Isabella dipped the clean cloth into the hot water again and wrung it out softly. The beast lay still on the stone platform, its massive body rising and falling with every shallow breath.
Steam rose from its open wounds as the warmth helped soften the dried blood, revealing the deep gashes beneath. She worked gently, using slow circles to clean each part. The scent of iron mixed with herbs filled the air.
The beast flinched once when she touched the side of its face, but she whispered something under her breath and it went still again.
Time passed quietly. Even the usually noisy Zyran had not returned yet, and the guards outside had left to report back to their posts. The whole room felt heavy, like the air had paused to watch Isabella's hands move.
