LYRA: REBORN FOR REVENGE
called a gentle voice from inside.
The healer's cottage smelled of dried herbs and burning sage. Eleanor Blackwood, the pack's healer for the past thirty years, looked up from her worktable where she was grinding something in a stone mortar. She was an older woman, her dark hair streaked with silver, her face lined with years of wisdom and compassion.
"Luna Lyra," Eleanor said, her expression warm. Then her smile faded as she took in Lyra's appearance, the way she clutched at the doorframe for support. "Child, what's wrong?"