She was the heat-mad she-wolf?
Everything that had brought her to this point—her destroyed reputation, the hatred pouring in from every corner of the territory through the howl-network—wasn't that all Fenris's doing? He was the one who claimed Selene's leaked scry-records were hers. He was the one who publicly rejected their intended mate bond. He was the one who splashed filth on her name again and again, who pushed her into this abyss with his own hands.
And now he had the nerve to call her that?
Fenris Blackmoor, you really are something.
The pain in her chest made it hard to breathe. Only then did she notice the burning sensation in her leg. She looked down. Her clothing was soaked through with broth, the skin beneath an angry red, already blistering. At the edges, tiny beads of blood were beginning to seep through.
Lyra clenched her jaw, forcing back tears and pain alike. She bent down, gathered her travel satchel, and limped out of the chamber, making her way alone to the emergency healing rooms downstairs.
By the time her burn was treated and she returned to the Ashenvale den—that place she was supposed to call "home"—the moon had risen high in the night sky.