Chapter 5 Zara Fen POV When I finally woke up, the frantic noise of the clearing was gone, replaced by a steady, rhythmic thump-creak of a wooden loom. I wasn't in a cell and I wasn't in a grave either, which was a big relief, but I was in a small, sun-drenched attic room above the pack’s textile workshop. The air smelled of three distinct things: the rich lanolin of raw wool, the sharp cleanliness of dried lavender, and the deep warmth of cedar. The scents were so clean they made the memory of the boundary woods feel like a fever dream. My right arm was bandaged tightly in clean linen. The fever from the feral bite had broken three days ago, leaving me weak, exhausted, but, for the first time in my life, remarkably still. "You're awake," a voice said from the corner. An older woman sat by the window, her fingers moving with practiced grace as she carded wool. She had the steady, grounded scent of a wolf who had seen too many winters, buried too many mates, and tolerated too litt
Last Updated : 2026-01-23 Read more