"You’re leaving? Why?"
The sudden spike of panic in her ice-blue eyes melted the healer’s guarded composure. A soft, sympathetic smile touched his lips, and he reached out, smoothing her dark hair with a gentle, fatherly touch.
"I must return to the capital to restock my medicinal herbs and supplies," he said smoothly. "My satchel is empty. Besides, my family is waiting for me. With my work here finished, there is no cause for me to stay."
His work? What work?
The unspoken question burned in her throat. Each time the healer spoke of his strange purpose for wandering into their remote outskirts, his explanation grew more veiled and mysterious. Still, Elowyn held her tongue, lacking the courage to push further.
"Oh. Of course," she whispered, staring down at her boots. She felt a sudden pang of embarrassment for reacting so dramatically. She had always known their paths would split eventually, but she hadn’t realized how heavily she was dreading that goodbye.
Somewhere along the way, she had grown used to having his gentle presence nearby. The sudden prospect of total solitude chilled her to the bone.
"Elowyn," the healer murmured, setting a warm palm on her shoulder. "You have absolutely nothing to worry about. The rest, I am certain you can handle on your own. After all, you have proven yourself to be remarkably capable—for someone they call a shiftless runt."
Elowyn froze, her eyes snapping wide up to his face.
He hadn’t said it to mock her.
That much she knew.
Rather, he had taken the very label the world used to diminish her and turned it completely on its head.
To be seen– to be genuinely valued for her resilience despite being branded a useless outcast, was a validation her spirit had been starving for. For as long as she could remember, the world had thrown only bitter insults and contempt at her feet. But the healer’s unexpected praise did something far greater than offer comfort. It ignited a fierce, dormant fire in her chest.
In that moment, a poignant realization washed over her. The deep bond she had felt toward the healer wasn’t just gratitude; he carried the same steady, protective grace as her late Chieftainess. Perhaps he had been sent to anchor her, to pull her out of the shadows and remind her of what she had almost forgotten.
She was not a helpless survivor clinging to the edges of the world.
She was Elowyn of the IronFang tribe.
She had bled, suffered, and conquered, and she would continue to survive whatever came next.
"Thank you," she said, the words brimming with sincere, wholehearted emotion.
She took the bowl. "I’ll give it to him."
The beastman crossed his arms behind his back, offering a single, approving nod before she turned and slipped into the shelter.
The shift in the atmosphere was stifling.
Inside, the silver-haired stranger was still sitting up against the wall, a dangerous stillness clinging to him like armor. Despite being injured, pale, and wrapped in linen, his presence commanded the entire room.
Elowyn shook her head slightly, refusing to be swayed or intimidated by his striking appearance ever again. She would not cower in her own sanctuary.
Walking over to where he sat, she knelt a polite distance away, keeping her movements deliberate and unhurried. She set the steaming bowl on the mat in front of him, the rich, fragrant scent of his broth rising between them in faint white curls. This story is hosted at novelping dot com.
"The healer prepared this for you," she said softly, keeping her gaze low, but her voice was firm, clear and unyielding. "It will help restore your strength."
The stranger didn’t reach for the bowl. Instead, his sharp gaze lingered on her, refusing to let her off so easily.
"Where is the beastman?"
"He’s outside, preparing for his departure," she replied. "He leaves for the capital tomorrow. Moving forward, I will be taking care of your recovery."
A thin, dangerous silence stretched between them. "You two are not related?"
Elowyn offered no further explanation. She simply gave a polite nod, stood up without the single trace of her usual hesitation, and said, "Please, eat while it’s still warm."
Before he could utter another word, she turned and slipped out of the shelter, leaving him alone. By himself.
The silver-haired stranger blinked, staring at the empty space where she had just been standing seconds ago.
Did she just dismiss him?
He knew avoidance when he saw one.
The moment she set the bowl down, she had fled as if she couldn’t stand the sight of him for another second.
How dare she?
Was she implying he was not worth her presence?
He clenched his jaw, thoroughly disgusted at his own ridiculous reaction. It was completely absurd. Why did it matter if she left or stayed? If anything, he should be relieved she wasn’t yapping his ears off like she used to.
But...
He stared bitterly at the entrance, forcing down the stubborn, maddening urge to get her back in here.
By late afternoon, the fox beastman returned to inspect his recovery.
Unwinding the bandages, the healer was surprised to find that the stranger’s waking consciousness had accelerated his body’s natural mending. For a man with no accessible beast core, his resilience was both frightening and staggering.
"You will recover swiftly," the healer noted, smoothing a fresh linen wrap over his ribs. "Assuming, naturally, that you do not refuse your medicine."
The stranger watched the beastman in silence. The hostile edge in his golden eyes had softened into a sharp, scrutinizing curiosity.
"Are you really leaving tomorrow?" he asked quietly.
"I am," the healer answered, packing away his bone needles and herbal paste. "Your primary task is to rest and recover. Do not make a mockery of my efforts by overexerting yourself. Let your body heal at its own pace."
The healer’s hands stilled. "You mean Elowyn? I’m afraid she cannot. The capital is in a treacherous state at present. It..is far too dangerous for someone like her. But she will remain here to care for you."
Dangerous?
The stranger caught the heavy undertone in the beastman’s voice, but he did not pry. Instead, a petty satisfaction took root in his chest.
How would she avoid him if she is meant to look after him?
His own foolish, petty triumph came to a grinding halt.
What is wrong with me?
Cleansing his face of any emotions, he asked, "Did she really save me?"
A soft, nostalgic smile touched the healer’s lips. "She did. I was astonished myself. When I came across the two of you out in the freezing expanse, she had strapped you to a wooden sled and was pulling you through the snow. I could hardly believe my eyes. She was also at her absolute limit, freezing and at the point of giving up. Yet, the moment she saw me, she begged me to take you and leave her behind to die. Naturally, I couldn’t bring myself to abandon either of you."
The stranger sat in rigid silence. Every word felt like a physical weight pressing against his chest. It made no logical sense.
Why would anyone stupidly risk their life like that, and for a total stranger?
Yet, as much as his cynical mind wanted to dismiss it as a lie, he knew the beastman spoke the absolute truth.
His golden eyes turned back toward the heavy curtain hiding the frozen world outside. A quiet, burning curiosity ignited in the dark void of his missing memories
Where did she come from then?
How did she find him?
If he asked too many questions, the healer might start to suspect he possessed some kind of interest in her, and it was a ludicrous assumption he refused to invite.
"I understand you must be terribly confused," the healer said smoothly. "Waking up to a blank mind in an unfamiliar place is no small burden. Still, it would serve you well to show kindness to those offering it. Elowyn is a sweet, earnest soul... so do try not to be overly difficult with her."
Difficult?
The audacity of the remark caught him completely flat-footed.
His haughty mask slipped, and in a desperate bid to cover his sudden loss of face, he turned his head away and let out an overly dramatic cough into his arm.
"I assure you, I have no desire to bother anyone," he grumbled, trying desperately to sound dignified.
The fox beastman didn’t buy it for a second, offering only a mild, amused smile that made the stranger’s blood boil even hotter.