Page 98 of Thexan

“Always.”

“Then correction must use the existing structure.”

Tanner looked wary. “Meaning?”

Thexan pointed toward the drainage cut. “Shift the broken rail from the upper storage shed to reinforce this angle. Move the watch point six paces west, where the slope forces visibility instead of concealing approach. The wire is insufficient, but if anchored lower, it will catch movement before it reaches the fence.”

One of the men frowned. “That sounds like a lot of work.”

“Yes,” Thexan said.

The man opened his mouth, then apparently thought better of it.

Tanner studied the fence, then the slope, then Thexan. “He’s right.”

“I know,” Thexan said.

Tanner stared at him.

I coughed into my hand.

A few of the nearby workers exchanged looks, and this time the ripple that moved through them was unmistakably amusement. Not full acceptance, but another small crack in the wall of fear.

Then the post nearest Thexan shifted.

It happened fast. The ground beneath it, loosened by rain and poor support, gave way as one of the workers leaned his weight against the rail. The wood snapped outward, dragging wire with it, and the man stumbled toward the drainage cut before anyone close enough could catch him.

Thexan moved.

There was no flash of weaponry, no dramatic burst of force. One moment he stood beside the fence, and the next his hand had closed around the worker’s arm, stopping his fall with controlled strength that looked almost effortless. The wire snapped back against Thexan’s side, catching near the bandage beneath his clothing, but he did not release the man until both feet were secure again.

The yard went still.

The worker stared at him, pale and breathing hard.

Thexan let him go only when he was steady. “You are uninjured?”

The man swallowed. “Yeah. I think so.”

“Do not place full weight on compromised support.”

That startled a shaky laugh out of him. “I’ll remember that.”

I was already crossing the distance, my attention on Thexan’s side. “You tore it open again.”

“No.”

“Don’t answer before I look.”

He turned toward me without argument, which probably told me all I needed to know.

I checked quickly, ignoring the people pretending not to watch. The wire had scraped through his outer layer and pulled at the edge of the bandage, but the wound itself had held.

I let out a breath. “You got lucky.”

“No,” he said. “I calculated the movement.”

I looked up at him. “You got lucky.”