Blue-eyed Headhunter
Copyright© 2025 by Heel
Chapter 5: Shelter
They reached the hut near dusk, a lean-to of timber and stone built into a rise above a dry creekbed. The light bled red through the cracks in the boards, and the air smelled of smoke and horse.
The Barton brothers worked in silence at first. One built up the fire, another fetched water from a barrel, and the third cleared a bunk against the wall. They lifted Mia carefully, awkwardly, as if afraid she might splinter in their hands. Every jolt sent a shock through her legs, but she bit back the cries, tasting iron on her tongue.
They laid her down on a folded blanket. For a long moment no one spoke. Then the tallest muttered, “You’ll live if those legs don’t rot. Keep still.”
He knelt beside her, checking the splints he’d made earlier. The wood was rough, the bindings dusty. He replaced what was soaked through, wiped her brow with a rag dipped in the cool water. His touch was clumsy but no longer cruel.
The others followed his lead. One stirred beans on the fire and handed her a tin cup, steadying it against her lips so she could drink. The other wrapped a clean strip of cloth around her knee, working slowly so as not to jar her. Their talk had softened; the sharp laughter from before was gone.
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