LUCIAN
Two weeks, and I haven’t left this chair. Not since they pulled the arrow from Leah's side. Not since they said it might take her a long time to heal because it's silver. Not since she stopped moving and the light drained from her face.
Her skin is still ghost-pale, and her lips cracked and dry. A sharp scent of blood and bitter herbs still cling to her like her own scent. I don’t know how many hours have passed. I don’t think I’ve breathed properly since then either. I just can't stop asking myself. Why did I leave her that day? Why did I?
Over the past couple of days, the pack healers have come and gone, hovering like moths, changing her bandages, and doing everything they can. But all they tell me is that her body is getting better, but her soul seems too far off.
Sasha t
