Protective Instincts

The pungent, metallic tang of wolfsbane neutralizer still hung thick in the recovery room’s stale air.

The practitioner returned shortly after, bringing the earthy scent of crushed silverleaf and bitter roots. Bypassing basic pleasantries, he stopped beside the mattress, hovering a hand above her skin and murmuring quiet observations as he checked her pulse and scanned for residual toxins.

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