The day began like any other. Marron was in her food cart, slicing vegetables and checking inventory. Meanwhile, Mokko was polishing the counter with slow, steady swipes. Today's weather in Whisperwind was crisp, with the morning sun cutting through the canopy in soft beams.
Instead of suspicious glares and quick steps away from her food stall, the wolfkin offered polite nods now.
That's progress, at least, Marron thought as she cooked a few orders of duck-fat fries and poured sodas. She saw that the system had refilled her inventory.
"Will you do that until I unlock more recipes?" she mumbled to herself.
[As long as you have coins, I will use them to refill your inventory, dear chef.]
She recalled she had at least 120 gold coins left.
"How much will today's refill cost me?"
[50 gold for the day, dear chef.]
That seemed a little steep, but she supposed it was also for the convenience. And she didn't have an influx of customers to barter with yet.
"Okay. Please refill my inventory for today."
[Daily inventory has been refilled for 1 day. Ingredients for Duck Fries and Soda, Scrambled Eggs with Toast, Rice Balls, and Boiled Chicken with Rice are now available.][New Total: 70 gold]
In a pinch, it really was convenient. Marron mentally thanked her system and decided to prepare five orders of duck-fat fries and soda, just in case people decided to trade with her today.
It wasn't until a tall shadow fell across the stall that Marron looked up.
He was broad-shouldered, his shadow stretching long across the packed earth. At first glance, he had the stance of a seasoned warrior—tall, sure, and still as stone.
It was only when he shifted his head toward her that Marron caught the silhouette of tall, pointed ears twitching faintly in the breeze.
When she stepped forward to greet him, the rest of his appearance came into focus. His hair was short and dark, the same deep black as the sleek fur of his jackal's body.
Dark violet eyes watched her with a mixture of curiosity and caution, and there was a gold circlet resting lightly on his head. Its design was simple but striking. Something about it made her think of a leader who didn't need heavy jewels to prove his station.
Up close, the resemblance struck her. He looked like a living depiction of the god Anubis from the old illustrations she'd seen as a child. A jackal-headed man, his lean features regal, the edges of his expression sharp but not unkind.
"Your stall," he said, his voice deep and measured, "smells like no other in Whisperwind."
She had no idea how to respond to that, so she said "T-thank you. We're grateful to be here."
"Kael's the one you should be thanking," he said curtly. "he tests humans every now and then. But he only brings ones with potential into our forest."
We must have passed a rigorous screening process. Marron thought, nervous now.
Especially since if I didn't pass, the meat would've eaten Kael inside out. And the wolves would have eaten me.
"You're Marron Louvel," he said, not asking. His voice carried the authority of someone who never needed to repeat himself. "I have heard of your work."
Marron's hand tightened on the knife handle. "I… hope you've heard good things?"
The edges of his lips curled. "Enough to extend an invitation. Three days from now, we will hold the Whisperwind Mini-Festival. A community dinner will close the evening. Bring something to share with the town."
He slid a smooth wooden card across her counter. The emblem of a crescent moon over a leafy bough was carved into it.
Marron blinked, accepting it carefully. "Thank you. I'll—do my best."
"You'll do better than that." He inclined his head slightly and turned, walking away with the same quiet gravity he'd arrived with.
Lyra appeared before Marron could exhale properly, leaning against the cart with her usual lazy grin. "Well, well. The Lord Jackal himself? He doesn't invite newcomers to something like this."
Marron raised the wooden card. "I guess I should take it as a good sign?"
"It's a challenge," Lyra said. "You'll be cooking for the whole town. Use everything you've learned about Whisperwind so far."
Marron glanced at Mokko, who was already tidying the chopping board. "Guess I'd better start thinking."
+
Later that morning, Marron took a slow lap through the market square. The festival stalls were already starting to take shape—canopies stretched over wooden tables, strings of tiny paper lanterns hanging from the rafters.
At one booth, a young bearkin boy was struggling to lift a crate of clay bowls twice his size. Marron crouched, steadying the crate before it tipped.
"Careful," she said. "You'll break your back before the festival even starts."
His mother, a broad-shouldered bearkin woman with flour on her fur, hurried over. "Thank you. We're rushing to finish the bread stand."
Marron smiled. "If you need extra hands…"
Ten minutes later she was kneading dough at the booth, sleeves rolled up, while Mokko ferried trays to the oven. The scent of yeast and rising warmth filled the air, drawing curious glances from passing shoppers.
By the time she returned to her cart, she had a small bag of crusty rolls tucked under her arm—payment in the form of barter, not coin.
That afternoon, a wolfkin approached her stall. His fur was streaked silver, his manner brisk but not unkind.
"I want rice balls," he said.
Marron was slightly surprised with his gruff voice. "I...that's the first time anyone's asked me about rice balls. Is it common here?"
The silver-streaked wolfkin shook his head. "It is in the human villages. I spent some time in them before coming home. If it can gain more popularity in Whisperwind, the hunters can bring some food along with them instead of waiting for dinner when they return."
"Oh? Do people here eat at the same time?"
He nodded. "Community meals. The inn cooks and we all drop by for a share. So if the hunters come back and they haven't made anything yet, they wait."
"Yikes. Well, let's see if I can do something about that. I do have some short-grain rice here. Any filling requests?"
He hesitated, then leaned closer. "I heard from Kael—you're good with meat. I want some chicken...crispy. But I don't want it to be dry. So maybe it would be nice with some sauce?"
"All right," Marron said, rolling her sleeves. "I'll make you chicken teriyaki rice balls."
The wolfkin blinked but didn't comment further, and just waited.
She lit the small grill pan, adding a thin sheen of oil. The chicken thigh pieces hit with a sizzle, their skin snapping as fat rendered. The air filled with a savory perfume—soy, sake, ginger, and just enough sugar to promise caramelization.
When the sauce thickened to a glossy sheen, she pulled the chicken from the heat. Her hands worked quickly, shaping warm rice into cupped palms, tucking a cube of crispy chicken inside, drizzling in sauce, then sealing it tight. The rice steamed against her fingers, the nori wrap hugging it all together.
Each one was plump, perfectly smooth, with a faint gleam from the teriyaki's seep through the grains.
The wolfkin set a small basket on the counter.
Inside were apples—ruby red, perfectly round, and so fragrant the scent lifted the moment her fingers brushed the skin. A gentle squeeze, and juice welled instantly.
"These are from a faraway friend," he murmured.
The weight of the words lingered as she passed him the rice balls. He left without another word.
Kael was next in line, dropping a pouch of coins. Marron leaned in. "Faraway friend—what does that mean?"
Kael's ears flicked.
"Code. Wolves who secretly trade with snakekin. Not supposed to happen. Been bad blood for years."
"Why?"
"Old hunting disputes. Stolen meat. Some wounds take a long time to heal." He took his food and gave her a faint smile. "But sometimes, a good meal makes the first stitch."
+
That night, Marron bit into one of the apples herself—nice and tart, with transparent apple juice running down her chin.
"This one's perfect for cooking. Not sweet at all..."
She found herself wishing she had a journal, and remembered the one Mokko handed her earlier. "Now I have a notebook, but not a pencil...
Ding!
[You can get a pencil if you give me 10 gold, dear chef.]
"Oh, sure," She murmured. "please make sure it's sharpened."
A pencil appeared on her counter, the lead sharp and shiny.
[10g has been deducted from your wallet. Your new balance is 60 gold.]
"Thanks," she said, mentally swiping the system away. She wrote down "Snakekin Apple Varieties" on the first page, near the top.
She checked on another one, and its juice tasted like apple-flavored wine.
"This apple tastes slightly more fermented than the first...very interesting."
She wrote her observation down and reached for another one.
Marron bit on a third apple and it was so sweet, she needed a drink of water. "Definitely a dessert apple."
The apples from her new faraway friends were a convenient powerhouse of flavor. It was the kind of fruit that could carry a whole memory on its back.
If I get extra, I should offer them to Lyra.
She thought about the festival. The rice balls were good, but for the community dinner, she wanted something more. Something unforgettable.
The next morning, she walked the winding paths again. Roasted meats, hearty stews, nut breads...savory dominated the tables.
Almost nothing was just sweet.
"That's it. I'll make dessert!" She already knew a recipe she wanted to experiment with.
Caramel apple dumplings—soft dough hugging spiced apple slices, baked until golden, with a syrup that glistened like amber.
She traded fried potato wedges for cinnamon sticks, sour bread for fresh cream. Mokko carried the baskets, watching her work late into the night.
"Festival's still two days away," he said on the second evening. "You could rest."
"I'll rest after I test the dumpling wrappers," she said, rolling dough thinner.
A faint chime came from the system:
[Warning: Spiritual Fatigue Accumulating]
She dismissed it without a word.
Somewhere across the square, a small pale-blue slime peeked from behind a rain barrel, trembling with anticipation.