Inside the tent, as Spes carried the bloodied, white-robed woman, the Medicus hurried around, lighting multiple lamps while simultaneously clearing the clutter from the table. His movements were frantic but purposeful, belying the stiffness in his aged joints.
"Place her there, carefully!" he shouted, already dashing toward a large box not too far away, rifling through its contents with urgency.
"Medicus?!" Spes called out, now realizing the source of all the blood they had seen was far more serious than he initially thought.
The woman groaned in pain on the table, her right hand clutching a deep, gaping wound carved into her shivering shoulder. Blood soaked her robes and pooled onto the cloth-covered table beneath her, the scent of iron thick in the air.
