Moonbound: The Rogue's Second Chance-Chapter 59 - FIFTY-NINE - SPLINT

Her groans filled the air; she strained against her skin. Serena exhaled and collapsed on the floor, her forehead brushed the ground, damp strands of hair sticking to her cheeks. The world tilted, quiet save for the faint rustling of leaves and the birdsong echoing faintly from the branches above.

"I need to try again," she murmured. Serena flipped herself onto her back and stared at the early morning sky. A few birds chirped from the tree above.

The woman sat up and sighed. She ran her hands through her hair and put it up in a quick knot.

"I’m sorry, Serena, do you want me to take over?" Feyra asked.

"No, no need for that. I can do it."

She had risen with the sun, set her mind to one goal: shift. Spring would come, and if she still couldn’t change forms by then, she would be defenseless. A rogue with no wolf was a target. Her jaw clenched as her nails dug into her upper arms.

If she needed Feyra to take temporal control of her body when she needed to shift, what was the point of relearning to do this?

Serena rose and dusted her skirts. She grimaced at the stains on them. She would have to push her laundry day closer.

Standing, Serena brushed dirt from her skirts, frowning at the dark smudges already staining the hem. Laundry day would come sooner than planned.

She circled around the manor, glancing over her shoulder to ensure no one was nearby before slipping into the shaded clearing out back. The grass was cold underfoot. She hesitated only for a second before shrugging off her clothes, folding them and placing them gently atop a flat stone.

Serena shivered from the early morning breeze, but ruining a dress that she considered a gift did not sit right with her.

She lifted her hands to the sky and stretched her body. She closed her eyes and focused on the image of her wolf form.

Serena would be considered a runt going on size alone, but that was not the case. It was said she was like her father in many ways, and so she resembled how his wolf looked, a well-built wolf that was on the smaller side. Her coat was almost white, mimicking her platinum blonde hair.

Heat spread across her body, even down to her fingertips. She clenched her fists and closed her eyes. Her ears picked up even more birds, who were quieter in the trees.

Her back arched as her skin began to stretch, bones flexing beneath muscle. Serena dropped to the ground with a strangled cry, her hands clawing at the dirt. Her lips trembled as she bit back another sound, forehead pressed against the cool earth.

A scream ripped from her throat as her foot spasmed violently, a searing snap echoing through her ankle. She gasped, rolling onto her side, clutching at the limb. Her chest rose and fell in shallow, frantic movements.

Shifting into a wolf normally would not have taken her this long, except that was two years ago. Now, it was more painful than ever. She heard Feyra whimpering softly in her mind.

It must have been a lie that Feyra had told her, even if she took over, Serena doubted she would be able to shift. Just how bad was that poison, she wondered. A bad attempt at a shift could leave her with broken bones, and she suspected a bone in her foot had been broken.

It hurt like the devil. She groaned softly. The bone would fuse back in a few hours, but at this moment, Serena could not think straight.

After a few agonizing minutes, she dragged herself to the kitchen, with her dress in hand. Enough practicing for a while. The stone wall cooled her back.

"There’s something you are not telling me," she said to the air.

"I am sorry, but we cannot shift," Feyra replied.

Serena rolled her eyes, that much was obvious to both of them. She was more interested in why she could not.

"There’s too much damage done from the poison," Feyra said gravely. "I still linger... but my body-our body, I cannot say."

Serena’s mouth hung open in shock. Feyra had essentially told her she may not be able to shift again in her lifetime. What help had that priestess done then?

Serena dragged her fingers through her hair and yanked hard. Strands tore free in her hands, but she barely felt it.

She reminded herself that without the Moonseeker’s intervention, Feyra would have faded away without an explanation. And then Serena would’ve been alone.

"We must not lose hope," Serena said, her voice wavering. She doubted herself- after what she had seen in her mind, she feared it was worse than she had imagined.

She pulled herself up and placed most of her weight on her good foot and the counter. She sighed and looked at the pans stacked neatly by the side.

"You may injure yourself-"

"I am a healer," Serena snapped. It was the last thing she had left.

"I’m sorry," she murmured, the apology sincere.

Dragging herself to the counter, Serena pulled down a knife and a block of old firewood. Her fingers moved with methodical precision, carving into the grain.

When the splint was done, she slid the knife onto her folded dress and tore a strip of fabric from its hem. She hissed as she positioned the makeshift brace beneath her foot, wrapping the fabric tight around the injury, knotting it with practiced ease.

She exhaled, gripped the counter, and pulled herself up. Painfully, she got up and limped gingerly to her room.

Serena threw herself onto the bed and sighed. She would have to be confined to her bed for a few hours. She hoped it would be less, there wasn’t a reason for her healing abilities to be slowed down so much.

Soon, sleep took the woman, and she drifted into a dreamless slumber.

—

She flipped a page and a puff of dust rose into the air. Serena coughed lightly and waved it away, blinking at the afternoon light streaming through the window.

Thankfully, her foot had healed quicker than she expected and she was up again. She had changed out of the clothes and kept the wood on the desk.

Now, she was reading one of the books Darius had commissioned her to read just to brush up on her knowledge.

A sharp knock echoed in the house, and Serena rose to open the door for the visitor. Her eyes lit up when she saw Darius. She did not smile, his grave expression told her this was not some casual visit.

"We have to talk," Darius said, his voice low.