A Sharp Scratch

"Luckily I wasn't one of them," Isla remarked with a smile to Kaladin. She'd been on the front lines, blood and gore and all, and the war had been kind to precisely nobody. She managed a quiet laugh as she continued to look him over, the medic shrugging her shoulders. "Family business," she explained. "I imagine there were noblemen enough vying for my attention before I left for the battlefield. But some things are more important." Like stopping him from bleeding everywhere, figuring out what was wrong and saving his life. She listened closely to both his chest and his words as he complied with her instructions, a soft frown on her face. "I can fix you," she said with an air of easy confidence. "But I'll need you to stay in the infirmary overnight at the very least. And you might want to be asleep for everything I need to do." In fact, it would be easier if he was. Isla straightened up again and turned to her tools, taking out a generous wad of gauze and bandages so she could wrap up his arm while she dealt with the more serious injuries. Once she was done, she nodded to the bed. "Lay down, if you would?" Isla the flesh is weak