Luna Lyra
“Yes. I don’t know how, but… I heard you say I’m brave, and that I’m safe here.”
Calista’s mouth fell open, but before she could respond, the door creaked open, and the healer came in carrying a bowl of herbal soup usually given to the wolves who have just given birth.
Sable was a small, wiry woman in her late 50s with sharp eyes that missed nothing, and she had a calming presence that had been a godsend during the chaos of my labor.
“Sable,” Calista said, her voice still laced with shock. “Lyra just… she said she can hear my thoughts.”