Once more, Rav had tried to conceal his injuries from others. He was wearing the standard light grey uniform of the Drin'far'ji, although it had a bedraggled look, like he had put it on using one hand instead of two. That was actually the truth of the matter. His left hand had swollen, a dark mark forming over the knuckles. He had broken bones before, and the pain that radiated from his arm told him that he'd damaged himself here as well.
He stepped through a doorway into a large room. The walls were lined with beds, mostly occupied with men and women of all ranks. Various people also sat in chairs, clearly waiting to be seen by one of the healers. Novices and Soldiers moved about on errands, fetching and sterilsing bandages. Accepted and Dedicated watched over the work of full Brothers and Sisters, or gathered herbs to make salves and unguents. Ravak took a seat amongst the broken, adding to their numbers, and waited for his opportunity to be seen.




