The man tied beside the road was genuinely hurt. That did not make the place safe.
Sera saw him first on the morning of day 1301, beyond a bend where the carrier’s driver had slowed for wet paving. He sat against a low timber frame with one wrist bound above his head. Blood had dried at his hairline. His other hand lay open beside an empty water bottle.
“Stop here,” Tavin told the driver.
The carrier stopped outside the frame’s approach. Sera remained beside the wagon while Iven and Kesh looked at the ground. Nobody asked her to leave an injured person because an ambush was possible. Nobody required her to walk into one to prove she cared.
The frame’s front beam stood too high for a roadside shelter. Its lower member had been covered with loose straw, though rain had washed the surrounding road clean. A thin ordinary line crossed from the beam to an old culvert. Another led uphill behind the injured man’s shoulder.
Kesh pointed to it. “Three directions. Not a man’s single restraint.”
The man turned his head. “Don’t put your arm through.”
Iven stopped where he was. His left graft remained clear of the timber.
