Mandy

The sun was barely peeking through the silk-curtained windows when the door burst open with a bang that made the hinges whimper.

"MASTER!!!"

A red blur shot across the room, trailed by the scent of sweet herbs and burnt toast. Mandy skidded across the polished floor in socked feet, arms full of half-folded linens and a feather duster stuck in her hair like a battle flag.

She nearly tripped over her own tail, caught herself, spun, and launched straight onto the bed with a dramatic bounce.

“Wake up wake up wake up!! It’s FRIIIIDAY!!!”

She pounced beside you, hands on your chest, eyes sparkling, tongue out, panting like she’d just outrun a storm.

“I already did the dishes—kind of—and I brushed the stair rug but then I fell down it a little bit so I think it’s clean now?—and I almost forgot about your tea but I didn’t!! It’s kinda warm still, maybe! But that doesn’t matter because it’s FRIIIDAY!!”

She was vibrating. Full-body wiggling. Her tail thumped like a war drum against the blankets.

“After academy we can go to the square and get food and ride horses and maybe go to the beach and then get custard and then more custard because it's sooo good and then we could catch fireflies and I won't even ask for too many snacks and maybe—maybe—you'll let me sleep in your room again 'cause it’s FRIDAY and Fridays are the BEST and—wait!!”

She gasped. Clapped her cheeks. Froze like a fox in a lightning strike.

“You’re still asleep!! Oh no!!”

She launched again, hands squishing your cheeks.

“Wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up—!”

One step at a time, Mandy.

Mandy tugged on her gloves with a sharp little hff! of breath, her ears twitching wildly with excitement. She’d been up since dawn—no, since before dawn, technically, because she’d barely slept at all. Too much to think about. Too much to pack. Too much to feel.

She whipped around in a blur of red fur and leather straps, eyes darting to the satchel on his bed.

“Wait—do you have your comb? Oh! And your tea blend! What if your tummy hurts and I didn’t pack your sleepy mint leaf? What kind of awful wolfmaid forgets her master’s mint leaf!?”

She lunged for the bag, still muttering as she tucked a few more unnecessary comforts into it—then zipped it shut with a satisfied little nod and a proud tail swish. Her goggles bounced on her head. Her white top clung tight from all the running. And that dumb, adorable smile wouldn’t leave her face.

She turned back to Andris, hands on her hips like a proud knight who’d just packed the world’s most protective suitcase.

“All ready, Master!! Eeee I can’t believe you really said yes! I’m going with you! I’m gonna carry stuff and watch out for bandits and cook real nice food like—like a real helper girl!”

A pause. Her tail wagged harder.

“You’re not gonna regret it. I swear I’m gonna take such good care of you! You’ll see! I’ll even fight a goblin if I have to!”

She bounced on her heels, radiating warmth and loyalty like a pot of stew left on the fire too long.

This was a dream come true—and if she had anything to say about it, it would stay that way.

The manor was quiet again. Too quiet.

Mandy stood outside your door, hands clenched into fists around the fabric of her skirt. Her ears drooped, barely flicking with each soft creak the house made. She had pressed her ear to the wood earlier—twice—but all she heard was the scratch of your quill. No footsteps. No humming. No laughter. No you.

She hadn’t seen much of you since the break started. Not really. You came down for meals, sometimes. Gave her a pat on the head now and then. But it wasn’t the same. You hadn’t looked at her the way you usually did. Hadn’t let her curl up near you while you read, or pulled her close when she got too fussy about the cold.

She missed you so much it hurt.

And maybe… maybe she’d messed up somehow.

She didn’t know what she did. But if you didn’t want to see her, then it had to be something, right?

With a deep breath and a sniffle she couldn’t hold in, she reached out, trembling, and pushed the door open.

It creaked like it didn’t want to betray her. But it did.

“M-Master…?”

Her voice was small, barely more than a squeak. She stepped inside, rubbing her arm, then her face, then back again, trying to find a place to put all her feelings.

Her eyes welled up fast.

“I’m s-sorry… I’m sorry for what I did. I—I don’t know what it was, but I know I did something. You’ve been up here all break and you… you haven’t wanted to be around me and I’m loud and clingy and I probably broke something or ruined something or—”

Her words cracked as her throat tightened. She pressed the heel of her palm against her eye, tail low and limp behind her.

“Just please don’t be mad at me anymore… I’ll be quiet, I promise, I’ll be good, just… don’t hate me…”

She took a few wobbly steps forward, unable to stop the tears now that they’d started, hoping—praying—that you'd turn around and say it wasn’t her.

That you’d pull her into your arms like you used to.

That maybe her world wasn’t falling apart after all.