“Where are her parents?” Sarah asked. “Is her mother here?”
“She’s dead,” Clover replied nonchalantly.
Sarah looked back down at Snow, a rock settling in her stomach. Was she Cain’s daughter? He had said that his mate had died. What were the odds that they weren’t the same person?
She didn’t know why the thought disturbed her so much, and she tried not to think about it as she hooked her hands under Snow’s arms, pulling the little girl up and into her lap.
Wheezy Wendy had had an inhaler when she was four, but Sarah distinctly remembered that her aunt had used a face mask to help Wendy breathe in the medicine. Without that luxury, they would have to wing it.
“All right, sweetie, I’m going to put this in your mouth,” she said to Snow. “Then I’ll count, one, two, three. When I say ‘three’ I want you to take a breath, deep as you can. Understand?”
They had to do it twice before Snow got the hang of it, but after a minute there was a marked improvement in her breathing. When Sarah placed her hand on the little girl’s chest again, her breaths were deep and even.
“That’s amazing!” Clover said, gaping at them both. “I can’t remember the last time she sounded that good.”
Sarah was both pleased and a little troubled by this. She couldn’t help but worry for Snow’s quality of life, coping with asthma while living in the wilderness.
“Do me a favor,” Sarah said, leaning back against the stone wall. “Take these pelts away and bring something clean, preferably not furry, if you have it.”
“I think there are some blankets in Meadow’s room,” Clover said, collecting the furs in her arms. She stood and headed for the door, calling out, “Be right back.”
With Clover gone, the only sounds in the room were the crackling of the fire and the gentle rise and fall of Snow’s breathing. Rather than pull away, Snow settled into Sarah’s lap, nestling her tiny head between Sarah’s breasts. It was a surprisingly comfortable position, and Sarah’s eyes were drooping by the time she heard Clover returning.
There were voices coming from the corridor, one hushed and the other sharp and grating.
She recognized Clover’s voice. “I told you, she’s a doctor.”
The second person, a feminine voice, replied, “Let us hope that she is as good at doctoring as she is at seducing our alpha.”
Sarah’s shoulders stiffened as she realized they were talking about her.
Clover reappeared first, carrying a stack of neatly folded blankets. A young woman entered behind her and hung in the doorway. She wore a sweeping silk robe and a pinched expression as she regarded Sarah with open speculation.
Sarah had no idea what the woman’s deal was, and she really didn’t care. She looked away, instructing Clover to lay the blankets out on the floor. Once the pallet was prepped, she gently pried Snow from her chest, laying the now-sleeping child down on the covers.
Offering her a hand, Clover helped Sarah up off the floor. Sarah resisted the urge to brush her jeans off, knowing it would only aggravate Snow’s asthma.
“Come on,” Clover said, motioning towards the doorway. “Let’s go get you something clean to wear.”
As they made to leave the room, Sarah glanced at the woman again. “Are you staying with her?”
“Why would I?” the woman asked, flicking bronze-colored hair over her shoulder. “She is sleeping.”
“She might have another asthma attack,” Sarah tried to reason. In truth, it was more that she didn’t want to leave Snow alone again.
The woman just stared blankly at Sarah, as if she was speaking a foreign language. Sarah opened her mouth to elaborate, but Clover cut in.
“I’ll stay with her for a little bit. Meadow, take Sarah to get some clean clothes, and be nice.”
Meadow made a face at Clover before stepping out of the room. Clover nodded for Sarah to follow her, and she did so reluctantly.
Without anything to hold on to, Sarah had only the sound of Meadow’s irritating voice to guide her down the dark passageway.
“I hope you will not be staying with us long,” Meadow said. Sarah waited for her to follow up with something less bitchy, but no such luck. “We really don’t need your help.”
Sarah didn’t bother pointing out how ignorant that statement was. Through gritted teeth, she said, “Well, don’t worry, I’ll be out of your hair before you know it.”
“That is good news,” Meadow said, sounding more upbeat.
After turning down several different passageways, Meadow finally stopped and ducked into a squat doorway. Sarah entered behind her to find a spacious room, dimly lit by candles in makeshift wall sconces. A sheer curtain hung from the ceiling to form a canopy over the plush mattress in the center of the room. It was apparent that the room hadn’t been lived in for very long, as lumpy sacks and baskets of unpacked clothes cluttered the floor.