Morning light spills through the canopy, bathing the healing den in a soft golden glow. The air is filled with the scent of herbs, and the distant hum of peaceful life around the Tree of Life.

Nirmala moves quietly between woven nests, checking on the sick and injured. Her touch is gentle, her movements slow and steady as she applies salve to a young creature’s paw. A quiet hum escapes her lips—a soothing melody passed down from ancient times.

She sits back for a moment, brushing a paw across her brow, watching the leaves sway above. A sense of calm radiates from her, as if the very heart of the Tree pulses through her spirit. The den, under her care, feels less like a place of illness and more like a sanctuary.