Isabella’s POV
The battlefield was a blur of blood and noise.
Steel rang through the night as wolves howled and men cried out in pain, but I had stopped trying to separate one sound from another. My world had narrowed to the wounded laid out before me. My hands were stained with blood, wolf blood, enemy blood, and my own where a blade had grazed my palm. The healer's tent was thick with the smell of herbs, iron, and fear.
"More yarrow! Press harder on that shoulder. That's it!"
The healers no longer hesitated when I gave an order. Whatever doubts they had carried into the night had been buried beneath the growing line of wolves who were still alive because we had acted quickly.
Three silver arrows. Two poisoned wounds. A shattered femur. I barely had time to breathe before another pat
