Not for the Faint of Heart

by Lex Croucher

She needed a tightly knit unit of trained, disciplined fighters; what she had were infants, gentle giants, aspiring florists. She would very begrudgingly admit that most of them could fight well enough, but at what cost? For example: instead of hopping to it and taking charge of the wagon so that they could depart, Kit was now showing Morgan the flowers and repeating excitedly, “St. John’s wort.” Morgan said, “St. John’s what?” And Kit said, “Exactly!” This was the sort of thing that, quite frankly, made Mariel want to kill them all.

Nobody should run through a checklist of moral beliefs and failings before they whipped out their bandages.

“Yes,” Clem said. “I’m holding your hand. I’m making my move. I understand that you have trouble expressing your feelings and that my violent kidnapping was just your way of telling me you like-like me.”

“Best fighter I’ve ever seen, and they have you on piss duty.” Josey smirked. Mariel was less amused. “Come on then,” said Clemence. “I’m not afraid of an audience. It won’t make me shy. If anything, I’ll piss harder, just to try to impress you…”

I didn’t want to cramp your style.” “What?” Josey smirked, pulling her hood lower. “You know. All the flirting.” Mariel was so incensed she just walked away.

Nobody had ever pinned Clem to a tree before. New experiences were good for the soul.

Things would happen to you, both great and very terrible. You might as well make the most of them, when you could.

There was a scattering of burn marks across her forehead, angry dots where she must have run into a shower of sparks. Clem had attempted to apply calendula, but Mariel had pushed her away. If she wanted to be sore and crispy, that was her prerogative.

they were currently all being boiled in the same pot, which inspired a certain amount of camaraderie.

“You know that if you can see me, I can see you,” Clemence said around the strip of twine in her mouth. She removed it and finished tying up her hair. “Starey.” “I’m not staring,” said Mariel. “I can hardly see you.” “I can see you,” said Clemence. “I’ve got eyes like an owl. And legs like one too. Have you seen an owl’s legs? They go on for much longer than you’d expect.”

With the sun still high in the sky, Clem dared to hope that this might leave the day open for leisure activities, namely sitting down and thinking no thoughts whatsoever;

“Don’t celebrate yet,” Mariel said gruffly. “We can be pleased with ourselves when it’s done.” “I’m going to be pleased with myself now,” Clem said, “if that’s all right. I think it’s important to take the positives where you can get them.”

She sort of wanted to pick a fight with the captain, but maybe just so Mariel would lay hands on her in reply.

Morgan scowled at her, but picked up the cup and took a swig. “This is horrible. You’re horrible.” “I’m your guardian angel, you ungrateful little goblin. Drink up.”

“I don’t need you,” Mariel said. It was delivered with such a foolishly stubborn tilt of her chin that it made Clem feel a bit giddy. Why were they standing so close to each other? It had seemed vaguely necessary for knot-untying, but now Clem realized it was ridiculous. Mariel was ridiculous. She was stubborn and handsome and a lost cause, but right now her lips were bitten-red and her eyes were dipping low, and Clem had a theory.

“Clothes, Captain,” the woman said, putting a folded stack onto the rickety chair by the door. “As requested.” “Thank you, Asha,” Mariel said stiffly. “That’s … You can just leave them there.” “Yes,” said Asha. “I have.” “You have,” said Mariel. “Exactly. Yes. And—that’s all.” “It is.” Asha backed from the room, still seeming unsure if she should be calling for backup or recommending that they hang a sock on the door to prevent further interruptions. Another silence stretched between them. Clem felt a little bit hysterical.

“You remind me of my sister,” said Baxter. “I mean, I don’t have a sister. But if I had one, I think she’d be like you.” “That makes absolutely no sense. I love it.”

She didn’t throw herself at people who weren’t going to catch her, because that was how you got kneecapped, emotionally speaking.

“Really excellent work,” Clem said to Josey when she returned. “Subtle. Nefarious. Necessary.”

They both watched as Baxter, uncharacteristically red and shy, leaned down and pulled Kit so close that their noses almost brushed. “Aw,” said Josey. “They’re going to make a baby.”

“Lovely,” said Clem, infuriatingly smug. “Are you going to give me a tour?” “Fine,” said Mariel. It made no sense. She knew Clem wasn’t really asking for a tour. Clem knew that she knew.

She didn’t seem nervous or confused, worried that they might be about to do something stupid. She seemed like she trusted Mariel with this completely; like she was exactly where she wanted to be. It made Mariel want to run.

“Turn around,” she said, and Mariel did, her movements a little slow. Clem lifted Mariel’s chin and kissed her lightly, and Mariel just closed her eyes, not a flicker of petulance on her face. There was a loud, single knock on the door. They didn’t even have half a breath to react before it was shoved—no, kicked—open. Josey was standing on the other side of it looking like she was having the best morning of her life. “Morning, Captain,” she said, not bothering to hide her smirk. “Healer.”

Mariel was almost shaking with rage. Clem thought about touching her arm, and then imagined life without the arm and thought better of it.

You have to know that you might be the only person who ever truly sees everything you do, how hard you work, what you believe in—and just do it anyway.”

“I like your face,” Clem said. Mariel could feel her cheeks burning. She couldn’t have opened her eyes if she were at knifepoint. “It’s a good face. Very frowny, but apparently I’m into that.” “I told you I didn’t want to talk,” Mariel said. “It’s excruciating.” “Oh sorry, are my effusive compliments making you uncomfortable?”

All this love had made such a mess of them.