"Well," Zarek muttered, leaning against the doorframe. "At least she isn't crying."
The next morning, Roxy woke up to the smell of a bakery.
Her eyes snapped open. Yesterday's tears were gone. And now she was very hungry.
She sat up in her nest of towels. The movement dislodged Axel, who had been sleeping on her shoulder. The wolf pup grumbled, rolled over, and went back to sleep.
Roxy sniffed the air. Vanilla. Milk. Sugar.
Her stomach let out a roar that sounded like a disgruntled bear. She wanted the ice cream. She wanted it now.
But as her feet hit the floorboards, a second scent hit her brain, or rather, a second craving. It was savory, buttery, and meaty.
Chicken Pie.
The thought blossomed in her mind like a firework. Flaky golden crust. Thick gravy. Peas and carrots. And tender, shredded chicken.
She needed the cold sweet. But she needed the hot savory first. Roxy marched out of the bedroom.
