Ryan P.O. V

I sat at the dining hall, staring at the steaming bowl of wild boar stew in front of me.

My wolf was already pacing with excitement as the aroma filled the air. But my stomach, on the other hand, was sending out distress signals.

I had eaten wild boar stew for lunch, wild boar stew for dinner, and now, it seemed, wild boar stew for breakfast. Again.

Samantha had been working with us for a few months now, and this was probably the only dish she knew how to cook.

Don't get me wrong, it was delicious, but I had eaten it too many times; I was...