It was supposed to be just another day. I went into the forest, like I always did, to gather herbs and lose myself in the quiet rhythm of nature. The sky had been moody all morning—gray clouds hanging low, warning of rain—and I wanted to return home before the storm broke.
That was the only reason I shifted.
In my wolf form, everything was faster—sharper. I could smell the herbs before I even saw them, feel the subtle tremble of the earth beneath my paws, and cut through the forest like wind.
Everything was going smoothly… until I stumbled.
Or rather, my wolf did.
There, half-buried beneath a cluster of fallen branches, was a man. Unconscious. Bleeding. His skin was pale—too pale—and even before I shifted back, I knew he'd lost a dangerous amount of blood.
No one would find him out here. Not with the storm closing in. No one sane would come this deep into the forest in this weather.
So I did the only thing a sane healer would do.
I changed back into my human form, knelt beside him, and checked his pulse.
Still alive.
Barely.
Without another thought, I hoisted his dead weight over my shoulder and carried him home—
leaving behind the herbs I had come for, now forgotten among the trees.