It was Friday. It had only been five days since Lia had arrived and the Italian could almost say that she hadn't altered his routine much... except that he always had to keep an eye on her, feed her, bathe her, take her for walks, take care of her things... He was a bloody housewife!

Time, however, was flying by. She was still distant, but she already had some achievements in her favor. She was already bathing herself: at least her arms. She was already opening her mouth: for him to feed her. It wasn't much, but five days wasn't much either, and at least she was already obeying a little.

Holding his hand, as she always did, she followed him to the beach and stared at the sea while he took pictures. Where he left her, there she stayed, immobile and distant as a rock.

Ian wasn't sure to what extent she shared his reality, or if she was at least aware that she wasn't in her own home. Now the only completely new factor in that equation was the wolves, and the girl s