Nasya's POV
Maria came bustling out of the kitchen, her floral apron dusted with flour, moving with the practiced ease of someone who'd done this a thousand times. She unfurled Matilda's favorite rug by the hearth with a flick of her wrists - the one with the blue trim that never failed to make Matilda's tail twitch in approval. "Perfect timing, dears!" she chirped, her wrinkled face lighting up. "The apple pie is just about ready to come out of the oven. You must stay for dinner this time!"
The fire crackled, the pie scented the air with cinnamon, and for this fleeting moment, the shadows of our past seemed to stay mercifully at bay at this moment.
It was almost comical to remember how this same woman had nearly fainted dead away the first time she'd laid eyes on Matilda, clutching her chest like she was having the granddaddy of all heart attacks. Now she barely batted an eye at the sight of a wolf large enough to saddle lounging in her living room.
