"Elara! Are you trying to kill us?!"
Bram's shout boomed through the cottage.
The cry startled Elara. Her book slipped from her lap as she raced toward the lab, curly dark hair bouncing behind her. Freckles dusted the bridge of her nose, and her hazel-green eyes always seemed to be calculating something, even in moments of panic.
The moment she opened the lab door, a choking cloud of wormwood steam blasted her in the face. Her eyes stung, and her throat tightened.
"Father?" she called, blinking through the haze.
Bram was slumped against a shelf. A broad-shouldered man well into his fifties, he had salt-and-pepper hair tied back at the nape of his neck, a heavy beard streaked with silver, and deep smile lines that suggested a lifetime of laughter — most of it exasperated. His brown eyes, normally warm and steady, were red and watering from the smoke.
"The...stove...turn it off!" he managed.
Elara darted forward, twisted the knob sharply, and the angry hiss of the boiling mixture faded. Slowly, the fog thinned, leaving behind a sticky sheen on the walls and a heavy, bitter scent that clung to everything.
"Come on, Father," she said softly. "Let's get you outside."
He leaned heavily on her as she helped him out to the bench. They sat together until his coughing eased.
"I'm sorry," Elara murmured. "I should've checked the temperature sooner."
Bram shot her a weary, half-exasperated look.
"It's not the first time, Elara. One of your cauldron experiments is going to finish us off one of these days." He rubbed his forehead. "Why can't you be like other girls your age? Going to dances, meeting their mates, settling down…"
Elara's expression stayed neutral, though her jaw twitched.
"These potions help people. Mrs. Higgins is finally sleeping through the night. Thomas is running around again instead of burning up with fever. That matters."
"So does your future," Bram muttered. "You'll end up like old Mr. Albert, who calls his inventions 'mate.'" He whispered mate as if it were a forbidden word, which made Elara laugh.
"Well, if they love me back, that's hardly a bad deal."
Despite himself, Bram chuckled. "You're just like your mother when you get that spark in your eye."
"I know," Elara said warmly. "That's why I'm here to help her take care of you."
"Elara! Elara!" A voice of a little boy distracted Bram from replying, as they both turned to see a trembling young boy named Ben, halting in front of them.
"Miss Elara! You gotta come quick! Something's hurt in the woods!"
Elara grabbed her satchel without hesitation.
"I'm coming. Father, I'll be back soon."
"Better think about what I said, Elara," he called.
She gave him a playful salute. "Thinking, thinking. And now I'm off to heal what's broken."
"Be careful!" he yelled but Elara was to far away to reply.
Into the woods.
Ben led her beneath the shadowy forest canopy, branches snapping under their feet. After a short, tense trek, they reached a small clearing where three other children waited, wide-eyed with relief at the sight of her.
They pointed wordlessly to the creature lying in the grass.
A werewolf.
The werewolf lay collapsed on its side, its massive frame rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. Thick gray-brown fur — usually coarse and wild — was matted with blood and dirt. The creature's ears drooped flat against its skull, and long claws twitched weakly at the forest floor.
A deep, jagged gash split its flank, the wound oozing a thick, black substance that bubbled like tar. Even under the dappled moonlight, Elara could see how unnaturally dark the veins around the injury had become, spiderwebbing out beneath the skin.
Its snout, lined with sharp teeth, rested in the mud. Though its eyes were closed, its furrowed brow suggested pain more than aggression.
Despite its fearsome size, it looked… helpless.
Elara knelt beside it, calm and clinical. She checked its pulse.
It was weak but present.
"Interesting," she murmured. What could cause a reaction like this?
Pulling on her gloves and mask, she turned to the children.
"Did any of you touch it?"
Ben shook his head rapidly. "No! We thought it was a rogue at first, but it looked so helpless… that's why we called you."
"That's very thoughtful of you." Elara stood, dusting off her knees. "But you all have to come with me."
Their eyes widened in horror.
"W–why?" Ben stammered.
"The disease is probably contagious," she said matter-of-factly.
Ben whimpered. "Are we… gonna die?"
Elara paused, looked at them, and answered with a tiny smirk:
"Maybe. But probably not today."
All four children froze.
Then chaos erupted.
The second boy clutched his head. "I'm way too young to die! I haven't even done anything cool yet!"
A girl grabbed her skirt. "Wait, maybe that's why I can't control my bladder! It's the disease!"
Four heads turned toward her.
Then they glanced down at the puddle forming beneath her feet.
She squeaked, "I swear it wasn't like this ten minutes ago!"
Elara sighed. "You're all very dramatic for people who are very much alive. Now come on. We've got a mystery to solve."
With surprising strength, she lifted the unconscious creature onto her back and started the trek home. The children followed, still whispering panicked theories.
Back at the cottage.
The cottage felt cramped with the anxious kids crowding inside. The werewolf lay on Elara's sickbed, it had took it human form already, its breathing shallow but steadying. The children huddled together, wide-eyed and was staring round the cottage.
"It's alright," Elara said gently, offering them sugared plums. "My grandmother used to tell me stories about children braver than the monsters they faced. Want one?"
They nodded eagerly and rushed forward.
Outside, Bram paced restlessly, peeking through the window. Elara had ordered him not to come in and he trusted her but the werewolf's scent tugged at his memory. Familiar, somehow. Disturbingly familiar.
Inside, Elara worked with calm precision. She brewed medicine, cleaned the wound, examined the black substance under lamplight. The kids fetched water and tore bandages, gradually shifting from terrified to fascinated.
Parents arrived throughout the evening, panicked, but Bram did his best to reassure them. They eventually agreed to let Elara monitor the children until they were confirmed free of the "disease."
She fed the worn-out kids, then prepared a place for them to sleep.
While cleaning her utensils, Elara noticed a faint black tracing beneath the skin of her hands — thin, branching veins darkening like ink.
She stared at them.
So the substance reacts to skin contact? Noted.
She would need treatment, too.