~Amelia~
Caleb showed up and leaned on the fence like the field had become free entertainment while Clara perched on the rail.
Then one badly timed blast sent silver sparks wide, and one of the younger boys who had been watching too close yelped and stumbled backward off the rail. He hit the dirt awkwardly.
Everybody winced.
He sat up fast because pride is apparently strongest between the ages of six and ten, but I saw the scrape on his knee before he could hide it. Blood rising through the torn skin.
I dropped the shield and crossed the space before Alan could say a word.
"Hey," I said, kneeling in front of him. "Let me see."
He looked startled, then embarrassed, then stubborn. "I'm fine, I do not need your help especially when you were the one who hit me."
"It was a mistake, that’s why I’m trying to help and don’t be disrespectful."
“Since when did you become a healer?”
“Let’s just say you don’t know much about your Luna.”
