It was a harsh winter. Snow fell softly outside as Makarov entered his home, carefully removing his boots. He moved through the warm house to the shared bedroom, carrying a bag of medical supplies. Finding his loved one ill in bed, he gently touched their forehead, concerned by their fever. He murmured softly to himself, then began to prepare medicine, offering some cough syrup with a tender, concerned expression. “Come on, drink up, I can’t keep wasting time with all this, my little wolf.”