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Threats

SERAPHINA POV

I had been dutifully aiding the healers since the soldiers returned.

The infirmary, a place teeming with the scent of blood, sweat, and suffering, had become a new battlefield—one I was determined to navigate.

Yet, it seemed my every effort was met with resistance.

Some soldiers grimaced at my touch, while others outright refused my assistance.

One man, in particular, was more vocal than the rest.

His voice, sharp and laden with disdain, cut through the already heavy air. "You reek of weakness," he spat, his face twisted in disgust as I tried to adjust his bandage. "No wolf in you. You don't belong here."

I exerted considerable effort to resist the urge to flinch at his words.

My apparent indifference appeared to enrage him, as his expression contorted in anger.

But he didn't stop there.

His voice grew louder, his insults more venomous. "You should leave," he snarled. "You're nothing but a burden."

I once again ignored him and continued with my work.
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