First Grade Zephyr Beast

Brienne knelt in the makeshift triage area, the scent of herbs and blood mingling in the air as she carefully applied drops of healing potion to the wounds of the injured. Her hands moved with a practiced precision, but her mind was a whirlwind of confusion.

She had never bothered to attend to the wounds of ordinary humans before. As a member of the younger generation with a respected status among her relatives, she had always felt disdain for those beneath her—those she deemed powerless.

Yet here she was, tending to the injuries of mortals, her heart heavy with an emotion she couldn't quite name. The soft whimpers of the wounded filled her ears, and the sight of their pain stirred something deep within her. She was befuddled as to why she was doing this; it felt as if her body was moving on its own.