The communal fires were winding down, but the warmth from Marron's food still lingered in the air.
Mokko wiped his hands on a spare cloth, ears twitching at the quiet laughter around the last of the food stalls. He leaned against the food cart. It was much heavier now, because it was full of ingredients.
The basket, on the other hand, was much lighter. Inside were remnants of the day's food: stray bits of lightly salted rice, discarded leaf wrappers, and the smell of sweet teriyaki sauce.
Lucy had created a glass-like orb for herself and gently swayed inside it, a satisfied smile on her face. Her slime body pulsed with colorful lights, dimmed by the approaching night, but still made for a mesmerizing sight.
"She really did it," Mokko muttered.
Lucy responded with a bright flicker and a soft twingle sound, her version of applause.
Mokko glanced down at the goods they'd bartered for: a sack of root vegetables with eyes like little suns.
Two jars of tangy fermented greens.
A cloth pouch of powdered firefruit spice.
A jug of thick oil.
Several skeins of eggs still warm from their nest-boxes.
And a bundle of the softest forest flour he'd ever seen.
Even the apples she'd traded for earlier were still fragrant in the pack, crimson juice gently bleeding through their stems.
Mokko adjusted the cart's handle and began wheeling it along the pine-lined path back toward the inn.
He paused.
The cart moved easier than before.
He narrowed his eyes, pushed again.
Still smooth.
"…Did the wheels get better?" he asked aloud.
Lucy glowed a soft orange-pink. Not an answer—more a shrug. But even she twirled slightly in agreement.
Progress made things lighter.
They reached the inn under a sky salted with stars. One of the wolfkin pups was snoring on the porch, clutching a half-eaten pancake roll. Mokko carefully wheeled the cart around him and opened the door.
The soft amber glow of lanterns greeted them.
And there, in the common room just past the low table, was Marron.
She'd fallen asleep, curled sideways with her arm over an open journal. Her hair was mussed from the breeze, and there was a faint dot of flour on her nose.
Across the page were doodles of food shapes, tiny ingredient notes, and a half-written title:
Sweetroot Tempura with… something green??
Needs crunch! Green for color contrast.
Maybe nuts?
Lucy's orb dimmed to a hush-pink and settled quietly on the floor beside her.
Mokko moved to pull a blanket from the wall rack—then stopped.
There was already one tucked over her shoulders.
The fabric was old, patterned with ash-dark thread.
It didn't belong to the inn, and they couldn't afford to buy a blanket made from rare black thread.
Mokko looked around. Nobody was there, but...
He caught a flicker of movement near the window.
He turned and saw a silhouette in the trees, their figure framed by moonlight.
They wore a hood, so it was impossible to see what kind of beast or human they were. But they stood perfectly still, as if waiting for something.
When Mokko blinked, they were gone.
He tensed his jaw.
I don't know if I can defend Marron in my current state.
The forest rustled, but no threatening noises were heard.
Instead, there was a soft
Ding!
Mokko's ears twitched and he looked back at Marron. That was the system sound.
When he saw the very faint outline of a glittering box, he knew he must have leveled up. Only the highest ranked culinary guardians could use their magic to strip away the system's strong illusion abilities.
It was already fading.
But the fact that he could see it, even for a moment, remained.
My level must have gone up quite a bit. I should ask Marron to check tomorrow.
He exhaled through his nose, scratched his snout, and tucked the food cart away in the outdoor kitchen.
Then he grabbed Lucy's orb and put her down on the table, while he sat on one of the living room chairs.
"Hope that ding's a good one," he said quietly.
Lucy let out a faint chirp in agreement.
Together, they kept watch over Marron as she slept—still dreaming of something warm, crunchy, and just a little bit green.
+
The sun was just beginning to push gold through the treetops when Mokko quietly stepped into the kitchen nook, a bundle of goods balanced on one shoulder.
He set down the flour pouch, the jar of cream, and the skein of forest eggs without a sound. The hearth fire was already low and glowing—he fed it gently with pine kindling, careful not to let it crackle too loud.
Lucy blinked awake in her orb, then floated to hover beside him. She chirped softly in question.
Mokko gave her a nod. "Let's let her sleep a little longer."
He rubbed the sleep from his own eyes, then glanced at the small spread they'd brought home the night before.
His gaze settled on the nut jar—hazel, root-chestnut, and what looked like frost almonds from the deeper groves. Nearby was a jug of syrup: amber, thick, sweet-smelling, almost floral.
He cracked his knuckles, tied his sash tighter, and began to work.
"Crepes," he said quietly to Lucy. "Least that's what a chef I used to work with called them. Thin and crispy on the edges."
Lucy swirled in agreement and gently nudged the mixing bowl toward him.
He took it with a small smile.
The crepe batter was simple—flour, water, egg, and a touch of the syrup for sweetness. Mokko moved with confident ease, his motions practiced, graceful even in silence.
He poured the batter in thin swirls on the hot pan, tilting it in practiced arcs, letting the fire kiss the edges golden-brown.
Lucy helped by floating utensils to his hand, whether it was a spatula, a whisk, or a ladle. Occasionally, she hummed encouraging noises. When he whipped the cream, she wobbled in place and changed her color to match it.
Mokko chuckled. Sometimes Lucy reminded him of a cat instead of a normal kitchen slime. When the cream held a stiff peak, he set it aside beside a bowl of chopped nuts.
When the crepes were ready, Mokko filled them with the whipped cream and nut mixture, folded them gently, and drizzled warm syrup across the top.
The rich and sweet scent filled the inn.
Marron stirred, nose twitching, brow furrowing in confusion.
Mmm. I wonder who's cooking breakfast this early...?
She sat up blearily, still wearing her robe from yesterday, hair half-stuck to one side of her face.
She rubbed her eyes and blinked toward the small dining area.
Mokko stood at the table, plating the last crepe with steady hands. Lucy hovered beside him, giving a triumphant twinkle.
"...You're cooking?" she mumbled.
Mokko looked up, then gestured with his chin toward a chair. "Good morning. Thought you might like to eat before you cook, for a change."
Marron blinked, then laughed, padding over barefoot. "You made crepes? Mokko, that's so delicate. I didn't know you could make something like that."
He raised a brow. "One of the many recipes I learned at home."
She sat and took the offered plate, eyes wide. "You even whipped the cream?"
He snorted lightly. "Wouldn't half-finish something like this."
Marron took a bite and closed her eyes. The crepe was soft and warm, the nuts rich and crunchy, the cream feather-light. The syrup tied it all together with a gentle floral sweetness.
"This is…" she opened her eyes, surprised, "...amazing."
Mokko just shrugged, pouring himself a mug of tea. "Glad it turned out."
Lucy bobbed happily, glowing a morning-peach hue.
Marron smiled softly to herself. The blanket someone had left on her last night was still draped around her shoulders.
"Thank you," she said sincerely. "It's nice to wake up and feel… taken care of."
Mokko didn't answer right away.
"Well, keep cooking meals like yesterday's, and the whole clan will want to take care of you."
Marron laughed. "Deal."
And for a moment, there was nothing to do but eat.
Just the quiet clink of dishes, the morning light through pine-shuttered windows, and the gentle hum of something kind settling into place.