Ravensblood Forest The white owl in the belfry sits.

The new mother greeted her. Stryx moved in to the mouth of the grotto and then slowly onward, to one of the small pools of trapped water, before which she sprawled and began to dip her paws for cleaning. The water wasn't as cold as she expected. The salt would help to scour the mud away.

Why did you save me? Came that voice again. The voice itself was unreadable to Stryx, who had spent many days alone between her patients. Their attitudes varied in the aftermath. At least Raleska had enough wits about her to be concerned, she thought.

Her answer was not immediate. Stryx worked at the mud on her forelimbs, working the mud away and watching as the cool silver-cream of her fur began to take shape again. She spoke over the work: Because I could. It was one response of many she had become accustomed to parroting; but that didn't make it a lie. I have the training. You needed help. I could help.