It rather surprised Ernest how fast Noland's mood changed to optimistic. Ah, well. There was no reason to be stuck in the past. She smiled and blushed slightly at his compliment, though. For all her confidence, she was still more used to people yelling at her in anger. 

She watched the thieves being paraded out. So few were left, she thought. So many must have died in that explosion. She sighed, trying to shrug it off. She had no love for these men, but death of any kind still made her insides crawl.  Watching the men who were still alive made her wonder how they did this every day. Killing people like this would destroy her.

A man was dragged out of the building screaming obscenities at the soldiers. "Tactless," she muttered. "Tactless and useless."  She knew it did little good to insult people once you were captured. They tended to just hate you more. 

Her focus drifted as Noland spoke to his men. She watched the soldiers, some of them barely alive, as they tried to remain brave and put up a good front. They must know that they were going to die, several of them. There was no way the healer would get here in time.

She watched one of the men crumple to the ground, and noticing that everyone was busy, walked over and stood next to him. She put a hand on his shoulder, and nearly jumped in fright as the ugly wound in his side closed with barely a sign. Pulling her hand away, she recognized the rune her magic teacher had drawn on there once to help her with a spell. She had just healed someone, she realized, without even noticing it. She slid back through the crowd, hoping no one would connect the man's sudden healing with her appearance. She glared at her hands, still glowing, and closed them into fists, hoping the glow would fade by night time. Maybe no one would notice until it got dark.

The man who had just been healed winced as he propped himself up on an elbow. His fatal wound was gone, but it still hurt, and would likely be sore for a while. Tears welled up around his eyes. He could go home. He touched where his wound had been and the tears finally fell. He thought of his pregnant wife, and sobbed, but stopped suddenly. Who had done this? Who spared his life? He looked around and saw his dead and dying comrades. He knew some were too far gone to revive without the blessing of a god, but those that could needed help. Anger grew inside him. Who was this mysterious healer, and why weren't they healing! He stood as best he could and shouted.

"Healer!! Save them!"

Noland realized Ernest had left his side as the healed man's voice rang out. He looked for her and saw faint glow in the crowd. "What's this?" He murmured and approached the dimming light. 

Ernest resisted her urge to freeze, knowing that anyone who stopped moving immediately after a shout like that would be noticed. Still, she glanced about to see if anyone thought he might be talking to her. She spotted Noland, slipping through the crowd in her direction, and wandered a few feet to the left, still keeping her eyes open. 

She paused, suddenly. What was she hiding from? The man whom she'd healed was right. She ought to help people, if she could. But, if she was quite honest with herself, she was afraid. She was afraid that they would notice her, or remember her. At that, she almost laughed out loud. She had always wanted to be someone important, but now the thought scared her. People might talk. Stories would spread, if she let them.

It didn't matter. She realized it suddenly. One couldn't calculate the value of a man's life like that. If she could save someone, she had to. The next question, though, was if she could. Unconsciously, Ernest could do magic much more easily than if she had to consciously attempt it. She had to try, though.

Slipping through the crowd, she tried to summon her magic. She reached for it, hating the way she had to fight to control it. Power hummed through her body, and her hands glowed slightly brighter. She saw another man, unnoticed, but badly injured, and walked up next to him, resting a hand on his shoulder as she had to the last one. She felt the sudden decrease in her strength and moved on, hoping the man would be alright and knowing inwardly he would. She repeated this process two more times, trying to make sure no one saw her as she did so.

As she slid away from the last soldier, she knew she couldn't handle any more. Even a few healings had left her exhausted. But there were still so many people. One more, she told herself. You can save one more. There was a soldier kneeling, with his back to her, and she reached out and laid one hand on his back, healing the stab wound through his heart. 

The strength needed to push through the crowd was almost too much, but she knew she had to. In her foggy mind, she couldn't remember why, but she knew it was important. She rested against the side of one of the nearby buildings, watching the dark spots no one else seemed to see. That's nice, she thought. She glanced down and noticed that her hands were glowing like lamps. That's nice, too. Somewhere in her mind, she had the vague idea that was bad, but it didn't really strike her as noteworthy.