She looked entirely human.
Her silver hair was tied back in a loose knot, and deep lines marked the corners of her eyes and mouth. Her frame was small and slightly bent with age, wrapped in plain layers of brown and grey cloth.
Nothing about her appearance suggested danger. If anything, she looked like the sort of old village woman who would spend her days brewing medicine and scolding children for running indoors.
For a moment, I simply stared.
The system had clearly told me this house belonged to an old beastkin woman, yet the person standing in the doorway was unmistakably human.
She stepped into the room without hurry, and set the bowl down on the low table beside the bed and studied me carefully.
"You are awake," she said again.
Her voice was calm, almost dry, as if she had expected this exact moment and found nothing surprising in it.
I pushed myself up a little straighter. "You saved me?"
"I did." She paused, then added, "Or rather, I chose not to let you die."
