Early December, 11 months into Nora's coma.
"She's turning 19 today."
Sylviana raises her head to look at me, a bit surprised.
"Are you talking about Nora?"
I nod. I just thought about it, too. We had her Birthday celebrated with present and all last year, but those last few months have gone by so fast I almost forgot. From behind her kitchen counter, Sylviana resumes her cutting. She has been at it since this morning. I don't really know what she's been doing, I see her bring lots of flowers and seeds from her garden, mixing and cutting it, boiling stuff and crushing it in one of her mortar. As usual, she won't explain anything. It's like watching someone cooking, but I don't recognize any ingredient or have the slightest idea of what she's preparing.
Though, as a werewolf, I love
