Lara's POV
The healer’s shed was, well, unbearably and oddly small. Cramped. Suffocating. The scent of herbs. Damp earth tangled with something sick. It seeped into the wooden walls, into the threadbare blankets. Into the very air itself.
No matter how shallow the breath I was trying so hard to take, it settled deep in my lungs. Clinging like an unwelcome shadow. The dim candlelight flickered. Stretching shadows across the rough walls distort the space, making it feel even tighter.
And there she was, the subject of my late afternoon rage.
Fiona.
Perched on that cot, shoulders stiff, hands hovering protectively over her stomach. Like she belonged here. Like she had any right to sit there, unbothered, after what she had done. After the destruction, she had left in her wake.
My finger
