Chloe’s pov
Six years had passed since we arrived in Moonlight Town, and the quiet, mist-shrouded sanctuary had become our home.
The bell above the timber front door chimed softly, breaking the quiet hum of the morning. A middle-aged werewolf warrior from the local border patrol walked in, rubbing his left shoulder with a grimace. He wore heavy leather armor, his brow furrowed from the strain of a long night shift on the mountain ridges.
"Morning, Chloe," he said, stepping up to the counter. "The cold rain on the high ridge played hell on my old spear injury. You got any of that mountain willow salve left?"
"Right here, Marcus," I said, offering him a warm smile as I reached under the counter.
I pulled out a small glass jar filled with a thick, green herbal ointment. Lisa had spent ye
