"This?" Taran fingered her hair, which was in desperate need of washing, and shrugged. "Well, it used to be black. I dyed it silver with my siblings, and then for some reason, it stayed that way." She grinned. "It does look pretty cool, though. Thanks!"
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"No problem," Ango replied bashfully. "I've never seen a person with silver hair that wasn't old like our doctor. It's really nice-looking."
"Oh yeah," Shiv said suddenly. "I just remembered. The doctor said he wanted to meet you sometime soon so's he could tell you some camp rules that the chief might not've mentioned. I was supposed to let you know, but I kinda forgot."
"Well, I know now." Taran sat back down on her chair. "What time does he want me to meet him?" She hoped it was later, rather than soon. She still had to finish her new arm, and test it, and really didn't want to be stuck with the old one for longer than she had to. She fingered the tools on her desk in thought.
Shiv shrugged. "I guess whenever you get time, as long as it's some time today. He might get kinda crabby if you wait too long, though. He's sorta…..like that."
"She means that he's usually angry about something," Ango said in a whisper. "He's a really good doctor, but I think he's also kinda scary sometimes."
"Perfect. My kind of person." Taran grinned, baring her teeth slightly. "He can wait for a little bit longer. I have to wire this part right here, and I'd prefer to do it before I'm grilled by a demon doctor with an attitude problem." She glanced at them. "You can watch, if you want, but you don't have to."
"I'll watch," Shiv said. "I wanna know how it works."
Ango looked tempted, but shook his head. "I'm gonna go find somethin' to eat, I'm starving. See you guys later!"
"Okay then. It was nice meeting you, Anglo," Taran said, waving slightly.
She set her metal arm down on the desk. She pointed to a red wire. "You see this? This is the wire that transmits signals from the arm into my body, into my brain and back. It's how I move it and get it to do what I want." She carefully picked it up. "But first, it has to be wired correctly to this," she pointed to a black wire, "Or else the entire thing blows up."
Shiv watched in fascination, then leaned back nervously when Taran mentioned things blowing up. But curiosity kept her from retreating too far. "Those wires look like the pictures of veins and arteries Doctor Brandon was showing me. Does your metal arm have feelings? Like, if you hold it over a fire, will it start to hurt? And does it have bones?"
"It doesn't have any bones, no. The entire metal structure of the arm itself is the bones." Taran shook her head. "And I've never managed to wire it into feeling things, which can be nice, especially when it's being held at an awkward position. Then again, that isn't always a good thing."
"Oh." Shiv tilted her head. "Really? When is it a bad thing? I don't get it."
"Have you ever wanted to be normal?" She asked wistfully. "Like, no fighting, or scars, or abnormalities? Have you ever wished that? My metal arm makes me stand out. I can't feel simple things like a loving touch, or soft cloth, and it can be depressing sometimes. I love this arm a lot, because it's more useful, but I still miss my old arm." She smiled ruefully. "After all, I did grow it."
Shiv fell silent thoughtfully, taking what Taran said to heart. "Well, I don't have a metal arm….but I guess I know what you mean. Sometimes I find pictures in old magazines of what people used to be like–y'know, how they used to live–and I kinda wish I could be more like them. More pretty 'n safe 'n happy. But you can't get that life if you're a bandit, unless you're really powerful." She shrugged awkwardly. "If it makes you feel better, I don't think you stand out much around here. Most people will prob'ly treat you like you're normal, because weird is normal for us."
Taran smiled sadly. "That's the thing. We've forgotten to be normal." She frowned, considering. "Well, what would it take to make us more powerful? The Fighter's Tournament gives the winner plenty of resources, so when I win, we could get richer. Do you think Boar-back would like that?"
Shiv nodded. "I mean, I think so. It's hard to guess what'll make him happy. But yeah, more loot and fame is always good for us. The other main thing that would make us really powerful is if we could make all the other tribes bow down to us, but it's not as easy as it sounds, otherwise we woulda done it already."
"I could help with that," she said, tapping her finger to her chin in thought. "But, well, I should probably wait to help you guys rise to fame until after the tournament. I should train first." She finished connecting the two wires she needed and stood, stretching. She hooked her old arm back on and turned to Shiv. "So, where's the doctor's?"
Shiv stood, pointing up the hill towards the small shed surrounded by makeshift pavilions. "That's his place. I'll go with you, I have to go see if he needs my help anyway. We just have to remember to knock before goin' inside, he's real strict about that."
"This doctor seems very strict," Taran said, her lips twitching in amusement. "Alright, then. Why did he need to see me again?" She asked, pulling on a jacket to cover her arm, and following Shiv out of the tent.
"Just to meet you, I guess, and usually he makes sure all new people understand the rules when they get here. He is strict, yeah. But before he came along, a lot more of us were getting sick 'n hurt or even dying way more often, so Chief says we have to do whatever the doctor wants. He's very smart and useful, so he gets away with being rude most of the time." She stopped in front of the shed and knocked on the door, then waited.
After a minute, there came a sharp, elderly-sounding voice from inside. "Who is it?"
"It's Shiv, with the new fighter you asked to see."
"About time. Come on in, but watch your step. I'm cleaning out my medicine chest and it's a total mess in here."
"I'm sure it smells bad, too," Taran mumbled under her breath, lips twitching. She followed Shiv into the room, prepared for some sort of creepy old guy, from the sound of the voice, and the descriptions from Shiv and Ango.
It was surprisingly well-lit inside the shed, between the retrofitted skylight and brace of oil lamps sitting on shelves around the room. And it was clean, too, as if most surfaces were swept or scrubbed every day. A simple curtain blocked off the back half of the room, and the front had been made into something like a doctor's office, with a cot on one side and a small desk and chair on the other. Sitting at the desk was a short, somewhat portly, gray-haired old man with a thick beard and a flowery sleeve-tattoo on one arm. He seemed much different from the other bandits somehow–maybe it was his neat clothes or the intelligent gleam in his eye. He didn't look up when the door opened, too busy examining the fine print on a medicine bottle with a magnifying glass. Various medical equipment was strewn across the floor, and Shiv had to stop in the doorway to avoid stepping on anything.
"So this is Kali, huh," Doctor Brandon said, still not looking at them. "I'm the doctor around here. How are you today?" He didn't sound like he really cared how she was doing, to be honest.
"I'm not dead," Taran said simply, immediately observing and studying his way of moving and speaking, with the clinical, detached voice, and the way he held his right arm, and how he stood. It was one of the things she did, copying how other people moved and spoke. It had come in handy in the says when she had been… well, more than she was now. "And I know you're the doctor around here. At least, I hope you are. I have very little patience for imposters."
"Mm-hmm. Good to know." Brandon sat back with a sigh and started packing away the bottles on his desk. "Shiv, wash your hands and help me clean this stuff up so you two don't have to hover over there. As for you, new kid, go ahead and take a seat on the cot if you want. Nice arm, by the way. Don't see many quality prosthetics around these days."
"Thanks. I made it." Taran walked over to sit down on the cot, which creaked slightly as she put her weight on it, although it held together pretty well. She pulled her jacket off, and her arm sparked. She sighed. She really needed to finish her new one quickly. She didn't want to be stuck with this one longer than she had to.
"Wow, you made it? So you're not just a fighter. Always nice to have someone with a diverse skillset on the team." Brandon accepted a pile of neatly folded rags form Shiv and place them on a shelf. He moved a bit stiffly when he walked, especially on his right foot, which seemed to have a slight limp. "So. I'm gonna grill you a bit on your general knowledge, so I know where we stand on things. You strike me as somebody who can read and write. Is that correct?"
"Thanks." Taran watched him with her strange silver eyes, studying his walk with the tiniest of frowns. "What? Oh, yeah, I can. That's actually how I learned to make my arm. I read my dad's machinery manuals." She brushed her hair from her face, biting back some questions that threatened to pop from her mouth.