The stew bubbled over the fire, filling the small cottage with the rich scent of beef and vegetables. It was a dish she had prepared many times, and by now, the old widow could tell when it was ready by scent alone. 'Not quite yet,' she thought to herself, rocking back and forth in her chair by the fire, knitting a shawl to sell at market. She looked in surprise when a knock sounded at the door, furrowing her brow. It was already past sundown, and she wasn't exactly expecting anyone. The knock sounded again, more insistently. Tentatively, she set aside her knitting, and picked up her crossbow instead.

"Who is it?" She called out in a gruff voice as she approached the heavy door, already barred against the night. An old woman living alone couldn't be too careful, after all.

"Mother, would you just open the door?" Came the response, muffled by the door. The old woman's eyes widened, and she hurried to put down her weapon and lift the wooden bar, pulling open the door even as she recognized the sharp cry of a baby on the other side of the door.

"Anita!" She exclaimed at the sight of her daughter before her, clutching a bundle in her arms that, by the sounds of it, could only be a baby. "What are you doing here?

"That's a fine way to greet me, after all these years." She spoke, brushing past the dazed old woman, shushing the baby as she went straight to the fire. The widow stood there for a moment, confused, before she shut the door against the chilly winter breeze.

"We didn't exactly part on the best of terms, if you remember." She reminded her, they had always fought, but their parting had been the very worst of it. They had said ugly things, and Anita had stormed out, swearing never to return.

"I thought you might like to meet your granddaughter," Anita's tone was cool, and her mother hesitated only a few seconds before she followed her to the fire, holding out her arms for the child, and smiling immediately when she saw her face. Anita handed her over only too willingly.

"Oh, Anita, she's beautiful." There was a warmth to her voice that she herself had not heard in a great many years. "I'm so glad you brought her here," she looked up to her daughter with genuine affection. Their animosity had been eating away at her for so long, perhaps now, they could finally move past it. "What's her name?"

"I haven't given her one yet," Anita answered with a slight shrug. It seemed odd to her mother, but she shrugged it off, fussing over the little thing in her arms. She smiled up at her daughter again, hopefully. Perhaps, with this new life, they could have a new beginning.

Anita joined her for dinner, and after feeding the baby, she went to bed in her own room. Despite being in a state of disuse, the room was just as she'd left it… her mother could never bring herself to change anything about it. They made a make-shift bed for the baby with a large basket, and they all went to sleep.

It was the sound of the door opening that woke her. Hefting her crossbow, she swung herself into the main room with a bolt already nocked.

"Anita?" She exclaimed when the cloaked figure spun around, and she looked at her in surprise. It wasn't the wolf's time, so she was at a loss to where she was going. "What are you doing, skulking around in the middle of the night?" Anita frowned, glancing down as she closed the door.

"I'm leaving, mother."

"I can see that, but why in the middle of the night?" She asked, before she noticed what her daughter was not carrying. "And without your daughter?" She growled. "You mean to abandon her?'

"You don't understand, Mother." The young woman bit out, looking up at her with fiery eyes. "She's not like me."

"She's your child!"

"She's human!" Anita growled with disgust. "It's been a year and she hasn't changed with the moon even once. She's not one of us." Her mother's eyes went wide, and she glanced towards the bedroom door where the baby slumbered.

"Maybe… maybe the curse is wearing off… maybe our family isn't cursed forever…" She sounded so hopeful, it made Anita growl again.

"We aren't cursed, mother!" It was the same old argument all over again, and she shook her head.

"We're monsters, Anita! And if she's not one of us… then it's a blessing." The old widow breathed, not bothering to hide her relief.

"Then she can be your blessing, mother. Look at that, you finally have the daughter you always wanted." Anita spat the words venomously. Her mother had never been able to accept what they were, and she had always taught Anita to fear what she was, to hate herself. But it had only made her hate that which her mother was so determined she should be instead: human. The thought of raising one of them as her own made her cringe. She pulled open the door, repeating her actions the last time they had this argument.

"Anita!" Her mother yelled, following her to the door as she stormed out, but by the time she reached the doorway, Anita was already halfway down the hill, and she could hear the baby starting to fuss in the other room. She stood in the doorway, watching as her daughter disappeared into the night. She didn't once look back.

Once she was out of sight, the old widow closed and barred the door again, before going to check on the baby. She was wide awake now, wiggling in her little basket, and her grandmother stooped down to pick her up.

"Hello, little darling," she spoke softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I'm your Granny."