4338.207 · July 26, 2018 AD
No Ice for the Doctor
The camp's only doctor should probably avoid getting elbowed in the jaw—especially when there's no ice, no clinic, and the man who hit her wasn't even aiming. Kain came through the Portal looking for his uncle. Glenda was cataloguing supplies. Somewhere between the split knuckles and the reluctant handshake, Clivilius gained a construction expert who never applied for the job, and its doctor learned that first impressions here leave bruises.
You don't get to pick who the Portal sends. You only get to choose how you meet them.
Glenda is taking inventory near the dormant threshold when the colours erupt—violet bleeding into gold, the shimmering surface suddenly alive with purpose. A figure tumbles through, landing hard in the red-brown dust, and she knows immediately that this arrival will be different. The young man is compact, muscular, and radiating fury like heat from scorched stone.
Kain doesn't know where he is. Doesn't know why Luke pushed him. Doesn't know what Clivilius means or why a voice in his head welcomed him to a place that shouldn't exist. What he knows is that his pregnant fiancée is on the other side of that swirling light, and the man who put him here has just stepped through behind him.
The confrontation escalates faster than anyone can contain it. Shoves become tackles. A wild swing splits knuckles on barren earth. Glenda steps in to intervene and catches an elbow to the jaw—an accident, but the pain blooms regardless. Luke pins Kain to the ground, and for a long moment, violence hangs suspended in the air like dust after a storm.
Then a hand extends. A grip is accepted. Something shifts.
Glenda studies the newcomer with a doctor's eye and a strategist's mind. He's young, strong, clearly skilled with his hands. The rage that drove him moments ago has already begun to transform into something more complex—grief, perhaps, or the first stirrings of acceptance. Luke names him construction expert before Kain can finish introducing himself, assigning an identity whether it's wanted or not.
The settlement has grown by one. The doctor has a bruise forming on her jaw. And somewhere in the distance, a familiar bark pierces the stillness—followed by Paul's cry for help, sending them all running toward whatever crisis waits.
First impressions in Clivilius rarely go smoothly. But sometimes, the roughest arrivals forge the strongest foundations.
