As the walls of Omri came into view, a woman of middle years with dark chestnut hair with a sprinkling of grey, but unlike most, it was no longer than her shoulders. Her brown eyes sparkle with excitement, and with a bit of jump, she hopped down from the wagon. She tumbles a little, but for some reason, she didn't fall.

"Look, we are here, Jara!" Mela exclaims to her lagging husband.

Standing behind her is a large man with hazel eyes and a full beard, with his broad arm out to stop his wife's fall. Smiling a toothy grin and strong laugh lines lighten up his face as he embraces Mela and holds her in his strong arms. Her hair smells like lavender, one of their shared favourite flowers. Kissing her lightly on the head, Jara loves his wife with all his heart, but she is excitable at times.

After months of travel, they heard that Omri was severely affected by the plague as Eastern March city. Like all who believe in the old ways, faith and belief will always see them through.

"Yes, Love, we are all here." Jara points out.

He looked at his wife, her brown hair, the dimples that he loved and that gracefulness of her walk is why he always will love her. This starts a rolling laugh throughout the caravan of healers. "I never understand why you are excited. We are coming into a plague-ridden place."

Mela laughs at that, as she always did. "Jara, you're an old stick in the mud and a worry wort. This is where we can do the most good. Bring back that spark that was lost during the dark times."

Jara knows what these dark times were. In the Massacre of Magic, their ancestors were hunted because of their connection to the divine and healing magiks. After that long century of destruction and murder, the survivors hide their beliefs and thus started the Age of Disbelief.

One of the small boys, a runner for the back of the caravan, a half-human, runs up and grabs Mela's arm but suddenly withdrew it with a slight gasp.

Mela looks down at the small boy, see it was Timothy. An orphan that joined up with the healers a while back. A shock of emerald flashes in front of Mela's eyes, and the boy no longer stood there but a little impish creature with blood dripping from its claws. As soon as the green light fades, only the half-breed boys were standing there.

Jara felt the tension in his wife's body, and he looks down at the boy and only sees a boy. "Timothy," Noticing that the boy's hand is now tucked away. What could be seen as red and blistered skin. "what happened to your hand? Show me."

The boy tried to pull away, but it seems that another thought came over him, and a tear rolled down his cheek. Showing his hand, it was inflamed and blistered as he put it in a fire.

Mela dropped to her knees and reaching for ointment in one of her many healer pouches. "Come here, Timothy, I will make the hurt go away?" The boy shied away from Mela. "Timothy, it is alright; it is me."

Mela smiles, but Timothy kept stepping back. Jara reached over and grabbed the small container, and step forward. "My dear, I can handle this. Timothy, come here, and why are you here from the camp?"

Not like seeing anyone in pain, Mela's eyes started to well up, but she nods and walks away to talk to another healer.

Timothy shoves his hand under his arm and calls out to Mela. "Jara, the rearguard has spotted something."

Jara tried to reach for the hand again, but Timothy skipped back. "Come on, Timothy, that hand needs to be treated."

Shaking his head. "Your brother sent me; he wants you to come back to the camp."

Jara's brow furrows, shaking his head. "I can't; Martell can handle any issue."

The boy holds out his hand. "It is bad, like this, Jara."

That stirred anger in the ample belly of Jara. His tone flattens as he applies the ointment to the hand.

She places her hand on the small boy's head, which he ducks out of the way. "Um, thank you, Timothy." Looking at her husband, an upspoken thought passes between them. Jara nods. "Could you take Jara back with you?"

Keeping out of arms reach of Mela, Timothy was still in the iron grip of Jara. Noticing the pain on the boy's face, Jara lets go and then a little pop like bones going back to their usual position.

"Sorry, Timothy," Jara's eyes droop in guilt.

The boy holds and rubs his hand. Mela places her hand on Jara's head. "We know you didn't mean to do that." Bending down, she kisses him on the cheek. "My love, you should go and find out what Martell knows."

Standing up and facing Mela. "Are you sure? Would you need my help to set up?"

"We have enough hands to set up the triage tent. Go and see what the issue is." Mela replies.

Jara kisses Mela on the lips, much shorter than he wanted. As they break contact, Mela starts back to the wagons, and they continue to the city.

He turns away and looks at the boy. "Did he tell you anything else?"

A smile breaks out on Timothy's face as soon as Mela walks away. "No, Jara, but it looks bad. Martell looked worried."

That woke up Jara; his brother is the warrior while he was more of a scholar. Even though they both train, Martell was naturally talented at anything physical or academic. While Jara had bulk with an extended belly but didn't have the grace of his brother.1

As Jara looks at the rest of his wife's followers enter the city, he turns to Timothy and says. "Come, let us run back to the rear guard."

Timothy smiled, without a care in the world. His blue eyes and red hair seem to be light with curiosity. Jara never wished on the young, but this community and their parents go, so do the children.

To ensure that the plague never touches the children, they set up camp half a day away at the rear guard.

Knowing that it will take some time, Jara nods at the boy, and they start to run.