As the splint came apart, Yu realised with a fresh wave of unease that it had only been a means for surface stabilisation. Beneath the torn trouser fabric there were more bindings. A proper splint.
And then Yu saw it.
One of the rods jutting from the wrappings, the one Bubs left untouched, was not metal. It was white. It was not a rod.
It was bone.
It was an open fracture, with the bone protruding through the knee, which was all torn flesh and smeared bandage.
Yu’s stomach lurched. He forced his gaze upward, to the face. By the look of the tairan’s build and features, it was a young female, by Yu’s estimation still a few years away from adulthood.
Bubs moved with what felt like controlled urgency. He stepped off the stool and pulled open a side drawer. From there he retrieved both a metal tray and a pair of shears; long blades with narrow, curved tips. He turned around, placed the tray on the bed and set his foot back on the stool —
A massive paw slammed across the cot, barring his way.
“You do what?” The borman’s voice was low and heavy now, thick with suspicion.
“Get your paw out of my way,” Bubs demanded. He had not flinched.
Yu, on the other wing, was all the way back at the door, and had counted thrice that it was seven steps between him and the borman.
“The leg needs access,” Bubs said. “Can’t move it. So I cut.”
“No!” the borman roared. “You cut leg, no!”
Yu flinched at the first word, and froze with the second. With the last, he wondered just how it was possible that a borman cared so much for a tairan.
“Don’t shout,” Bubs said coldly. “I cut her clothing.”
For a moment, the borman’s paw lingered, then he pulled his arm back.
With that, Bubs stepped up, set the shears against the torn fabric and began slicing up the seam of the girl’s trouser leg.
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