Time stretches and Jensen gets lost in his thoughts. He’s on the way to see a patient in a neighboring village—a woman who developed an infection after she cut herself while cooking. Jensen treated the infection when he first saw her, but now it’s time to follow up and make sure she healed properly. Normally, he would leave Boe at home with Fredrik, but it’s harvest season, and Fredrik will be busy in the fields until sunset. Easier for Jensen to take Boe along on an adventure for the day. And who knows? Maybe Boe will be matched as a Healer at his kenning and the experience will prove useful.

Boe yawns. “How much farther, Papa?”

“Not too much longer now,” Jensen says. “We should be there before dark.”

Boe looks up at the bright blue sky. “That seems like a lot farther.”

Jensen chuckles. “We’ll stop in a bit so we can stretch and eat a little something. How does that sound?”

Boe makes a noise of agreement and scrubs at his eyes. Soon he’s slumped against Jensen, fast asleep.

Jensen doesn’t see the rabbit—a streak of white, racing across the open field next to the trail, a fox in pursuit. The rabbit races across the path in front of the horse, and the horse spooks. Jensen tries to calm her, pats her neck, speaks softly.

And it might have worked if Boe hadn’t startled from sleep, if he hadn’t cried out.

But the sudden sound makes the horse rear back. Boe slides to one side, and Jensen scrambles to steady him. He had to loosen his grip on the boy—just a bit—to soothe the horse, but it was too much.

It all happens in a flash. Boe slipping sideways, falling, shouting. And then the horse coming down hard on Boe’s leg. Jensen hears the crack of his son’s femur, and his blood runs cold.

He scrabbles from the horse, cradles his son in his arms. “You’re all right,” he says. “I’ve got you.”

Boe is screaming, a desperate, piercing wail. Blood soaks his pants. Jensen lays him gently on the ground, rips the fabric away, and assesses the wound. An open fracture. A fragment of Boe’s femur has punctured the skin. It’s the most dangerous kind of break.

“Help me, Papa,” Boe cries. “Please.”

“Shhh,” Jensen says, “I will, son. I will.”

Jensen presses his fingers to the wound, lets magic flow through him until he can see clearly inside Boe’s leg—to the tendons, ligaments, and muscles beneath the skin. And then he curses under his breath. The sharp bone has sliced through a blood vessel. The bleeding is uncontrolled. He’ll never make it to a Mending Healer in time.

The bone needs to be set here—on this rocky path at dusk; there isn’t time for anything else.