"This is for you." Friya handed the tray of food while performing one last check-up. "Take your time and be careful. It’s hot."
"Thanks, young lady, but after living sixty years in the Desert, I can handle hot." An old woman said.
"This is for you. Take your time and be careful. It’s-"
"Drenya?" A middle-aged woman said, cutting Friya short. "Thank the gods you made it here. I was afraid those bastards had taken you or worse."
"I’m sorry?" Friya swallowed hard upon hearing her birth mother’s name, but waited for the woman to rub her eyes and shrug off the drowsiness before asking any questions.
"Oh, gods, you’re not Drenya." The woman said after taking a good look at Friya. "Is she somewhere here? She looks like you, just older and less pretty."
"No. I’m pretty sure there’s no one matching your description." Friya kept her voice level, but Nalrond noticed from the ripples in the soup that her hands were trembling.
He took the tray from her and handed it to the woman.
"Eat aplenty and regain your strength, Miss." He said.
"Please, young man, tell me Drenya is among the corpses." The woman’s expression turned desperate as she grabbed Nalrond’s hand. "If she’s not here and those savages captured her, her fate will be much worse than death."
"I can go check the bodies of the fallen to see if your friend is among them, but most corpses don’t... look good." Nalrond said, hoping not to upset the woman and Friya more. "Does she have any distinguishing features aside from her beauty?"
"Yes, silly me." The woman nodded. "Drenya is not from the Blood Desert, so her skin is pale compared to ours. You can’t miss it."
"Thanks. I’ll be right back." He said, holding Friya’s hand tight for a moment before leaving.
"What a nice man." The woman sighed. "You are a lucky woman."
"I beg your pardon?" Friya snapped out of her daze.
"You know he cares for you, right?" The woman asked. "You can’t be a Healer and be that blind."
"Oh, that." Friya nodded. "Of course I know. He is my husband."
The law had yet to recognize their union, but the promise they had exchanged and the small lives growing in her womb were all the bond Friya needed.
"You make a cute couple." The woman sipped a spoonful of broth. "I’m Eryl of the Black Stork."
"And I’m Friya Ernas of the Griffon Kingdom." Friya replied while offering her hand to Eryl.
"Is... yours a common name in the Kingdom?"
"Yes." Friya nodded, realizing her own blunder. "Why do you ask?"
"Because Drenya too is from the Griffon Kingdom and she has a daughter with your same name." Eryl replied. "Between that and your resemblance to Drenya, for a moment I thought you were her daughter. I guess Mogar isn’t that small."
"Indeed." Friya smiled, yet the corners of her mouth twitched from the stress.

’That’s my mother down to a T!’ Friya thought while handing a bowl full of spoons to a flabbergasted patient.
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