Werewolves - Secrets of the Lupians

Pups

Elise had not picked the wolfsbane. She passed by it once again. If she had picked it, the plant would have blistered her hands, a clear indicator of her guilt when the alpha Brolyn and his mate were inevitably found dead.
Sure, she could probably use a different plant or animal pelt to carry the toxic ingredient home, but she would still have to chop or tear it and mix it into the rest of the food without letting any of it touch her skin. Perhaps, one day, she might snap and do just that, but today would not be that day.

Besides which, Dara was pregnant, and even though she was sure the pup would turn out as bad as its parents, Elise could never harm a child; whether it was standing in front of her or still within its mother's womb made no difference.

Her thoughts turned to the chicken from Edna. It was a rare treat, and she had to be clever with it. Back in the cabin, she set to work immediately. With trembling hands, she plucked the feathers and gutted the bird, her mind racing with the knowledge that she had to make this meal count. Dara's temper had been volatile of late, and she knew the consequences of serving anything less than satisfactory.

Elise carefully chopped the tubers and herbs into fine pieces, mixing them into the seasoning for the chicken. The aroma filled the cabin, a tantalizing blend of thyme and rosemary that mingled with the rich scent of roasting meat. A hint of Valerian, one of her favorite aromas, could be detected with the other scents, but she wasn't concerned about it. The wolves wouldn't recognize what they were smelling anyway. As the chicken sizzled in the pan over the spit, she could feel the tension in her shoulders ease slightly. This meal had to be perfect; not just for the taste, but to mask the flavors of the secret ingredients she had gathered in the woods. The herbs she had crushed and mixed into the roast she knew to have a calming effect, capable of inducing a deep sleep in those who consumed them, and she needed them to sleep.

She knew she needn't concern herself about whether she, too, would fall asleep prematurely because they wouldn't allow her to eat it. They never did. They allowed her to eat their scraps when they were full or when they disliked what she had given them. Their laughter at the sight of her scrambling to consume the scraps before they changed their minds played constantly in her mind.

Elise was careful not to cook the meat through. Lupians, in general, disliked fully cooked meat. Even in human form, they never cooked their meat past medium rare. The hot, juicy centers of any meats with blood still oozing as they were cut delighted them.
Her masters were no different. They enjoyed the flavors of cooked herbs but demanded that the meat be rare, and she acquesced.

"Have you finished our meal yet, slave?!" Dara's shrill, demanding voice shot through her mind, shattering her thoughts.

"Nearly finished!" She cried out, suddenly shaking.
Using her crude utensils, she removed the chicken, plated it, and added the roots and herbs around the meat and piled it high on dishes for her masters.
Her heart beat rapidly and out of synch in her chest. Some beats were light and rapid, others heavy and short. Her vision began blurring and her head felt hot and wobbly.

No, not now. I can't pass out now. She thought, shaking her head and attempting to steady her breathing.
The dishes shook as she carried them to the den room.
As soon as she placed them in front of the wolves, they began devouring the food. Their nostrils widened to allow better breathing as they greedily gulped down everything in front of them.

Elise kneeled near the doorway, eyes lowered to the floor, still trembling, waiting for them to finish. It was highly likely that they would complain about the food, and then Brolyn would beat her.
Dara might join in by biting or slashing at her with her claws, but she couldn't bite hard enough to have fun without doing too much damage. A dead omega would raise many questions and could lead to their expulsion from the pack.