The days after the battle were a blur of blood and bandages.
Elara worked alongside Marta in the healing hut, her hands never stopping, her gift flowing through her until she was barely conscious with exhaustion. The wounded came in an endless stream—warriors with deep claw marks, burns from the fires, broken bones from the fighting. She healed them all, one by one, until she had nothing left to give.
Caleb was everywhere—organizing the rebuilding efforts, leading patrols to ensure the Red Claw didn't return, checking on her constantly to make sure she was okay. Every time he appeared at the healing hut door, her heart lifted. Every time he left, she felt the loss.
Damon kept his distance.
He was always present—overseeing the work, speaking with the elders, mourning the dead. But he di
