Third Person's POV
Melanie went upstairs, and a soft sound came from the bedroom.
The little wolf pup was awake.
Trista still looked a little subdued. She shuffled to the door and poked her head out. "Mommy, I'm hungry."
She turned to the omega maid, Shannon. "Is she still running a fever?"
Shannon leaned in, checking her scent temperature. She smiled gently. "It broke. Her gland temperature is stable, too."
Melanie finally relaxed and turned toward the kitchen.
The water boiled, the oats went into the pot, and the spoon scraped against the sides of the pan—the soft, repetitive sound seemed to calm the anxiety in her heart.
She added a pinch of healing herbs to cover the bitter taste that comes after sickness.
Five minutes later, she poked her head out. "Trista, the oatmeal's read
