Taken in Turns
Copyright© 2026 by Heel
Chapter 5: The Mending
The night after the fall stretched longer than any of them had known.
Pain came in waves for Nita—deep, grinding, impossible to escape. It wasn’t sharp all the time, but heavy, constant, like something inside her had come loose and refused to settle back into place. Every small shift sent it flaring again, stealing her breath, leaving her pale and trembling.
They did not leave her side.
Thomas kept watch closest, his steady presence the only thing that held order in the room. He made sure she stayed still, adjusted what little could be adjusted, and spoke when needed—calm, grounded, never wasting words.
Elijah tried to keep the air from turning too heavy. He fetched water, blankets, anything that might ease her even a little. But the usual lightness in him was gone, replaced by a quiet worry he couldn’t quite hide.
Samuel ... Samuel struggled the most.
He moved too much, paced too often, sat beside her only to stand again moments later. Every sound she made pulled something tight in his chest. Helplessness didn’t sit well with him, and there was nothing he could fight here, nothing he could fix with his hands.
By morning, it was clear.
They needed a doctor.
Thomas and Elijah rode out at first light.
The nearest town with a proper doctor lay far beyond the hills, a hard ride over uneven ground. They pushed the horses hard, not recklessly—but close enough. Dust followed them the whole way, trailing like urgency made visible.
Samuel stayed behind.
He sat beside Nita for most of the day, quieter than usual, watching her carefully. When the pain came strong, he steadied her as best he could, letting her grip his arm, his hand, anything she needed.
“You’re still here,” she murmured once, her voice thin with exhaustion.
He gave a faint, humorless smile. “Nowhere else I’d be.”
It was near dusk when they returned.
And with them—
the doctor.
He was an older man, worn by travel and years of practice, his movements efficient and without wasted motion. He didn’t ask many questions at first. Just listened, observed, and then knelt beside Nita with a focused, practiced calm.
“Let’s have a look,” he said.
The examination was careful—but it still hurt.
Even the smallest adjustments sent pain through her, sharp enough to draw breathless gasps. The doctor worked slowly, speaking just enough to warn her, but not enough to soften what had to be done.
Thomas stood close, arms crossed tight, watching every movement.
Elijah stayed back, jaw clenched.
Samuel didn’t move at all.
After a long moment, the doctor leaned back slightly, exhaling through his nose.
“Pelvis fracture,” he said. “Clean, but serious.”
No one spoke.
“She’ll live,” he added. “But she’ll need time. And care.”
“How long?” Thomas asked.
“Months,” the doctor replied plainly. “Not weeks.”
That landed heavy.
Setting it properly was the hardest part.
“We have to align it,” the doctor said. “If it heals wrong, she may never walk right again.”
Nita closed her eyes briefly.
“Do it,” she said.
The doctor nodded.
“Hold her steady.”
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