Hettie!”
She slowly pushed up as Abby tugged on her arm. Her sister’s violet eyes searched her over, her hands darting over her hair and face in a gesture that instantly reminded her of their mother. Abigail cupped her cheeks and smiled tearfully. “I thought you were lost.”
“I’d never leave you.” She clasped her sister’s small, dirty hands. “You okay?”
Abby sucked in her lip. She glanced down at her mangled thumb, and Hettie knew her hunger hadn’t abated, but she was too cautious, too shy, to ask for a feeding. “Your hand…”
“It’s all right.”
“Let me.” Ling kneeled next to her and gently took her hand.
“We’ve got healers.” Walker gruffly intervened, Beatrice at his side. She cast her son an arch look before inspecting Hettie’s hand.
“It’s broken. Easy enough to set.” Without warning,
