Dangerous Talents by Frankie Robertson

tonight.
    Dahleven nodded and leaned against the rock face to Cele’s right, arms crossed, watching her.
    Trying to ignore his scrutiny, Cele watched Ghav clean her blisters, but the leader soon made that impossible by coming close and crouching nearby.
    He picked up one of her boots and examined it closely. “These are very finely made.”
    Cele looked at him cautiously. “Scrimping on footwear is a false economy, in my opinion.”
    “Very wise.” Dahleven continued to examine the boot. “Of what materials are these?” His gaze lifted to hers and stayed there, intent and waiting.
    His scrutiny was unsettling. The stormy grey of his eyes swirled around his pupils and Cele felt she was being swallowed by his steady, unwavering gaze.
    “Lady Celia?”
    She missed a beat while trying to remember his question. “Uh, leather, nylon, and the usual assortment of man-made products, I guess.” Then the oddness of his question struck her. He was impressed with my belt pack, and the sandwich bag, too .
    Cele looked closely at him. She’d noted the presence of leather boots and waterskins, spears and swords. Now the absence of plastics and synthetics struck her forcefully. It was the final blow, and it hit her harder than the changed landscape and vegetation, or even the missing city. She was lost. Profoundly lost. Completely severed from everything she knew and loved.
    Cele felt her eyes filling, and looked away so Dahleven wouldn’t see. She’d been around enough macho types to know he already resented having to haul a woman along with him. His attitude would only get worse if he caught her weeping.
    Ghav startled her by smearing his brown ointment on her scraped knee and she jumped, shaking loose a tear. Ghav said, “My apologies. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Then he looked up at her face and paled. “Are you in pain?” he asked urgently. His concern seemed out of proportion to her injury.
    “Not at all.”
    Ghav still frowned doubtfully, and Cele tried to reassure him with a shaky smile. “I wish the doctors back home had your touch.”
    Ghav looked relieved. He pointed at her face. “The tears alarmed me.”
    Cele quickly wiped the dampness away, wishing Ghav hadn’t called attention to it. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.” But the tears kept slipping down her cheeks.
    Ghav drew a rolled bandage from his pack, but Cele stopped him.
    “I’ve got just the thing for this.” Cele pulled out her first aid kit, complete with the pack of adhesive bandages. “Here’s one just the right size,” she said, applying it.
    Ghav was delighted and inspected it closely. “How wonderful! It sticks to the uninjured skin on either side. Do you have larger bandages like this?”
    “No, but I have gauze and tape.” Grateful for the distraction, Cele showed him the contents of her first aid kit, including the empty tube of antibacterial ointment. “I finished this off before you found me. It does what your brown stuff does: prevents infection.”
    “You might not have needed so much bandaging if you’d been dressed properly,” Dahleven commented. “Do your people not have clothing to equal your footwear? I don’t understand how you kept the sun from burning you, but you obviously haven’t been as successful avoiding thorn-bushes and rocks. Heavier clothing, any clothing, would have given you greater protection.”
    There was that look again. It made her feel indecent. She’d dressed appropriately for a short hike, but Dahleven’s intense gaze made her feel like she was half naked.
    Ghav intervened. He waggled his bushy gray eyebrows at Dahleven, then turned to Cele. “You must tell me more of the healing arts of your home. The differences must be as great as in your customs and dress.”
    “Indeed.” Dahleven got to his feet and began climbing to where Falsom kept watch near the top of the ridge.
    Sorn poked his head out of the cave. “Ghav will keep you talking about healing and herbs all day if