Marcus had intentionally increased the portion size before bringing the meal over.
Carlisle was an Alpha, and even among werewolves he was larger and stronger than most. A body like his demanded an enormous amount of energy, especially when he spent nearly every day fighting on the front lines. The power Alphas possessed came with a cost. Every battle, every transformation, and every swing of a weapon burned through far more energy than an ordinary wolf would ever need. If Carlisle failed to eat properly, his strength would suffer, his reactions would slow, and sooner or later it would affect his performance in combat. Out here, where a single mistake could cost lives, that wasn’t something anyone could afford.
The meat floating in the soup had been preserved through smoking and drying.
