The Lone Avvar Healer

None spoke during those times, only slurped and lapped at their food like abused dogs, mongrels too weak to beg for scraps or whimper when they were kicked. All a worker had was the clothes on their back and their little bowl. The tents served any who could find space amid the throngs huddling for warmth from the late autumn chill. Those who were not quick or could not appeal to the mercy of their fellows were crowded out to sleep beneath the stars.

During the time just before the weary surrendered to sleep, the healer would make rounds, wandering the aisles between the tents, checking for injuries or illness. If he came across one displaced, he would cajole those in a tent with fewer occupants to take them. Sometimes he would gently guide the afflicted soul to his own tent to spend the few hours of sleep allowed. That is how he discovered me.

The following photos contributed to the image:
avvar: [link] (from mjranum-stock)
tunic: [link] (from stormlightstock)
tents: [link] (from dani221)
[link] (from maliciarosnoir-stock)
ground: [link] (from maliciarosnoir-stock)
sky: [link] (from nate-fate-stock)
fort walls: [link] (from okbrightstar-stock)