Rawley whistled the courtesy whistle to let the healer know she was waiting to enter her tent. Levain didn’t setup her shop during the run—it would take too much time to setup and pack again. Her patients were normally tended to outside and tribe members typically preferred getting treated during the run since they didn’t have to enter the healer’s domain.

Instead of whistling for her to come in or checking to see who it was, Levain exited the tent. Rawley caught a glance of Coltran, Mel’s husband, resting inside with Gimley’s younger siblings sharing a pallet close by. Levain had her heavy bag of healing supplies slung over one shoulder. She looked tired, annoyed, and cold. She hadn’t taken the time to put her cloak on—probably thinking this was a quick healing session and she could be back inside in her tent in a few moments. Rawley shifted her attention to the plans she had made where she confronted the healer outside her tent, then and there. There was no reason to bring the rest of the family directly into it, and she saw no reason to give Levain leverage in what was surely going to become an argument. So, she smiled placidly at Levain and waited.

Levain snapped, “Do you need healing or not?”

Rawley felt her temper simmer higher at the healer’s disrespect, but she kept the placid smile on her face. “Follow me.” She made a come on gesture and turned to weave her way through the camp. When Levain didn’t move Rawley rose her eyebrows slightly at her and asked, pitched just high enough that it would echo, “You would disobey a huntress?”

Levain’s jaw clenched in anger even as she paled. She flicked her hand in a quick gesture for Rawley to go ahead. “I only paused to see where you lead.”

“Of course.” Rawley started walking again. “I’ve know known many people to stand still to get a better view rather than move to see past the tents blocking the horizon. I can only imagine they are awed by the tents’ craftsmanship.”

Levain knew better than to respond to that, despite her quick temper, so they made the rest of their way to spot Rawley had in mind in silence. Rawley led her to a small nook in the side of the ravine a short distance outside of camp. The sentries didn’t comment as they walked by, it wasn’t their place to do anything unless a physical fight broke out and they knew Rawley should be able to protect herself and the healer if any predators decided to chance an attack. However, Rawley didn’t doubt that Fenris would hear about their meeting that night. Levain hesitated as they left the camp behind—Rawley knew she wouldn’t like having to put her wellbeing into Rawley’s hands—but under the sentries’ gazes the healer opted for a presentation of goodwill rather than mulishness.

When they reached the nook Rawley let herself be the one pushed up against the back wall. That way Levain wouldn’t feel quite as trapped—easier to predict and slightly less guarded—and she would be the one still partially in view of the camp. The knowledge of that would censor her, as it had a minute before, while there could only be hearsay about Rawley’s actions. And who would give the healer the time to complain about what a huntress might or might not have done if Levain even bothered to try?

Rawley made her position against the back wall a bit slouched, comfortable, as if she was about to have a pleasant conversation and she could stand there all day while Levain stood before her, arms crossed tight, shivering as the gusts of wind whined by. Sometimes people thought that best way to put another in their place was all shouting, threats of violence, and bluster. Threats of violence could be useful, but Rawley had found that assuming quiet, unwavering authority often worked better than all the noise. Rawley slipped an expectant look on her face and waited for Levain to speak.

Levain lasted longer than she had at the tent, but only by a moment or two. She was not a patient woman. “Why did you drag me out here? I don’t see anyone who needs healing.” They both knew the entire situation had to do with Gimley, but Levain was doing her best at keeping up the pretense that she had no knowledge of her eldest daughter.

Rawley gave her a small, knowing smile. “Who said I’m not hurt?”

“Then let me heal you so I can get out of this blighted cold.”

Rawley fell silent again until Levain looked ready to turn on her heel and march back into camp. “Why do you think I brought you out here?”

Levain drew in a long suffering breath, before letting it out slowly. She ground out, “My daughter.”

Mock surprise opened Rawley’s eyes wide. “Why would I want to talk about Adley? For all, that you nearly didn’t send anyone to treat my apprentice, she did an adequate job.”

“Gimlea,” Levain clarified.

“Gimley.” Rawley corrected. “You see, my apprentice didn’t want keep anything you gave her. She’s been quite clear that she no longer has a mother. Given that you still refer to her as a daughter, don’t you think you’re the one clinging to things you no longer have?”

“I gave birth to her. Trained her. I can call her whatever I wish.”

“And you threw her away.” Rawley let the full force of her simmering temper show then and the other woman shifted, but had enough willpower to keep from taking a step back. Rawley continued, voice like ice, “You threw her away after you broke her. She could have been much further along in her training by now, but half my time has to be spent letting her know she can trust me. She hates sharing her ideas and never asks for help, though I can tell she wants to learn.”

Levain rallied, “Then you understand why I needed to be strict! It was the best way for her to learn. I did what I could—even taught the selfish girl the healing craft like she wanted—but it was all a waste of time and effort. She couldn’t even get her blessing right.”

Rawley’s anger flared and her fingers brushed her knife as she pushed off the wall to make use of the two inches she had on the healer. Her smile came back, but this time it was not placid or knowing or kind. This time is was more a baring of teeth and a soft promise. “Say one more unnecessary or hurtful thing about Gimley and I’ll cut off the twins’ healer’s beads. I’m sure they’ll love to be free of your taint. They might even thank you for freeing them of your legacy.” Levain opened her mouth to cut in but Rawley gave her no quarter. “Say something of the kind twice, or to Gimley, and I’ll cut off yours. You might hate what you are now, but you’ll be nothing then. Still tainted and nothing to show for it—no lover, no unique skills, no way to gain influence. I won’t let your idiotic jealousy ruin my apprentice’s life any further; I treat my dependents well.”

“You have no right!”

Rawley did smile gently then because she knew that would belittle Levain the most. “Mindful of the echo, healer.”

It took a visible effort for Levain to swallow down the anger making her face blotchy. Her hands still gripped her upper arms hard enough to leave bruises. When she spoke it was with forced civility. “Do you have anything else to say, oh huntress?”

“Yes.” Rawley’s knife was in and out of it’s sheath in two blinks of the eye. A drop of blood welled from just under her left collarbone. “Heal me.”

Levain looked ready to punch her, but instead she forced her hands to release their grip before efficiently tending to the tiny cut. Even in her anger she couldn’t risk the cut becoming a liability or failure, no matter the knowledge that she was playing into Rawley’s hands. Once her last pouch was in her bag and Rawley’s cloak covered the tended cut, they both left the nook without a word.