[b]Miriam
Chapter 20: To eat a soup[/b]

Tasted poorly. Miriam gazed into the brown broth that quivered gently inside the plain wooden bowl. She poked her equally plain spoon into it and discovered that there was in fact meat inside. Chicken, she'd have to assume. Floating beside the piece of chicken were the occasional slices of dry potato. "How do the potatoes manage to be dry, when they're in a soup?" Miriam pondered to herself, and then lowered her spoon into the broth again, to acquire more of it. With a tired motion she guided the spoon into her mouth and she sucked up the liquid and chewed idly on the singular slice of potato she'd found. She kept the spoon within her mouth, gnawing on it, it really didn't taste worse than the soup itself. Miriam glanced down to her right where Leia sat panting next to her, the dog was familiar with being given scraps and she had put on her most friendly of expressions, the dog whined in a questionnaire and tilted her head, letting one of her fluffy ears droop. Miriam smiled, albeit tiredly and she picked out a slab of chicken, passing it on down to the dog, who slobbered the piece down without curtsy. Miriam pet her friend untop of the head and looked back to her bowl. She shuddered and paused her lame eating for a moment to drag her heavy blanket further around herself. The small tent was rather warm compared to the wild, but Miriam had been cold since she woke up. The peculiar man, whom Miriam assumed to be the 'Healer' Freda mentioned before had said that it would pass and that she would recover in due time. He said that she had been lucky, Miriam did not feel very lucky. In fact she felt horrible. She sighed heavily and slumped her shoulders in defeat, leaning against the table with her arms.
	"What are we even doing, Leia?" She asked, desperate for the dog to answer her. To give a reason for her being here, in this fort on the border of Death, with people that she would not have spared more than a glance before. There were so many and she heard them as they walked around outside, soldiers passed her tent often, conversing about this and that in their peculiar southern accents. The most common topic was the Princess. She had actually been a Princess this entire time, Miriam huffed and shook her head in disbelief yet again. Freda the Princess. Miriam turned her head and glanced to the flaps of the tent where the Healer had left through, when asked about Ellie he had only said that she was alive and recovering. Miriam accepted the good news for what they were: Inconclusive - She would have left to find her but she doubted the guard posted just outside of her tent would allow her to leave. She hardly had the energy to do so, either way. Miriam rubbed her grainy eyes and yawned. Leia whined again at her side, pleading for some attention. Miriam lent the dog a glance and then smiled, petting the large beast's head as she rested it against her master's lap. "Good girl." Miriam murmured, scuffing the back of the dog's ear lovingly. "Good girl..."

Some time passed, Miriam had poked her spoon against the soup but made little progress in eating it, the flaps of the tent moved aside and the healer returned, bearing a kind if tired smile. The man was middle-aged but seemed energetic. He wore simple clothes beneath a long piece of red cloth that wrapped around from his right shoulder around his torso, the surcoat bore a golden emblem of a burning bird upon it and Miriam remembered it as the same she had seen in her dream.
	"Feeling better?" He asked her and he looked over her in observation. Miriam would have performed one of her usual shrugs but lacked the energy, she simply shimmied the blanket over her a bit and then slumped back down against the table.
	"In comparison? Yeah." She said. Leia had moved, approaching the Cleric with a friendly wag of her tail apparent. The man bowed down and pet Leia over the head, his eyes still held on Miriam.
	"Quite the companion, you have. A Whinchester, if I'm not mistaken. Rare breed." The man was actually making small-talk, Miriam groaned internally and would rather just be left alone. Any questions she had could wait until after she'd slept for a day or two. "What's his name?" The Cleric asked furthermore.
	"Leia." Said Miriam. "She's Leia." And out of need to avoid conversation she spooned some of her lukewarm soup. It still tasted awful. 
	"Leia?" The Cleric pondered, mainly to himself and he stroked his sharp chin thoughtfully. "Beautiful name. I am Tallof. A Cleric of the Holy Order, maybe not such a beautiful name, aheh..." He paused, peering at Miriam in silence, obviously expecting a name in return. When Miriam said nothing he sighed and returned to speaking. "You will be glad to hear that your friend is recovering. As I understand it She is... Quite a rare one, as well." He smiled somewhat, Miriam turned her head to look at the Cleric and her expression was clearly disconcerting to him. "Ahem." He corrected himself as well as the colours he wore. "Of course, she may never recover completely. Neither may you, I might add. Death's magic has that effect upon the soul. I will of course attempt my very best to help both of you." He said cordially, and smiled politely. Miriam never trusted polite smiles, people were liars and such smiles were only masks, she knew that much. She only needed to find out now; what play these actors were performing and how she could get off the stage again... She brought her spoon into the bowl and then into her mouth, she ate their soup. For now.