Chapter 18
Rowen
The burning in my skin had dissipated.
The druid was murmuring constantly around me as they performed whatever druidic tasks they needed to do.
The cool rain that had fallen was welcome; I had been lying curled up in a ball, my skin on fire, and when the first drops of rain hit my skin, I opened an eye to see if my skin steamed at the contact.
It hadn’t.
I was still on the ground, the grass cool and soothing beneath me. My hair was over my face, and I pressed my cheek into the soft soil.
Everything hurt. The pain of the Hollow had been my pain. I knew the druid had bled me, but I didn’t know why. I assumed something about my blood had been used for the calling of the rain. I wasn’t sure I needed to know.
Of course, I needed to know—I was going to be a druid. My son would need me to know these things. I just… I was tired. My head hurt. My heart hurt more, and my limbs were heavy.
A warm body lay behind me, pulling me into them, and I felt myself relax as Wolfe’s arms came around me, his hand resting protectively over my belly.
“I’m okay,” I told him, knowing he would understand without me saying it, that I was better with him here. “Are you?”
“Tortured a traitor.”
I turned in his hold and looked up at him, brushing the hair from his eyes. “Who?”
“Jericho,” he said the name quietly. “Stonefang Pack.”
My hand cupped his cheek. “One from yours, one from mine.” Closing my eyes, I pressed my forehead into his chest so he couldn’t see the sadness. “Are there more?”
“I hope not,” he murmured, kissing the top of my head.
“You can’t just lie here like lovers on a picnic,” the druid snapped. “I need to work.”
Wolfe huffed in displeasure. “Work around us, or I’ll make you leave and you won’t work at all.”
“I—”
“Five minutes, druid,” I said before the druid irked my husband any longer. “I need this and so does your alpha.”
I heard the muttering of discontent, but they were wise enough to keep their voices low enough that their alpha didn’t hear.
“How do you feel?” Wolfe asked, pressing his hand lightly into my belly.
“Like I was on fire,” I told him honestly. “The rain was welcome.”
“And our son?”
I smiled. “He’s safe. The druid drew the heat from my body, and I think…I think they made it rain.”
Wolfe was silent for a moment, processing the information. “Neat trick.”
I tilted my head back and looked up at him. “I think it’s more than a trick, don’t you?”
“I do.” He dropped a kiss on my nose. “I need to check on the pack, see the damage, but I wanted to make sure you were okay. You’re definitely okay?”
“The baby’s fine, Wolfe.”
He frowned. “I’m asking if you are okay, mate.”
I felt a rush of warmth. “I’m okay.” I reached up and kissed him softly. “I love you. I’m sorry you had to do that.
He pulled me closer, hugging me tight, his head burrowed into the crook of my neck.
“I love you,” he said.
“I love you more.”
He drew back and watched me with a soft smile. “Not possible.”
We both heard the sigh, and a flicker of irritation sparked in Wolfe’s eyes. Smoothly, he got to his feet, carefully reaching down to help me stand.
“Shift,” he told me.
“She needs to feel the pain,” the druid spoke up.
“Shift,” Wolfe told me, his gaze steady as if the druid had never spoken.
I could have argued, but I saw the firm resolution in my husband’s gaze. I shifted smoothly, the ache easing in my limbs, and when I was in my human form again, I ignored the scowl the druid sent my way.
“Thank you,” Wolfe said simply. He stepped back, attention going to the druid.
“When she needs to feel pain for a purpose, you have your way, if Rowen agrees. When she has to feel pain simply so she can get the whole experience, she will shift and heal.” Wolfe looked back at me.
“When she is carrying any of my children, she will seek comfort and health first.”
“I am her teacher—”
“And I am her mate.” Wolfe’s tone left no room for argument. “And she is not one of your experiments, remember that.” He looked around the Heartwood. “How much damage?”
“To here? Not much,” the druid told him, and I fought back my smile at their sullenness. “The packlands, there are some that will need help to recover and regrow.”
“I think we all do,” Wolfe murmured. “It hasn’t even started yet.”
“You think they’ll come again?” I asked him, fear coiling in my belly.
“I would.” His eyes scanned the tree and the surrounding glade. “Do what you need,” he told the druid. “Bleed my wife again, and we’ll have words.”
“I was getting the power out,” the druid snapped.
Wolfe was suddenly in front of them, towering over them. “Do it again, without her consent, and I’ll bleed you dry. Do you understand me?”
The druid looked up at my mate, no fear in their stare. “She needs to learn what she must sacrifice to succeed.”
“That choice will be hers, not yours.” Wolfe held their stare for a moment longer until the druid turned their head away with a shake of their head. “You can be disappointed all you want, druid. I really don’t give a fuck.”
“I’m realizing that more and more each day,” the druid snarked at him. “You showed such promise.”
“Stop it,” I told them both. “I’m fine, Wolfe. The druid helped me, and they know me well enough to know how much I can endure.” I looked at the druid. “And he is your alpha and my husband, and I was in pain. Remember your compassion. I am his mate, and a pregnant one at that.”
The druid went to speak, and then closed their mouth with a sigh. “Rationality is in short supply when a man’s wife is pregnant.”
Wolfe rolled his eyes, kissed my forehead, and shifted into his wolf.
“Don’t let them bully you,” he told me.
“Do you want me to come with you?”
“No. You best stay here. You still feel weak, and the druid will want you close to teach you.”
I got the distinct impression I wasn’t the only one who got that reminder. Wolfe turned and went back to the pack to assess the damage of the attack. I watched him go and then turned to face the druid.
“Must you push his buttons every time?”
The druid shrugged. “I don’t know what you mean.” They gestured to the bushes closest to me. “Bring me the berries. I’ll show you how to make a poultice that will start to soothe the pain of the trees.”
I was already heading to the bush when I suddenly heard what they’d said. I looked over my shoulder. “The pain of the trees?” I asked hesitantly.
They nodded. “We heal all living things in the Hollow,” they told me. “Which is why when your alpha heals his people, we heal nature.”
I gathered the berries and didn’t ask them anything else.
I had a lot to learn, I knew. We crushed leaves, berries, and herbs I didn’t know the names of and had no idea where they got them.
Their robes looked smooth and flowed well.
The thought of how much they carried around in their pockets was making me eye the robes with more suspicion than curiosity.
A small bowl held the concoction together, and then the druid flicked their knife over their vein and let a few drops fall into the bowl.
They held their hand out to me, and I placed my hand in theirs, hissing when I felt the sting of the blade.
I watched as my blood mixed in the bowl.
The mixture seemed to move on its own, and then I watched in amazement as the ingredients blended, and a smooth paste was formed.
“Rub it on the Heartwood,” the druid told me softly. “Dip just two fingers in, find the most exposed root of the tree, stroke once upwards.”
I got to my feet, picked up the bowl, and glanced up at my teacher. I did as I was told. They checked the amount—it hardly seemed like anything at all—and nodded. I found the root and followed my instructions.
The Heartwood pulsed once, and then I watched in amazement as the trunk seemed to swell, the leaves turned greener, and then it settled.
“It looked like it sighed,” I told them in wonder.
“It did.” The druid ran their hand over the trunk. “Now we’ll do this for every tree.”
“Every tree?” I looked around. “Here?”
They looked at me with a small smile. “In the Hollow.”
“I…” I nodded. “Where do we start?”
The druid and I stuck mainly to the trees, which meant I didn’t see a lot of my pack as we worked, but we heard them.
I exchanged a few looks with the druid as we worked.
No wonder they always knew everything; they could hear everything as they moved through the Hollow, attending to it and keeping it healthy.
“No wonder you always are the first to know,” I told them with a knowing look. “Always knew you were a snoop.”
The druid chuckled. “As you can see, I don’t need to snoop; the information is laid out for me to take.”
They weren’t wrong. It was alarming that a pack of shifters, who had better-than-average hearing, was so free to share in the open air. Anyone could hear things they weren’t supposed to. I drew up short when I realized what I’d discovered.
“Mm-hmm, took you longer than I wanted,” the druid rebuked softly.
“All they had to do was listen,” I told them with a feeling of dread. “One traitor? Or a pack of loose tongues?”
“Or both.” The druid straightened. “I think it would be best if you were to tell him.”
I turned to face them. “Wolfe is just protective.”
“As he should be,” the druid said, fussing over a small sapling.
“Look at this,” they murmured in frustration.
“Almost completely trampled.” I watched as they set about fixing the tree and wondered if they would appreciate the title of glorified gardener and then decided probably best not to push them too far today.
Darkness fell, and we still worked. We were far down the territory. Wolfe had checked in a few times to ensure I was okay and that I had eaten, but otherwise, he had been mending the damage of the pack.
We were at a small copse of trees when the druid’s hand covered my mouth, bringing me tight against their body. I instinctively struggled, but their grip tightened, fingers digging in until I stilled.
“Wolfe!”