WREN'S POV
Bram left me near the garden's eastern wall not long after, called away by a patrol schedule that needed sorting before the shift change, and I lingered there a while longer on my own, unwilling yet to return to the narrow stillness of my guest quarters where every unresolved thought I'd been keeping at bay all day would be waiting for me the moment I stopped moving.
The garden gave way, eventually, to a narrow covered walkway that connected the eastern wall to the packhouse's storage quarters, low stone archways strung with drying herbs, quiet enough that I nearly missed the two voices drifting from just around the next bend until I was close enough to catch the words clearly.
"You heard what the healer said, though. About the wounds on those wolves near the border last seas
