"Not allergic. Practical." I set the clean mortar aside and start organizing the jars by type. Muscle salves on the left, infection treatments in the middle, pain management on the right. Order matters. "Someone has to be."
"Mm." Ursik lands a hit on Kai's shoulder that makes the bigger orc grunt. "That's what people say when they're avoiding something."
I'm not avoiding anything. I'm maintaining standards. Keeping the healing house running. Checking on patients who won't check on themselves.
Ressa's face flashes through my mind again—pale skin, careful distance, that specific tension in her shoulders whenever I get too close. She's trying. I can see her trying, measuring out trust in microscopic doses. But she's not getting better locked in that cabin.
Still not my problem.
"So what does this St. Padraig's Week involve?" I ask, partly curious, mostly wanting to redirect the conversation away from my participation or lack thereof.
Kai groans. "Everything. Drogath's got seven days planned. Each one has some symbolic meaning tied to prosperity and partnership. First day is markings—green paint, apparently, for good fortune."
"Green?"
"Shamrocks," Ursik supplies helpfully. "Three-leaf clovers. Represent strength of body, heart, and clan. Or something. Drogath explained it but I stopped listening after he mentioned the serpent symbolism."
"Serpents?"
"Hidden enemies. Emotional obstacles. We're supposed to hunt carved tokens as a bonding exercise." Kai sounds like he's reciting from memory, resignation thick in his voice. "Day two. The Serpent Track."
I process this, trying to find the logic. "And day three?"
"Reflex training. Apparently St. Padraig—whoever that was—valued swift hands." Kai dodges a particularly vicious swing from Ursik. "Hey, save it for the festival."
"I'm warming up for a week of this nonsense."
"I'm the one who should be."
"You love Saela. You'll survive." Ursik's tone shifts, becomes more genuine. "Besides, the competition aspect sounds good. I'm absolutely winning."
"You're partnering with someone?" I ask.
"Working on it." He grins, all confidence. "Plenty of interested parties. Week of glory, showing off my superior problem-solving skills? Everyone wants a piece of this."
Kai snorts. "Your humility is inspiring."
"Humility's overrated." Ursik lands another hit, lighter this time. "What about you, Falla? Really. No interest at all?"
I consider the question seriously this time. Seven days of festivals and competitions and partnership trials. Green markings, serpent hunts, reflex games. Day four is apparently drinking and honesty—Kai mentioned that with particular dread. Day five involves rainbows, which seems improbable but I've stopped questioning Drogath's interpretations. Day six is gift exchanges. Day seven, the Leprechaun Trail.
"No," I say finally. "No interest."
"There's got to be someone you'd?—"
"No."
Ursik holds up his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. Just asking."
I return to my jars, double-checking seals. But something niggles at the back of my mind. The structure of the festival. Partners working together, facing challenges, building trust through shared experiences.
Ressa needs to get out of that cabin.
I shut the thought down immediately. No. Absolutely not. She can barely stand being in the same room as me for fifteen-minute medical examinations. Suggesting she participate in a week-long partnership festival with an orc would be?—
Cruel. Stupid. Counterproductive.
I'm a healer, not a miracle worker.
