The pack house hallways were too quiet that morning, as if the walls were fearful of making a noise for fear of disturbing the Alpha. Evelyn's footsteps hastened as she walked toward Damien's room. The vision of arrows flying through the air haunted her, not to mention his body convulsing when one of them struck him. She touched her chest as if calming the residual of that fear.
When she entered his room, the scent of herbs lingered faintly. Bowls of bandages and salves were scattered on the table. Damien was at the side of his bed, shoulders set, posture unyielding. Fresh linen binding his side was evidence to the contrary. His face remained calm, but Evelyn sensed the tension at his jaw when he moved.
"You should be resting," she said softly.
He looked up, managing a weak smile that failed to reach his eyes. "It was just a scratch. Do not give the council cause otherwise.".
