Why had she gone along with this? She’d known it was a bad idea. They didn’t have the discipline, strength, and skills to safely travel the Wilderness. Yet, for the most part, she’d withheld her mounting misgivings, fears, doubts, criticisms, and shut her mouth every time she wanted to shout an objection.
Rana withdrew a handful of mushrooms from her storage and threw them in a pot.
“Shouldn’t you wash those first?” Paul asked, shaking salt into the water.
“Boiling water kills bacteria.”
“I meant the dirt…” Paul whispered under his breath as he shook out more salt.
Not that anyone would listen to her if she did. They hadn’t listened when they’d asked for her opinion; why would they now? Repeating herself would be a blatant grab for attention. An annoyance further stressing an already strained group.
Rana withdrew swamp fish from her storage and threw them in the pot.
“Shouldn’t you take the bones out or something?” Paul asked, shaking salt into the water.
“The others keep saying they want ‘texture contrast.’ Bones add crunch.”
“This is going to be a disaster…” Paul murmured as he shook out more salt.
Besides, it’s not like she had a better idea. All their options sucked. They had nowhere to go, with enemies on all sides. In her heart, she traced all their problems back to three years ago. Going to save Paul was a mistake, not for being the wrong decision, but because she’d been too weak. If she’d been stronger, one soldier with a taser wouldn’t have stopped her.
“I heard a dirty rumor you two were making dinner,” Kenta said as he approached the kitchen area.
“T-that’s how the rotation worked out this time…” Paul said, mechanically shaking salt into the pot.
Kenta followed Paul’s hand with his eyes for several shakes. Then he grabbed the candle boy’s wrist to arrest the movement. The Kaminoke dipped a finger in the pot, too fast to scald, and stuck a drop in his mouth. His eye twitched.
He turned to Rana, “Lea has too much faith in you. She can’t see your flaws.” Then Kenta faced Paul and released the wrist, “You’re both banned from the kitchen for abusing ingredients. Even Dan and Wendi would’ve done better.” He’d banned Daniel for breaking dishes and Wendi for burning rice.
“B-but Lea—,” Paul began.
“—Tell her I’m taking both your slots in the rotation. I’ll pull triple, even quintuple duty from now on; I literally don’t care anymore!” Kenta’s hair pulled every piece of food from the pot, put them back on the cutting board, then dumped the water on the ground.
In a flash, the Kaminoke grabbed tools with braids, diced the mushrooms, then descaled, gutted, and deboned the fish. He returned the refuse to the pot with some vegetables to make stock. “If I start now, I can make something passable by supper.”
Rana comforted Paul, patting his shoulder as they left the kitchen. She couldn’t fathom the issue. Why go through extra steps to make broth from bones instead of eating the fish whole? It all ended up in the stomach.
‘Food is fuel, flavor is power,’ as her brother used to say. The strong demand quality, while the weak accept the food they’re given with gratitude and no complaints.
If the soup were salty as the ocean, she wouldn’t insult the others’ tastes by showing it on her face. Except Kenta thought it was too salty as well. She wondered why Paul didn’t use his guiding magic to know when to stop adding salt.
It shocked her, recalling how reliable the candle boy used to be. He’d given up staff fighting and hadn’t trained his Pathfinding magic in the Facility. Had he been scared to practice without his teacher?
Somewhere along the way since coming to Eastwood, Paul lost his confidence. During the Flag incident, he’d scarcely defended himself from the others’ unreasonable expectations. She’d tried to explain finding the T.O. would be difficult but done an inadequate job conveying the steep odds. Then, when they turned on Paul, she went tongue-tied. She’d failed again.
Everything that’d gone wrong was her fault. Her weakness.
When the demon attacked, she’d hid while the others suffered. Kenta’s separation from Harumi, the death of Wendi’s sister, and the darkness that Paul, Lea, and Cassie faced… Could she have made a difference? She’d never know because she hadn’t tried.
Meanwhile, Rana saw the pain in Daniel’s eyes when the boy thought no one was looking. Daniel, one of their greatest assets, blamed himself out of misplaced guilt or frustration. Yet, when Red Tail attacked, he’d overturned Cassie’s prediction of certain death through nothing but clear-headed determination.
How dare she be the first to surrender.
Rana wished she could tell Daniel everything she knew about Kenta’s nature, Cassie’s needs, Lea’s struggles, and especially herself. She had good reasons not to, though.
Some of those secrets were not hers to reveal. Others were too dangerous. And, if she told him everything about herself, he’d despise her. Things would fall apart, and they’d all leave. She’d be alone. Wouldn’t death be better?
:Rana,: Lea interrupted her brooding with a gentle thought. :Do you have a moment to speak with me?: A private conversation.
The Libra girl stood there, her dark eyes begging, needing something—Rana didn’t know what but desperately wanted to help. Dark circles from sleepless nights underlined those entrancing eyes. Her tight braid of once immaculate hair now showed split ends.
Lea didn’t wait for an answer. :Do you think we should keep going?:
Why had she gone along with this? She’d known it was a bad idea. They didn’t have the discipline, strength, and skills to safely travel the Wilderness. Yet, for the most part, she’d withheld her mounting misgivings, fears, doubts, criticisms, and shut her mouth every time she wanted to shout an objection.
Rana withdrew a handful of mushrooms from her storage and threw them in a pot.
“Shouldn’t you wash those first?” Paul asked, shaking salt into the water.
“Boiling water kills bacteria.”
“I meant the dirt…” Paul whispered under his breath as he shook out more salt.
Not that anyone would listen to her if she did. They hadn’t listened when they’d asked for her opinion; why would they now? Repeating herself would be a blatant grab for attention. An annoyance further stressing an already strained group.
Rana withdrew swamp fish from her storage and threw them in the pot.
“Shouldn’t you take the bones out or something?” Paul asked, shaking salt into the water.
“The others keep saying they want ‘texture contrast.’ Bones add crunch.”
“This is going to be a disaster…” Paul murmured as he shook out more salt.
Besides, it’s not like she had a better idea. All their options sucked. They had nowhere to go, with enemies on all sides. In her heart, she traced all their problems back to three years ago. Going to save Paul was a mistake, not for being the wrong decision, but because she’d been too weak. If she’d been stronger, one soldier with a taser wouldn’t have stopped her.
“I heard a dirty rumor you two were making dinner,” Kenta said as he approached the kitchen area.
“T-that’s how the rotation worked out this time…” Paul said, mechanically shaking salt into the pot.
Kenta followed Paul’s hand with his eyes for several shakes. Then he grabbed the candle boy’s wrist to arrest the movement. The Kaminoke dipped a finger in the pot, too fast to scald, and stuck a drop in his mouth. His eye twitched.
He turned to Rana, “Lea has too much faith in you. She can’t see your flaws.” Then Kenta faced Paul and released the wrist, “You’re both banned from the kitchen for abusing ingredients. Even Dan and Wendi would’ve done better.” He’d banned Daniel for breaking dishes and Wendi for burning rice.
“B-but Lea—,” Paul began.
“—Tell her I’m taking both your slots in the rotation. I’ll pull triple, even quintuple duty from now on; I literally don’t care anymore!” Kenta’s hair pulled every piece of food from the pot, put them back on the cutting board, then dumped the water on the ground.
In a flash, the Kaminoke grabbed tools with braids, diced the mushrooms, then descaled, gutted, and deboned the fish. He returned the refuse to the pot with some vegetables to make stock. “If I start now, I can make something passable by supper.”
Rana comforted Paul, patting his shoulder as they left the kitchen. She couldn’t fathom the issue. Why go through extra steps to make broth from bones instead of eating the fish whole? It all ended up in the stomach.
‘Food is fuel, flavor is power,’ as her brother used to say. The strong demand quality, while the weak accept the food they’re given with gratitude and no complaints.
If the soup were salty as the ocean, she wouldn’t insult the others’ tastes by showing it on her face. Except Kenta thought it was too salty as well. She wondered why Paul didn’t use his guiding magic to know when to stop adding salt.
It shocked her, recalling how reliable the candle boy used to be. He’d given up staff fighting and hadn’t trained his Pathfinding magic in the Facility. Had he been scared to practice without his teacher?
Somewhere along the way since coming to Eastwood, Paul lost his confidence. During the Flag incident, he’d scarcely defended himself from the others’ unreasonable expectations. She’d tried to explain finding the T.O. would be difficult but done an inadequate job conveying the steep odds. Then, when they turned on Paul, she went tongue-tied. She’d failed again.
Everything that’d gone wrong was her fault. Her weakness.
When the demon attacked, she’d hid while the others suffered. Kenta’s separation from Harumi, the death of Wendi’s sister, and the darkness that Paul, Lea, and Cassie faced… Could she have made a difference? She’d never know because she hadn’t tried.
Meanwhile, Rana saw the pain in Daniel’s eyes when the boy thought no one was looking. Daniel, one of their greatest assets, blamed himself out of misplaced guilt or frustration. Yet, when Red Tail attacked, he’d overturned Cassie’s prediction of certain death through nothing but clear-headed determination.
How dare she be the first to surrender.
Rana wished she could tell Daniel everything she knew about Kenta’s nature, Cassie’s needs, Lea’s struggles, and especially herself. She had good reasons not to, though.
Some of those secrets were not hers to reveal. Others were too dangerous. And, if she told him everything about herself, he’d despise her. Things would fall apart, and they’d all leave. She’d be alone. Wouldn’t death be better?
:Rana,: Lea interrupted her brooding with a gentle thought. :Do you have a moment to speak with me?: A private conversation.
The Libra girl stood there, her dark eyes begging, needing something—Rana didn’t know what but desperately wanted to help. Dark circles from sleepless nights underlined those entrancing eyes. Her tight braid of once immaculate hair now showed split ends.
Lea didn’t wait for an answer. :Do you think we should keep going?:
