"Find me a regular needle and some strong thread," Harriet instructed. "And boil them in water until they're fully sterilized.". The chief healer, an elderly woman with silver-threaded hair, paused. "My Luna, what do you intend to do with a needle and thread?" The other healers cast apprehensive glances. Their treatments were based on natural healing, poultices, and improved werewolf regeneration. But this? This sounded dramatic. Harriet accepted their gazes without flinching.
"The wound that ran through his chest is too deep and too wide, and even though the bleeding has stopped, we still need to close it somehow. If we leave it as is, it will take too long to heal, and infection may develop. He needs stitches." I'll stitch the wound closed myself."
A murmur spread among the healers. Werewolves don't stitch up wounds because their bodies heal quickly enough without them, and they never knew that wounds could be stitched. But the Luna was correct: the gash was too severe. If left uncovered, it could take many days to heal, leaving the Alpha vulnerable. The head healer looked at Harriet for a bit before nodding. "Very well, Luna." "We will do what you say."
One of the younger healers hurried to get a needle and strong thread, while another began boiling water over the fire. The anxiety in the room increased as they prepared, but Harriet kept calm; she knew she couldn't fail at this point; she was already experiencing a sense of loss, even when he was still alive. God forbid he dies; Harriet knows she won't have it easy, so she took a deep breath and braced herself.
Harriet moved to the basin, soaking her hands in cool water and cleaning them before reaching for a clean cloth to dry them. She retrieved the already sterilized needle from the bag and threaded it with the previously sterilized thread. She sighed quietly, centered herself, and stepped closer to Alistair, carefully exposing the side of the incision she would begin with. The torn skin twitched slightly, and the muscles beneath hitched instinctively. Her jaw stiffened; this would hurt, but it needed to be done.
Harriet positioned the needle at the wound's edge and inhaled deeply before pushing it in. The skin resisted for a minute before giving in, and she drew the thread through. Another stitch, followed by another. Her hands moved purposefully, disregarding the sweat forming at the back of her neck. Each loop tightened the wound, binding flesh to flesh. Time blurred as she worked, and the only sounds in the room were the steady cadence of her breath and Alistair's occasional groan of pain before the deep, jagged wound was closed with one final, precise knot. Only then did she let herself breathe fully.
Harriet knelt alongside the enormous bed, fingers quivering as she wrung out a cool, water-soaked cloth. She'd been pushing it against the Alpha's searing forehead for what seemed like hours, but the fever wouldn't break. Sweat slicked his muscular physique, making his normally keen features slack with drowsiness. His body should have been recovering, but he hadn't awakened yet—his instincts, his wolf, weren't working.
She clenched her jaw. "You're an Alpha. You should be healing by now." Her voice cracked with frustration and worry. "But you won't heal if you don't wake up, will you?" Her gaze darted over his injuries—deep gashes now closed but angry and red, proof that his accelerated healing was stalling. The fever was the real enemy now. If it raged too long, it could weaken him even more. Harriet's fingers lightly brushing against his clammy skin. The fever hadn't broken yet. His body, powerful and resilient, still fought the infection threatening to undo all her efforts. His body shifted slightly, his breath ragged, but there was no sign of waking.
She had done everything she could to treat the wound, including suturing it and thoroughly cleaning it, but it was not enough. She needed something stronger. Her gaze shifted to the head healer, an elderly woman with sharp, knowledgeable eyes. "I need oregano oil," Harriet stated firmly. The healer paused. "Luna, oregano oil is strong. It burns when applied straight to the skin." "I know," she said without missing a beat. "That's why I'm going to dilute it with carrier oil. But I need the antimicrobial properties. If there's even a slim possibility it'll stop this infection, I've had to try."
After trying everything, she was able to stop the infection, and his fever broke in the morning, triggering his healing. Harriet notices that some of the superficial wounds had begun to heal on their own. Harriet sighed with relief.
The door to the healing chamber creaked open, and Harriet emerged, her hands still stained with the residue of her labor. The aroma of blood and herbs clung to her, blending with the cool morning air. The passage was packed with wolves, and the kingdom members waited in nervous quiet.
As her gaze moved over them, she observed small changes in their expressions. Some had worried expressions, their eyes darting beyond her, looking for any clue of their Alpha's fate. Others, however, wore smirks barely concealed beneath polite masks, their eyes glinting with something near to satisfaction. They expected her to fail. She straightened her back and tilted her chin up slightly, ignoring them. They didn't matter. Only one person was important right now. Her gaze fell on the Grand Luna, who stood tensely with her hands clenched in front of her. The elder woman's expression was impenetrable, but as Harriet spoke, everything changed."The Alpha is safe now."
The words had barely left her mouth when the Grand Luna surged forward, embracing her in a passionate hug."Oh, my dear girl!" she screamed, her voice breaking from relief. "You've saved him!" "You saved my son."
Harriet tensed at first, taken aback by the warmth and sheer intensity of emotion in the Grand Luna's embrace. Then, slowly, she let herself melt into it, her tiredness temporarily forgotten. Murmurs of disbelief and grudging appreciation echoed throughout the pack. Even the gloating faces faltered as doubt crept into their eyes. The Luna hadn't failed.She'd won.