CHAPTER 222
Down in the clearing, as if hearing the ghost of her own name echoing from the frozen rocks above, the bleeding woman stiffened.
With a slow, agonizingly painful movement that made the bones in her spine visibly protest, she lifted her head.
The frayed, blood-soaked hood slipped off her shoulders, falling away to reveal her face to the weak, bruised afternoon light filtering through the ash-choked canopy.
"Miss Sabrina?!"
The name tore from Isabella's throat before her mind could even consciously process the sheer impossibility of what her eyes were witnessing.
Her golden eyes widened, the pupils contracting into sharp, hyper-focused needles as she stared down at the gaunt, weathered face of the woman who had spent years treating her bruises in secret.
It was her. But the sharp, professional pack doctor who had once worn crisp, pale clothes and carried herself with tired dignity was entirely gone.
