Three months later

Briccia carried Malia and saw her grimace slightly.

“Maaaaaaaadddd!” she shouted towards the house and saw her wolf jump over the railing of the terrace and run across the garden to the shore of the small lake in less than twenty seconds.

“What happened? Are you all right? What's wrong with Mala?” He blurted out the questions in rapid succession.

“It's not Mala, it's Malia,” Briccia corrected him, sticking her tongue out at him.

“She's Mala*, very bad, just like her daddy. Ar