Bound by Blood

The air inside the Vargus pack infirmary was heavy with the scent of crushed herbs and the soft, rhythmic hum of lanternflies flickering outside the high arched windows.

The stone walls, smooth and warm from the afternoon sun, seemed to breathe with the silence that enveloped the room.

Only the occasional groan of wind brushing past the ridges surrounding the stronghold broke the stillness.

It was quiet—too quiet for Becca’s thoughts.

She sat by a narrow cot, its frame creaking slightly whenever she shifted her weight.

A young boy lay there, no older than six, curled up under a thick wool blanket that had long lost its softness.

His forehead glistened with fevered sweat, his cheeks flushed an unnatural red.

His breathing came in shallow bursts, and every small sound he made tugged at her healer’s instincts.

The fever had barely responded to the medicine she had administered an hour ago, and time was slipping through her fingers.

A bowl of warm water sat beside her, and she dipp