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Mary.

She’s breathless, dusty, hair falling out of her ponytail.

She’s beautiful.

“Finn. We need to talk.”

My heart jumps.

Then immediately crashes.

“About what?”

She exhales slowly.

“Finn, listen…”

A sharp scream cuts her off.

It comes from the training arena.

I grab my medical bag before I even think.

Mary takes off running, and I follow.

Chaos erupts inside the arena.

A man is lying on the ground surrounded by a crowd. A throwing hammer rests several feet away, its handle split in half.

“Move!” I shout, pushing through the people.

The man is conscious but groaning in pain.

His left arm bends at an angle arms should never bend.

Fracture.

I kneel and assess quickly.

No external bleeding. No visible bone through the skin.

Closed fracture. Probably radius and ulna.

“Don’t move,” I order. “What’s your name?”

“Dylan.”

“Okay, Dylan. I’m Finn. I’m a doctor. I’m going to take care of you.”

I pull out supplies.

Splint. Bandages. Pain medication.

Mary kneels beside me.

“What happened?” she asks the crowd.

“The hammer handle snapped during the throw,” someone answers. “He lost his balance.”