"Oh gods, Miranda," Hilde said. "What happened?"

"Has to be a stray bolt," Claude said. "Come on, we need to find a healer."

Miranda didn't respond, instead focusing on getting her rational mind back in order. Yes, it was just a stray cross-bolt, a randm piece of shrapnel that found her bare shoulder. The marks were all mere coincidences, and nothing she should worry about. It was with this mindset, that blond allowed herself to pass out. She groaned one last time, before her head went limp behind her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"That indeed looks nasty."

The town healer had a split reputation. Some said she was an angel, come down from the palace of the gods to help them. Some said she was a devil who mde their wounds worse. Either way, she was the only source of medical attention anyone was going to get, and usually trustworthy if you didn't try to trick her. Her name was Lola, an itallian maid of long, ruddy red hair yanked behind her well0worn head with a bandanna, with tired blue eyes and a small-set mouth. Miranda, had she been conscious at the time, would have clocked her near 30 winters.

"Stray shrapnel you said?" Lola questioned, working her bandages over Miranda's shoulder. "Odd. I didn't see any when I cleaned the wound, nor an exit wound. Whatever wounded this girl, it wasn't physical, I can tell you that."

"Maybe it was that witch," Hilde, the only one who had stayed, shuddered. "She made some kind of wound on the other shoulder with her nails. I have no idea what it was for...you don't think it cast a spell, do you?"

"I wouldn't doubt it." Lola finished the wounds, and dipped a clothe in water. "Witch's are a nasty breed; they specialize in magic of the soul, specifically in the damnation of it. They twist it, bend it, and disfigure it so no promised land would ever recognize it."

Hilde swallowed hard, and Lola chuckled. "Relax. girl," the healer said. "What harmed your friend is most certainly not any tainting magic. I know not what it is, but she'll be fine with some rest."