The work of sorting life from death finally reached its conclusion. The last of the survivors were evacuated to safer grounds, and the recovered bodies were laid to rest in a collective ceremony.
Peace settled over the valley. Of course, not quite a joy. Just the gratitude of those who had stared into the abyss and been allowed to step back. Smiles finally began to reappear.
The Arctic Wolves bid their farewell with their tails tucked between their legs. Their alpha, Dorian, clearly planned a long, loud, and unpleasant conversation with his son Nikolas upon his return.
A new kind of commotion began to ripple through the aid camps and the surrounding territories. Word spread of the astonishing recovery rate among the survivors.
Broken bones that should have taken moons to mend were stable in days… wounds resisted infection and closed with remarkable speed. The credit was unanimously given to a curious, shimmering potion distributed by the Dawnoro werewolves.
