What Changed?

Matilda walked toward Madam Tera's place, her arms swinging gently with quiet determination, her pace steady and sure. Her long, wavy brown hair was neatly tied into a bun, though a few stray strands had escaped, framing her pale face.

Her charcoal-grey servant's uniform hung loosely on her frail frame, a silent testament to the toll of the past weeks. The once-sturdy footwear, now worn thin, bore scuffed edges and frayed seams.

Yet, despite her weary appearance, she moved with certainty.

Her decision had already been made.

The moment she stepped inside, the familiar scent of simmering herbs and floral scents wrapped around her, a warm contrast to the cold resolve settling within.

Madam Tera had been here not long ago, Matilda could tell. But now, the room stood empty.

She's probably at the pack's kitchen hall, she thought.

That was always where Madam Tera could be found, even when she wasn't on duty.

As expected, Matilda found her there, her practiced hands moving with precision as she stirred a large pot of soup, the rich aroma filling the space.

The other kitchen girls stole pitiful glances at Matilda, their eyes heavy with emotions they dared not voice. But Matilda's face remained neutral, her expression a mask of quiet resolve.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, Madam Tera turned, her sharp eyes narrowing as they locked onto Matilda.

"Why are you out here and not in your room?" Madam Tera asked, her voice firm, yet laced with concern.

Matilda met her gaze without flinching.

"Madam Tera, I am ready to resume work." She stated evenly. "If I stay idle any longer, I fear I will be subjected to another punishment."

A brief silence followed.

Then, one of the kitchen girls hesitated before speaking up.

"Actually… we do need her help," she murmured. "The mixed spices she prepared have run out, and the pack has started to notice."

Before she could say another word, Madam Tera's sharp look silenced her immediately.

"Don't they eat the food like that before now?" she scoffed. "If Luna asks, just tell her the recipe was lost."

The girl shrank back, lowering her gaze.

"It's not like the food tastes bad without it anyway," Madam Tera added dismissively before turning fully to Matilda.

Her gaze softened, the usual sternness slipping just a little.

"They don't deserve your kindness, child."

Matilda said nothing.

Madam Tera sighed, studying the frail girl in front of her.

"I know you want to move on quickly," she continued, her voice quieter now. "But healing doesn't work that way. There is no rushing it. You are not a machine, Matilda. You are flesh and blood."

She reached out slightly as if to touch Matilda's arm, but at the last moment, she withdrew her hand, as if uncertain whether the gesture would be welcomed.

Matilda's lips parted briefly as if she wanted to say something. But instead, she simply lowered her gaze.

A moment of silence stretched between them.

"Go back to your room, dear. If you must start, then let it be tomorrow." Madam Tera finally broke the silence, her voice firm but warm.

Matilda parted her lips slightly as if to protest, but Madam Tera raised a hand, stopping her before she could speak.

"And you must prepare for the ceremony," she added, her tone changing slightly. "It will be held the day after tomorrow."

Matilda blinked, her expression tightening.

"You will be awakening your wolf, Matilda."

For the first time, something flickered in Matilda's eyes; though she tried to mask it, it was undeniably there.

Madam Tera caught it immediately.

"You know," she said gently, her voice dipping into something almost motherly, "your wolf is another family to you. She will always be there. Even in your darkest moments, even in death; yours or hers...you are bound. You might feel alone now, but after you awaken your wolf, that will change."

She guided Matilda toward the corridor leading to her quarters, her steps slow and deliberate.

"You might think life has given up on you," she murmured, "but it hasn't."

They walked in silence, the only sound between them the soft shuffle of Matilda's worn shoes against the floor.

"This is a trial period for you, child," Madam Tera murmured, her gaze fixed ahead. "I hope you don't let yourself drown in it."

Matilda kept walking, her expression neutral, her emotions locked behind an impenetrable wall.

"Having a companion who will always be with you, no matter the time or place, is something truly special," Madam Tera continued, her voice softened, almost wistful.

Matilda's lips parted slightly as if she might say something, but the words never came.

Madam Tera exhaled a slow measured sigh.

"Child, let it go, so you can truly live again."

Matilda remained silent.

Madam Tera stole a glance at her, studying the girl's distant expression. A frown tugged at her lips.

"You haven't said a single word since I started talking," she noted, her voice laced with quiet frustration.

Matilda simply smiled... briefly. Fleeting. Hollow.

That was it.

Another sigh escaped Madam Tera's lips, heavier than the last.

"It's getting more difficult to communicate with this child," she muttered under her breath.

Matilda didn't linger.

She hesitated for a brief moment, then dipped her head slightly, a quiet acknowledgment, if nothing else.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Madam Tera," she said softly before turning away.

She disappeared into the dim corridor, leaving Madam Tera standing alone in silence.

Madam Tera watched her go, her sharp eyes lingering on the frail figure. With a quiet sigh, she turned back to the kitchen.

When Matilda stepped into her room, Tina was already back.

They exchanged a glance.

Tina gave a curt nod. Matilda did the same.

That was all.

Nora stared at them in disbelief.

"Seriously, what is wrong with you two lately, especially you, Tina?" she blurted out.

Lynda shot her a warning look. "That's enough," she said firmly.

But it was too late. The air had already turned heavier.

Tina's hands clenched at her sides, her jaw tightened. The usual sharpness in her gaze dulled, replaced by uneasiness.

Matilda, who had remained silent, finally looked up, her tired eyes turned toward Tina.

Sylvia, ever composed, studied her. "You're too defensive," she observed. "That only makes it more obvious."

Tina's lips parted slightly, but she quickly pressed them together.

Then she scoffed. "You're just imagining things."

Sylvia tilted her head. "Am I?"

A tense silence settled over the room.

Nora, now fully invested, leaned forward. "Come on, Tina. Spill. What's the big deal?"

Tina's eyes darkened. "There is no big deal. And if you don't shut up, I'll make you."

The threat carried no real weight, but the edge in her voice was unmistakable.

Nora raised her hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Sheesh."

Lynda exhaled, rubbing her temples. "Can we not do this tonight?"

Sylvia didn't push further, but the knowing look in her eyes lingered.

Tina turned away, her shoulders stiff.

Matilda watched silently. She recognized that look. That fear. That guardedness.

Tina wasn't just hiding something, she was running from it.