116 | SNOWFALL

I winced as the medic tapped on my freshly bound leg. Medic Olia was a middle-aged woman with hair just starting to grey at her temples, which made her look distinguished and wise rather than old. I’d expected to be treated by the same medic that had seen me before, but Cendres had told me that Winterpaw trained up a lot more of their wolves as medics, due to the harsh nature of their territory’s climate, as he’d guided my family and I to the medical centre. I’d been glad of the change as she’d looked me over, the fire warming one side of my face, snow falling outside and piling up on the windowsill.

But, even though she’d been nothing but nice to me – shockingly, considering how I’d been treated by Winterpaw Warrior wolves in the past – I’d remained stiff as a log the whole time she’d been looking at my cuts. Her visage had blurred every time she’d bent over me, her face becoming youthful and enthusiastic – her face becoming Flora’s.

“The poultice should draw out the infection,” she