CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Inside the WreckageHana asked Rawhiti to check the mare’s hind legs and he did it from a distance, a frown etched into his regal features. “Run your hand over her fetlock,” he ordered, squinting in the sunshine and folding his arms. “Now look at your fingers. Can you see blood?”
“No.” Hana peered at her fingers and lifted her palm closer to her face.
Rawhiti scoffed. “If you need to look that hard then she’s fine.”
Hana rose, her fingers meeting the snout pushed into her hand. “But what about tendons and muscles? What if she’s torn something?”
“Then I’ll join the queue of guys willing to put a bolt through her brain,” he hissed. Unfolding his arms, he stalked away. Logan’s grey gelding nosed at loose strands of hay and breathed out a sigh. Rawhiti patted the speckled r
