Mirela and Anya didn't seem to care.
They were already at the back of the flawlessly reconstructed dark oak carriage, working with eagerness that completely defied the freezing temperature.
There weren't that many crates left to pack.
The salvaged supplies from Lord Varhem's original camp had severely dwindled over the past days.
They had a few boxes of dried jerky, a crate of alchemical heating oil, and a heavy wooden trunk filled with the spare winter furs and medical supplies.
Mirela was carrying quite a heavy box.
The staggering volume of dense divine Soul Mana that Klaus had pumped directly into her womb the night before hadn't just expanded her magical core… it had fundamentally fortified her muscle fibers and bone density.
She didn't even strain as she carried it to the back of the carriage and effortlessly shoved it onto the wooden floorboards with her tail wagging furiously behind her.
