Wind by Naomi kritzer(6)

Dagmar closed the door against the gust of damp wind, then made a pallet near her fire, and directed the shepherds to lay the woman on it. “Stay,” she said to them, because she would need to set the woman’s leg before splinting it, and might need their help to hold her still.
The woman opened her eyes and looked at Dagmar. “You don’t need their help,” she said. “You’re thinking like a midwife. Use your powers instead of your hands; it doesn’t have to hurt.”
“I have never learned that skill,” Dagmar admitted, ashamed.

“Just try.”
Dagmar laid her hands on the woman’s leg, and then, abashed, set them in her lap and glared fiercely at the painful, unkind angle. As if of their own accord, the bones straightened into place so she could bind them. The woman broke into a sweat, but did not cry out. “You see?” she said, a bit weakly, as Dagmar bound her leg to the splint. “I was right.”
Dagmar nodded at the shepherds, and they went back to their flocks. She brought a quilt to cover the woman with. The strange woman watched Dagmar as she brewed a tisane for her and spooned up a bit of porridge.