POV: LYRA
I watch Draco's wounds close with supernatural speed, the deep gashes knitting together like they were never there. Within an hour, the only evidence he was injured at all is dried blood on his skin and torn clothing.
Meanwhile, I'm still nursing bruised ribs from when I stumbled over a root two days ago. The ache reminds me with every breath exactly how fragile I am compared to everyone else here.
It's not the first time I've noticed the difference. But watching the wolves recover from injuries that would hospitalize me for weeks, maybe months, makes the gap feel impossibly wide.
I'm a liability here. A weakness they have to protect instead of an asset that contributes.
The thought sits heavy in my chest as I help prepare the evening meal. My hands move through familiar motions, but my mind is elsewhere. Calculating. Weighing options I don't want to consider but can't ignore.
