"There's going to be a festival soon, Chef Marron! Do you want to make something to bring to the community dinner?"
The maid didn't have to ask twice. Excitedly, Marron grabbed her journal and started brainstorming possible recipes.
+
That had happened two weeks ago.
Currently, she sat cross-legged in the quiet corner of the communal kitchen, steam rising gently from the ceramic dish in front of her.
The morning bustle had faded, leaving behind the soft scent of pine resin, warm ash, and the faint sweetness of fermented tea leaves steeping nearby. A breeze rustled through the pinecloth canopies above, but her focus remained on the fusion dish she'd just prepared.
Spicy apple sausage, thin-sliced and pan-seared with a slick of sweet glaze, rested atop a bed of mana-grain rice. She had mixed it with finely chopped herbs from the wolfkin garden and a dash of the plum salt the snakekin foragers had gifted her.
To finish it off, she'd nestled the entire dish in a fold of crisped flatbread, creating something that could be eaten by hand—simple, satisfying, and entirely hers.
Lucy bobbed in her orb nearby, emitting a lazy pink shimmer that pulsed with comfort.
"Here goes nothing," Marron murmured.
She took a bite.
Flavor unfolded slowly. First, the smoky heat of the sausage. Then the honeyed softness of the apples. Then the grounding salt and brightness from the herbs. It didn't just taste good, it tasted whole.
Like sitting in a room with estranged family members who shared a pot of stew for the first time in years.
The air felt heavier, suddenly.
It wasn't ominous, but like the moment before snowfall.
A soft chime echoed in her system's interface.
Ding!
She swallowed, blinking at the screen.
[Ancestral Resonance Detected]
The words hovered for a moment and then vanished.
Marron stared at the empty space where the message had been, the aftertaste of apple and spice still lingering on her tongue.
"Resonance?" she whispered. But no further explanation followed.
She looked at Lucy, who tilted gently in her orb, mirroring Marron's frown.
A wind stirred the canopies again. This time, it smelled faintly of hearthfire and something older—like parchment sealed in cedarwood and smoke.
Marron didn't ponder the meaning. She'd only worry herself into an anxious spiral, and that meant she wouldn't have a finished dish to share.
Instead, she took another bite.
The food was still warm, and so was her heart.
+
Marron stood at the edge of the gathering square, her food cart nestled between two tables of roasting corn and root stew. Evening light sifted through the pine canopy above, weaving gold across furred shoulders and linen sleeves.
The scent of firewood and garlic drifted thick through the air, joined now by the unmistakable glaze of teriyaki.
She watched with quiet satisfaction as the final rice ball was traded—a young badgerkin eagerly swapped a pot of preserved yams for it, clutching the warm triangle as if it were treasure.
Marron nodded, wiped her hands on her apron, and glanced toward the communal fire.
This was it.
The last of that day's batch.
She had saved one for herself. Not the prettiest, but the one she'd wrapped gently, brushing the leaf with plum salt as if tucking in a child. She carried it to the edge of the firelight, found a stump, and sat.
Around her, music began—someone strummed a three-stringed instrument with a lulling rhythm, and laughter rose in waves. The wolf and snake clans weren't mingling freely, but they weren't glaring anymore either. Even that small miracle felt like progress.
Marron unwrapped her onigiri slowly. The leaf parted with a quiet sigh, revealing warm rice flecked with herbs and bits of caramelized chicken. She took a bite.
The taste filled her mouth—sweet, salty, smoky, soft. But more than that, it filled her chest. Like a memory that wasn't just her own.
She closed her eyes.
For a moment, she felt hands that weren't hers shaping rice in a bamboo kitchen. A breeze carrying the scent of pine smoke and citrus blossoms. Someone humming a lullaby. Another bite, and she tasted something older. Not a recipe, but a feeling: the quiet joy of feeding someone you love.
And then—
[Ancestral Resonance Detected…]
The system's voice interrupted like a whisper against her ear.
[…Processing Culinary Echo...]
Marron sat upright, blinking. The notification faded before she could ask questions.
"What the heck was that?"
But the festival continued around her, blissfully unaware. Dancers formed a loose circle. A child howled with joy. Klein was laughing with Maya near the broth cauldron.
Her spoon—her silver spoon—tingled faintly in her apron pocket.
Marron rubbed her chest, suddenly unsure if she was full from the rice… or from something else.
Later that night, she wandered toward the outer path of the village, needing a moment away from the press of people. She wasn't startled when Lucy floated after her, glowing faintly, her color a warm lilac.
"I think I cooked something weird today," Marron murmured.
Lucy bobbed thoughtfully, then emitted a curious chime.
"I don't mean bad weird. Just…" She held her palm over her heart. "It felt like… the dish reached backwards. Not just into my memories. But… like someone else remembered through me."
She crouched near a fern, brushing its leaves idly.
"I didn't even know food could do that. I thought it was just about flavor and warmth and comfort. But now it feels like—"
Lucy pulsed brighter.
Like what? Marron didn't say, because she didn't have the words yet.
+
Back at the inn, Maya was helping the wolf elders clean the empty plates from the communal tables. She moved gracefully, rattlesnake tail sweeping behind her like a ribbon, her earrings catching the last of the lamplight.
She spotted Marron, waved, and padded over.
"I saw the snakekin eat one of your rice balls," she said softly. "Did you notice? They didn't even try to hide how much they liked it."
Marron smiled. "I did. That's the first time I've seen anyone from either clan nod across the fire."
Marron, Maya, Klein, the Lord Jackal, and the Snake Queen worked together to try and heal both clans' wounds. This festival, if successful, would be the first among many celebrations.
There were wolf and snakekin who were still defensive, but otherwise, everyone was getting along well.
Not bad for two months of continuous work.
They weren't bound to a time-limit, and both Whisperwind and Snake Cove were a pleasant change from city life.
Maya's eyes flicked down to Marron's apron.
"Your spoon," she said, "it's glowing."
That broke Marron's reverie. She reached into her pocket and drew it out.
Sure enough, the silver was faintly lit. Not hot. Not pulsing. Just… steady.
Maya stepped closer, ears twitching.
"Marron, that spoon—"