She knew that she probably shouldn’t have been out on her own. But there were rarely any nights that she could go out and see the moon for herself, especially while turned.
There’s a chill in the air, but it doesn’t bother the werewolf. She doesn’t mind the snow sticking to her fur, stoping every now and then to look up as it falls from the sky. If she thought something about snowfall was enchanting when she was just a human, there was something more to it now.
She just didn’t know what.
Her lovely stroll however was cut short. Now, she thought it would be fine to cross a bit of frozen water, sliding along the ice whenever she lost her balance. Clara wasn’t once expecting the thinner layer she was passing over to fall beneath her. She scrambled, trying to pull herself back up on the ice, her fur feeling heavier the longer she was in the cold water.
While part of her was thankful that she hadn’t been with Missy when this happened, taking the longer way home now that she was out of the pond, part of her wished the witch had been around just so she could get rid of the damp and the cold.
“Clara dear, I don’t know why you haven’t come out to greet your Mistress! Clara? Clara!”
It was a stupid reason why. Clara had gotten home the night before and, upon shifting back once dawn had broke, found herself caught in a cold. The young woman refused to believe so, of course. Werewolves couldn’t possibly get sick from a fall into a frozen pond in the winter, right? They’re not like humans, and she is anything but human now.
“Comin’, I’m comin’,” she managed to say, shuffling out of her room. Her hair seemed a bit flatter, a few stray strands sticking to her face with sweat. Her cheeks were flushed and of course she was holding a tissue to her nose to keep it from running, and for whenever she sneezed at the worst of times.
“Oh, pet. What has happened to you? Big bad werewolf like yourself, getting a cold. Bet your throat aches something awful, doesn’t it?” Her tone was teasing, but Clara noticed that underlying hint of concern.
“I don’ have a cold, Missy.” She forced herself to speak slowly, to try and have her words get across easily. She didn’t just refuse to believe that she had a cold, but she also refused to speak as if she had one. “M’totally fine.”
The witch couldn’t keep herself from howling with laughter, her head thrown back. It was too much to see her puppy like this, too stubborn to even admit to being sick.
“Clara. Darling. Don’t fight it.”
In the next second, Clara found herself back in her bed, a cup of tea on the table beside her and a damp cloth on her forehead. Of course the damn witch used some spell to get her back her.
“Really! M’fine, m-”
Missy sat down on the edge of the mattress, pressing her finger against Clara’s lips. “You hush now, love. I don’t like having my patients fight when I care for them. And you need some rest, so…” A grin spread across her face, her voice lowering in tone, becoming more soothing, melodic even. “Rest.”
The last thing Clara felt before falling asleep was a pair of cool lips pressed against her cheek. Perhaps being cared for by Missy wouldn’t be so bad.