For a few moments, no one moved.
The road still bore the marks of the struggle. Deep gouges crossed the packed earth, broken crates lay scattered around the shattered wagon, and the dead Jursen rested where it had fallen, its blood darkening the dust beneath it.
Shion was the first to stir. She crossed to the remains of the wagon and crouched beside one of the wheels, her fingers tracing the cracked timber before moving to the axle. The break was ugly, though not beyond saving. She looked up.
"Do you have spare boards?"
The nearest merchant blinked, pulled from the relief that had followed the fight. "...Boards?"
"And rope."
"I... yes. Somewhere."
"Bring both."
The merchant hurried toward one of the scattered crates without another question.
Eren watched Shion before returning to the cargo strewn across the road. Bolts of cloth, sealed crates, sacks of grain, and bundles wrapped in oilskin had been thrown from the wagon when the Jursens struck. She knelt beside the nearest crate, brushing dirt from the lid before carrying it back.
Several merchants joined her.
"Careful with that one."
"The bottles are inside."
"This sack goes beneath the canvas."
Within minutes, the road became a worksite. The merchants returned carrying a bundle of weathered planks, coils of rope, and a handful of nails.
Shion inspected the timber. "It'll do."
One of the merchants hesitated. "...Can you repair wagons as well?"
"I can make it reach the next town."
It wasn't an impressive promise, but it was honest. She removed the shattered section of the axle, trimmed one of the boards with an old saw the merchants provided, and bound the splint around the damaged beam. The repair looked inelegant, held together by rope pulled so taut the fibers creaked, yet when she rocked the wagon, the axle remained in place.
"It won't like potholes," she said, stepping back. "Avoid them."
The merchant nodded. "We certainly shall."
A short distance away, another merchant struggled with the surviving horse. The animal refused to stand still. Its ears lay flat, and every attempt to approach the traces sent it backing away with frightened snorts.
"The other one's gone," one of them muttered, glancing toward the horse that lay where a Jursen had caught it. "Poor thing never had a chance."
"No use forcing this one," Shion said. "Give it time."
The man lowered the reins with reluctance. By then, Eren had stacked the last of the cargo back onto the wagon.
Shion brushed the dust from her hands. "Everything's ready."
The merchants gathered around Eren.
"Miss, we still haven't thanked you."
"You saved every one of us."
"There must be something we can offer."
Before Eren could answer, Shion looked toward the dead Jursen. "Transport."
The merchants followed her gaze.
"The carcass."
One scratched his beard. "You want... that?"
"It shouldn't be left here."
Another merchant frowned. "It'll fetch a respectable price."
"The hide alone," another agreed.
The oldest among them studied the wagon before shaking his head. "I don't object." He glanced toward the frightened horse. "But I don't think we can manage it."
Shion looked at him. "The wagon is already carrying our cargo. One horse won't pull both."
"It doesn't have to."
The merchant looked confused.
Shion walked toward the Jursen. She crouched low, digging her fingers beneath the thick, cold plates of its shoulder. For an instant, nothing happened. Shion set her feet, her jaw tightening as she forced her exhausted, bruised shoulders to brace against the dead weight. A low, grit-toothed grunt escaped her throat as she straightened.
The carcass rose from the ground, the weight forced her shoulders forward. The merchants fell silent, backing away as she dragged the beast across the road with heavy, deliberate steps, eventually hoisting it to settle across the rear of the wagon. The timber groaned violently beneath the added weight.
Her breathing was loud and shallow as she wiped her bloody palms on her trousers. Without pausing to rest, she stepped to the front of the vehicle, examined the frightened horse, and grasped the cold, empty wooden shafts where the second horse should have stood.
"I'll pull."
The merchants stared. "...Miss..."
"It'll be easier for the horse."
She leaned forward. The wagon resisted at first. The repaired axle creaked, and the wheels dug into the road before turning. Once they did, the strain eased into a steady pull.
The surviving horse watched Shion strain against the shafts. Its ears remained pinned back, its breathing uneven. For several uncertain steps it merely followed, until at last it lowered its head and leaned into the harness once more.
Eren fell into step beside the wagon. "You could've asked me to help pull."
"You are," Shion said, her voice tight with the effort of the harness.
Eren glanced at her, then down at the crude splint.
"Keep your hand on the frame," Shion said, not looking back. "Watch the sway of the cargo. If the axle shifts, we'll lose the wheel entirely."
Understanding, Eren placed her palm against the rough wood of the wagon bed. She could feel the vibration of the road telegraphing through the splintered timber, adjusting her own weight to steady the frame whenever the carriage tilted toward a rut.
"I'll keep it steady," Eren said quiet, her grip tightening. "Keep us moving."
Shion gave a single, short nod, her boots digging into the dirt as she dragged the weight forward.
Behind them, the merchants hurried to keep pace, still exchanging bewildered glances whenever they looked toward the front of the wagon.