MasukRowan's POVI left Mira sleeping and returned to the main hall shortly after dawn, understanding the village still required considerable attention regardless of how badly I wanted to remain beside her.Wren met me near the entrance, exhaustion still evident in her own posture, though something considerably more hopeful had settled into her expression overnight."No new cases since midnight," she reported. "And every patient your companion treated has stayed stable. I've never seen anything like what she did last night.""How many total?""Eighteen, before she collapsed." Wren shook her head slowly, genuine wonder mixing with obvious professional curiosity. "I've practiced healing for thirty years. I've never witnessed anything close to what she managed in a single night."I nodded, understanding the weight of that assessment even as concern for Mira's continued recovery lingered heavy in my chest.The practical work of the following hours kept me steadily occupied. Organizing supplies
Mira's POVI lost track of how many hands I held that night, how many fevers I felt cool beneath my palms, how many parents wept with relief as their children's breathing steadied under my touch.The work consumed me completely, the way it always did once I began, each patient pulling my attention entirely away from anything beyond the immediate task of easing their suffering. I moved from cot to cot, Maren directing me toward whoever needed help most urgently, and somewhere around midnight I noticed, distantly, that my hands had begun trembling slightly between patients.I ignored it. There were still too many people waiting.By the time I reached the far end of the hall, exhaustion had settled deep into my bones in a way I had never properly experienced before, not even during the accelerated bond's most demanding early weeks. Every healing drew something out of me now, a cost I had not fully appreciated until tonight, when the sheer volume of affected villagers had pushed my abilit
Rowan's POVHealer Wren met us at the gathering hall's entrance, her hands stained dark from whatever tinctures she had been mixing all morning, exhaustion carved deep into every line of her face."Thirty four now," she said, not bothering with greetings. "Two more since the messenger left for Blackwood.""Show me the pattern," I said.She led us inside, where rows of cots lined the hall's floor, villagers young and old lying beneath damp cloths, some conscious and shaking, others still and pale in ways that made my stomach tighten with each passing bed. Mira moved immediately toward the nearest child, already reaching for a small trembling hand, and I forced myself to keep walking, trusting her instincts the way I had promised myself I would.Wren stopped beside a cot near the hall's center, gesturing toward the patient there, an older wolf named Garrick who I recognized vaguely from trade negotiations years earlier."Look at his arm," Wren said.I crouched beside the bed and studie
Mira's POVThe messenger arrived breathless, having apparently run most of the distance from the outlying village of Thornhollow, and the urgency in his voice pulled both Elias and Rowan from their morning meeting before he had even finished delivering his message properly."Sickness," he managed, still catching his breath. "It's spreading fast. Humans and wolves both, though it seems to affect each differently. We've lost three already, and Healer Wren says she's never seen anything like it."Rowan's expression sharpened immediately, the particular focused alertness I recognized from every genuine crisis we had faced together."How many are affected in total?" he asked."At least thirty, last count. Growing by the hour."I found myself, standing nearby, already thinking through what supplies the infirmary might need to properly assist, the instinct considerably more automatic now than it would have been months earlier, before weeks spent working alongside Maren had properly grounded
Rowan's POVMira found me two evenings later, settling onto the same garden bench without needing to ask whether I intended to join her, the particular ease between us now assumed rather than uncertain."Can I tell you something?" she said, echoing my own question from days earlier, and I understood, from the deliberate way she offered it, that she had been considering this conversation for a while."Always."She was quiet for a moment, gathering herself the same way I had before sharing my own difficult history, and I waited patiently, understanding this particular vulnerability would arrive at whatever pace she needed."I don't remember my parents at all," she said finally. "Not even fragments. Grandma always told me they died when I was very young, though she was careful about the details, the same particular vagueness I've since realized probably hid considerably more than simple loss."I remained quiet, giving her the space to continue."Growing up without knowing them left a spe
Mira's POVThe journals eventually reached a point where I needed to stop, not because I had exhausted the collection, but because my mind had grown too crowded with accumulated fragments to properly absorb anything further without some kind of pause. Rowan noticed before I fully admitted it to myself, appearing one evening with a tray and a suggestion that carried none of his usual careful restraint."Come outside," he said. "Just for tonight. The journals will still be here tomorrow."I agreed, mostly because some part of me recognized the wisdom in the suggestion even as another part resisted leaving the work unfinished.We walked out to the same garden bench where we had once sat beneath the stars, months earlier now, back when everything between us still carried the particular uncertain charge of feelings neither of us had properly voiced yet. The night air felt considerably cooler than I remembered from that first evening, autumn settling steadily over Blackwood's grounds, thoug







