“Make sure you wrap it tight enough,”, “clean the wound with this before stitching it up,”, “keep your leg straight with these branches otherwise the break will never heal,”, “chew on these leaves.”
With the Bastion gone, what else is there to do but keep moving?
It was never going to last anyway, just like every other group; injuries are injuries, accidents or not.
Like a travelling priest, they preach to everyone about the mushroom, about the vaccine, until the sun sets and their voice is hoarse.
Coerna never stays anywhere long enough to find out if their work actually heals anybody or if it even gives them a more comfortable ride to the grave. She doesn’t want to find out, because they feel they already know the answer.
Always choosing the coward's path, ignorance.
They will walk this earth forever, never standing still.
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