"You think you know what's best for the pack?" Elara said, her voice sharp, hands sorting herbs. "I'm the one mending their wounds!"
Helen's eyes flashed, her voice smooth but biting. "I guide their spirits, Elara. You patch bodies; I protect their hearts."
"Protect?" Elara scoffed, crushing mint. "You sit in your fancy hall, chanting. I'm saving lives!"
"Without my rituals, they'd lose hope," Helen snapped, her necklace clinking. "Don't dismiss me."
Casey stepped through the door, her boots scuffing softly, her herb basket swinging, her apron smudged from the day's work. The sharp voices of Elara and Helen stopped her cold, her eyes widening as she caught their heated exchange.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," Casey said, her voice soft, her hands clutching the basket, stepping back. "I didn't mean to intrude."
