By the time he reached the last soldier—a woman with a deep gash across her thigh—he was empty, his magic flickering like a dying ember, his head swimming with exhaustion.
He slumped beside her, his hands trembling, sweat dripping from his brow.
Terya walked up silently, her leather pants creaking as she knelt beside him, her presence a warm anchor.
She leaned close, her blonde hair brushing his shoulder, her voice a sultry whisper.
"Come to my tent when the fires go low," she said, her lips brushing his ear, sending a shiver through him. "I'll refill you."
He looked up at her, tired but smiling, his voice soft but earnest.
"You're always so generous."
She kissed his cheek, her lips lingering, her breath hot.
"I like my healers hard and full," she murmured, her green eyes smoldering before she stood, sauntering away with a sway that drew every eye.
They made camp in a grove wrapped in grey ivy, the air thick with the scent of iron and sap.
