CHAPTER TWO
The first rays of sunlight crept through the wooden shutters, spilling a soft, golden light across the small healing house. The aromatic fragrance of crushed herbs lingered in the air, mingling with the clean, earthy smell of fresh river water. Outside, birds sang in short, cautious bursts, as though the forest itself was still deciding whether it was safe to welcome the day.
Ethan stirred, his body aching with every movement. His head throbbed, his muscles
burned as though he'd been forged anew in fire, but for the first time in weeks, his mind was clear. No haze. No bloodlust. Just the quiet lull of morning.
A gentle humming filled the room, low and steady, weaving through the air like a thread of warmth. He turned his head toward the sound, and his breath caught.
Clara was kneeling beside him, her hands moving with practiced precision as she cleaned and wrapped the wound on his shoulder. She worked like someone who had done this a thousand times, each motion precise, each touch firm but never careless. Strands of her dark hair had escaped the braid down her back, spilling loosely over her face. The morning light touched her skin with a softness that seemed almost unreal, and her eyes golden-brown glowed like warm honey.
She was not the sort of lady who wore softness openly. Clara carried herself with the quiet discipline of someone used to command, someone who had learned long ago that mercy could be dangerous if given too freely. She was known among her people for her sharp tongue and sharper instincts, for the way she could read a man's intentions as easily as she could read the contours of a wound. But behind those guarded eyes was a healer's heart, one that still, against her will, felt the pull to save what could be saved.
For a moment, Ethan forgot his pain entirely.
She's… beautiful.
The realization felt strange. Dangerous, even. She was his enemy, the healer of the River Pack, sworn never to help the Redclaws. And yet, here she was, close enough that he could see the way her lashes brushed her cheeks when she looked down. Close enough he could hear the quiet rhythm of her breath.
He stared, caught in the strange calm she brought to the room. The steady, deliberate movements of her hands made him feel… safe. Safer than he had felt in months. His lips twitched into a faint, half-conscious smile.
Clara, still humming, noticed the weight of his gaze. Her eyes flicked to his, and for an instant, something unspoken passed between them a fragile thing, an odd mix of curiosity and vulnerability. But then, just as quickly, her expression hardened.
"Oh," she said dryly, her voice cutting through the quiet like a knife, "you're awake."
Before Ethan could answer, she pressed her palm none too gently right onto the fresh bandage on his shoulder.
"Ahhhh!" he howled, gripping the edge of the bed as pain shot down his arm. "What was that for?!"
Clara tilted her head, her expression all wide-eyed innocence. "Oops! My hand slipped."
Ethan glared at her, teeth gritted. "That was not a slip."
She shrugged, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. "Maybe you shouldn't have been staring at me like a lost puppy. You looked ridiculous."
Despite the throbbing ache in his shoulder, Ethan chuckled. "If this is how you treat patients, remind me never to get ill around here."
Clara rolled her eyes but returned to her work, though Ethan swore she pressed the bandage just a little too firmly enough to make him wince again. Yet even as he hissed under his breath, he couldn't stop smiling. There was something about her something fierce yet gentle that kept him from looking away.
Her hands were steady, sure, but there was a warmth in her touch that no amount of sarcasm could hide. Clara was always in control, always measured in her movements, but Ethan noticed the smallest pauses, the way she checked the tightness of the wrap twice, the way her fingers lingered just a fraction longer than usual when she adjusted the sling. These were not the actions of someone indifferent.
Ethan closed his eyes briefly, letting the warmth of the sunlight and her quiet presence sink into him. For the first time since the curse had begun eating away at his life, he felt a flicker of something dangerously close to happiness.
Strange, he thought. She's supposed to hate me. We're rivals. And yet…
When he opened his eyes again, Clara was glancing at him. Just a quick flicker of a look, but her expression was softer than she seemed to want it to be. Almost… thoughtful. She caught herself, frowned, and busied her hands with the bundle of herbs at her side, grinding them a little more forcefully than necessary.
Ethan's grin widened, though the movement tugged at the cut on his lip. "You know," he said, his voice playful, "if this is your way of showing care, I think I like it."
Clara didn't look up, but the corner of her mouth twitched before she caught it. "Don't get used to it, Alpha," she muttered, tying the bandage with a sharp pull. "You won't be here forever."
"Is that a promise?" he asked, watching her closely.
She met his gaze then, and for a moment, he thought he saw a flicker of something in
her eyes, a shadow, a secret she wasn't ready to speak aloud. But it was gone before he could be sure.
Ethan leaned his head back against the pillow, still smiling faintly despite the ache in his body. "You've got a strange way of making assurances, healer. Almost sounds like you will miss me."
Clara scoffed and stood, brushing her hands on her apron. "Don't flatter yourself. The sooner you're gone, the better."
And yet… she didn't leave. She lingered by the table, sorting through jars and bundles of dried roots. She was meticulous in her order, lining the herbs by size, trimming their stems before placing them in small clay pots. It was one of her traits Ethan couldn't miss, she liked things precise, deliberate. No wasted movement, no misplaced word. He wondered if she'd been trained to heal or trained to fight, and decided she was probably skilled alike in both.
The light in the room shifted as the sun climbed higher, filling the space with golden warmth. Dust motes danced in the air between them, drifting lazily in the quiet. Ethan's body still ached, but the pain no longer felt like the whole of him. It was… background noise now, secondary to the strange, reluctant comfort her presence brought.
Outside, the river whispered against the stones, its steady flow carrying with it the night's chill and the scent of pine. It moved on without hesitation, without secrets, unlike the two souls inside the small healing house.
Clara had secrets. And one of them lay heavy in her chest even now: the knowledge that the man left in her care, the one she was keeping alive with her own hands, was the same one who had taken her brother from her. She told herself it didn't matter, that she was only keeping him alive for the sake of her own vengeance. But she could not deny that something about this morning felt… different.
Ethan, for his part, didn't know why the sight of her made his chest feel less heavy. Or why, when she smiled, no matter how briefly, he wanted to see it again. He didn't understand the way her voice lingered in his mind, the way the smell of crushed herbs felt like safety. But he didn't fight it, either. Not yet.
Clara turned back toward him with a small cup of bitter-smelling tea. "Drink this," she said, handing it over. "It'll help with the pain."
Ethan took it, brushing her fingers in the process. She didn't flinch, but her eyes flicked to his, sharp and unreadable.
He sipped, wincing at the taste. "You're sure this isn't poison?"
Her lips curved, but it wasn't a smile. "If it was, you wouldn't be asking."
They held each other's gaze for a moment longer than necessary before she moved away again, scanning her supplies. Ethan lay back, letting the warmth of the tea settle in his stomach.
Somewhere deep inside, he knew this fragile peace wouldn't last. But for now, in the small healing house by the river, with the sunlight on his skin and her quiet presence near, he allowed himself the smallest, most dangerous luxury of all hope.
And outside, the river flowed gently, carrying away secrets neither of them was ready to share.