Page 11 of Alien Healer's Touch

Kavan's eyes widened slightly. "Interesting. Your medical intuition shapes how the markings function."

"Like Rivera's material sensing or Mirelle's danger perception," I realized. "The markings are amplifying my existing medical talents, not creating new ones."

I studied the poisonous plant with newfound appreciation. "I've always had good instincts about treatments, even back on the Seraphyne. Other doctors would run multiple tests while I'd just... know what was wrong somehow. My supervisor called it 'uncanny diagnostic intuition.'"

"Now enhanced a hundredfold," Kavan observed. "Your markings aren't changing who you are, Selene. They're revealing what was always there."

Instead of answering, Kavan guided me toward another patch of vegetation—low-growing plants with broad, flat leaves in deep purple.

"These are safe. Try these instead."

This time when I reached out, he didn't stop me. His hand hovered near mine, ready to intervene. As my fingers grazed the leaves, my markings brightened again, but differently—pulsing in a steady rhythm rather than flaring.

"I think I understand now," I murmured. "They're not giving me new abilities. They're enhancing what I already know."

Kavan stayed silent, letting me work through the realization.

"I know how to spot patterns in symptoms, how to diagnose, how to heal. But these markings—they're amplifying that knowledge. Making connections I wouldn't consciously make."

"Your intuition becomes sharper," Kavan offered.

"Exactly." I touched another plant, watching my markings respond with a different pattern. "Like right now—I feel like this one might help with respiratory distress."

"Breath-ease," Kavan confirmed. "And this ithara for fever reduction... These are the precise components described in the oldest texts for combating Luraxi Fever." He looked at me, his golden eyes serious. "Your initial assessment seems correct, Selene. The symptoms you described, the ghost dreams... it matches."

I thought of the patients lying in Hammond's makeshift medical bay, their skin mottled with those distinctive veins. "How do we treat it?"

"With care and patience," he said, moving to a new cluster of plants. "These must be harvested in the right order and combined properly."

For the next hour, we worked side by side. When I reached for the wrong plant, Kavan redirected me, sometimes guiding my hands with his own. Each time our skin touched, my markings responded, sending waves of sensation up my arms. I focused on the task, not on how his touch affected me.

"The roots must be cleaned, but not washed," he instructed, demonstrating with deft movements. "Rinsing removes essential oils."

I mimicked his technique, using a soft cloth to dust away soil while preserving the plant's properties. "Like this?"

"Yes." His approval warmed me more than it should have.

"How long will the medicine take to work?" I asked, thinking of how quickly the disease progressed.

"If administered early, improvement begins within hours. Complete recovery takes several days." He crushed some leaves between his fingers, releasing a sharp, minty scent. "But those who have progressed to late stages..."

"We have at least three in critical condition," I said, remembering Phillips' drawn face as he'd described the worst cases. "Will it help them?"

Kavan didn't sugarcoat it. "Perhaps. If their body has strength remaining to fight."

I appreciated his honesty. Too many times I'd seen doctors offer false hope—it never truly helped anyone.

As we worked, I found myself comparing Kavan to Lazrin. Both Nyxari males, both tall and powerful, but where Lazrin radiated danger, Kavan emanated calm assurance. His hands, capable of crushing these delicate plants, moved with extraordinary restraint.

"You're different from the warriors," I observed, immediately regretting my bluntness.

"Different how?" No offense colored his tone, only curiosity.

"You have the same strength, but you use it... differently."

He nodded as if this made perfect sense. "Warriors channel strength outward, for protection. Healers learn to channel it inward, for precision."

I remembered how Lazrin moved—economical, alert, always ready for threat. Kavan shared that economy of movement but with a different purpose.

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