ELLIE’S POV
The morning after the full moon, the air inside the healer’s hut smelled like ash and lavender. It always did like smoke that never cleared, and flowers that refused to wilt. I sat stiffly on the edge of Maela’s cot, my back straight, muscles tight. The scarf around my neck was damp with sweat, clinging to the skin it used to hide. My breathing came steady now, practiced. But that didn’t mean I was calm.
Not after what I’d felt during the full moon.
Maela moved silently, pulling her wooden chair close to mine. The usual bowl of salve rested in her hands, her routine comfort. But today, she didn’t reach for me. She placed it down beside her, untouched. Instead, she studied me with careful, unreadable eyes.
I broke first.
“I felt her,” I said.
My voice was barely more than
