WREN
A few days had passed since the death ceremony, and somehow — against my own expectations — I had managed to claw my way back to something resembling steady.
The thoughts about Elias hadn't disappeared completely, I don't think they ever fully would. But they'd calmed down enough that I could go a whole morning without my chest doing that tight, uncomfortable thing it had been doing for days.
Life at the black market, meanwhile, had picked back up with a vengeance.
It was strange how quickly things changed there. One week everyone seemed subdued, still processing whatever the latest tragedy had been, and the next it was as if the whole place had collectively decided to move on without ceremony.
Vendors were loud again, haggling had resumed at full volume. And my patient list ha
