The wounds on my knees and palms have dried up. But with all the lifting and grabbing I was doing with all my chores, the wounds on my palms were bound to be ripped again and again.
Dots of red painted on my palms’ bandages. But my wounds were already clean. I made sure not to grip on something too hard this time.
“Take care of yourself, Ella. You can’t rely on your wolf all the time. She’d get tired, too. It’ll be bad, especially in your case,” was Cain’s words to me when he brought in a nurse to patch me up when I worked on the stables yesterday morning.
The pain of fresh wounds is not foreign to me. But Horace always complimented my ability to heal faster than the rest of the slaves he owned in his shop. It was the reason why I let my wounds dry up before deciding to clean them, k
