You’re Paying A Small Price

“Juicy, fresh, and full of marrow,” the butcher held up the glistening bone. “You’re paying a small price for such premium bone.”

A gouge marred the pearly surface, but time was vital. Edith counted out coins. “I will require the tendon, as well.”

In the small room, a young man lay unconscious atop the scarred wooden table, his leg splayed open, cut from knee to groin. An older man with shaggy muttonchops hunched over him in a blood-stained apron. He made an impatient gesture to Edith then returned to picking bone shards from the meat of the leg.

Edith dutifully unwrapped the package and watched as the physician performed the unholy ritual of attaching a beast’s bone in place of a prince’s.

A full night passed under their watch before the prince awoke.

“Bone meal broth, quickly.”

Edith scurried to obey.

In the kitchen, a hog’s head sat upon a serving board with a golden apple wedged between its jaws. Could it be the same beast? Edith’s stomach growled and she pocketed two apples. Neither she nor her master had eaten since the prince returned with a shattered leg.

Returning, Edith whispered. “What chance of this bone magic working?”

“Not magic,” her master corrected, “Science, and we shall see. If it does we are lauded as master physicians. If not, we amputate the leg, and they, our heads.”

Remembering the hog’s grimace, Edith bit into her apple. “Then I shall pray for a little magic to go with your science.”

Photo by Madie Hamilton