“You won't find what you're looking for in that book, child.”
Mira flinched, snapping the ledger shut as a raspy, quiet voice echoed from the shadows of the back storeroom.
Healer Agnes stepped out into the dim light of the archive room. Her hair was white as winter frost, her face lined with deep wrinkles born of decades spent tending to the pack's dying and wounded. She carried a small bundle of dried grass, her hands trembling slightly as she set them down.
Mira stood up, her heart pounding. “Ma Agnes... the middle sector of the ledger. It’s gone. Someone cut the records clean out.”
Agnes looked up, her faded eyes scanning the empty hallway before she stepped closer to the table. She lowered her voice to a harsh, barely audible whisper that sent a shiver straight down Mira's spine.
