Bran hesitated, torn, and Summer took that time to lean forward and lick a wet stripe against her cheek. He hadn't realized until now that he'd be the broken boy here, too, just as if he'd never gone north at all. Crippled, broken, useless. For a moment he hated himself so much he could choke.

He nodded, then, and asked quietly. "Could you have? Could you have fixed them?"