I'm continuing where I left off with Lora's perspective. Please let me know what you think of it!

I rushed Aurora over to the kitchen table, which was the nearest thing to lie her on. I didn't have much that would qualify as medical supplies. That was because I didn't need them that much. I brushed my hands over the girl, trying to determine the source of the bleeding. She had numerous slash marks, bruises, and abrasions, not to mention a couple broken bones--she'd been in a pretty bad fight. Someone or something had clearly tangled with her. Her dress was ripped with multiple knife marks. Anger flared inside me--who could bear to inflict such harm on any living being, let alone a child? No matter what they thought that child had done? I felt helpless--so many wounds. I couldn't focus on them all at once. Kindra helped me, brought me a towel to keep her decent, then took her dress to the washing machine. As patiently as I could with my fear that any moment the girl might die, I pressed my hands over each wound. I could feel it draining my energy. I felt tired despite having just woken up. But wherever I concentrated and pressed my fingers, each wound slowly faded and melted back into soft, pale skin. I didn't know why this happened what had caused it, or even when it started. My earliest memory was of being three years old. I was at a large family gathering, at a picnic. I had never liked large crowds, so I played by myself at the base of a tree. In my game, I was all the characters and the rules went my way. No arguing, no fighting, no other people with their demands and crowding, and I wasn't required to speak unless I felt like speaking--that was how I liked it. I fell while running and skinned my knees badly. It hurt, but I didn't cry like most children would. As the adults gasped and converged on me, I was anxious to keep them away, to keep away their smothering concern and multiple scared words. "It's okay, it's okay, it's okay!" I kept saying. I put my hands on my knees and that stung, but not for long. My blood was smeared on my hands but it no longer came from my knees. "See?" I said. They were gasping, and my parents quickly moved to block me from view. My mother's voice hissed, "How can you do that? How long have you been able to do that?" She sounded angry and scared, and that made me anxious, uncomfortable. "I don't know," I said, and it was true. I didn't remember exactly when I stopped screaming whenever I got hurt,when injuries no longer became a problem. I couldn't explain how I did it--until then, it had never occurred to me that other people couldn't do what I could do. And until that day, I never thought to wonder why.

Finally, once Aurora was no longer losing blood and her bones were back in place, I put her in the bathtub to rinse the blood and muck off her. Detangling her long hair was a challenge. But she was no longer in immediate danger of dying. I could feel her life force restoring itself. I felt her healing, slowly but steadily. I can feel that kind of thing--how well or unwell a person is. How close they are to death, if I'm touching them. Afterwards, she lay on my squashy pink couch (given to me from my mother--I didn't have the heart to tell her that I've never liked pink all that much). Her head lay on a pillow, and I sat at her feet, carefully sewing up the rips in Aurora's dress and wincing whenever the needle jabbed my fingers. I stuck myself a lot, because I was thinking too hard to be careful of my fingers with the needle. I was now harboring and helping someone who was supposedly sick, dangerous. But I didn't want to turn her in. I couldn't do it. I wanted to help people, not hurt them, and besides, she was a child. I couldn't believe such a sweet little thing could be so malicious. I wanted to keep her safe, not expose her to those who meant her harm. Still, I remembered having been called naive. Was it possible that I was making a terrible mistake? It couldn't be, could it? No. She couldn't have been more than six or seven. I pulled her mended dress over her head, taking care not to hurt her thin arms getting them into the sleeves. I put more pillows over her head and a blanket over her. "Kindra, when she wakes up, she may be hungry. Would you please get some food ready? And water." Kindra scurried off to the kitchen with that odd, three-legged Mycelin gait I'd become accustomed to, and I grabbed the living room phone off the coffee table. I needed to call work. I would definitely not be going in today--I needed to stay with her, just in case. Aurora was still far from healthy, and I wanted to be with her when she woke.

Ok, so I'll finish this segment of the story next time. Sorry it's taking so long. I have a lot to do because I'm leaving again soon.