Old Wounds Novels & Stories

he retorted, a hint of confusion tainting his voice. "Well, typically, scars that have been present for over a decade tend to gradually fade due to metabolic processes," Gwyneth replied, recalling the scar she had observed at the hospital. She was certain she hadn't misjudged it. Elizabeth's scar couldn't be more than a few years old at most. Furthermore, burns and scalds affected muscles differently, with scalds generally healing faster.

He tried to jerk her hand, but she grabbed him so tight while looking at his wounds. She rubs his fingers on his wounds on the back. He closed his eyes in response for a second. "I'm fine; those are very old wounds." He said. "Then why has your wound not healed yet?" Oh yes!! There are two bullets and knife marks on his back; his wounds have healed, but the marks were very deep, due to which the scar hasn't healed yet. "It must hurt." She asked him while looking at him in the mirror. He looked at her back in the mirror, making eye contact with her.

Thomas gave me a small grin as he shut the door. I let out a long breath. Here goes nothing. I gave my reflection a once over and hissed. What is it about wounds? They can be there for hours, and you barely realize they exist, but as soon as someone says anything or you give them any attention the pain spikes instantly. My cheek crawled with a stinging discomfort. The old woman definitely left ring marks on me. My cheek would take a while to heal. The few outlying scuffs and scratches would heal up fast. I was more worried about the twin gashes, sliced deep enough to produce dark red scabs. They could arguably be black.

Loran, an elder healer whose gentle hands had long been revered, moved from one wounded warrior to another with methodical care. “Easy now,” Loran murmured as he cleaned a deep gash on a young wolf’s flank. “Each scar will remind you of the strength you’ve shown today, not the pain you endured.” His words, soft and reassuring, were met with tentative smiles from those who listened, a promise that every wound was a step toward renewal.

But they still carried scars and wounds, scars that were still healing. Wolfkind had suffered a lot, but their wounds weren’t completely healed. Some still hurt. Some still ached. But they also healed slowly. Healing with time and patience. Slowly allowing Wolfkind’s scars to fade away slowly. While they weren’t completely unscarred, the scars were nowhere near gone. Their wounds weren’t as fresh. Neither were they quite as deep and extensive as what they saw during the war.

I'd always thought I'd healed from the pain, who knew that it'd become a deep wound that had never been healed. Maybe that's why it hurts so much now that it's been reopened. I guess that explains it. …. A/N : What do you think, guys?

“What do you mean?” “The wound from an alpha’s claws or fangs are not treatable, they cannot be healed fully. It is rumored that Omegas can heal overtime, though it takes them months to fully heal but betas or pack members, the ones under the service or protection of the alpha can never heal. Your wounds will stop bleeding eventually, they will fill up, but Kira, my dear, you will never get rid of the scars that his claws will leave behind,” Argo spoke sadly.

Lila replies gently, "but his wounds run deep, far beyond what regular stitching can mend. The damage inside him is extensive, and it's preventing his body from healing." As Lila continues her efforts, my mind races with questions and doubts. Why isn't anything working? What could be causing his wounds to resist healing? A sinking feeling grips my heart as her words sink in. I had hoped for a quick fix, a solution to ease his pain and set him on the path to recovery. But the reality is harsh—I can't stitch away the suffering he endures, and the severity of his injuries is far greater than I had imagined.

The claw wounds on Steve's back were slowly and painfully healing, each day bringing both relief and unfamiliar discomfort. The deep gashes—three parallel lines that ran from his right shoulder blade to the middle of his spine—burned with every slight movement. It was a first for him, this human-like recovery process.

My hand flew to the spot, fingers pressing into the throbbing heat beneath my skin. It was the same place. The same wound that never seemed to fully heal. And now it burned like fire. Fuck it.