I step through the door of the hospital and am hit with something I can only describe as what I imagine a crime scene would smell like if someone were trying to hide it. Cleaners, disinfectants, chemicals, all underlaid by the unmistakable iron tang of blood.

With every step I cannot help the grimace that turns down the corner of my lips, as the burned skin on my shoulder twists and pulls. I must admit that the hospital is cleaner than I anticipated, though the waiting room is overflowed with equines yet to be seen by anyone. Solterra is known for their battle hungry but certainly not their tender loving care.

As I move toward the counter to check myself in, a young assistant’s eyes pop open when she sees me. “You’re Amunemhet Sevetta!” I pause, as eyes turn to find me from all over the room. “Light be with you, miss. I’d like to check in to be seen for a burn. Job hazard,” I remember to smile graciously, the way Mother always reminded me to. It's a half-lie, but the details don't matter to her I know.

“Oh, no, come with me I’m sure we can find someone to take care of you immediately,” she smiles (almost bashfully, I’d say, if I were to consider it), as she motions for me to follow her into one wing of the hospital. I follow, to the exasperated groans and silent looks of annoyance from the room behind. Keep your head up, Amun. Do not slip from grace. “This really isn’t necessary, it’s only a burn. I can wait with everyone else.”

My parents would remind me to never turn down the things I am given, but to accept them with kindness and dignity. In my heart, it feels wrong to make others wait simply because I am of higher status than they are. “No, no, no. Please, make yourself comfortable in this room and I will go let one of the staff know you’re waiting.”

She leaves before I have the chance to argue, so I wander into the room to bide my time. The smell of chemicals and blood is already beginning to become commonplace to my senses, I cannot imagine what it must be like to work here all day in and day out, trying to keep up with the bodies piling in for care.

"Speaking."

---

@Ruth