Midnight draped the dense pine forest in heavy shadows and freezing quiet.
Inside the secluded stone workshop behind the main clinic, a single copper oil lamp cast a warm, golden glow across the worn cedar worktable. The rich, bitter scent of dried valerian, crushed winter mint, and soothing cedar oil filled with corner of the room, creating an island of peace amid the restless pack space. Outside, the freezing autumn wind shook the heavy timber window shutters, but inside, the only sound was the crisp, rhythmic scrape of steel slicing through brittle roots.
Elara stood behind the long table, dressed in a loose tunic of undyed river cotton with narrow cuffs folded neatly above her elbows. Over her chest, she wore a practical apron of tanned deer hide, its surface marked by dark drops of
