Chapter 16 - Stones and Salt
1469 Words
The morning air smelled of sea salt and damp earth.
Elena had woken up feeling tired and raw, still clawing her way out of another disorienting dream. She yawned and ran her fingers through her—
Wait...
Her eyes flew open. Last night came back in a rush. She ran her palm over her newly shaved head, her fingers brushing the spiky regrowth. Raising her arm toward the sunlight streaming through the window, she twisted her wrist to examine the braided band wrapped around it.
Pulling herself slowly out of bed, she moved toward the mirror.
She sucked in a breath.
Nothing lost, she thought. If anything, it was an improvement over the weak strands she’d been clinging to.
---
Elena’s stomach was too unsettled for breakfast. She dressed and made her way to Nessa’s, watching as clouds dragged long shadows across the restless sea. A storm had passed in the night, but her skin still felt electric, like something inside her hadn’t quite settled.
Two and a half weeks. Nearly three.
That’s how long she’d been here. The days had blurred into a rhythm—herbal lessons with Nessa, gentle movement with Mira, quiet meals, long stretches of rest. Her body had grown stronger. Her heart, a little less afraid.
But something inside her still stirred. Wild. Waiting.
She felt it now, walking along the path. The wind kissed her bare arms and her skin prickled with hypersensitivity. It made her uneasy.
---
The warmth of Nessa’s apothecary kitchen grounded her.
She liked the rhythm here—the way Nessa talked in rambles, mixing old folklore with herb lore, the sound of dried leaves crunching in a mortar, the grounding scent of calendula and ash. Elena had learned to steep calming teas and identify healing roots. Keeping her hands busy helped quiet her mind.
But today, something was off.
Her frustration simmered just beneath her skin. Every little sound grated. Her skin buzzed. Her body felt like it didn’t quite fit.
Worse still, she knew she was being discussed—whispers behind closed doors, glances between Nessa and Mira.
She hated that.
Nessa was kind, but Elena wasn’t made of paper. She didn’t want to be handled like a fragile object. She’d spent years being seen as a thing—tolerated, not trusted.
When Nessa handed her a wooden spoon to stir a new salve, Elena gripped it tighter than necessary.
“You’re safe here,” Nessa said gently, not even looking up. She had noticed Elena’s white-knuckled grip.
“Safe isn’t the same as free,” Elena muttered before she could stop herself.
A long pause followed. Elena glanced at Nessa, ashamed. “I’m sorry.”
Nessa gave her a soft smile and walked over to a drawer. After rummaging for a moment, she pulled out a small leather pouch that jingled with the sound of stones knocking together. She selected one by feel, nodded to herself, and returned to the table.
Taking Elena’s hand, she dropped something cool and smooth into her palm—a greenish stone marbled with milky, mossy swirls.
Elena rubbed her thumb over it instinctively.
Nessa smiled. “That’s exactly what you do.”
“What is it?” Elena asked, studying the stone.
“Moss agate,” Nessa said. “It’ll help ground you. It’s a worry stone—keep it in your pocket like a little secret. When you start to feel like you’re coming undone, rub your thumb over it.”
Elena raised a skeptical brow. “You believe in that stuff?”
Nessa lifted an eyebrow right back.
“My dear, I’m a healer. You question my methods?”
Elena grinned faintly. “No, ma’am.”
Nessa’s voice softened. “It helps nurture and balance both body and soul. It connects you to the earth. It’s gentle... but firm.”
Then she leaned in, placing a kiss on Elena’s forehead.
“Just like you.”
---
Nessa decided to scrap herbal lessons for the day and suggested something more practical—baking bread.
Elena didn’t argue. She’d never learned skills like that. Her upbringing was pieced together from households that tolerated her, not taught her. And the psych ward? It hadn’t exactly fostered independence.
As they strolled back toward the lighthouse, Elena mulled over just how much she didn’t know.
Mira was outside when they arrived, mid-workout. A yoga mat and basic training gear were scattered across the grass.
“Oh! Wasn’t expecting you two quite yet,” Mira said, straightening up.
“We’re going to make bread,” Elena said with amusement. “Want to join?”
Nessa tossed her stirring stick aside and wiped her hands.
“Why not? I’m used to punching things—might as well knead some dough.”
Elena laughed, and Nessa chuckled with her.
“Food for the soul,” Elena said as they headed inside.
And that’s exactly what Nessa intended the lesson to be—nourishment for the body and soul.
They worked rosemary into the dough, Elena’s fingers unsure at first but growing steadier with each fold. She watched it rise in the oven—really watched it—and something swelled quietly in her chest.
Pride.
It was such a small thing. But it was hers.
Later, they shared the warm loaf over tea. It was imperfect but comforting. They ate and laughed together like women who had always known each other.
---
[Kai – POV]
Kai stood in the training yard, shirt soaked in sweat.
He swung. Hard. The dummy rocked on its base.
Another strike. His knuckles split. He didn’t care.
Everything felt wrong.
Elena was on the island. But he couldn’t reach her. Shouldn’t. She needed time. Healing. Truth. But he needed her too—and his wolf was growing more restless by the day.
The separation was driving him mad.
He tried to stay focused—there were refugees to house, warriors to brief, border patrols to reorganize. But every time the wind shifted, he caught her scent like a ghost, and it undid him.
To make things worse, Mira had texted:
We shaved our heads. Don’t freak out.
What the hell was going on over there?
He hated not knowing. Hated being on the outside of her progress.
With a final growl, he threw one last punch sending the dummy across the yard. letting the silence settle.
His chest heaved. Blood dripped from his knuckles, sweat from his forehead. His body trembled.
Wait, he told himself.
Just wait...
---
[Elena – POV]
The day had gone fine. But also... not great.
Elena felt irritation crawling beneath her skin like ants. Her mental filter was shot. More than one sharp remark had slipped out—directed at the two women who had done nothing but love her.
Guilt curled in her chest.
Nessa and Mira, thankfully, had known this was coming. They were patient. Soft. They took her lashing out like seasoned healers—gently, without shame.
Evening came. Mira offered to try her hand at dinner.
Elena sat in her room, curled up in the golden glow of her bedside lamp.
A soft knock at the door. Nessa stepped in, holding a mug of steaming tea.
“Hey, darling,” she said sweetly—more sweetly than usual. “I know it’s been a while since our bath-time ritual... but would you let me help tonight?”
Elena nodded, throat tightening. Her eyes stung with the threat of tears.
“I haven’t been myself,” she whispered. “I don’t even know who that is.”
She hugged her knees, staring out the window toward the dark sea.
Ashamed. Lost.
Nessa set the tea on the nightstand and sat beside her.
“I know,” she said gently. “That’s why I made this.”
Elena picked up the tea cautiously, sniffing it. It smelled different—deeper than chamomile or lavender.
“What’s in it?”
“Mugwort. Just a pinch...to help you."
“To help me what? What aren’t you telling me?”
Her agitation flared again.
Nessa placed a steady hand on Elena’s wrist. “Elena, I will always be honest with you. That’s why I’m telling you what’s in the tea—and why I’ll also tell you I'm adding something to your bath tonight.”
She paused.
“But some truths come in their own time. I need you to trust me.”
Elena wanted to argue. But instead... she nodded. Because she did trust Nessa. And Mira.
After a warm, herbal bath and Nessa’s soothing touch, they all sat down to dinner. Mira beamed with pride—even though the meat was chewy and the vegetables were boiled into oblivion.
Still, they ate. They laughed. The world, for a while, was good again.
For a moment.
- Writer
