Caleb

Bruises and dried blood cover my chest and other parts of my body.

How did I get them?

The woman, who is wearing a long dark robe, which reminds me of clothes worn by witches in bad movies, pulls out a vial with a strange liquid from one of her many pockets.

“Here. Drink this.” She tries to give the vial to me, but there is something about her that makes me distrust her.

“I am good,” I politely refuse to drink whatever she is giving me.

She scoffs. “It’s a healing potion, not poison.” When I am still skeptical of her intentions, she adds, “It will accelerate your healing. And reduce your fatigue.”

Well, it is a healing potion. It is supposed to do that. But how does she know that I am tired? In fact, I am so tired I feel like passing out at any moment.

“Who are you?”

“A witch.”

I meant her name.

I look at the vial in her hand. ‘Should we trust her?’ I ask my wolf.

‘We should be wary. But if she is right about the potion, then we will be healed soon.’

My ribs hurt like hell, and I