Chapter 122: the healer’s question

Chapter 122 — The Healer’s Questions

Roxanne arrived outside the healer’s office twenty minutes early and spent fifteen of them walking up and down the corridor. The door was plain oak with a small brass plate. Behind it, she imagined, sat a woman with a pen, a file, and a direct line to the Headmaster.

She stopped with her hand halfway to the handle and lowered it again.

You are willing to face an entire classroom, her wolf observed, but you are frightened of one room and a chair.

Classrooms don’t keep medical records.

You did not seem to mind the classroom keeping an opinion of you.

Roxanne huffed out a breath that was nearly a laugh. The tightness in her shoulders eased, though it did not vanish. She was still cautious. She had learned the hard way that people with authority did not always use it kindly, and needing help did not change that. But she needed it, and so she knocked.

"Come in."

Healer Mara was a broad, weathered woman with grey streaks in her dark hair and sleeves rolled to the elbow. The room smelled of dried herbs and warm wool. She waved Roxanne to a chair and did not reach for a file. She folded her hands instead.

"Tell me in your own words," she said. "When did you first notice a change?"

"A few days ago. I began hearing my wolf." Roxanne kept her hands pressed between her knees. "Speaking. In words."

Mara’s eyebrows rose slightly, but her voice stayed even. "Have you experienced pain? Lost time? Any involuntary shifts, or moments when your body did something you did not choose?"

"Pain, once, in the moment it started. It passed. I haven’t shifted, I haven’t lost time, and I haven’t lost control." She hesitated. "In the assessment I reacted very strongly to a sudden noise, but I stopped myself."

"With her help?"

"With both of us."

Mara considered that. "It is unusual for a wolf to speak so clearly so soon. Most students need weeks of practice to hold a single sentence." She leaned back. "May I ask why you are watching me like I might bite?"

Roxanne swallowed. "Is something wrong with me?"

"I cannot tell you that from one conversation, and I will not pretend otherwise." Mara said it gently. "Wolves develop at different rates. But a wolf that has only now become communicative deserves careful observation, particularly at your age. That is not an alarm. It is attention."

It was an honest answer, and Roxanne found that she preferred it to comfort.

"Let us try something simple," Mara said. "Look around the room. Notice what you see, hear, smell. Then listen for your wolf, and do not force her to answer."

Roxanne tried. She noted the herbs on the shelf, the tick of the clock, the rough weave of the chair’s arm. Then she listened inward, and found herself sorting every sensation into piles, mine, hers, mine, hers, until her head ached.

"You are working too hard," Mara said.

"I’m trying to tell which part is me."

"That may not be the right question. Communication is not only a second voice. It is also learning to recognise an instinct without obeying every one." Mara tilted her head. "Think of it as hearing a strong opinion in the room. You may consider it. You need not follow it."

Roxanne thought of the ball swinging across the practice hall, of her own foot lifting. "Could she take control of my body without my permission?"

"Strong instincts can influence reactions, especially under stress. That is real, and I will not deny it. But training and self-awareness are what keep a wolf and her person in balance." Mara watched her face. "I suspect you have already set some boundaries."

"I have."

That is correct, her wolf said, and then, to Roxanne’s astonishment, added: She makes more sense than most people you have met.

A laugh escaped Roxanne’s nose. She turned it into a cough, and Mara’s eyes narrowed.

"Something amusing?"

"I remembered something from class," Roxanne said.

Mara looked at her a moment longer, then let it pass. "Three scents. Name them, if you can. Take your time."

She crossed to the shelf and uncapped three small jars, one after another. Roxanne did not rush. She closed her eyes and took the first alone, letting the rest fall away like water running off glass. Rosemary. Then the second, sharper and sweeter. Clove. The third took longer, a green, bitter edge underneath. Sage.

"All correct," Mara said, setting the jars down.

"I got the scent wrong in class."

"You were overwhelmed in a room full of strangers and a ticking assessment. That is not the same as being unable." Mara wrote a few lines on a card. "I recommend short daily exercises, ten minutes, no more. Adequate sleep. And no deliberate attempts to force a shift until you have more control. Not alone, and not out of curiosity."

"How long will that take?"

"It depends on your progress. I cannot promise you a date, and I will not insult you by guessing one."

Roxanne nodded slowly. It was not a miracle. It was a plan, and she found she could hold a plan in her hands.

She had almost reached the door before she turned back. "What will be written in my medical record?"

Mara did not look offended. "I will document the late communication and recommend follow-up assessments. I will not label you dangerous, and I will not speculate about causes I cannot establish." She paused. "However, wolf development can affect a student’s safety in training. Certain relevant information may be shared with the appropriate academy staff."

Roxanne stiffened. "Does that mean the instructor will be told?"

"I will recommend that you receive temporary flexibility in Wolf Control while you learn to manage this. More time on exercises, a quieter place to practise, no pressure to match the others." Mara’s voice stayed level. "It is about safe training, Miss Silver. It is not punishment."

Roxanne did not like it. She disliked the idea of being treated differently, of the academy knowing even a corner of her situation. But she weighed it against the ball and the snap of the rope, and against what might have happened had she not stopped.

"I’ll agree," she said. "But if there’s any further assessment, I want it discussed with me first."

"That is a reasonable request." Mara inclined her head. "I will note it."

Back in the dormitory, Isla sat cross-legged on her bed with forms fanned around her. She looked up as Roxanne came in.

"I heard back," she said. "About a campus position. Stable work, afternoons, three days a week. It would cover part of my fees."

"That’s wonderful."

"But there are conditions, and I have to talk them over with my parents before I answer." Isla chewed her lip. "I keep thinking I should just say yes."

"Don’t say yes because you’re frightened," Roxanne said. "Read every line. If it’s good, it will still be good tomorrow."

Isla stared at her, then smiled. "You sound calmer than you did this morning."

"The appointment went better than I expected." Roxanne sat on the end of the bed. "I’ll tell you more when I can."

"Whenever."

They sat in companionable quiet for a while, Isla ticking boxes and Roxanne turning Mara’s card over in her fingers, before each went back to her own work.

That evening Roxanne followed the exercises. She sat on her bed with a small tin of tea leaves, a cake of soap, and a sliver of orange peel that she had begged from the kitchen. She took them one at a time. The room sharpened around her but did not swamp her. She named each scent without effort, and a quiet pleasure spread through her chest.

That was easier, she said silently. Was it easier for you too?

Her wolf was quiet for a moment.

Then she answered, slowly, in a voice that sounded almost puzzled.

I don’t know what it feels like to be separate from you, Roxanne.

Roxanne frowned. What do you mean?

I have always been here. I just could not speak to you.

Roxanne sat very still, the orange peel forgotten between her fingers. She had assumed all these years that her wolf had been asleep, dormant, somewhere far away. Now she was no longer certain that was true.