump back into his jacket. "Now where the hell is she?"

Logan starts down the sidewalk, the pink-orange lights mix with the neon to cast strange shadows. You push Avery's wheelchair, the big man doesn't move but groans slightly.

"You seem to be keeping me in the dark quite a bit here. What's going on?" You ask.

"Oh?" Logan says. "Sorry, didn't realize I'd not filled you in." He says dispassionately. "I figured your trauma would subside enough that you'd remember everything." He stops and looks at you. "What do you remember?"

"All I remember was that you asked me to accompany you on some adventure, the next thing I know I'm waking up in cat-hospital."

"Yeah... about that."

"What the hell is going on?"

"This guy and his ilk," Logan jabs his thumb at the immobilized man in the wheel chair. "Have been systematically killing our kind."

You raise your eyebrows. You recall fighting this fellow, and the wound he received, any normal denizen of shadow would have been dispatched by you much quicker. "How is that possible?"

"I'm not sure exactly. That's why I asked for your help. We ended up in Marseilles, the shadow we were just in, when you got yourself shot. We were ambushed by a large force, seemingly out of nowhere." Logan stops to look into what looks like a apothecary shop.

"Where'd the come from?" You ask.

"Shadow Earth, I presume. I'm not sure how, but some Earthers have gained the ability to trump... to use advanced magic and even... walk shadow."

You stop walking. "Walk shadow?"

"Yes," Logan turns and motions you to continue. "Which is why we need this bastard, alive if possible."

"Why don't we go to a..." you start to ask.

"A regular hospital? He has bullet graze wounds and a thick-bladed-sword wound to his abdomen that would match that blade at your side. Which by the way..."

You quickly reach for it and it forms the ring on your finger.

"Thanks... an educated nurse or doctor would be able to put two-and-two together and we'd have more of our constable friend's talking to us. Besides, I'm not sure the technology here would save this guy. We need magic, even the healers here are going to have a tough time."

"So we need to find this..."

"Shar'Li." Logan finishes your statement as you stop outside a narrow doorway. Above the door is a placard written in Chinese. "Stay here." Logan says.

You wait as he vanishes into the doorway.

Moments pass and you hear a heated conversation erupt from inside the doorway.

Logan steps back out of the door. "She's not here... " A long string of what could only be Chinese epithets follow him. "... anymore. Damn I should have made a trump!"

"Why didn't you?", You ask. "Looks like you've drawn everyone and everywhere else!"

"Yeah, well... every time I tried to make a trump of her, it came out wrong, it wouldn't work. The one time I got one that worked, she destroyed it, something about her "soul" trapped in my images." He continues down the sidewalk with you pushing the wheelchair behind.

"Sound's like something I heard about photographs..."

Logan nods. "And I know a camera that can do just that."

You remind yourself to ask Logan about that some other time. For now you continue down the road. Your grumbling stomach reminds you that an Amberite needs food, badly, but the smells of this street are of heavenly food, and death mixed. You're not sure eating here would be a good idea.
You cross the street quickly as a car flies past you honking. People are closing up their shops and getting out of town.

You notice several young people, seemingly trailing you. Every time you turn to look at them they turn and act non-chalant. As if that ever made someone less supicious, you note.

Logan stops inside a restaurant for a moment, again you wait outside. When he returns he's grinning and he says, "Hurry!"

You head further down the street and into an alley. It's begun to rain softly. As you move down the alley, three figures appear at the end of the alley. You hear several others behind you. Ambush.

Logan chuckles.

"So, where you going?" A thick accented boy says. He's in front of you. You look to him and see the glint of a knife. A girl stands at his side, glowing blue sparks coming off her fingers.

"Yeah... where you going?" Another boy's voice, this time behind you.

Logan grins at you, "Where's a cop when you need one?"

Strange Medicine

The enemy seemed to be in full retreat when you went back into the monastery. The building will stand but it will need repairs. The fields... that's another story.

As you enter the door one of the guards is there. He salutes and tells you that there were only minor injuries to 'our side', some glancing blows and the like. You nod and salute back.

You're not sure your opponent is going to get the care he needs in this shadow. About the moment you think those words, Logan appears next to you.

"Is this one of them?" He asks.

"Yeah... I think he's going to die." You say.

"We need to get..." Logan starts to say.

"Out of here. Yes." You finish. A moment or two passes as the two of you think. "We need someplace with magic, I don't think standard medicine of this shadow will save him." You state.

Logan nods. "We'll need some technology too. We need to know his identity."

"You and I visited a place once... with a companion of yours... " You say to Logan.

"I know the place." He opens his trump case, a dark navy blue leather affair with and embossed unicorn on it and pulls out a sizable deck, almost twice the number of cards in it as yours.

"You'll have to share some time..."

"My trumps? Hah... fat chance!" Logan grins. "There's girls in here I won't share with..."

"Shaddup..."

"Ah here it is. " He pulls a card from the deck. On the face is just a storefront, the sign outside is in a strange language and another one, readable, states 'Dim Sum All Day'.

"You sure?" You ask.

"Yeah..."

"Wait a second... if you can just trump us somewhere, why didn't you take me somewhere that would provide me with better care?" You stare.

"Uh..." Logan pauses. "There wasn't enough time... I knew we'd need more firepower. Plus you'd make it through fine here. This would be the last place they'd look for you. Of course, I didn't count on you trying to grab your trumps through shadow." Logan grins.

Something about his story doesn't add up. But you're not sure now is the time to press him. You need to get "Commander Avery" talking.

You pull a wheelchair from the closet, an old looking wooden chair, it will have to do.

Logan begins to prep Avery for transport when the nuns begin to fuss. You start to explain to them when Logan says a word you've never heard before. The nuns fall silent seemingly in a trance and leave the room.

"You'll have to teach me that." You say.

"Later." Logan says as he slides the man into the chair, wrappings and sheets with him. The blood, beginning to seep through his bandages is nearly black.

"We don't have much time." You state.

"Let's go."


Logan, holding the card between his teeth, grabs your hand, his other hand on Avery's shoulder. You feel the world spin around you and are quickly accosted by the dank smell of wet garbage and rain. It's the dead of night, cars are moving to and fro as the three of you stand on a street corner across from a restaurant like the one in Logan's card.

"I know a woman..." Logan starts.

"I bet." You reply.

"Stuff it. We need to find her. Shar'Li is her name, she's a healer. We'll get him to her for the night and then decide where to go from there." Logan states. He shuffles again through his trump deck. "Damn, the one girl I didn't draw..."

You look around. Asian people, human looking at least, pass by you and seem not to even take note of your presence. They see you, but they're avoiding you.

"Excuse me." A voice calls to you from behind.

You turn to see a man dressed in a black uniform. An odd octagonal hat sits on his head, a chrome badge on his chest. He's got a sidearm holstered on his hip. "Can I help you?"

Commander Avery

The man stands over 6', blond hair, very muscular build. Your sword has slid right thru his right side. You figure he'll need surgery to survive... His face is white with shock as he tries to back away but you advance, never removing your sword from his gut. His hand moves to grasp the blade, but you twist it slightly to persuade him otherwise.

After a while, he seems resigned to stand still. "Who are you.", you ask.

"Commander Alpha Avery, United States Special Forces, Alpha Niner Bravo Eight Eight.", he grunts.

You hear people headed your way, from behind you. You hope they're on your side, for you're not taking your eyes off this guy. "Where do you come from?"

"Commander Alpha Avery, United States Special Forces, Alpha Niner Bravo Eight Eight."

You dig the blade in deeper, the magic seems to effect him especially. "Where do you come from!?" You yell.

He cries out in pain. "EARTH!"

You lessen your push on the sword. "Why are you here?"

"For you...", he gasps.

"What do you want with me?"

"You... are... of Amber.", His voice comes with his breath. He's bleeding heavily, you realize you're going to have to save him to figure out anything more. Holding the sword steady, you step into his body and clobber him.

He goes down with a thud. The smell of charred fields and gunpowder assault your nostrils. You kick the body a couple times to make sure he's out and withdraw your sword from his gullet.

Logan contacts you and tells you he's pushed the invaders back, and that he needs to return the hardware to its own shadow. You tell him that you captured one of their leaders and he promises to return quickly.

You're soon surrounded by cat farmers, nuns and soldiers, all surprised to see you alive and well. You pick the man up throw him over your shoulder and walk back to the monastery. As you get closer you can see that the monastery's walls are cracked, probably from the first blast. Once inside, there are many of the cat people undergoing treatment.

You drag "Commander Avery" to a room and lay him upon a bed. The nurses are soon around you and cleaning him up.

Take some of the blood that pours from Argentum's handywork and put it into a jar, in case the man doesn't survive... which you're not sure he will.

Battle

You tell the farmers to torch the fields. The wind, at your back fans the flames quickly into an inferno headed toward the seething mass headed your way. The farmers rush back behind the wall just below the monastery.

You hear the report of the riflemen on the rooftop, finding targets... perhaps too early, but who could blame them considering the onslaught headed their way.

It is not long before gunfire begins to echo around you. Still, its pitifully minor considering what will soon be here. You cannot see much through the heavy smoke, the dry fields were perfect tinder for a deadly fire.

You caress the ring on your hand. Almost time to taste blood, you tell the ring.

Minutes pass exceedingly slowly, the flames and smoke obscure the mob but somehow your riflemen are still able to find targets.

You see a few of your opponents, perhaps a first wave, appear through the smoke on the main pathway. You know they're moments from their deaths.

Forced into the pathway below the monastery, the enemy bunches up right at the piled bomb. You nod at the rifleman standing at your side. He quickly raises his rifle, takes aim and fires.

Striking a small canister of fuel next to the mass, the shot ignites the fumes and begins the conflagration. Moments pass, the enemy unknowingly continues up the path before the explosion engulfs them.

You're nearly knocked off your feet by the force of the blast. The rocks lining the pathway turn into bullets ripping through the mass standing nearby. You feel the heat upon your face and feel the sting of the debris as it flies past you. Your ears ring but you recover your balance and grasp your sword suddenly in your hand.

With three short hops you're in the fray. The enemy, in full disarray, is woefully unaware of your presence and dozens fall at your hand before anyone attempts to defend themselves but with no effect. Minutes go by, the men you kill are humans, dressed and armed in what appears to be mid 20th century style. They're certainly not from this shadow. But that is of little importance, as you slice through several more. Because of the closeness of your attack, the enemy is unable to use their firearms on you, they certainly weren't expecting a hand-to-hand battle.

You hear someone shout, "He's mine!" And turn to see a large blond haired man charging toward you armed with a light sword and a pistol.

You parry his first attack and quickly remove the pistol from his grasp. Your riposte is parried and you quickly move to dodge another attack. Moments into the fight and you realize this is no normal human. You try to focus on the man, attempting to ascertain his lineage... he fights well and has intense strength.

You realize that the force around you has continue onto the monastery, and you hope that your men have either retreated, seeing the uselessness of fighting this mass. With your momentary thought your opponent cuts you slightly. You force him back intent on not allowing your focus to drift.

You continue to fight, exchanging blows and parries for some time. No human would have lasted this long against even the least trained son of Amber... but this man fights like Caine. Could he be...?

Your thought is cut off as a screeching, screaming noise surrounds you. Your opponent looks past you for a moment and you take the advantage to dive into him. Argentum digs deeply into your enemy's side and he staggers backwards.

The noise passes over your head as a large, ugly aircraft fires a huge cannon at the mass of men streaming toward you. You glance at it for a moment and feel the presence of Logan. The cavalry has arrived, and in style. Several large planes bomb, shoot and dive upon the enemy and within moments they're in full retreat.

Your opponent backs away, injured...

Engagement

The commander's voice was familiar... you're sure he was the one who took you prisoner temporarily after you were injured. You're still a little unclear as to what you were doing here, but you know Logan is somehow connected. The other person mentioned, Commander Avery, is unknown to you. You're sure you don't know him.

You send one of the guardsmen to the rooftop and bell-tower to have the sharpshooters focus on the first few rows. He snaps to attention, salutes and runs off.

You walk out onto a portico and stare down the valley at the mass of troops headed toward the monastery. You see the farmers at the bottom of the hill putting the finishing touches on the fuel-air bomb... you're not sure the monastery will survive the explosion, but they've place several large rolls of hay behind the bomb and dug a hole for the mixture. You hope they understood the balance, it could go off at any time and kill everyone there.

As you watch, you've come to the conclusion that unless this attack is stopped, these people... farmers, nuns, and all will be obliterated. You also feel that the opposition will enslave them. You're sure now that the fields are the best defense... setting them on fire... the wind is at your back... it would drive the flames right toward the enemy and force them to funnel down the narrow roads and into the awaiting bomb.

A grin forms on your face.

Contact

You think about what you'd like to do... sending the best marksmen here and there, etc. But your resources are few, and so you send all the men with rifles to the rooftop and the tower. You quickly explain to the nuns to take bottles and make molotovs. You set some of the others to making boiling oil... you hope you have time.

The end of the ramp at the dirt road below seems to be a strategic location, its about 300 yards to the bottom of the hill and so you send a couple guards and some farmers down with the fuel and fertilizer, explaining carefully to them what you want. They roll some round bails of hay to the spot and begin construction. You're not sure you'll have enough time.

While preparations are under way, you take a moment to reflect. Your memories... as scattered as they are, seem to be coming back to you slowly. You recall being asked by Logan to accompany him into shadow to investigate some strange goings-on, but you can't seem to grasp the exact nature.

You remember seeing battles in shadow, representative of historical ones. You seem to recall recently holding a black-powder rifle and firing on advancing men... humans you're sure but where and why you're still unclear. And now you're in another shadow, fighting someone during what appears to be Earth's World War I, yet the creatures here are certainly not men.

The strange pillars you saw also seemed familiar... but who created them and what they are is still a mystery.

You close your eyes and reach into shadow carefully, cautiously. You locate your trumps but don't try to take them, instead you simply... listen... feel...

You realize you're in someone's coat pocket, you smell gunpowder and human sweat.

"Major, I want push the advance toward the monastery. Don't be afraid of the man, he's only one against your thousands, plus Commander Avery will be with you and he can take him. The rest of these archaic people haven't a chance against our weapons and tactics, we'll sweep this land clear of the Amberite presence and move on." A familiar voice says. You can't quite place it, but you know he is the one in possession of your trump and who was the first cause of your recent injuries.

"But Commander, what if he's not alone?" another voice asks.

"He is alone. We made sure of that as his companion is busy with our forces in shadow. Remember we want him alive, that man must again be our prisoner. He is the key to our reaching Amber and ending our slavery. Kill anyone else who stands in your way."

"We're planning a direct assault on the building, sir. Our forces are within a few miles."

"Excellent, I doubt he's had a chance to mount any defense. He may know we're coming..."

It is at this moment that you choose to take your trumps. Your mental blast staggers your opponent. He was caught completely unaware. You hear him scream and clutch his head. You take your trump from him as if they were sitting next to you and immediately the link is broken.

You stand, dazed... holding your trump deck. You can feel that it's complete, but before you can look through them you hear gunfire.

Summing it up

You ponder for a moment the contact you felt when you attempted to pull your trumps through shadow. The contact felt Amberite, it felt familiar but simultaneously completely alien. Whatever, whomever it was, knew what the trumps were, knew who you were and now they're after you. You also know there was some magic involved in preventing you from taking the trumps, so magic is usable in this shadow. They won't likely be stopped by you and a few troops of questionable ability... but someone must defend the wounded.

The guard returns with several others, they're all armed with standard bolt-action rifles, pistols and a few grenades. The 'nuns' seem even better prepared, with large quantities of isopropyl alcohol, cooking oil, lamp oil, several large canisters of nitrous oxide and even a couple of gallons of diesel. There is also the entire kitchen of items to consider, as well as a barn full of hay and gardening/farming implements, fertilizer. Finally several of the patients are able to help.

As you consider your resources, you see some more cat men enter the dining hall, all of them armed with what appear to be hunting rifles. They approach you and one explains, "We will help defend... our farms are in danger too."

Your total support then is nearly twenty, able-bodied cat men with rifles and pistols. A dozen cat nuns with a few extra rifles, a shotgun, knives and lots of flammables. And another eight patients, in varying degrees of disablement. A motley bunch against the thousands you figure were marching this way.

Defense

Within a moment you understand what needs to be done. Heading back down the stairs you consider the layout of the clinic. Situated on top of a hill with a long drive up to the top... it's actually an ideal place to mount a defense, if you can find the manpower and weapons.

You enter back into the dining area, encountering the guard on the way in. You order him to gather all the able bodied persons into the dining hall immediately, telling him that there is little time. He salutes and dashes into the clinic.

You tell the few others gathered in the dining area to gather weapons quickly and prepare to fight. You then head into the kitchen and warn the women there. Several of them look scared, but others grab sharp knives from the rack.

The head nurse as she enters the kitchen. "What is this commotion?" She demands.

"How can we communicate with our forces?" You ask.

"We can only communicate by courier." She replies. "With the battle so far away we have little need for other means."

"Most definitely," you reply, "we need reinforcements now."

"We have a bicycle, and a fast rider, but the battle was far off...", she is interuptted by a couple nurses who run in from outside.

"Sister!", one says. "We were gathering fruit and saw a pillar descend! It's only about 20 kilometers from here!" She exclaims.

"Can we evacuate the wounded?" You ask.

"Impossible... ", her eyes seem to glaze over. "There are too many."

"Then you must get every able bodied person into the dining hall immediately. We also need weapons..."

{Consider what might be usable as a weapon in a hospital/clinic at the turn of the last century, apart from any guns they might have.}

The View from Here

You stand to leave the dining area. The closest cat lowers his gaze. You hear the women in the kitchen but ignore them headed for the guarded door. The guard sees you coming and stiffens to an attention. He says nothing as you walk past him into a dark hall way. At the end you see a set of stairs and climb them.

As you're headed up the stairs your mind reaches into shadow and you call forth Argentum. As soon as you think about it, you feel the weight upon your finger. You reach again into shadow to find your trumps, this time you feel something else... someone listening. You feel your trumps in the possession of another, who resists you. He knows where you are!

You break the link and feel a slight headache. Dizzy, for just a moment you look around, still in the staircase, only a bit of light pours in from the small windows. The person who has your trumps is relatively nearby... you can feel it.

You finish climbing the stairs and stand in a tower overlooking a valley. In the distance you see a pillar of strange smoke which undulates oddly. Occasional bolts of lightning appear within it, seemingly moving from ground to sky. Further on, over the mountain ridge you can make out another pillar, and yet another even further. You can just make out the ocean through the haze.

Whatever kind of battle this is, there is sorcery of some sort involved.

You know that your enemy lies near that nearest pillar. You watch it move and shimmer and notice movement away from its base headed in your direction. You watch just long enough to realize that it is an army, of some sort, and they're headed toward you and the hospital.

Only Human

You appear to be the only 'human' if indeed one of your noble blood can be called that. The feline folks are speaking French, and since you know it well, you listen in. The cats in the corner are speaking in hushed tones and seem to be chatting about 'the monkey'. The others seem only concerned about their meals.

Since you inhaled your last bit of food, the nurse has given in and brought you a large steaming pot of porridge, two loaves of bread and two flagons of wine.

You try to chat up the nurse, in French, but she only smiles and scampers away. You lean toward the nearest cat and ask, "How were you injured?"

The cat stares at you, swallows a gulp of his meal and replies quietly, "I was in a foxhole with a corporal , when a grenade landed near us... he fell on it. He is not here." You note that he is missing a leg.

"How goes the war?" You ask.

"I should be asking you! Are you not one of the commanders? All of the commanders are... monkeys... like you." He seems uncomfortable talking to you, so you let him be.

You sit quietly then, thinking things over. You attempt to contact Logan, but you receive nothing. Either he's not talking, or is unable, of course if he is far enough in shadow from you, you might not be able to talk to him.

Apart from the slightly lessened hunger and gaps in your memory, you feel almost normal. The nurse has not returned since you spoke to her directly earlier.

Losses

You allow the nurse to help you put the robe on. It is warm and comfortable, but your clothes are no where in sight nor is your beloved sword, Argentum. You also are lacking your trump deck.

You believe that you remember everything about yourself, but there are certainly gaps in your memory as you're still unsure as to how you got here or what you were doing here in the first place. You have no memory of the wound, much less the battle in which you received it.

As the nurse helps you (or, as you allow her to help you, for you're in no need of assistance any longer) into the hallway, you note electric fixtures, but they seem to not be working but there are gas lamps and candles, a few of which are burning. You glimpse other patients, through some doorways, all of them seem to be less than ambulatory. You're of the conviction that you are certainly luckier than most who are being treated here.

Given the smell of gunpowder on the breeze, you're sure that you're in a shadow closer to that of Earth, though certainly there are few bipedal felines living there.

The building is large, but very utilitarian, wood and stucco throughout. You note feline-laden crucifixes on certain walls, as well as small portraits of a female cat creature in a blue robe, with some form of halo about her. This strikes you as humorous, but your growling stomach causes any amusement to be quickly stifled.

As you descend a small flight of stairs you enter a dark room with several tables. Lit candles sit on the tables providing light. A few feline men, in various forms of bandaging sit and attempt to eat. Some lap liquids in bowls on the tables. Far on the other side of the room a uniformed cat stands by a door. The cat is armed with what is clearly a single-shot rifle.

The nurse helps you to a table and then departs. As you look about you realize that everyone in the room is looking at you. Some openly, others try to hide their interest but fail after a moment or two.

A couple of patients in the far corner of the room seem to be whispering intently about you, since they keep looking your direction as they speak. The nurse returns and places a bowl in front of you and a glass of what appears to be milk next to it. The odor of fish is quite strong, and nearly turns your stomach, however your hunger overwhelms your gag reflex and you nearly inhale the food. The nurse giggles at the speed at which you engorge... you quickly hold the bowl out to her and say simply, "More."

She nods and takes the bowl, heading back toward what you assume is the kitchen. In the meanwhile you swallow the glass of milk.

The Clinique

You take note that you're wearing a light hospital gown.

"What is this place?", you ask.

"You are in the Clinique de rue Maria, we are a private hospital. I am Mother Clara." She replies.

"How long have I been here?", you inquire.

"Your friend brought you here about two weeks ago. You were very close to death, I have never seen a man with such a wound heal... much less survive. But you..." She hesitates. "You barely have a scar left."

A flash, just a moment, of recollection. Pain, intense and searing.

"The bullet perforated your liver, passing through your back, also shedding shrapnel into the kidney." She points toward your right side.

"When you were brought here, you bled and bled... we have so few supplies and you exhausted our supply of morphine. But your friend... he left and returned with boxes of the drug as well as other equipment I have never seen before. He actually ran tubes of his own blood into you." She continued. As she spoke the charge nurse opened a closet and retrieved a robe.

"Where is Logan?", once more you inquire.

"Your friend? Monsieur Khan left two days ago, I have not seen from him since. He told me that he would return for you and to keep you here."

"Food..." the need overwhelms.

"Of course, Maria will help you into your robe and to the dining hall. I must attend to other patients..." and with that she leaves.

The other nurse had taken the robe out of the close and heads for your bed.

Revelations

You look carefully around the room. The walls seem made of wood, the bed you are in is cast iron. White curtains wave as a breeze enters the room from outside, carrying along with it the smells of the forest, and also of gunpowder. You see nothing directly indicating the time, or place.

As the nurse approaches, you study her. She is wearing a v-shaped white hat, that has curtains on the sides that hide her face. She is carrying a tray and her hands are unseen. She is completely clothed in shades of white, the style seems to indicate a religious order.

"Where am I? how Long have I been here?", you croak, your voice still a bit gravel-laden.

The nurse gasps to hear your voice and lifts her head. The curtains fall away from her face and you see the remarkable features of her feline nature. She is most certainly a cat of some sort, probably a tabby.

"Pardon moi, monsieur!" she exclaims, her voice carrying touches of meows along with the French. She sets her tray down on a stool near your bed. Before you can say another word she flees the room.


You rub your eyes and face, noticing several days growth on your already full beard. Your mouth tastes distinctively like horse manure.

Another cat-nurse enters the room followed by the first. This one is wearing a black robe, with white hat.

"Pardon my charge's failure, sir, she is quite unaccustomed to speaking to patients. Few here ever recover from their wounds... especially none as severe as yours!" She moves quickly to your bedside and touches your head. Her English, though accented, is quite good.

"Why does it smell like a battle, yet you seem so calm?" You ask her.

"The battle is far from here," she replies, "yet is so grave that the smells carry a long distance... I'm sure you're very hungry, if you feel up to it we can provide you sustenance of your choice downstairs."

Awakening

Sleep and dream, and dream you did. The wildest dreams, frightening images of wolves and teeth, occasionally you awoke, drenched in sweat and shouting. You were aware that someone would come, dressed all in white, and help you back into the bed and wash you down with a cool sponge. You'd try to mumble thanks but your voice would not form words and soon you were drowning again in dreams.

You're unsure of how long this went on, constantly waking up in pain and horror, and being put back to bed... but at some point you became aware that days were passing. Your thoughts became clearer and you steeled yourself to fight. Each time the dreams came, you resisted more and more, remembering who you were and fighting with all the ferocity and tenacity that made that blood running through your veins so special.

You ate, you drank, you slept some more.

One night you were awakened, the lamp beside your bed was burning dimly and you could just make out the shadowy form sitting beside your bed. You smelled tobacco and alcohol, and you opened your mouth to beg for a drink, yet again barely a hiss came out.

"Partched, eh?", the figure asked jovially. You nodded and you caught the glimmer of the lamp in a flask drawn from the stranger's cloak. "Drink this quick. I'm sure the sisters here would disapprove. You need to regain your strength... we have a long journey ahead of us." He placed the flask to your lips and the warm heaven poured into your throat.

The stranger looked away as if listening for something. "We must make it back to Amber soon."

AMBER! You know Amber, you know who you are... you know you need to go there, but why?

"Sleep some more, I'll be back in a few days with supplies... if I'm not back, you'll have to come find me!", the stranger grunted. He leaned forward and you were able to focus for just a moment...

"Logan", you tried to croak, but the alcohol hit your brain and you were again asleep.


You awaken again, unsure of how long you've been asleep... you hear birds singing and the breeze carries on it a whiff of smoke and... gunpowder.

One of the nurses enters your room with a bowl and wash cloth.