For two days, I gave orders to a pack that was coming apart.
On the first morning, I woke shivering. The cold sat deep in my bones, even beside the fire. I reached for my aura and found an ache where its weight used to be.
Elara had to be bluffing. Once the forest grew cold, she would return, and I would forgive her for humiliating me.
The second morning came. She stayed gone.
A grey sickness spread through the western quarter. A cough turned into fever, and soon even our strongest warriors could barely stand.
Mia ran the infirmary into chaos. Her poultices raised angry rashes. Two of her tonics made patients vomit. Families began bringing their sick to the doors and refusing to let her touch them.
The western ward filled by sunset. Mia kept changing mixtures, blaming Elara's labels
