I adjusted my grip, angling the forceps to get purchase on the slick bullet without tearing through more muscle. "You were nearby?"
"Close enough." Clipped. Bitter. "I ran. Found him in the grass, bleeding."
My gaze flicked to the wall clock. 2:17 AM. Something about that nagged at me, a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit.
"Wait," I said, working the forceps deeper with painstaking care. "Do Orc children normally play outside at two in the morning?"
For the first time since he'd crashed through my doors, something shifted in Ruka's expression. The corner of his mouth twitched—not quite a smile, but the ghost of one. Almost human, if humans had tusks.
"Orc children are not like human children," he said, and beneath the gravel I caught a thread of something warmer. Pride, maybe. "We are... nocturnal, by nature."
"Oh." Heat crept up my neck. Of course. How had I not known that? "So he was just out playing at a normal time. For Orcs."
"Yes. The coolest hours, when the sun sleeps." His eyes drifted back to Ardin's pale face. "The safest time. Or so I thought."
The forceps slipped. Damn it. I repositioned, forcing my hands to remain steady even as my pulse hammered. "Did you see who shot him?"
"No. But there have been hunters in the area." He spat the word like poison. "They were reported three days ago, by my war chief, near the treaty line."
I finally managed to lock the forceps around the bullet, feeling it shift in the tissue. Slowly now. Carefully. "You think they shot him on purpose?"
"I don't know." The admission seemed to physically pain him. "The treaty line runs through the valley. Ardin knows not to cross it. But he's only six summers. Children forget."
The bullet came free with a wet, sucking sound that made Tammy grimace beside me. I dropped it into the metal tray where it landed with a sharpclink—silver. My stomach twisted. Silver bullets weren't exactly standard issue at yourlocal sporting goods store. You had towantthem. Had to seek them out with purpose.
The wound immediately began bleeding more freely, dark blood welling up fast. I reached for gauze, packing the wound even as my mind raced.
"So he might have crossed the treaty line," I said, applying pressure. "And someone saw an Orc child and just... fired?"
Ruka's massive hands tightened on Ardin's shoulders—not enough to hurt, but enough that I saw the knuckles pale beneath green skin. "Or they saw an Orc child playing and didn't care which side of the line he was on."
The words settled between us like a rock dropping into water, ripples of implication spreading outward. I didn't want to examine them too closely. Not while this child's blood was still warm on my hands.
"Either way," I said, my voice steadier than I felt, "he's going to be okay." I reached for the suture kit, fingers moving with the muscle memory of a thousand similar motions. "The bullet's out. No major damage to organs or arteries. He'll need antibiotics and rest, but he'll heal."
I nodded to Tammy, who was already prepping an IV drip—broad-spectrum antibiotics and a carefully calculated dose of painkillers. We'd have to monitor how his system processed them, but it was better than letting him wake up in agony.
For the first time since Ruka had crashed through those doors, something in his expression shifted. The rigid set of his jaw eased. His shoulders dropped half an inch. Those amber eyes—still fixed on his son—softened at the edges.
"Thank you," he said, and the words sounded like they'd been pulled from somewhere deep in his chest, raw and genuine.
I met his gaze as I threaded the first suture. Those eyes turned to me now, intense and unreadable, catching the fluorescent light like molten gold. Heat crawled up my spine,and I forced myself to look back down at my work before he could see the flush spreading across my cheeks.
"Just doing my job," I managed, focusing on the needle piercing flesh, the familiar rhythm of close and tie, close and tie.
I worked methodically, closing the wound with careful, even stitches. Most physicians used medical staples, but without knowledge of how those might react with Orc skin, I thought catgut was the best bet. My hands were steady despite the awareness prickling along my skin—the knowledge that Ruka watched every movement, tracking each pass of the needle through Ardin's flesh. The boy remained still under the sedation, his breathing deep and even.
"There." I tied off the final suture with a practiced twist, then cleaned the area one more time before reaching for a sterile bandage. My fingers worked gently, smoothing the edges down against Ardin's skin. "All done."
Tammy materialized at my elbow like she always did, fresh gauze and medical tape already in hand. We moved in synchrony, securing the dressing with the kind of efficiency that came from working together through countless late-night emergencies. The wrap needed to be snug enough to stay put, but not so tight it would restrict his breathing.
"Can I get you some coffee?" Tammy offered, her voice carefully neutral as she glanced at Ruka. "It might be a while before he wakes up."
Ruka's gaze flicked toward the doorway, where the ancient coffee pot sat on its perpetually scorched burner. His nose wrinkled—just slightly, but enough that I caught it. "No. Thank you."
The look on his face suggested she'd offered him a cup of battery acid. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling as I turned away, busying myself with disposing of the used supplies in the Sharps container.
"We'll let him rest now," I said, peeling off my gloves with a snap. "The painkillers will keep him comfortable for a good while. Someone will check on him every fifteen minutes."