Page 49 of Ethan
If wild wolves were still nearby, drawing their attention could put us all at risk.
Then, just ahead, a flicker of light caught my eye, sunlight glinting off something metallic.
I reached for Dean’s sleeve and gave it a quick tug, before moving toward it at a jog.
The glint turned out to be a pocketknife, its blade reflecting the faint light. A man waved it weakly, trying to get our attention.
We closed the distance fast. Ben and Nick were crammed into a cluster of rocks and overgrown bushes, half-hidden.
If not for the flash of steel, we would’ve passed right by. Relief and dread hit me at once.
Ben’s face was pale, scratches ran across his arms and legs, one ankle twisted at a harsh angle.
Nick looked worse. His calf was split open by a deep gash, the leg bent in a way that made my stomach turn.
How they’d managed to escape the wolves like this was a miracle.
Questions could wait. Right now, every second counted. Thunder rumbled faintly in the distance, the storm drawing closer.
Dean dropped to a crouch, unslinging his pack and offering them water. “Drink slow,” he urged, his tone surprisingly gentle.
I knelt by Nick, forcing my healer’s instincts to take over. His skin was clammy, breaths shallow.
The blood loss was dangerous, and the broken leg was a mess. The gash had to be closed first.
I pressed my palms over the wound, letting my energy flow.
Heat rushed down my arms into him. The skin knitted together slowly under my touch, but after only a few seconds my vision began to swim.
The energy slipping from me was weaker than it should’ve been, thin and sluggish.
I grit my teeth. “Come on, just a little more?—”
“Ethan?” Dean’s voice was low, urgent. “You okay?”
I leaned back, pressing the heel of my hand against my temple. “I-I don’t know what’s wrong.”
Frustration boiled up hot in my chest. I’d done longer treks before, treated worse injuries after, and never faltered like this.
Sure, every healer had their limits, but not like this. My energy was draining too fast, fading before it should.
Then it clicked. The sleepless night, the skipped meals. The fact that all I’d had today was a muffin at breakfast.
No wonder I felt like my body was short-circuiting.
Shame twisted in my gut. I turned toward the others, forcing the words out.
“I can’t fully heal both of you,” I admitted. “I’ve stopped most of the bleeding, but I don’t have enough left for everything else. I can only heal one more injury. We’ll need to carry someone back to the clinic.”
Ben looked like he wanted to argue, shoulders squared, but he caught himself. The flicker of anger in his eyes dimmed to something wearier.
I must’ve been paler than I thought, because Dean pressed another bottle of water into my hands without a word.
I drank, letting the cool liquid settle my throat. My fingers trembled slightly on the bottle, so I just nodded in thanks.
Nick shifted upright with a wince. “What are our options?”
I forced myself to meet his gaze. “I can close your wound, stop the bleeding entirely, or I can mend the bone. I can’t do both out here. If I fix the break, the cut stays open. But it’s too risky, infection could set in. If I heal the wound shut, your leg is still too fragile to walk on.”
