The healer clenched her fists. As a woman, as someone who had watched the entire ordeal, she could sense the insincerity. Her heart ached for the dead pup who had never even had a chance. She wanted to speak—to defend the child, to hold Claire accountable, to say something that might make her reflect. But before she could, the pack doctor gently pulled her back, silently shaking his head.
Just then, a loud commotion erupted outside the room.
Moments later, Alpha Zion stepped through the door.
...
Now that they were back at the small clinic, a heavy silence lingered in the air. None of them quite knew how to feel as the healer quietly sorted through the herbs she would use to bathe the dead pup—a sacred tradition meant to protect the body from scavengers before burial. The ritual was solemn, but their minds were elsewhere.
