Azandra POV
Weather Moon, in her human form, lay on the floor of Tulaska's home, a rug under her, with Tulaska shaking her medicine rattle over the patient.
The skin on Weather's forearm looked like someone had permanently dyed it. The same sickly colors as Kyon's original wound covered her forearm from wrist to elbow. She gazed at it, her lip curling. “I look like a freak," she said. “I told that spirit, beast, whatever it was, to leave me alone."
Tulaska grunted. “Don't worry about your looks, girl. Worry about being so stubborn that you couldn't ask the pack for help. Especially Azandra and me. That boy Dirge needs your lessons."
Weather's face brightened. “He's very bright. He's an excellent student. Sometimes, though, he needs a little push when he finds subjects boring. How did y
