The healer clenched her fists. As a woman, as soone 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 sothing 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.
Monts 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 ant to protect the body from scavengers before burial. The ritual was solemn, but their minds were elsewhere.
They were still processing everything that had happened, their voices low as they spoke of the incident and the growing disappointnt they felt toward Claire. So engrossed were they in their conversation that they didn’t notice soone standing just beyond the door—silent, unmoving, listening.
Levi had arrived quietly, unnoticed. As their words sank in, his expression grew darker, his jaw clenched. The more he heard, the more the storm in his eyes deepened.
"Old doctor, no matter how much I think about it," the healer began, her voice trembling with emotion, "I can’t shake the feeling that Claire wanted that pup gone. And blaming Luna Addison... it just felt like a setup—"
But before she could finish, the old doctor raised a hand and gently cut her off, his eyes flicking toward the door with quiet warning.
"Enough," the old pack doctor said sharply, his voice low but firm, cutting through the healer’s words like a blade. "Be careful with what you say. Even if we carry doubts—opinions—we have no right to judge or speak on their behalf. Words like that, once heard by the wrong ears, can be twisted. And because you’re one of the few close to Luna Addison, it wouldn’t take much for soone to claim you were speaking on her orders."
He took a long drag from his pipe, the scent of aged tobacco filling the small clinic, and exhaled a slow ring of smoke. His eyes dimd, as if haunted by ghosts of a past too familiar.
"If that happens, it won’t be you they target—it’ll be Luna Addison. And her na... it’s already too fragile to withstand another sar."
The healer opened her mouth but said nothing. The doctor continued, his voice quieter now, but every word carried weight.
"Luna Addison was a good soul. But goodness doesn’t guarantee honor—not in a world where shadows are full of waiting hands, eager to sling mud. And if we give them a reason—if we beco the knife others wield against her without even knowing—we’ve failed her worse than any enemy ever could."
He glanced at her then, aningfully. "Our duty is to save lives. To stand quietly, but firmly, at Luna Addison’s side. Protect her—not with noise, but with presence. With actions."
The healer looked down, chastened, realizing the truth in his words. What she hadn’t realized until now, the doctor had seen clearly all along.
As an old doctor, he has better wisdom and experience than the healer that’s why he could say this to her, hoping she’ll understand his thoughts without him saying much. After all, he knew that walls have ears and they didn’t know if soone was listening to their conversation and the more they talk bad about Claire, they wouldnt’ know where that would put Addison in the equation.
More than anything, they feared what the Alpha might do—what decisions he might make under a veil of misunderstanding. They couldn’t bear to see Luna Addison misjudged any longer. She wasn’t soone who played gas or manipulated hearts; she was too gentle for that, too sincere. Like a ripe persimmon—soft, sweet, and far too easy to to pick on.
And that was the danger.
Because Claire... Claire was different. They could feel it now—the quiet calculation behind her words, the unstable glint in her eyes. There was sothing off, sothing wrong. She didn’t just twist the truth—she bent it so subtly, so believably, that anyone could fall for it without even realizing.
Which ant they had to be careful. Very careful.
One wrong step, one misplaced word, and they wouldn’t even notice they were being used—not until it was too late.
After quietly absorbing everything he’d overheard, Levi slipped away without a sound. But just as he rounded a corner, he nearly collided with the clinic’s assistant—who was stumbling back in, looking groggy and disoriented. The bundle of herbs in his hands was already withered, several leaves crumbling and falling to the floor as if they’d been forgotten for too long.
Levi’s eyes narrowed.
Those herbs—he recognized them imdiately. The sa kind the old doctor always kept stocked for Luna Addison’s wounds, since her body couldn’t heal like the rest of theirs. They worked as a mild anesthetic, calming pain. Levi had picked them up himself more tis than he could count.
So why were they in the assistant’s hands now? Why did he look like he didn’t even realize they were practically useless already?
A cold thought began to form.
Levi glanced around—no one nearby. He grabbed the assistant by the arm and pulled him toward a secluded corner behind the clinic. The assistant blinked, confused but compliant, shuffling after him without resistance.
"Gamma Levi... is sothing wrong? How can I help you?" he asked nervously, scratching the back of his head, clearly still trying to shake off whatever fog clouded his mind.
Levi’s voice was calm, but there was steel beneath it. "Where have you been?"
The assistant blinked. "I—I went to get the herbs the old doctor asked for."
"Really?" Levi eyed the dried bundle in his hands. "And where did you get them? Up the mountain? You’ve been gone long enough."
The question was casual on the surface, but the weight behind it made the assistant fidget. Levi was watching closely now—every twitch, every breath.
Because sothing wasn’t right. And Levi had every intention of getting to the bottom of it.
The assistant shook his head, eyes still clouded with confusion and a growing sense of dread. He glanced around anxiously, then up at the sky as if trying to steady his thoughts before letting out a heavy sigh.
"The old doctor sent out last night to gather these herbs," he began, his voice quiet and strained. "He wanted to prepare for all possible ergencies, especially since we’ve been running low—Miss Claire’s been bleeding constantly, and the dical kit’s nearly empty."
He paused, swallowing hard.
"But while I was on my way back... I ran into Miss Claire’s attendant. She stopped —asked about Miss Claire’s condition. She seed so anxious... pacing, wringing her hands, like she was desperate to know what was going on. I thought she was just worried."
He looked down at the herbs in his hand, his grip tightening.
"But then... when I turned around to leave, I felt sothing—like a powder, or dust—sprinkled on . I didn’t have ti to check. I was in a rush. But after just a couple of steps... everything started spinning. My vision blurred, my legs gave out... and then nothing."
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