The Journey Forward | ONC 2023 Version

8. Desire

The scrape of metal against metal, accompanied by the grunts and screams of the soldiers, hit my ears before the battle came to view. The melee of men and horses stabbing and slashing with pikes and swords was interrupted intermittently by the whoosh of arrows killing soldiers who no longer carried a shield or could not raise it against them.

There are multiple ways to respond to the stimuli that could provoke my panic. I could avoid contact with anything that could cause my fear and panic, which I preferred but was usually impossible. Instead, I could concentrate on other things, ignoring the stimuli, which I did at my old work. In that world, the ER had become a trigger itself, and I had struggled for years to be able to enter it by focusing on my task and ignoring the surroundings. I developed a foolproof pattern of finding the patient, working out what was wrong, and moving them back to my safe unit, where patients were too sedated to stab anyone. In this new world, there was no ER, so my triggers were less predictable. Listening to the sword practice that occurred all around me all day while in the camp usually didn't bother me. It wasn't necessarily the sword or knives that triggered me; it was the intent. On the battlefield, the fighters strove to harm each other. The battle cries froze my heart more than the clank of metal or grunt of pain.

I regretted my decision to come forward as cold sweat beaded across my brow, and my breakfast threatened to reemerge. Bao stopped on the edge of the fighting and carried me off the horse with him. His concerned eyes searched mine to ensure I could do my important work, and my stomach settled. As we locked stares, an unexpected calm poured through me, and I ventured what I hoped was a reassuring smile.

He didn't try to speak above the noise; we had made arrangements before arriving. He nodded at his personal guards, the ones who wore the midnight black armor, and a double layer of men surrounded me. Bao disappeared once my medics began to bring any warrior that needed immediate healing into my protected circle. The rest would be brought back to the camp in waves, either wounded or dead. My husband left no man behind if he could help it.

Midway through the day, I missed Jing. Knowing how much I would need when I returned, I chose to have her remain in the camp to conserve her energy. This decision seemed silly in the face of my overwhelming exhaustion. Most of the men who came to me did not have heart stones, and soon my emptiness caused my ears to buzz and my eyes to blur. Yet, I didn't understand how depleted I had become until I tried to stand and found my legs wouldn't hold me. A clammer of swords hitting shields assaulted my ears as I fell. After one of my medics helped me to my feet, I waved at the soldiers to stop the signaling, afraid of distracting Bao at the wrong moment.

Despite my efforts to stop the call to him, Bao burst into our circle and pulled me into his arms. He surveyed my body for any visible injury before pushing an ungodly amount of cultivation into my heart stone. He felt like an endless well of power, filling the gnawing vacuum inside me. When I could stand on my own, a medic handed me a savory bun to assuage my other hunger.

"Do you need to return?" Bao yelled next to my ear so I could hear his question. I shook my head and moved toward the next waiting patient to avoid yelling back. His energy rejuvenated me, and I felt the pull of my task calling me. Bao frowned but did not stop me. However, he remained within the circle with me for the rest of the day, feeding me energy between patients and ensuring I didn't collapse again.

I didn't notice the light waning until the flood of soldiers arriving in my small space slowed. When the last soldier left the circle, Bao whistled for his horse and lifted me into the saddle. I must have passed out because I awoke again in my bed with Jing's sleeping body beside me. She had filled my hearthstone to the brim with her cultivation, and I appreciated her effort, yet I couldn't prevent the pressure of disappointment against my chest.