At some point, Lupin had picked up a wooden ladle too. He served soup especially for the children, his movements gentle and patient.
He carefully crushed the large chunks of chicken with the ladle, then blew on the soup to cool it a little before handing it to the children.
At first, the children were a little afraid of this stranger, but his gentle eyes and that bowl of irresistible food soon won them over.
They sat around Lupin, sipping their soup like a group of little animals that had found shelter.
The little girl raised her head and looked at him curiously. "Uncle, are you... like us too? I can smell it on you, but it's very, very faint..."
Lupin nodded gently.
Marco watched the scene with a complicated look in his eyes.
He saw color returning to his people's faces and light rekindling in their eyes.
He walked over to Lupin and sat down beside him.
"Thank you, Mr. Lupin."
Lupin shook his head. As he watched a little girl licking the bottom of her bowl, a tenderness he himself had not noticed showed in his eyes.
"I used to be just like them." Lupin's voice was quiet, but Marco heard him clearly.
"Afraid of the moon, afraid of myself, feeling as though every drop of blood in my body was cursed."
"Every full moon was torture. It felt as though my bones were being shattered one by one, then put back together. That kind of pain makes you feel that death would be a release."
Marco nodded silently. This was a language every werewolf understood.
"But not anymore."
Lupin raised his head and looked at a faint shaft of light filtering through the cave ceiling.
"Douglas's potion changed all of that."
"Not only can it turn you