The morning sun rose over the pack grounds, warm and bright, but Elara felt none of its comfort. She had spent most of the night awake, staring at the ceiling of her small chamber. Whenever she closed her eyes, she heard the council’s voices again. Rejected Omega. Weak. Worthless. Each word had cut into her until her chest ached.
But the pack needed her. Patients needed her. So she forced herself out of bed before the first training horns sounded. She washed her face, tied her dark hair back, and slipped into her healer’s robe. The fabric was plain, but it was the only thing that ever gave her a sense of purpose.
She gathered her satchel of herbs and walked toward the infirmary.
The village was already alive. Smoke curled from chimneys, and the clatter of wooden practice swords echoed f
