Later that evening, Marron sank into the indoor bath, her arms trailing lazily through the warm water. The journey had been fun—at first. Until Frostfall.
"Then…I just got sucked into the Culinary Guild's mess," she muttered. "Like when my boss sat me in the conference room and just ranted about her problems."
As she shampooed her black hair, the memory surged forward, unwelcome but persistent: her elderly boss's voice, trembling with insecurity.
"I think Harold is going to leave me for a younger woman because I couldn't give him a son."
She splashed the water sharply, trying to scatter the memory.
"And then she thanked me for listening. And gave me more work." A bitter laugh escaped her. "I'm still glad I got out of there."
If I didn't send that resignation email, I probably never would've left.
She poured a dipper of water over her head, rinsing the suds out slowly.
"So if I had the strength to leave my job on Earth…why am I letting myself get dragged into beastkin politics? Or the Frostfall Culinary Guild's demands?"
None of it is mine to carry.
She leaned back, letting the warm water rise to her collarbones.
She remembered the feast. The weight of her ladle. The way the shadow had backed off—not because she'd fought it, but because she'd fed the others instead. Because she chose to cook for someone else's future, not her own fear.
It had felt powerful, sure. But was it power…or just panic dressed up as confidence?
"I don't want to be that again," she murmured. "I don't want to be useful just because I listen quietly. Or cook well. I want to… choose."
She sank lower into the water.
"I need to remember that I can."
+
The warmth of the bath still clung to her skin as Marron padded barefoot into the little kitchen nook of their lodging. Her towel was wrapped snugly around her shoulders, her hair damp and fragrant with meadow herb shampoo. Outside the window, moonlight dusted the edges of the courtyard like spilled flour.
Her stomach grumbled.
"Oh yeah...I never actually tasted my own spaghetti."
After she'd returned to the inn, she had been too tired and preoccupied with the battle between the wolves and the snakes. A proper dinner hadn't...happened at all.
Luckily, the inn was a great source of leftovers. She tied back her hair and walked over to the communal pot, laid out in the lobby.
After lunch, they served some braised chicken and rice.
Marron smiled. It was familiar and simple, perfect for the recipe she had in mind. She grabbed her pack and wrapped some braised chicken in wax paper, and got a wooden bowl for the rice.
Before turning back to her room, she looked through her food cart, parked near the kitchen doors. "Yes! there's still some soy sauce here."
Happy with her haul, she walked back to her bedroom. Mokko and Lucy had gotten to share another one, which meant she didn't have to listen to his big bear snoring.
+
She wet her hands, sprinkled a pinch of salt onto her palms like she remembered from an old video, and gently pressed the rice into shape. Folded in the meat, and then covered it with more rice.
Finally, she smoothened it into a neat rectangle. She put the finished rice ball on a wooden dish and started making a second one.
By this time, the smell started to drift.
Sorry guys. Cooking just helps me think.
From the hallway, soft footsteps approached.
Mokko appeared in the doorway, eyes half-lidded, Lucy trailing behind him with a slow, curious wobble.
"Are you cooking again?" Mokko asked, voice thick with sleep.
"Just a snack," Marron said. "Something simple."
He stepped closer, nostrils flaring. "That smells... portable."
She blinked. "That's not usually a compliment."
"No, I mean it's brilliant," Mokko said. "You can walk with it, no dish required. The scent's layered but contained. What is this?"
Marron held one out. "It's called a rice ball. I used to eat these all the time back on Earth. Convenience food, but comforting."
Lucy's jelly-body shimmered soft teal, her signal for interested but cautious. Marron broke off a corner and offered it gently. Lucy absorbed it with care, and her glow rippled with warmth.
Mokko took a full one, biting in. His tail flicked upward—approval.
"You should sell these," he said with his mouth full. "Tomorrow. At the morning market. The wolfkin would lose their minds."
"Really?"
"You've accidentally invented a trust snack," he said. "These are ideal for sharing without strings. No bowls to return, no awkward questions. Just… flavor and form."
Marron didn't reply immediately.
Because she felt it again—that presence, subtle and just outside the circle of lamplight. Like a taste lingering on the edge of a memory.
The shadow was nearby. Watching.
She didn't feel fear.
She broke off a third rice ball, placed it on a small dish, and set it on the windowsill.
"Here," she said quietly. "If you're still hungry."
The silence deepened. Then the air shifted slightly, like an exhale through silk. The rice ball vanished—not with menace, but grace.
Mokko blinked. "Did you just… feed that thing again?"
"Maybe." Marron looked out the window. The moon was high and bright.
She said softly, "Can I return you to the snakekin? Is that where you're from?"
Mokko furrowed his brow. "That's a strange question."
"Not if it's been following me," she said, "because it didn't know how to go back."
The system flickered into her periphery, text laced with a soft chime:
[Resonance Match: Flavor Signature – Snakekin Forager Line]
[Echo Thread Identified – Noncorporeal Culinary Residue]
[Return Possible Through Recipe-Ritual Exchange]
New Prompt: [Teach the Hungry One How to Ask]
[Do you accept? Y/N]
Marron smiled faintly and pressed her fingers to the windowsill.
"Yes," she whispered. "But only if you're ready to stop stealing and start learning."
The scent of rice and salt lingered in the air, warm and peaceful.
Lucy let out a soft coo.
And the shadow finally stopped watching.
It listened.