We have been working for three hours now on a stretch, or rather Nick has been doing so, while I had just stayed close and watched, making sure to pick up some details which might be important in the nearest future, since I had more of a photographic memory; one good thing that the goddess blessed me with at least, and which had helped my transition into the nerd's base during my high school days.
The boy was sleeping now, as Nick ran a purplish liquid around his skin like a snail. Perhaps, to cover up the sores or something. I'm not sure.
Before we had started the treatment though, Nick had made sure that we had taken a potion from a small bottle. According to him, the sour liquid was supposed to make us immune to the plague. I had almost asked him why he hadn't made it in large quantities and distributed it to the whole pack. That way, the plague would be curbed. But you know me, I had kept shut, waiting for the right time to broach the topic.
"We are done now." Nick stated after he had made sure that the slimy liquid had gone around the boy's skin.
"Will he be fine now?" I heard the woman ask from behind me, and pinched my knee hard so that I wouldn't turn to look at her.
When had she left the kitchen, and why was she standing right behind me?
"We will know that by tomorrow." Nick replied, as he motioned me with his eyes to pack up the bag.
I complied without hesitating one second, squatting to the lowest point before picking up the bag and transferring the medical tools and herbs inside the bag gently, including the broken bottle.
Well, you remember the crack that had sounded when I had dropped the bag out of fear, right? Uhuh, one of the cylindrical glass containers had broken, and had let loose a greenish liquid which had been necessary for the treatments.
But luck was on our side, as the doctor had brought an extra of its kind.
"Okay, thanks a lot, Nick. I really appreciate." The woman said, her eyes filled with appreciation, as she darted her eyes between I and Nick.
"Don't thank me yet. We will get our results by tomorrow." Nick stated, standing up from the small bed.
"Still yet, thank you. At least he would get some hours of good sleep." The woman pointed out.
"You're welcome then. We would be on way now." Nick responded, as he glanced at me, telling me with his eyes, to lead the way, out of the room.
But then, as I stood up, already sliding the bag on my shoulders once again, I staggered, getting unsteady on my feet, shuddering unconsciously the next second when I felt the woman hold me by the arm to stabilize my movements.
"Is she always this way?" She asked, dropping her hand from my arm and staring at Nick.
"Well, you don't expect her to be relaxed around here, especially after your mate had made sure that she had felt less than a human. Or do you?" Nick asked her, and she shook her head.
"You know that I have never been in support of the cause of slaves." She said rather, stepping away from me.
"But you hadn't joined to veto it." Nick said, meeting her gaze.
"You know I had no choice." The woman replied.
"There is always a choice." Nick stated, and I agreed.
There is always a choice. I thought.
Yes, we have all burrowed that excuse of 'I had no choice.' one time or the other. It is a climatic, pause-for-extra-drama one liner that arrests the audience, pulls in their sympathy for you, but that's until they've had a moment to realize that there is always a choice; we just have ones we prefer. When one outcome is substantially more impacting than the other, it feels like the choice is obvious.
And in this woman's case, I had a feeling that her choice had been made in regard to her head-strong mate.
"There is food. I prepared some food." The woman said, after some beats of silence. It was clear that she hadn't got a return word for Nick's last statement.
"That wasn't necessary." Nick replied, and I glanced at him, with my eyebrows raised. What wasn't necessary? Food?
Hopefully, his eyes caught mine and he smirked in amusement.
"But of course, we would have it. You just have to package it. I don't think you would want your mate to see Olivera eating here." He stated.
"Actually, he wouldn't be back in a while. But I had foreseen your reply, knowing that you don't actually eat immediately after work and so I had packaged it before-hand. Let me go and get it." The woman said, before turning around, and walking out of the room.
"Something tells me that you love food a lot, more than the average werewolf." Nick said, after some seconds had passed.
I shrugged, not wanting to tell him that I didn't even have a wolf. I didn't want his goodness towards me to end, as I remembered Leonard's words. The latter had said that people without their wolves were banished out of the pack.
I didn't want that for myself, at least not without Jeremy.
"Good for you then. I love cooking." He said, and I bit my lips to curb my emotions which were threatening to fly over the place. He would cook for me? He would cook for a slave like me?
Wait, if I'm his apprentice…does it mean that I wouldn't be staying in the dungeons?
That would be a relief. But what about Jeremy? I can't leave him there alone.
I sighed. A day at a time, Olive. A day at a time.
"Here." The woman stated, as she walked into the room.
She handed over to Nick two packages.
"One is for her." She said, sparing me a glance.
"Thanks Margarete. I'm sure she appreciates." Nick mentioned, after he must have noticed that I was too emotionally-ladened to say a word of appreciation.