Human turned Werewolf (Extremely slow updates)

Chaper 10

Experiment six-two-six

I was awoken by a soft but persistent tapping on my shoulder, a sensation that pulled me from the depths of restless sleep. Blinking away the remnants of dreams I couldn't quite grasp; I found the boy from yesterday standing beside my bed, his expression patient and kind.

"It's time for dinner service," he said in a reassuring tone, his words spoken with an understanding that put me at ease.

Dinner service? The idea fills me with a mix of anxiety and curiosity. I'd never done this before, and I'm worried I might be unable to handle it. Nevertheless, nodding, I offer a hesitant but grateful smile.

The boy gestured for me to follow him, and I slowly swung my legs over the edge of the bed, feeling the stiffness in my muscles protest at the sudden motion. We moved quickly through the hallways, the scent of food growing stronger with each step. The butterflies in my stomach make their presence known as we draw nearer to the kitchen. The sound of pots and pans banging together and voices shouting reaches our ears.

Entering the bustling kitchen, I was immediately bombarded by the clatter of plates, the aroma of food, and the hum of activity. The pack members in the kitchen moved with practiced efficiency, each task flowing seamlessly into the next. Swallowing thickly, I push down the wave of worry and anxiety that suddenly rushes over me. Taping me gently, the boy motions me to follow him towards the corner of the kitchen, where a wall of hooks lined it with black clothes hung.

"Every night for dinner service, you always make sure you put these on." The boy handed me one of the clothes, "It's an apron; you tie it around your waist."

Taking the apron from him, I watch as he wraps it around his frame before doing it myself. Smiling softly at me, he led me to a different corner where trays and plates waited in stacks. Instead of handing me a tray, he gave me a pitcher filled with water. His eyes radiated with patience, "Just watch me, " He whispered, "You'll pick it up."

I nodded, heart racing as I tried to keep up with the rest of the kitchen staff. Every time the boy would go out with a new tray of food, I would follow closely behind, filling glasses. As dinner service continued, my anxiety was ever-present, not once leaving me on my own. The others operated with a rhythm of experience; I tried my best to stay out of their way, careful not to mess anything up. Still, there were moments when I accidentally spilled a bit of water or tripped over my feet, drawing annoyed glances from those we were serving.

As dinner service ended, the kitchen staff started to clean up while the boy showed me how to prepare dessert. It was simple: a scoop of vanilla ice cream with a drizzle of chocolate sauce. It was basic and easy to do. I felt confident in knowing I couldn't possibly mess this up. Scooping the ice cream, I tried to make it look as neat and round as I was shown. I carefully poured the chocolate sauce, trying to create a pretty pattern. It's not as perfect as I was shown, but I was happy with how it turned out.

"Would you like to help hand these out?" The boy, whose name I learned was Nathan, asks, setting the already-made ice cream on a trolly.

Nodding my head slightly, I follow close behind him as he makes his way into the dining room, leaving the cart off to the side; we each take plates of dessert and start handing them out to the pack members. My hands shake with nerves as I set a plate in front of a female pack member who was glaring daggers at me. Quickly walking back to the trolly, I take a deep breath before picking up the ice cream I made; I smile softly at the imperfect dessert.