Thorn in the West
Copyright© 2025 by Heel
Chapter 10: Crutches and Cunning
The desert sun had begun its slow descent, casting long shadows across the jagged rocks and dust-swept canyons. Mika Thorn sat on a flat boulder, her left leg secured in the crude splint the teacher had fashioned, every nerve still screaming, every muscle trembling with the memory of the fall. The desert stretched vast and empty around them, silent except for the soft scrape of wind over stone and the faint whinny of Emberline.
The teacher knelt beside her, examining the splint with the same meticulous calm that had made her both infuriated and grudgingly grateful. With a few careful tugs, he tested the stability of her leg, then stepped aside to retrieve a pair of long, sturdy branches.
“Now, this,” he said with a smirk, “is going to allow you to walk without collapsing entirely. Not that you’ll move fast, mind you, but speed isn’t the lesson today.”
Mika watched, jaw tight, as he trimmed the branches to size with precise cuts, shaping them into crude crutches. He lifted her cautiously and positioned them under her arms, testing their balance, adjusting the angle so that her weight rested safely on her upper body, sparing the fractured leg from any undue pressure.
“Careful,” he added, voice teasing as always, “this isn’t a luxury. It’s a lifeline. One false move, and we’re back to lying in the sand together. And I’d hate to take the blame for that.”
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