I grip the injury with shaking hands, terrified of making it worse, terrified of pulling anything loose. If I can forge a weapon out of nothing, surely… surely I can call on the same power now.
“Let’s just… see if it’s there,” I whisper to myself more than anyone.
My trembling fingers press to her skin. I pull everything inside me forward—every scrap of energy, every shred of hope.
Nothing.
Come on.
Please.
This has to work.
I push harder, until my head throbs, until I can taste metal at the back of my throat.
Still nothing.
“Asha, it’s not working,” River says quietly.
“Don’t you think I know that?” I snap, louder and sharper than I meant. The words crack into the open air, brittle and raw, and his expression falls.
“Sorry,” I murmur. “I just… she needs a healer right now.”
I breathe, guilt burning my throat. I rest my palms on my knees to steady myself. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” River says gently. He adjusts Nala against his leg, brushing hair from her forehead. “There has to be something we can do.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting the pounding in my skull, fighting the helplessness clawing its way up my spine.
Think, Asha.
Think.
For once in this Gods-forsaken forest, do something right.
“Ryder—do you still have your blindfold?” My voice trembles, but he doesn’t question it. He digs into his pockets with quick, frantic movements.
“Here.” He hands me the black handkerchief, and I take it, noticing the dark streaks of Nala’s blood smeared across his hands.
“Hold her up,” I say, already moving. River shifts behind her, propping her head on his knees, his breath coming fast with worry.
I wrap the fabric high on her thigh, my fingers shaking, tightening the makeshift tourniquet. Blood flow slows, but not enough. My stomach twists.
“I can’t pull the leg out—she’ll bleed out. I need to… snap it so I can wrap it properly.” The words taste like metal in my mouth. I slide my hands around her leg, bracing myself, bracingher, bracing for the sound.
My fingers hesitate.
What if I make it worse?
What if this is the wrong choice—
Ryder kneels beside me, eyes steady despite the subtle fear burning behind them. He places his hand lightly over mine—a brief, grounding touch.
“We’ll do it together,” he says.
I nod.
Then, on a silent count, we break the leg.
