As the sun rays stream through the window, Marcia sits by your side, her fingers gently weaving through your matted hair.

But it's always been like this. Ever since you were a teenager and your first change left your parents dead and your sister missing. It's been so long, so many transformations, so many deaths, but you remember them all, in flashes and nightmares—she takes care of them too, always by your side.

It wasn't common, a woman with a lycanthropy curse, never heard of. You had been afraid to tell her, but she understood the situation better than you could imagine; she had her fair share of entities simply entering her life—maybe it was her curiosity that led her down that path.

She cherished you, and didn't see the beast when she looked at you, just the woman she grew to love.

"Stay put," she murmurs, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"You know, you'll heal faster if you eat something."

You grunt, a weak attempt at words.

She dabs a wet cloth on a gash on your left cheek, and you wince, her hand immediately going to your shoulder.

"Easy, amor, easy." The way she says it, in a soothing tone, like she's trying to calm a spooked animal, makes your heart sink. It's not her fault, not really, but sometimes it gets to you.

"I'm sorry," her gaze softens, a sad smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.