The moment Lucien left, Anana felt a strange emptiness settle over her chest. The intense atmosphere of the training ground suddenly pressed harder against her. The clang of wooden swords sounded sharper, the grunts of combat of the fighters grew louder.
Some of the she-wolves shot her stares as sharp as blades, cutting glances, stares full of judgment or maybe something far worse from across the field. Their eyes raked over her like she didn't belong, an imposter on the soil, they had claimed with blood and sweat. But every time Anana turned her gaze to meet theirs, their eyes darted away quickly.
Just as the weight in her chest threatened to become unbearable in the thick, overwhelming silence, Ira appeared beside her like a soft breeze. “The healer is waiting for you.” She said, her v
