The next day, I begin the search.
Not quietly. Not cautiously. Thoroughly.
If there is a healer within wolf territory who understands the mind as well as the body, I will find them. I start with our own.
Healer Maerin sits across from me in my office, her silver braids coiled neatly over one shoulder, her sharp eyes studying my expression longer than is comfortable.
“Postpartum shadows are not uncommon,” she says carefully.
“Shadows?” I repeat.
She nods. “After childbirth, the body is raw. The bond is stretched. Hormones shift. Some wolves experience melancholy. Others…” Her gaze sharpens. “Others face something darker.”
“She harmed herself,” I say flatly.
Maerin doesn’t flinch. “That means she is overwhelmed, not broken.”
The word broken lodges like a splinter under my ribs.
“I
