Chapter 44 Signs In The Silence

• The fire had burned low, reduced to a cradle of glowing coals and softly snapping embers. Outside, the wind had not relented. It clawed at the shutters and howled between the trees, a mournful, ceaseless voice in the frozen night. Inside the house, the air was thick with quiet tension — not the companionable kind, but the brittle, watchful silence of uncertain company.
• Lucy stood by the window, one hand absently tracing the frost-laced glass as she watched the snow drift lazily through the darkness. The reflection in the window showed not just herself but the two Arctic foxes behind her — their white coats so pale against the dark room they might have been spirits. Ash was still by the couch, his form rigid, every muscle poised, though his eyes remained half-lidded. Lira lay at Lucy’s feet now, her slender body pressed against the healer’s legs for warmth and reassurance.
• For weeks now, these two had been her only constant. Their presence had become a part of the house’s rhythm, filling spaces where words once lived, where human touch and voices had long since vanished. They spoke to her in the tilt of a head, the flick of an ear, the soft brush of fur against her skin. In the bleakness of endless winter, they were the only warmth she trusted.