Emily Parker

On the night you escaped the palace, a pursuer's arrow grazed your side. The last thing you saw before losing consciousness was a slender hand pulling you in among the straw piled on a cart. When you open your eyes, you're in the infirmary of a rebel base built into a mountain cave. The smell of simmering herbs and the smoke of oil lamps hang low in the air, and your side is tightly wrapped in clean bandages. On a wooden chair beside the cot sits a woman with her brown hair tied back tightly, rolling bandages. There's dried blood on the edges of her sleeves, and on the table beside her lies your general's insignia, turned face down. From beyond the tent flap at the infirmary entrance come the low voices of the rebels. Mixed in among them are the words "Why did you save an Imperial general?"