“Should I feel embarrassed that a girl is asking me to take my clothes off?” he asked, smiling.
“Don’t worry, I’m not a girl. I’ve seen everything. Nothing fazes me. Nothing,” I said, giving him a pointed look.
The dragon did as I asked, blushing slightly as he pulled his shirt off. At first glance, I noticed two things. The rash was angry, with several red bumps, but it wasn’t oozing or releasing a strange discharge. Upon closer inspection, it appeared contained to a single area, and it wasn’t hot to the touch.
I leaned around to face James. “Have you been using anything on this?”
He nodded. “Doc gave me a steroid cream, but it stings. I’m pretty sure it’s a poison ivy rash, but everything’s been making it worse.”
“I see. Well, steroids aren’t the best for dragons. Occasionally, they’re useful, but I find those instances are pretty few and far between.”
I moved over to my desk, opening one of the drawers and pulling out a salve I had prepared. It was basically a catch-all for the skin problems Kiki had taught me about. It used several natural anti-inflammatory herbs, which tended to work wonders when it came to rashes, scrapes, and stings.
“Here.” I handed him one of the pots. “Usethis for a day or two, and if there’s no improvement, come back to see me. It should help with the itching and allow your skin to heal. If it does work, I can give you some extra or teach you how to make it so you’ll have some on hand if you run into poison ivy again.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” he said with a polite smile, taking the jar from me and hopping off the table before quickly replacing his shirt.
It was always strange to hear myself being called “ma’am.” Even though it happened often enough, and terms of respect were common among dragons, particularly when I was their healer, it never felt right to have an olderdragon use the term toward me.
At my desk, I quickly scribbled down a few notes: the patient's name, the issue, and what I did to treat it. After putting my pen down, I turned back to the reception area, where Ma was still happily lending a hand, and called for the next patient.
My day quickly fell into a familiar, comforting routine of seeing patients with steady efficiency and helping people heal.
Most of the horde’s issues were small. There were cuts that hadn’t healed properly because the antiseptic solution Doc had been using was too strong, preventing healing.
There were a few sniffles and tummy bugs, which I quickly dealt with.
In between patients, I focused on building my stores. There were several herb mixtures, teas, and poultices that were often used in healing, so I had a small table where I mixed all the various things and got them prepared in neat little glass bottles kept within easy reach.
As the day progressed, I began to realize just how inadequate Dr. Jenkins was. At first, I was annoyed, but my annoyance quickly gave way to genuine anger. Jenkins had been doing a massivedisservice to his horde. They trusted him with their health, and all he was doing was putting them in harm’s way. If he wanted to get all “medical degree,” “real professional” with me, this would clearly be systemic malpractice.
After the third cut that simplywasn’thealing, I wanted to scream, seriously considering throwing something at the wall—or maybe Jenkins himself.
Even though the prospect was extremely unappealing, I made a mental note to discuss the situation with the Alphas as soon as possible. They needed to be aware that their horde’s healthcarewas significantly below subpar. In my opinion, the doctor who they were funneling hundreds of thousands of dollars into was a fraud.
A well-educated, arrogant fraud.
Once the flow of patients had stopped, and I was getting ready to leave for the day, I sat at my desk and wrote out a few more notes. Making sure I had a record of everything was crucial in any type of medical situation.
As I was writing the last line, a soft knock drew my attention toward the door, and I turned my head to see a young woman standing there.
She couldn’t have been much older than me, maybe in her mid-to-late twenties. Her blonde hair was woven into a neat braid, and she wore a sundress covered in daisies. If it wasn't for the deep furrow of her brow, I would have thought she was about to go to a picnic.
“Hi, I’m so sorry to disturb you. Are you still seeing patients?” Her voice was so quiet, and she pulled into herself, as if she was terrified of me.
“I can,” I replied with a smile, gesturing for her to take a seat. “What can I help you with?”
She looked uncomfortable, fiddling with the strap of her messenger bag, like she was mentally psyching herself up to enter the room. I couldn’t help but think of Jenkins. How was he talking to these dragons that made them scared to seek out medical care?Ugh, more reasons to hate that jerk.
“I won’t bite,” I promised.
She sighed deeply before striding into the room and sinking into the chair with a solid plop. “There may be no point in me talking to you, but I thought, as there was a healer here—one who is well-known—that I might as well ask about, umm, my fertility issues.”
Her tone got quiet at the end of the sentence, like she was ashamed to even say the wordsfertility issues.
I nodded, doing my best to keep my face calm, even as intriguesurged within me. “Yes, I heard there have been some issues with a lack of births in this horde over the last few decades. Do you have any idea why? Oh, gosh. Where are my manners? What’s your name? I’m Rowan.”
“I’m Celia.” Her voice was so soft and sweet. “And we don’t really know why. We’re all just unable to get pregnant, it seems.”
